Denial

by Jackie Kennedy

  “How are the kids,” Amy asked as they reached the car.

  “Good,” Celeste said then smiled. “They can’t wait to see you, but because your flight was due in so late, they’re staying with Colin and Alex tonight. You’ll see them in the morning.”

  Amy got into Celeste’s BMW and buckled up. “Thanks for putting me up.”

  Celeste smiled. “I’m glad Irene eventually convinced you not to stay in a hotel.”

  Amy laughed. “I think Irene would have physically dragged me out and dumped me at your place, even if I had.”

  Amy unclipped her seat belt and, removing her coat, said, “I forgot how hot it is in December. It’s absolutely freezing in Glasgow.”

  Amy re-buckled her seat belt, sat back and looked out the window. She looked at the changes that had taken place over the years. New buildings had appeared and although there were many changes, the familiar route soothed her. She stretched out her legs and laid her head against the headrest then looked at Celeste. She stared at Celeste’s hands and how strong they looked as they gripped the steering wheel. Amy let her eyes follow Celeste’s arms to her face where she studied her profile. As always, her eyes were drawn to the fullness of Celeste’s lips and then her scar. Amy fought the urge to touch the small scar. She was always stunned by the perfect symmetry of Celeste’s face and how her scar, instead of detracting, seemed to add additional depth to her looks. Turning her thoughts sharply away from how Celeste looked, she asked, “How are you?”

  “Fine,” Celeste responded. “I’m glad you came.” She glanced at Amy. “Even though Irene threatened to bring the entire family, and everyone else she could find, over to Scotland if you didn’t. I’m still glad you came.” She kept her eyes focused on the road. “The kids have missed you.”

  “How are they?”

  Celeste smiled broadly. “Naomi hasn’t stopped talking about you. She is so excited at the thought of seeing you, and Daniel has been painting frantically. He has received merits for his artwork and wants to show you his portfolio.”

  Amy, feeling suddenly lighthearted, laughed and said teasingly, “Oh portfolio. My how very impressive.” She smiled and closing her eyes said, “We might have a budding artist on our hands yet.”

  Celeste shook Amy gently awake. “Amy, we’re here.” She drew in a sharp breath as she slowly came around, Amy took her hand in hers and stroked it gently.

  Aware that Amy was still sleepy and unaware of her actions, Celeste’s stomach twisted. The urge to pull Amy into her arms was overwhelming so she gently pulled her hand away, and needing some air, opened the car door.

  Amy sat up and yawned. “Are we here already?”

  “Yes,” Celeste replied, getting out of the car. “I think you should try to get more rest.”

  Amy got out of the car and stretched. “Yes,” she nodded. “I’m really tired.” She looked around expectantly. “I can’t wait to see the kids.”

  Celeste got Amy’s luggage out of the car and, turning toward Amy, smiled. “You’ll see them soon enough.”

  Celeste’s heart almost melted when Amy smiled back. She closed her eyes briefly, and wondered how she was going to cope with the idea of never being physically close to this woman again.

  †

  Celeste drove Amy over to visit her mother the next day. Pulling up outside the house, Amy got out of the car and looked around, noting with surprise that the place really did look like a demolition site. She smiled to herself knowing that Irene was a huge do-it-yourselfer and was forever making modifications.

  Standing at the door, Amy was attacked by a strong wave of guilt. She hadn’t seen Irene in years and that was unfair to her mother; it made her think about how much she had missed out on her little sisters’ growing up. That was the main reason she had given her mother her permanent address so she could be involved in her sisters’ lives.

  Bruce opened the front door and gave Amy an almighty hug before taking her directly up to Irene’s bedroom.

  Apprehensively, Amy entered the room and approached a sleeping Irene. She gently shook her awake.

  As soon as Irene’s eyes opened, she started to cry, sobbing, “My baby,” through her tears. “Thank God, you’re here at last.”

  Celeste watched the extremely emotional reunion unfold for a while before excusing herself and going to find Bruce.

