The Heir of Atargatis

By A.G. Whitt

Following the tragic loss of both her father and her fiancé in the same boating accident, Jasmine Atarga sets out on a bucket list trip to Ireland with her three girlfriends in hopes of revitalizing her spirit. While she immediately takes to the Emerald Isle and all it has to offer, (including the company of a handsome new love interest nam

• Language: English
• Publisher: Whitt Lit
• Release date: Mar 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798990155411

Book preview

Part I

Land Walker

Chapter 1

Memories

Marianne’s office had an infuriatingly loud, outdated grandfather clock that stood in the corner like a watchful eye, reminding me of the exact minutes I had left to forcibly open my soul to the stranger across the chipped coffee table. After all, that’s all a therapist is-a complete stranger to whom you pay a handsome sum of money to give you advice that you may or may not take, because it may or may not be any good.

Even I could admit, however, that a candidate such as myself ought to be here. Aside from the general nature of my perfectionism that had plagued my internal monologue for the majority of my childhood, the more recent events in my past had led to more than one friend suggesting I attempt to find solace in the remedial treatment of therapy. I reluctantly agreed, and was humbly surprised to find that this coping mechanism was an annoyingly perfect fit for my needs.

Jasmine? came the familiar voice across the room.

Sorry, I said faintly, my voice trailing off as my gaze refused to leave the popcorn ceiling. I missed what you said.

Marianne pushed her thick-framed purple glasses up the bridge of her nose in the way my friend Marissa used to do-I wondered if she still did-when she was either nervous or impatient. I guessed Marianne’s movement may have been prompted by a mixture of those two emotions, should therapists be allowed to grow impatient. I thought not, considering their livelihood seemed to be entirely reliant on the willingness of stubborn individuals to drive the success of their own sessions.

I asked if you were ready to tell me about the accident, she said in a voice that was so steady it was nearly robotic. As my employer’s generous insurance plan did not cover these meetings of ours, I thought by the third go around I might as well get to the point for my own wallet’s sake.

Sure, I said with a loud sigh. I had run through it over a dozen times in my head in the past year…what was the harm in saying it out loud? I proceeded to tell her of the abysmally traumatizing day that had occurred nearly a year ago.

---

It had been a bright, September day in Tampa with the slightest breeze-the kind of pleasant weather that inspires the masses to romanticize living in the sunshine state. I had suspiciously punctual lunch plans with my two best friends at the time-Marissa and Kristen-neither of whom were ever known to be timely. This first of many residual clues led me to believe that a surprise was coming, but of course I had already known what it was.

I had had my finger sized only a month prior, and with my twenty-eighth birthday just around the corner, Matt had happened to run out for a mysterious errand with no estimated time of return on a morning that simply made sense for it to be the day. He was never great at lying, no matter how small the matter may have been. It was one of the reasons I was sure I wanted to marry him.

Can you please not ruin something for once? came a shrill voice from the kitchen. You are the only person I know who hates surprises.

The tall, graceful figure of Kristen appeared in the doorframe of the bathroom and she leaned against it, her mouth turned down in a weak attempt at a scowl. Her eyes darted around the room in search of someone else to scold as I had made it clear I was a useless target. Marissa, who had been curling the back of my hair for me, shrugged in resignation.

We tried, she said simply, plugging her nose as she drenched my head in hairspray.

I don’t hate them! I said defensively. Unable to stop myself, I added under my breath, I just always know when they’re coming.

I shrugged with an air of superiority that was not lost on the others and Kristen let out a loud cluck of disapproval.

As if in defiance of my statement, there came an authoritative knock at the apartment door that made all three of us jump. Both Kristen and Marissa grinned with satisfaction as I peered around the corner with curiosity.

"I know you didn’t see this one coming," Kristen sang loftily as she strode across the vast living room, her sheet of white blonde hair bouncing in her wake.

The warm, glowing sunlight of the late morning streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a faint shimmer of gold onto the dark wood that moved in symphony with waves dancing in the bay below.

Look who’s here! Kristen sang as she threw open the door.

