Denial

by Jackie Kennedy

  Celeste’s eyes fell to Amy’s breasts, and she fought the urge to tell her she didn’t have that problem now. “You’re painting a really attractive picture here,” she teased.

  Amy laughed. “By the time I was eighteen, the braces were gone.” She looked down and added playfully, “My boobs grew. Thank God! But, eventually, Maggie gave me short shrift. I was getting far too much attention for her liking. She told me my studies needed to come first.”

  Amused, Celeste smiled. Enjoying Amy’s intimacy, she asked, “So you never wanted to pursue a music career?”

  Amy stretched, and Celeste’s eyes fell involuntarily to her breasts.

  “Yes, for a wee while,” Amy responded. “Who doesn’t carry dreams of making it big at that age?”

  Celeste smiled. She liked the Scottish burr and huskiness of Amy’s voice.

  “I played in a band at university, but the chemistry was never right,” Amy continued. “I guess I’d been spoiled. I loved being in Maggie’s band. The boys were like brothers to me. It was all about having fun, a laugh, nothing more. But I lost interest. They took themselves far too seriously.”

  †

  Sometime later, Amy looked at her watch, and was shocked that it was so late. A twinge of regret shot through her that she was going to have to end their chat. She really had enjoyed Celeste’s company, but if she was going to get up early to meet her client, she really needed to go to bed now.

  “Celeste, I hate to cut it short, but I really need to get some sleep.”

  Looking disappointed, Celeste nodded. “You’ve got an early start.” She tapped her glass. “I’ll finish my drink and follow.”

  Amy said goodnight and headed for her bedroom. On her way up the stairs she decided to detour by her studio to quickly tidy it up. It would only take a few minutes and experience had taught her that she loathed coming home to a mess. She headed for her studio, but stopped when the phone rang.

  God, it’s so late, Amy thought, and toyed with the idea of ignoring it, but curiosity got the better of her. Running down the hallway, she entered her bedroom and answered it. It was Josh. Sitting on the bed, she shared the highlights of the evening to him.

  When Amy hung up, she toyed with the idea of leaving her studio until she returned from Barbados, but she pushed herself off the bed instead knowing she wouldn’t be happy leaving it a mess. Padding barefoot down the hallway to her studio, Amy was startled to see Celeste standing there when she opened the door. Shocked, she asked abruptly, “What are you doing in here?”

  “Maggie showed me this room when I got here, but I never got a chance to look.” Celeste picked up a paintbrush. “I’ve heard how talented an artist you are. Maggie said it would be okay to look around. I hope you don’t mind?”

  Yes, I do bloody mind!

  Putting the paintbrush down, Celeste motioned for Amy to come into the room.

  This room was Amy’s inner sanctuary, and usually Maggie respected her space. Biting back, she entered and closed the door. Resting against it, she watched Celeste move around the room.

  Celeste examined a model build of the new house and other projects Amy was working on.

  “You’re a busy woman,” she finally commented as she peered through a window on the miniature new build.

  Color rising in Amy’s cheeks, she watched Celeste continue to touch her things. When she stopped at a painting, Amy cringed.

  Celeste tilted her head to view it.

  Embarrassed, Amy slowly approached the brunette and noticed she was barefoot.

  “When did you do this?” Celeste asked, staring at the painting.

  “Uhmmm…a few weeks ago,” Amy replied. “The day of the barbeque at Irene’s actually.”

  That day she had been unable to resist the urge to sketch Celeste. Since meeting her, she had mused at the similarities and differences between the twins, and in the afternoon an opportunity arose when everyone was watching the football game and she found Celeste alone at the edge of the pool, deep in thought.

  Impulsively, Amy had retrieved crayons and a sketchpad from the children’s room and quickly sketched her.

  Watching Celeste look at the painting, Amy studied her profile. She remembered wanting to find out which was stronger between Josh and Celeste, their similarities or differences in looks and gestures. Instead, she had captured something else, an essence that radiated from Celeste, something that surprised her—melancholy.

  Turning her head, Celeste looked at Amy curiously. “I’m flattered.”

  To Amy’s complete astonishment, Celeste, as if needing the closeness, hugged her.