  Since Amy left there was no doubt in Celeste’s mind that Irene struggled. Often, she would phone Celeste, or come round for dinner or a chat, and the conversation inevitably turned to Amy. Irene desperately missed her.

  As the morning rolled on, Bruce and Celeste eventually interrupted and encouraged Irene to get some rest. “Although, she looks strong,” Bruce said, looking at his wife tenderly, “she’s very weak. This bug has knocked her out.”

  Nodding, Amy leaned over Irene and kissed her mother’s cheek. “You’re going to be okay, Mum.” She looked into Irene’s eyes for a long moment. “I’ve missed you.”

  Irene’s jaw slackened, and holding Amy’s hand tightly, sobbed.

  The joy that crossed Irene’s face when Amy called her ‘Mum’ brought a smile to Celeste’s face.

  Before leaving, Amy tried to talk Irene into letting her stay, insisting that she needed her. Irene shook her head, adamant that Amy stay with Celeste and visit her every day, if she wanted. She told her firmly that Bruce would be more than able to look after her. She wanted Amy to spend time with Celeste’s children.

  “Please, jellybean. The girls are away until the end of the week on a trip,” Irene said, her voice just above a whisper. “I would rather you visit every day.”

  Amy looked at her mother for a long moment. “Okay,” she said finally then kissed her goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Celeste and Amy made their way downstairs where they spent some time with Bruce.

  It was only after giving a list of instructions, Celeste noted with some amusement, that Amy seemed confident that Bruce would be able to look after Irene well.

  †

  Driving back to Celeste’s house Amy thought about Josh. She had known for some time about his two children. She laughed inwardly. Two children out of wedlock. How un-Josh like. She smiled wistfully, realizing that, even though he had a whole new life, he was still married to her. There was no reason for them to be married, she thought. It was time they cut the strings. It was time they divorced.

  Looking out the car window she wondered what Josh looked like now. She looked at Celeste and thought how little she had changed. He probably looked just the same. She caught her breath when her thoughts turned to Ryan and Christopher. They would be over eight years old now. She wondered what his children looked like. Her stomach lurched at the strangeness of thinking that Josh’s children weren’t hers.

  Amy watched Celeste’s hands for a while then asked, “How’s Josh?”

  Celeste gripped the steering wheel tightly.

  “He’s good,” she said. “He’s had a few ups and downs with the software company.” She paused. “For a while, it looked like it wasn’t going to make it. They had serious problems with software bugs and the release date kept changing.” She glanced at Amy. “The company almost went under. But, fortunately, they found some new investors. So, right now, he’s sitting pretty.” She glanced at her again. “He lives in New York.”

  Amy closed her eyes briefly, glad that she was genuinely pleased for Josh. Pleased that his business didn’t go under and that he’d made it. He worked hard. He deserved it. New York, she thought.

  Amy was fully aware that underneath Josh’s easygoing manner there hid the heart of an ambitious entrepreneur. Familiar guilt filled her. Guilt she always felt whenever she thought of him, guilt that, even though he was suffering, she had left him. “Does he know I’m here?” she asked, somehow already knowing the answer. If he did, he would stop at nothing from seeing her.

  “No.”

  “What are his children like?” Amy asked. But again, she knew the answer. During their vi
sit, often out of earshot of Celeste and the boys, Naomi talked freely about all of her family—including Josh and his children. Naomi had whispered to her one day that her Mommy had asked her and Daniel not talk about Josh and his family to Amy. Innocently, Naomi had explained that she wasn’t to tell her too much about them, so she didn’t spoil Amy’s surprise when she visited them.

  Poor Celeste, she has tried so hard to protect me from the truth that Josh has moved on.

  “Simone, she’s a character,” Celeste said carefully. She glanced at Amy. “Looks just like Josh and she has him wrapped around her little finger. She’s eighteen months old.” She smiled. “And Rachel, she’s feisty like her mother. She’s just a few months old and, like her father, she’s always hungry.”

  “How did they meet?”

  “They,” Celeste hesitated, “they worked together. She’s a software engineer.”

  Celeste searched Amy’s face.