She was right, I had not seen this part coming. On the other side of the door stood my best friend from childhood, Kiana Hardy. Breaking into a wide grin upon seeing my expression of shock, she leapt through the doorframe and pulled me into a rib-crushing hug. Although it was customary for me to refrain from these types of physical embraces, my disbelief kept me rooted to the spot.

Wow, she never lets us hug her like that, Kristen remarked with a smirk.

I laughed as I felt tears brimming in my eyes, looking between Kristen and Marissa who wore the triumphant smiles of two people who had pulled off the impossible.

Surprise! Marissa said happily.

I can’t believe you’re here! I exclaimed, shaking Kiana’s shoulders as confusion and excitement caused me to stumble over my words. What about school, what about-

Kiana gave a grand wave of clanking silver and gold on her wrists, dismissing my concerns.

Law school will be there when I get back. It’s just a weekend. She stood on her tiptoes and peered over my shoulder. Are you going to invite me in or what?

Of course, may I also get your bags, ma’am?

I stepped back across the threshold and bowed my friend inside with mock formality. Her jaw dropped as the vast floor plan of sleek modernity was revealed behind me and I turned bright red.

"So this is what it’s like to be engaged to a doctor, huh?" she said, punching me in the arm playfully.

I let out a loud laugh that sounded more like a nervous bark as I had no witty response prepared for my friend of nearly two decades. I knew I was lucky, and I was grateful for it.

I’m really happy for you, she said sincerely, still shaking her head in admiration. For the engagement, for everything.

Well, I’m not engaged yet, I said, finding amusement in the fact that my oldest friend would not bother with pretenses in the way my newer friends did. She knew me too well.

"Are you both incapable of a surprise!" Marissa exclaimed, rounding the corner.

She greeted Kiana with a warm hug that was sincere, despite the exaggerated eye roll that accompanied it.

I don’t think anyone should be truly shocked about a decision like this, I said. It’s too important.

Jasmine, forever the mind of reason in a world of fools, Kiana praised with judicious sarcasm.

Save that for the toast, remarked Kristen.

Marissa pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

But really, how did you know it was today? she feigned mere curiosity, but I could see the flicker of frustration in her eyes. "I thought we did a great job of keeping at least the day a secret."

Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I softened.

You did! I caught the knowing glances of the other two from behind Marissa’s back and suppressed a laugh. No, really, it was Matt who gave it away. He left before I had even opened my eyes this morning.

Let’s get going, said Kristen, looking down at her watch.

My doorman Ivan greeted me in the same manner he always did, waving goodbye with a jovial smile on his face that always made my mornings brighter.

"Goodbye, Miss Jasmine," he said happily, placing emphasis on my title as if the next time he addressed me it would be something different.

We pushed through the revolving doors that deposited the three of us right in the heart of Water Street, already buzzing with the lunch rush of a perfect Saturday afternoon.

I miss the sun, groaned Kiana as she closed her eyelids and let her head fall backward.

Although she had spent the last two years in D.C. for law school, Kiana had spent undergrad in Miami and the long term plan was for her to return to any part of Florida as soon as she could. The other three of us had had much less of a focus on intense academics, completing our bachelor’s degrees at the University of Central Florida.

We made our way through the active farmer’s market on Water Street, dodging dogs and their owners who carefully balanced lattes in one hand and fresh vegetables in the other. There was live music coming from somewhere, and everyone had evidently had the same idea as ourselves when it came to taking advantage of the rare weather for the season.

At last we reached the restaurant, a cozy lunch spot positioned right at the edge of the action. There was a large table just inside by the window that had a bottle of champagne nestled in a French chiller, and the hostess sat me directly next to it. I glanced up and saw there was a piano that had certainly not been there the last time I had dined, and I smiled. Of course, Matt would be incorporating his most impressive talent into the proposal. I always said he was a gifted pianist with a beautiful voice who had simply happened to fall into the medical profession in order to pay the bills.

