by Nicola Marsh
“I’ll sleep in the spare room tonight,” he says, standing. “I’ll move out in the morning. And if the baby turns out to be mine, I’ll help you raise him with clear-cut custody arrangements, but you and me are done.”
I nod in agreement and watch him pick up my wine glass, move into the kitchen and tip it down the sink before heading upstairs. And in that small, considerate action, even after I’ve proven what a lying cow I am, I realize how much I’ve lost.
Seventy
Celeste
I can’t wait until the morning to see Roland. I’m too wound up. And if I see him now, I can forewarn him about meeting the girls so he can prepare. Then again, maybe the element of surprise is better? “Hey, Roland, look at this, your girls are reunited, isn’t it fantastic?”
Though I know him. He’s not fond of surprises and that’s why I have to talk to him tonight.
I check on the girls, relieved they’re both sound asleep. I leave a note propped in the middle of the kitchen table in case either of them wake and find me gone. While Vi can’t read yet, I’m glad Luna can.
Dear Vi and Luna,
* * *
Hope you’re enjoying your grand adventure. I’ve gone for a walk along the beach, back soon. There’s milk in the fridge and cookies on the counter in case you want a snack. I’m so excited to be here with you two. We’re going to have so much fun together.
* * *
Mom xx
One kiss for each of them. I must remember to treat Luna as my own, even though Vi holds my heart. She’s fragile and easily scared, and I’m hoping some of Luna’s boldness will rub off on her. I would hate for Roland to make comparisons between the girls and like Luna better. I know all too well what it’s like to be second best and I won’t have my daughter tolerating the same shoddy behavior.
I hate how the world we live in these days values beauty above all else. How a trumped up nobody like Francesca Mayfair can reinvent herself as Frankie Forbes and become famous. How looks are prized more than intelligence. How fake peppiness garners fans when a quiet resilience is often seen as a sign of weakness.
Frankie is my opposite in every way but I won’t have her daughter being Violette’s opposite. I need them to meld, to complement each other. Only then can we be a true family. I won’t tolerate anything less.
I check all the windows and the front door to ensure they’re locked before pocketing the keys and slipping out of the back door. I hear the lock click behind me but I jiggle the knob just in case. I need to keep my girls safe.
It’s an easy half-paced jog from the cottage to Roland. The wind is strong tonight, the sea spray misting my skin, the sound of crashing waves resonating in my ears. I can’t believe he thought it would be easier to bring me to our favorite spot to break up with me. When he’d first mentioned we take the trip I’d been filled with hope. A nostalgic trip to our spot could only mean one thing: he was going to propose. Little did I know.
The thing is, I always forgive Roland anything. But then he’d started saying all that stuff about Francesca and Luna and…
We’d never quarreled like that. How can someone so rationally calm one moment lose it the next? I guess we all have hidden violent tendencies that explode when pushed too far.
For me, that trigger is Violette.
Nobody, not even her father, can get away with disparaging her while lauding his other child over me.
I reach our spot, a secluded part of the beach with a rocky outcrop that creates a semi-cave.
When I see him, my heart expands with love.
My man.
Mine. Not hers.
No matter how much he wished otherwise.
“Hey, it’s me.” I hover at the entrance to the cave so I won’t be tempted to rush inside and fling myself at him. “I’ve missed you.”
I don’t expect him to answer. Besides, I have enough to say for the both of us.
“I know it’s weird, me showing up here in the middle of the night, but I couldn’t wait to see you. I’ve got news. Big news. And I hope you’ll be happy for us.”
I take a step closer and peer into the darkness, wishing he would hold me, knowing he won’t. “The last time we spoke, when you were raving about ‘Luna this’ and ‘Luna that’ and how you’d never give me another child because you already had one and it’s her, I know I lost my cool and I’m sorry for that, but I hope you’ll forgive me when you discover what I’ve done.”
I throw my arms wide like I’m expecting his embrace. “I’ve brought her to you. Luna. She’s so close with Vi. Best friends who are actually sisters. How amazing is that? They’re alike in so many ways and I’m sure you’ll pick up their similarities as quickly as I did. She’s sweet, but not as good as our Vi, and I hope you don’t favor her because I won’t tolerate that and you know what happens when you anger me.”
A gust of wind sends my ponytail vertical and propels me forward a little. I should go to him. But I can’t. I have to wait until the girls are with me. Only then will he be inclined to forgive me.
“Sleep tight, my love. I’ll be back.”
I’m pleased with how our conversation has gone, until I turn to head back the way I came, and see Frankie standing three feet away.
Seventy-One
Frankie
I always thought this was a long shot and I’ve been steeling myself the entire way here that Celeste may be anywhere and not to get my hopes up. But the moment Ruston pulled up and I saw her, sheer relief swamped my rising panic. I found her. And I’m one step closer to being reunited with my daughter.
Celeste isn’t violent and I can’t imagine her harming a child. Which means Walt was right during our call when he said he had concerns for her mental health and this could be her way of dealing with whatever she’s going through.