  “Don’t worry,” Amy said, understanding that Celeste was concerned. “I understand Josh was never the type to be on his own for long.” Amy couldn’t help but smile. “What’s his…partner’s name?” Again, she knew the answer.

  Celeste held her breath then, exhaled slowly. “Denise,” Amy whispered, “Denise.” She said, “Josh, Denise, Simone, and Rachel.”

  Celeste threw her a look filled with deep concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Amy replied. She sighed heavily. “It’s him and the girls.” She looked at Celeste. “Funny isn’t it?” she said. “When we were together it was just me and the boys.” She looked out of the window. “I think he should know I’m here.”

  Chapter 48

  “Hi, Mom, Grand-mère is here.”

  “Is she?” Celeste said, putting her bag down. She reached for Daniel and pulled him into hug. “How are you?”

  Daniel hugged her back then smiled and said excitedly, “Good. I’ve done lots more paintings today, and I want Amy to see them. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  “I don’t, sweetheart. She has a lot to do,” Celeste said. “Where’s your Grand-mère?”

  “She is in the kitchen,” he replied, disappearing through the front door. “I’m going outside for a while.”

  Celeste entered the kitchen. She greeted Kate, the kids’ nanny and, swinging Naomi into her arms, gave her a big kiss. With Naomi in her arms, Celeste went to her mother.

  Camille was sitting at the kitchen table.

  “Hi Mom, how’s things?”

  Camille stood up. “Kate, would you mind taking Naomi outside for a little time?”

  Kate nodded. There was apprehension on her face as she looked from Camille to Celeste.

  Celeste smiled reassuringly. Kate was a great help. She had been with Celeste for a few years now and while she was initially employed to help with the children they had quickly they become good friends.

  Celeste frowned and let Naomi slide out of her arms.

  Kate shooed her outside.

  Confused, Celeste said, “Mom, what’s—”

  “Shhh!” Camille interrupted and, holding up her hand, watched Kate and Naomi leave.

  Closing her mouth, Celeste stared at her mother.

  After a few moments, Camille asked in French, “Why did you not tell me that Amy is here?” Then waving her finger back and forth in reprimand, said, “It is not nice that she is here and you did not tell me.”

  Camille often reverted to her native tongue when she was around her daughter.

  Celeste squared her shoulders. She should have known it wouldn’t be long before the drums started beating. Concerned that everyone now knew, she responded. “How did you know?”

  Camille clicked her tongue. “I spoke to Kate yesterday.” She tapped her nose with her index finger. She smiled cleverly. “I sensed she was not telling me everything.” She shrugged. “And when I called back I spoke to Naomi and she told me.” She tapped her foot. “Thank God it is not in the nature of a child to mislead.”

  Relieved, Celeste asked, “So, no one else knows?”

  Camille clicked her tongue again. “Non.”

  “Look Mom,” Celeste said, suddenly weary. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but that decision lies with Amy.”

  In typical French fashion, Camille expressed her disbelief by pulling down the skin under her right eye with her index finger. “My eye!” she said in annoyance.

  Celeste held out her hands in frustration. “It’s true. It’s up to Amy whether she wants to contact you or not.”

  “Chéri,” Camille responded, looking at her daughter as if she’d been beamed down from another planet. ”I am not going to bite her. If anything, you know I have missed her terribly, and to find out she is here and that you may not have told me.” She lifted her hands in the air. “Well, I know you are my child, but I shall never understand how your mind works.”

  Celeste looked at her mother. “Like I said, I didn’t want to pressure Amy. The decision was and is hers.” She turned her back on Camille and poured coffee into a mug. Keeping her back to her mother, she sipped it.

  Camille approached Celeste, and standing next to her looked at the counter. Ignoring the coffee mugs, she removed a china cup from the shelf.

  “When did Amy arrive?” she asked, pouring coffee into her cup.

  “Two days ago.”

  “Where is she?” Camille asked, searching the shelf.

  “I think she’s at Irene’s.”

  Clicking her tongue, Camille sounded aggrieved when she found what she was looking for. “Why do you insist on having sugar granules when you know that I like only sugar cubes?”