A number of empty chairs were situated around the table and I counted in my head. There would be one for Matt of course, as well two more for his parents that lived just on the other side of the bridge in St. Pete. The other was likely for Christian, Kristen’s boyfriend, who was also Matt’s best friend. Marissa’s fiancé would not be joining of course as he was at his brother’s bachelor party in Arizona this weekend.

I looked hopefully at the remaining chair…but no. My father was in Sweden at least until the end of the semester, and I knew he would likely stay to finish the year. In fact, he was enjoying his new post as a graduate professor of marine biology at the University of Stockholm so wholly that I thought he may never leave at all. The next time we had planned to see one another was not until Christmas.

While most would agree that Florida would be the preferable climate in December in comparison to Sweden, Matt and I had excitedly booked our tickets the moment the invitation was extended. The Christmas markets of Scandinavia were on both of our bucket lists, and Stockholm’s Gamla Stan had been my screensaver for over a year.

How are you feeling? whispered Marissa, her kind blue eyes looking up at me through her frames.

She rested a hand on my upturned palm, warming the thin silver scar that never seemed to lose its sensitivity no matter how many years passed.

I am so excited for you, she said, beaming at me.

Me too, said Kristen, taking a deep gulp of champagne. Even though you ruined the surprise. I’ll let it slide.

We all laughed, and I never asked about the last chair. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

A glass of champagne warmly buzzing in my stomach, I looked around happily, observing the street shoppers through the wide window. No one had yet sat down at the piano, and I imagined Matt’s fingers gracing the keys with the natural, effortless rhythm that all artists seem to have.

Would you ladies like to order some cocktails while you wait?

I started at the sound of our server’s voice. The young girl looked at us expectantly, eyeing the empty chairs nervously.

Sure, Kristen said distractedly, looking at her watch and frowning. They’re certainly running late, aren’t they? she mumbled.

I opted for a glass of white wine rather than a cocktail, wanting to ensure that the upcoming moment would be crystal clear. I watched as the server shuffled away, looking behind her as she went.

I’ve seen the ring, by the way, Kristen blurted out suddenly, eyeing me while I absentmindedly rubbed my fourth finger on my left hand. It’s stunning.

Kristen! Marissa scolded.

What? Kristen replied, finishing off the last of the champagne as she gestured to the remaining seats with a flourish. She knows already!

Kiana rolled her eyes and pulled me into a conversation regarding engagement party locations, color schemes, and other matters I had hardly wrapped my head around. I felt oddly displaced, recalling suddenly that I had not heard from Matt since the morning. Terrible at keeping secrets as he was, I thought it unusual for him to not have shared even a semblance of an alibi by now.

I’m going to give them a call, said Kristen abruptly, excusing herself from the table. I’ll be right back.

Her long legs took only a few steps before she disappeared through the revolving door and into the busy street.

I sat back in my chair, catching a glimpse of our server (whom I now knew to be named Katie) talking nervously to her coworkers. They all took turns glancing back at our table, and I suddenly became painfully aware of how crowded the restaurant was in addition to the long line of potential diners waiting outside. Feeling guilty for holding them up, I pressed everyone to make their decisions on food. Without consulting the others, I signaled to Katie that we were ready to order.

She began to make her way over, but was cut off by Kristen who had returned quicker than I expected. To my surprise, my friend ushered the server aside hurriedly and turned her back to us. I wondered if it had something to do with the proposal and thought I should look away, but my curiosity got the better of me. I continued to watch them, a growing sense of unease in the pit of my stomach for a reason I couldn’t explain.

What’s that about? asked Kiana.

I dunno.

I saw Katie slowly place her hands over her mouth in response to something Kristen had said, and the manager rushed over to join them. Even from afar, the general air of profuse apology from the waitstaff was obvious, though I could not see a reason that rendered it necessary based on our positive experience thus far.

The manager snapped his fingers, sending a young woman who had been sitting near the doorway speeding toward the piano. She sat down and began to play at a soft volume that complimented the atmosphere of a pleasant brunch. Kristen returned to the table, pale and expressionless.

Kristen, what was that about? asked Marissa in a whisper, eyes wide with confusion.

