Chapter 19 - The Choice of the Gods
The gods came at dawn.
They appeared on the ridge in a gathering of light, careful to keep their distance from the sealed chamber. Zeus stood below with Felix, Betsy, and Apollo. The townspeople remained by the creek, unwilling to leave until they knew what would happen.
A goddess in a blue cloak stepped forward. Betsy recognized her voice at once.
“You brought us to the farm,” Betsy said.
The goddess lowered her head. “I did.”
“You could have stayed.”
“Yes,” she said. “I should have.”
Betsy had imagined this meeting many times. She had expected anger to make her words easy. Instead she looked down at Apollo, who was awake and content in Felix’s arms.
“He needed help every day,” she told the goddess. “Remember that when you speak about saving him.”
The goddess accepted the rebuke.
Another god examined the closed seam in the stone. “The child has command of the threshold. He must be brought to Olympus for instruction.”
“No,” Zeus said.
The gathering turned toward him.
“He closed it with his family beside him,” Zeus said. “He remains with them.”
“He is your son.”
“Yes. I left him when he needed me. I will answer for that.”
Felix watched Zeus closely. He heard no demand hidden inside the words.
The goddess in blue addressed the others. “Our messenger sent armed people to seize the child under Zeus’s seal. Vale’s account confirms it. The command passed through our court, and none of us questioned it.”
“People were hurt,” Betsy said. “Apollo was nearly struck by an arrow.”
The gods fell silent.
Mrs. Hart climbed the bank. She stopped beside Felix, ignoring the uncertain looks from those on the ridge.
“We saw what happened,” she said. “Felix protected that child. He protected soldiers who were attacking him. If you intend to make decisions about this family, you’ll hear from the people who know them.”
Others joined her. The young soldier spoke of the porch and the arrow. A farmer described Felix holding the creek path so the town could evacuate. No one pretended the fear in town had vanished. They spoke about what they had seen.
The goddess looked at Felix. “Your ancestors kept the boundary for generations.”
“My mother kept it alone,” Felix said. “I want her remembered.”
“She will be.”
“Remember the others too. They sheltered people they never met.”
The goddess bowed her head.
Zeus approached Betsy. “I would like to know Apollo as he grows,” he said. “If you allow it.”
Betsy studied him. “Knowing him begins with showing up. It also means listening when I say no.”
“I understand.”
“We’ll see.”
Apollo reached from Felix’s arms toward her. Felix passed him over. The child took his mother’s finger and then turned back toward Felix, wanting both of them close.
The gods watched. The answer to where Apollo belonged was in that small, familiar gesture.
The goddess stepped away from the path. “No one will take him.”
By noon, the visitors from the ridge were gone. Zeus remained long enough to help move the broken stones from the creek crossing. He worked alongside the townspeople without thunder or ceremony. When he left, he asked Betsy when he might return. She gave him no date.
At the truck, Felix fastened Apollo safely beside Betsy. The little boy reached through the blanket for his hand.
“Ready to go home?” Felix asked.
Apollo smiled at the sound of his voice.
May you like
Betsy looked across the creek toward the sealed ridge, then at the farm road waiting beyond it.
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go home.”