  Celeste could not be bothered with indulging her mother’s persnickety French traits. She said in English, “They’re both sugar, Mom!”

  Spooning the sugar into her cup, Camille tutted then sighed. “Mmmm…I suppose I shall just have to wait then. Maybe it is not a bad thing that she is not here. It will give you and I time to talk.” She looked at Celeste and, sounding serious, added, “And we do need to talk, very much.”

  What about? Celeste thought with dread.

  Camille had always been a rock for Celeste. She supported Celeste during her divorce and during the adoption process, and was a great support with the children. She was never one to criticize and only ever gave advice when asked. But Celeste sensed by the inflection in her mother’s voice that things were about to change.

  “Celeste, why is Amy here?”

  Celeste’s heart thudded. She took her time answering. “She’s here to spend Christmas with her family.”

  “No. I mean, why is Amy staying here with you and not with Irene?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Camille breathed out slowly, obviously gathering courage. “What I mean, Chéri, is that I know.”

  Celeste drank her coffee, then asked, “You know what?”

  “Celeste, I have possibly, to my detriment, allowed you to hide your feelings for too many years without talking.” She clicked her tongue. “Everything should be out in the open. It is healthier then, no?”

  Celeste didn’t respond.

  Camille sat down and motioned for her daughter to join her. Celeste pulled out a chair and sat across from her mother.

  “I know that you care for Amy. In fact, much more than care for her.”

  Celeste choked on her coffee. Spraying out of her mouth, it splattered across the table.

  Camille got out of her chair quickly and moved to Celeste. She rubbed her back, as if winding a newborn, then reached for a cloth to clean the table.

  “What are you talking about?” Celeste exclaimed in a raspy voice.

  “You know exactly what I am talking about,” Camille said. She stopped cleaning the table. “I am talking about you, my darling, being madly in love with Amy for some years now.”

  Astonished, Celeste stared at her mother.

  “Call it mother’s intuition,” Camille said then shrugged. “I saw how you were around her.” She waved her hand nonchalantly.
“You can also blame your sister. When she has a few glasses of wine she likes to talk about how forlorn her sister is.” Her voice mimicked Sophie’s and she said in English, “Lost and in love with another.” She looked at Celeste. “You know how dramatic she can be. It did not take much guesswork to understand whom she was talking about.”

  Celeste groaned and closed her eyes briefly. Fuck! I’m going to kill Sophie!

  Camille picked up Celeste’s mug and her cup and refilled them. She returned and sat down.

  Celeste waited patiently for Camille to continue, knowing that Sophie was only dramatic because she had inherited that part of their mother’s nature.

  “To be frank, before the accident, I was not fully aware of it. I saw that you had a strong interest in her. But I did not realize that it was of a…shall we say…romantic nature!”

  Watching her daughter, Camille lifted her cup and slowly drank from it.

  Celeste cringed. Blushing heavily, she wanted the ground to open and swallow her up. She looked at her mother, aware that she had a liberal attitude, which up until this very moment, she had enjoyed.

  Camille put her cup down. “As far as I knew, you had never shown any interest in women. And…well…you were married!”

  Celeste, face deep crimson, decided at that moment that she really was going to kill Sophie. “Mother,” she said abruptly, “where are you going with this?”

  “Does Amy know how you feel?”

  Celeste looked at her hands and was thankful that she had never confided too much in Sophie. She sat in silence, simply dumbstruck. She had no idea what to say.

  “Chéri,” Camille said. “You are my child. I have watched over you all your life. And there has always been a certain amount of remoteness that surrounds you.” She shrugged and waved her hand dismissively. “Which I have never truly understood, but in the last few months, since you have made contact with Amy, I have never seen you so happy…so contented.” Camille reached out and clasped her daughter’s hand. “What I want is the truth, Celeste. I want to understand what is going on so that I can help you. Help Amy. Help us all.” Pain edged her tone as she grasped Celeste’s hand tightly. “The loss of the children has left a hole that has never been filled in my heart.”