Kiana looked at her expectantly and I began to sink backward in my seat, instinctively knowing that something was deeply wrong.

Kristen ignored them both and looked straight at me. Whether she delivered the message in the best way or not is irrelevant. I cannot say how I would have done it myself.

Jazz, I- she began, and her voice faltered.

The sound of the piano seemed to grow louder in my ears as my stomach turned over in expectation of dread. Kristen then did something entirely uncharacteristic-she reached for my hand and grasped it tightly between hers. I jumped slightly at her touch.

I went to call Matt-but it was Christian who answered, she said. There’s been a horrific accident on the water.

The words did not seem to compute in my brain.

An accident, I repeated bluntly, my body numbing along with my thoughts. What do you mean?

She looked at me with desperation that alarmed me. I had never seen Kristen lost for words.

Matt, he was with your dad-he had flown in from Stockholm, she said in a rush, her words pouring over into one another.

Raj? I said, hearing my own voice as if it were coming from someone else-someone who was very far away. M-my dad’s here?

She nodded but ignored me, continuing to speak her blubbering words as if her story could not pause or she wouldn’t be able to finish it.

They were bringing the boat over from St. Pete since we were going to take it out afterward, and they were just out in the bay when…

She told me the rest, but I didn’t need to hear it. A dark tunnel was closing in on me, leaving me with nothing but a tiny circle of clarity that allowed me to see Kristen’s face saying words that could not be true. I was underwater-the voices of my friends were crying out in confusion muffled by a gigantic wave of realization that started to pull me under.

Are they dead? I asked.

They were the only words I could find. Harsh and terrible as they were both to hear and say, it was the sole combination that would get me the only answer I needed to know. The other details did not matter.

My dad and Matt, I said flatly. They’re both dead, aren’t they?

Oh, Jasmine… I-yes.

---

When at last I finally looked up from my shoes, Marianne’s expression was unreadable, and I was grateful for it. It was the pity from others that weakened my ability to isolate the pain in the dormant part of my mind where I had tucked it away. When I was left with just the truth of my own words rather than the reactions of others, I could handle what had happened. Most of the time, anyway.

And that was a year ago? Marianne asked matter-of-factly, as if she were simply plotting the points of my life onto a timeline for the sake of a works cited page.

Just about, I said, glancing at the calendar she hung on her wall-reminding me again how insufferably antiquated her lifestyle was-and saw it was turned to September of the following year.

Labor Day weekend, she observed.

Which isn’t a holiday in Sweden, obviously, I said, my gaze returning to my sneakers. So that made it all the more shocking that Raj would’ve been able to escape for a weekend to surprise me so early in the term.

For the hundredth time, I cursed his selflessness. I wished his flight had gotten delayed, or canceled altogether…anything for an extra few moments that would have altered the events in the slightest way. But Marianne and I had already covered that sentiment in my previous sessions. I could not change the past.

Maybe we can talk about your father, Marianne suggested. If talking about Matt isn’t helpful right now.

Again, I appreciated her approach. I had made it very clear from our first session that the topic of Matt beyond the facts of what had happened would be off-limits for a while. I knew at some point or another she would find a way to manipulate me into divulging more information considering it was her job, but that day wouldn’t be today.

Sure, I said, feeling a sudden (and rare) surge of willingness to cooperate. What about Raj?

I had mostly referred to my father by his nickname rather than dad since I was roughly sixteen years old. I assumed it must be a habit that kids with single parents develop as they get older. He never seemed to mind, in any case.

Well, anything, Jasmine, Marianne said, shrugging in an attempt of informality. Do you have any particularly favorite memories? Sometimes those are a good place to start.

Of course I had endless amounts of fond memories to choose from. My father had been a brilliant man and even as a child, I knew I was lucky to have him. He really had done the best he could, raising a child-a girl, nonetheless-by himself while balancing his career as a college professor that wanted to drag him all over the world. I looked up at Marianne who was waiting expectantly with a kind smile on her face.

Yes, I said, clearing my throat. I wouldn’t call it a favorite singular memory, necessarily. But the few years we spent in Portugal were the happiest times of my life.