  Startled by the physical contact and unsure how to react Amy placed her arms awkwardly around Celeste and squeezed her gently. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’ve never had my portrait done before,” Celeste said, her arms around Amy.

  “It was a pleasure,” Amy responded. Feeling awkward and uncomfortable, she tried to fight the urge to pull away. Aware she didn’t want to overreact to an instinctive moment, she forced herself to relax.

  “You caught me thinking of someone,” Celeste said eventually.

  Amy noted the rawness in her voice.

  “I lost someone very special to me,” she said, her hold on Amy tightening.

  Surprised, Amy listened as Celeste inhaled deeply.

  “Her name was Felice,” Celeste whispered.

  Unsure how to react but sensing Celeste needed to talk, Amy waited for a moment, “What happened?”

  Celeste hesitated, her hold loosened. She looked at Amy. “I probably don’t need to tell you about the war in Somalia?”

  Amy nodded. “I know what’s going on.”

  Celeste shut her eyes. “A few weeks ago, my team was sent to a camp.” She wearily opened them. “The camp was a compound, surrounded by militia, and we needed to treat the people inside.” She paused then sucked in some air. “I’m sorry, Amy,” she said, pulling away. “I don’t mean to…burden you.”

  Sensing this need to talk was uncharacteristic, Amy quietly pleaded, “Stay. Tell me. I want to hear.” She hugged Celeste, encouragingly. Celeste lowered her long, dark lashes.

  Amy shuddered unable to imagine the kind of violence Celeste must have witnessed over the years.

  Celeste pulled out of Amy’s arms. “It was agreed that we wouldn’t be harmed, and we were sent there to provide medical assistance.”

  Amy held her breath, registering for the first time Celeste was probably often in situations where she could be killed.

  Celeste folded her arms. “We were told that thousands of displaced people were in the camp, but when we got there,” her voice lowered as she recounted the moment, “many had been slaughtered.” She frowned deeply. “The militia suddenly decided the camp was a sanctuary for their enemies.”

  Amy could barely imagine the fear she must have experienced about the fate of those people.

  Celeste swallowed. “We couldn’t find anyone. The place was littered with belongings, but it wasn’t until we moved deep into the camp that we found them.” She closed her eyes briefly. “Thousands of terrified people herded together.” She looked at Amy. “Like sheep. All huddled along a ridgeline that ran through the camp.”

  Celeste held Amy’s gaze. “We worked for days. The casualties were never-ending. I had never seen anything like it. The injuries were horrific.” She broke eye contact and shook her head. “We were only equipped for basic problems—dysentery, infectious bites, malaria, things like that. Anything more, the hospital in the city would treat.” She bit her bottom lip. “The militia made it a rule that anyone caught trying to leave the camp would be shot.” Her eyes closed. “But, people were terrified. Even knowing how dangerous it was, some people still tried to escape.” She frowned. “We were completely powerless to stop them from being hunted down and killed.” Her eyes darkened. “The soldiers weren’t good marksmen. Even close, they could still miss. And if they managed to wound someone, they wouldn’t waste bullets they’d just b
ayonet them to death.”

  Amy had seen news footage. Although appalled by what she saw, she realized there was no way she would ever comprehend what it was like to witness carnage like that firsthand. She looked at Celeste with new eyes. It must have been soul destroying watching the lives of people she was trying to save be so easily snuffed out.

  “After a few days the militia went on a killing spree.” Celeste shook her head. “The day Felice was…killed, people were being shot all over the camp.” Anger flickered across her eyes. “It was a hopeless situation. We weren’t equipped to treat gunshot wounds. All we could do was gather up the casualties and have them flown to the hospital. Celeste’s eyes widened. “We were waiting for the helicopter to arrive, this young boy,” she shook her head, “couldn’t have been more than eight years old, ran toward us screaming for help. A soldier was chasing him. He was firing at him.” Celeste’s face tightened. “The boy ran toward Felice, ran straight into her arms, screaming for her to help him. It was only when the soldier saw an officer with us that he stopped.” Pain tinged Celeste’s tone. “But Felice and the boy were hit.”

  Tears stung Amy’s eyes as images of this unknown woman, horrifically shot down flooded her mind.