Marianne leaned back in her chair and propped one purple pant leg on top of the other. She tossed her arm on top of the sofa in expectation. I’d love to hear about it.

---

I had just turned eleven when my father got the offer at the University of Porto. Before he pivoted to studying the science of the seas, he had been an absolute fanatic for space exploration and the science of the sky.

Raj had been given the chance of a lifetime with a temporary (though the term was ambiguous) assignment in the Astronomy department, teaching a graduate course on the Origin and Evolution of Stars and Planets. The Centro de Astrofísica da Universidade do Porto was not only the largest astronomy program in the country of Portugal, but was one of the best in the world.

Portugal was immediately home to me. I was young, so I picked up the language more quickly than my father did (to his utmost frustration). I’ve lost a good amount of it by now, due to years of being out of practice, but I remember I used to order in Portuguese at restaurants and translate directions for him when we would go on road trips.

Of course Lisbon was the grand capital, but Porto was magical. The rich historical buildings were the first of their kind that I had ever seen and set the course for my mad desire to travel the world-a hobby that my wanderlust father was all too willing to encourage. Outside of the city there was even more beauty to behold-from the striking cliffs of the Algarve in the summer to the luxurious tropics of the Azores. We kept extremely busy with domestic travel that year.

And of course as anyone can expect of an academic who spent his time researching, discussing theory, and smoking cigars, Raj discovered his deep appreciation for port during that time. I was too young to care for the products of them back then, but the rolling vineyards of the Duoro Valley were charming to me all the same. With the University of Porto situated right smack in the middle of the city, I was gradually allowed on miniature outings by myself or with the few friends I had made at school. The added bonus of the world’s most beautiful bookshop, Livraria Lello, being directly next to my father’s office at the university gave me plenty to explore while he was grading papers. Tourists needed to buy tickets, but I somehow always found a way to slip inside undetected.

---

I really loved it there, I said to Marianne. I wanted to stay forever.

I rubbed the deep scar in the palm of my left hand absently, the light catching the straight line of iridescence that seemed to glow like a moonstone in perpetuity as I remembered the day I got it. I decided it was a safe enough memory to share with Marianne, since we were on the topic of Raj.

---

The strange scar originated from the day my father had taken myself and one of his top graduate students, Liam Brennan, out on the water.

Raj had already begun his extracurricular studies of the ocean given our proximity to it, and he was fascinated with the marine life of Iberia. When he heard there would be prime visibility of Jupiter off the western coast, he jumped at the opportunity to combine his current studies with his love of the sea. The university actually deemed it a research project-making the prize for being the top student in Professor Atarga’s class that semester a field exploration off the coast during the Jupiter event.

It had not surprised Raj in the slightest that Liam Brennan, the lad from Ireland and one of his only foreign students, had risen to the challenge. He had always been the brightest in the program. Without a son of his own, Raj had a soft spot for Liam as he, too, was far from home in the Iberian Peninsula.

Additionally, my father had always been fascinated by the history of Ireland because his first love (my mother) had been Irish. In fact, Raj was a nickname coined by her. His actual name, Faraj, simply didn’t roll off of her Gaelic tongue in the way it was supposed to sound. But he liked it, so the name stuck. Personally, I had never heard him called anything else. Since we spent most of my childhood in America, I guess it had been easier that way. I had heard the story of my mother’s mispronunciation many times, but it still made me grin.

---

Fah-raj, my father had said to her. She was a beautiful girl with red hair that was so dark it looked like a cup of mulled wine. Her eyes twinkled as she looked up at him.

Fuh-rahhh, she said, her accent undoubtedly exaggerated by the third martini swaying dangerously in her hand.

He caught her wrist and took a sip off the top to save it from splashing onto her shoes. They were graduate students at Cambridge in their final year, and somehow had never met until that night.

Almost, he said. But a little less emphasis on-

She pressed a finger to his lips. I’ll just call ye Raj, if that’s alright with ye.

Alright, he said, laughing. Then you’re Annie to me, because I can’t pronounce yours either.

---

He was going to take me to Ireland one day you know, I said quietly. "We were going to go and research my… well, her family history."

That story had been one of the very few I had ever heard about my mother, because the truth was that Raj barely knew her. I often thought he was embarrassed by that, so I never pressed him on the subject.

Your mother was Irish? Marianne asked, her brow raising in interest. What was she like?

I shrugged. I dunno. Having me was not…on purpose, I said awkwardly. And then she was gone.

‘Gone’, meaning she left him. And me.

I sat quietly after saying the words out loud. I never really thought about her, but when I did, it struck me how it made me feel. Like a whole half of my history was inexplicable. There was so much to be learned when you didn’t know your mother. But I was grateful that I had known at least one of my parents.

I hoped Marianne wouldn’t press for more regarding how the abandonment of the mysterious Annie had impacted my self esteem or some bullshit like that. After all, I didn’t have much to tell. I had no idea where the woman was, and I was too old now to take it personally.

My therapist must have determined that one dead parent was enough for her to work with for now, and she left it alone. She smiled and urged me to continue my original story.

You were talking about your boat day with Raj.

That’s right.

---

Liam had met us at the docks, and I (being an only child of eleven years old who desperately longed for a sibling) was clinging to the grad student like a monkey. He had brought along his telescope, but Raj assured us there would be little need for it other than for extreme detail. It turned out he was right, and the planet shone above us brighter than I could have ever imagined, piercing the night with its godly glow that left no debate as to who was the ruler of the sky.

Incredible, my father breathed.

I watched him as he looked up in wonder, the imperfectly round silver disk mesmerizing him as it spun at a speed incapable of detection by the human eye. To us, it was completely still.

After several moments of observing my father and Liam silently dumbstruck by their view of the planet, I, like most other children, had grown restless. I sat at the edge of the small boat, watching the dark waves lap sleepily at the sides as the lights from the shore twinkled in unison. My eyes began to droop, but I would not allow myself to fall asleep. After all, I had begged to come along as I always did with my father’s expeditions. To fall asleep was to admit defeat, and so I busied myself with counting the gentle waves as the boat caught them.

One, two, three… I yawned. Four, seven…

Just as I began to doze off, a faint glimmer in the ocean caught my eye. I immediately turned around and directed my gaze upward, assuming it was the reflection of the planet or other stars on the surface of the water.

But it wasn’t. I rose to my knees and grasped the edge of the boat, peering over into the waves. I saw it again. There was a distinctive, bright glimmer of silver that seemed to be just below the surface. Was it a fish?

No, it was moving much too slowly. I reached a hand instinctively toward it and then immediately pulled away as the flicker of light became solid, emitting a strange glow that radiated like a small, bright moon beneath the waves.

‘It’s a strange rock, or maybe a jewel,’ I thought, fascinated. If I could only reach it…

Before I could process what was happening, an unexpectedly strong wave crashed into the boat and I lost my fragile balance. My grip was slick with salt water and I tumbled into the black waves with a splash.

I then made the critical mistake of opening my eyes underwater as I desperately kicked my feet in search of the surface. The salty sting was unbearable, but I fought to keep them open to get a sense of my surroundings.

Fear began to overcome me as I could not determine which way was up from beneath the nighttime waves. The water was ice cold and impenetrable in the darkness, leaving me blind in my pursuit for air. Surely my father would have heard the splash and would be after me at any moment. Why had I been so close to the edge of the boat?

A flash of silver shot past me like a bullet, leaving a trace of pearlescent bubbles in its wake. I looked frantically for the source of the moonstone glow, but my eyes were so narrowly slanted in pain that I could barely see my own hands.

Without warning, I felt a sudden, agonizing pain in my left palm and my eyes shot wide open. I froze as I caught a glimpse of what looked horribly like a sickly pale human hand reaching for me in the darkness. I shut my eyes and at last felt the relief of a strong, more welcome hand yanking me forcefully out of the water and into the temperate night air.

Jasmine what on earth! my father screeched from behind Liam, who was holding me out of the water by