  “The helicopter had been shot at earlier, and couldn’t land.” Celeste swallowed. “Felice was in serious condition and we couldn’t treat her at the compound. We needed to get her to the hospital. But the roadblocks the militia had in place were a nightmare to negotiate. An army officer tried to get us through checkpoint after checkpoint. And I couldn’t do anything. I was in the back of the ambulance with Felice and the others.” A look of desolation crossed her face. “I did what I could but we weren’t equipped.” She closed her eyes. “When we eventually got through, it was too late.” Her voice cracked. “We lost her.” Her voice broke. “Amy…she fought so hard.”

  Amy pulled Celeste into her arms and hugged her.

  Celeste held Amy tightly.

  Feeling her pain, Amy shuddered at the horror of such an impossible situation. She understood loss—her father’s death had devastated her—but losing someone like that. She could not comprehend what it must have felt like to watch someone you cared for die before your eyes. Feeling a wealth of compassion for Celeste, Amy cupped her face, and looked at her intently. “You’re safe here,” she whispered. “It’s okay to let go.”

  Leaning her brow against Amy’s, Celeste caught her breath.

  Aware she was probably one of a few people to see Celeste this vulnerable, Amy watched transfixed as tears slid down Celeste’s face. Unable to resist, she caught one with her thumb, and rubbed it between her fingers.

  Celeste leaned into Amy and wept. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes.

  Grabbing a nearby rag, Amy gently dabbed Celeste’s cheeks. She kissed her cheek tenderly. “Release is good.”

  Nodding, Celeste said, “It was…unexpected.”

  Amy whispered, “I know.”

  They looked at each other.

  Celeste cleared her throat. “Thank you.” She looked at the painting, and changed the subject. “You can see my scar.”

  Amy glanced over her shoulder. “Yes.”

  Aware that Celeste was vulnerable, Amy decided not to break contact. Turning in Celeste’s arms, she added, “Its good…your scar. I like it.”

  Her arms hanging loosely around Amy, Celeste frowned.

  Immediately embarrassed by how stupid the remark sounded, Amy added quickly, “I mean…I really like your scar because,” she tried to justify, “it…it adds depth.”

  It was true, Amy did like Celeste’s scar. When she had sketched Celeste’s face, her hazel-green eyes were initially the dominant feature followed by her lips and cheekbones, but the small scar somehow, inadvertently, held center stage. Looking at the painting, Amy contemplated why she liked it. After a moment, she realized it was because it robbed Celeste’s face of perfection, and somehow that pleased her, as her artistic eye always found imperfection more appealing.

  Arms tightening around Amy, Celeste whispered, “But, still, you’ve made me look so…so…” she seemed to struggle for words as she looked at the painting, “beautiful.”

  Surprised Celeste would think anything less, Amy took a breath. “That’s because you are beautiful.” She turned her head to look at Celeste. “Very beautiful.”

  Their eyes locked.

  Amy thought about how good it felt being in this woman’s arms and blushed.

  “Thank you. It’s a wonderful surprise,” Celeste said then kissed the top of Amy’s head.

  Amy wanted to let Celeste know that it was good what they had just shared. “I’m glad you trusted me.”

  Celeste nodded slowly.

  Watching Celeste, Amy focused on her generous mouth and full lips, then finally her eyes. Her lips parted slightly in surprise when Celeste bent her head, and kissed her cheek then her mouth. It was a gentle kiss, warm and sweet. One meant to communicate more affection than desire. One never designed to ignite the full-body hormone rush that exploded through Amy.

  Eyes wide, lips tingling, Amy stared at Celeste. Completely overwhelmed by the unexpected intensity of her physical response, she whispered, “Did you feel that?”

  Celeste nodded slowly. She sucked in air. “Yes,” she answered huskily. “I did.” Moaning lightly, she pulled Amy to her.

  Heat rose within Amy. Her senses exploded when Celeste encouraged a full-blown, open-mouthed kiss. Pressing her against the workbench, their mouths hot and demanding, Celeste’s hands moved urgently up Amy’s rib cage. Kissing her deeply, she lowered the straps of Amy’s dress.

  Dress falling to her waist, Amy moaned when Celeste cupped then caressed her bare breasts. Unable to focus on anything but Celeste’s mouth and the incredible sensations exploding within her, Amy could do nothing but completely surrender.

  Celeste let Amy’s mouth go. Sucking gently, she bit down the length of her neck. Leaving a trail of moistness, she nibbled her way down then back up.

  “Oh God,” Amy whispered, her hair falling to the side as she allowed Celeste access. She gasped when a deep growl escaped Celeste as she sucked on her neck.

  Amy’s groin clenched when Celeste’s hands worked on her very sensitive nipples. The more she caressed, the more Amy responded. Soon, her hips were undulating.

  Moaning, Celeste pulled Amy’s dress up above her thighs. Pulling the silky briefs aside, she rubbed her fingers over Amy’s soaking clit.

  Wrapping her arms around Celeste’s neck, Amy moved against her hand, groaning deeply.

  Hissing out her breath, Celeste slid her fingers deep inside Amy as her mouth kissed a moist trail down Amy’s throat. Biting down on her neck, Celeste thrust into her.

  The combination of the sharp pain and the feel of Celeste drove Amy’s hips forward. Crying out, her entire body flushed as she came.

  The pleasure coursing through Amy faded. Coming down, she opened her eyes and looked at Celeste.

  Slowly the brunette pulled away from her.

  The cold air cutting across Amy’s nipples focused her mind. Looking down, her brain scrambled. Dazedly, she pushed herself away from the workbench.

  Breathing hard, Celeste leaned against the wall.

  Unnerved, body shaking, Amy fled the room.

  Chapter 9

  Rushing to her bedroom, Amy threw the door open and hurried in. Shaken to her core and feeling bewildered, she stopped in the middle of the room and looked around. She shook her hands to relieve the growing panic.

  “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmyfuckinggod!”

  Amy looked at the door and realizing it was still open, rushed to it. Closing it, she leaned her full weight against it and felt for the key. Alarmed, she remembered it was on her dresser. Eyes widening, she realized she had never used the key before.

  Quickly retrieving the key, Amy tried to put it into the lock but her hands were shaking violently and she dropped it several times before succeeding. Sighing heavily, she leaned agains
t the locked door. Fixing her dress, the full force of what had happened hit her. Shame filled her and tears started to fall as she sobbed in disbelief.

  “Amy, are you okay?”

  Amy could hear the worry in Celeste’s voice.

  Celeste repeated, “Amy, are you okay?”

  Amy stood frozen.

  Celeste knocked on the door. “Amy, please answer me.”

  Amy wiped tears away. “No, I’m not okay, Celeste. What happened is not okay!” She clenched her fists. “Okay!”

  “Amy, I think we should talk. I—”

  “I think it’s best you go,” Amy interrupted, wringing her hands together. “I don’t think any amount of talking can explain what just happened.”

  Celeste tried to turn the door handle.

  Amy yelled, “For God’s sake, didn’t you hear me?”

  “Amy, I want you to try and stay calm, and take deep breaths.”

  Amy paced the room. She was angry and confused. She needed time alone to think.

  “Amy?”

  “How am I supposed to stay calm, when I’ve never done anything,” Amy stopped pacing and faced the door, “I mean absolutely anything like that before!”

  A vivid replay of what had taken place ran through Amy’s mind. Clasping her cheeks, she tried to absorb the enormity of the situation.

  “I know it’s a shock, Amy.” The door creaked as Celeste pressed against it. “It’s a shock for us both.” She paused. “But I’m sure if we talk, we can sort this out.”

  Beginning to hyperventilate, Amy drew out her words. “We just had…sex, Celeste! I don’t think anything you say can talk us out of that!” She stared at the door. “I can’t deal with this…you…right now!”

  “Amy, open the door.”

  Trying to regulate her breathing, Amy leaned against the wall closest to the door. “I don’t…want…you here. Okay? There’s…nothing…to say…right now. I can’t—” Amy’s breath came in short gasps, cutting off her words.

  Standing outside Amy’s room, Celeste listened helplessly.

  “Amy. Listen to me, take deep breaths.” Aware that Amy was going into shock, Celeste injected authority into her voice. “I’m happy not to talk just now.” She tried being persuasive. “But I don’t want to leave you like this. It’s clear you’re having an anxiety attack, and I have no idea if you have a history of this or if you have respiratory problems.” Her tone precise, she added, “Amy, I need to know you are not on any type of medication or suffer from any problems like asthma?”