Not that I’ll ever excuse or forgive her for kidnapping my child, but as a mother I understand we’re all driven to extremes at times.
My feet sink into the sand and I struggle against the headwind whipping off the ocean. The tang of brine fills my nose and I breathe deep, willing my body to relax so I can stay calm when I confront her.
The closer I get, I see she’s standing at the mouth of a cave, the one I remember Walt mentioning as their spot, and I almost burst into tears. But I can’t show weakness. If she’s unstable, I have no idea what she’s capable of.
As I edge closer I see she’s talking to someone but I can’t see who it is. My heart skips a beat. Is it Luna? However crazy Celeste is, surely she wouldn’t bring a five-year-old out here in the middle of the night. She’s a mother too. She wouldn’t hurt a child, would she?
Ruston is nearby, on top of the rocky outcrop that creates the cave below. He’s waiting to call the police. I asked him to give me a few minutes alone with Celeste and he almost didn’t agree. But I can’t risk her hurting my girl if Luna’s nearby and who knows what Celeste will do if startled by police.
I have no idea what to say now I’m here. My stomach is twisted into knots, my legs wobbling, but I have to make a stand. For Luna’s sake.
As I approach, I’m grateful for the crashing of the waves and the muffling of the sand beneath my shoes. I’m close enough to touch her and she hasn’t even noticed that I’m here.
She half turns, catches sight of me, and screams. I leap back, stumbling and almost falling.
“Don’t be alarmed, Celeste, I only want to talk.” I hold up my hands like I have nothing to hide.
“You can’t have her back.” She’s belligerent, her lips compressed in a thin line, and I’m not sure if it’s defiance or insanity I glimpse in her eyes. “Luna belongs with my Violette. Sisters should be together. Even Roland thinks so. He said he wouldn’t have a second baby with me, a sibling for Vi, because he already had another child.” Her glare is malevolent. “With you.”
I’m stunned. Why would Walter lie about something like that when he knew it would enrage her?
“That’s not true. Walt knew—”
; “Stop calling him that! He’s Roland. Only those closest to him knew his second middle name. But you didn’t. I’m the only one special enough to call him that.” Her top lip peels back in a sneer. “He used Walter Charles on official documentation and always left off Roland. I even saw it on your farce of a marriage certificate. But I knew him longer than you. I loved him longer than you,” she yells, her words whipped away by the wind. “He was always Roland to me, right from the start.”
“So I guess that makes you Julia,” I say, secretly appalled but hoping my calmness will rub off on her.
She slow-claps. “Yeah, though when I got pregnant, I wanted a complete fresh start and insisted Roland start using my middle name too and I’ve been Celeste ever since.”
Which explains why Violette doesn’t think it odd her mom’s called Celeste and not Julia, though I wish I’d thought to ask Violette’s surname because that would’ve given me a heads up to Celeste’s lunacy, regardless if her daughter uses Skelke or White, Walt’s surname.
“Though Roland didn’t know I had a second middle name too, Reagan, so I dropped Skelke when I moved next door to you. Quite the coincidence, huh?” Her hands clench and unclench, a slow, repetitive motion that petrifies me as much as what she’s saying. “Nothing like a little neighborly friendship to get you to trust me. I’ve been biding my time, waiting for you to let your guard down, before I took Luna.” She jabs a finger at me. “You and your snooping just brought the timeline forward. Did Roland have a photo of Vi at the beach house?”
“Yes.”
“I guess I should be grateful for that small mercy, seeing as he always favored Luna over her anyway.”
“He didn’t—”
“He did!” she roars, her face flushing puce. “I saw the proof. He set up a trust fund for your precious daughter yet hardly had time to spend with Vi.”
A mother scorned is dangerous and a small part of me pities her, for waging this long battle against favoritism when I’d never been aware of it.
“Celeste, listen to me. Luna isn’t Walt’s daughter. I sent him a paternity test to prove it.”
“You’re lying. The trust fund is irrefutable proof.”
I shake my head, wishing he hadn’t done this when I’d told him not to. “He insisted on setting up the trust fund as a way to commemorate our marriage. He was sentimental like that.”
“He was an idiot.”
I focus on one word.
Was.
Past tense.
My gut churns and I want to ask her about Walter. But Luna is my priority and I’m hoping this chatter has lulled her into opening up to me.
“Are the girls here?”
I aim for casual and thankfully, I’ve done the right thing by mentioning “girls” and not just Luna, because in her crazy mind she considers them a pair now—sisters—and her expression softens.
“They’re at the cottage, sleeping. What kind of mother do you think I am, that I would consider dragging them out here in the middle of the night?”
She doesn’t want me to answer that question because a caring mother wouldn’t kidnap someone else’s child.
So I play along, anything to placate her and keep her talking. Ruston would’ve called the police by now and she’s told me what I wanted to know, where Luna is. Many of the cottages we passed look deserted and even if they’re not it won’t take the police long to search each one to find the girls.
“From what I’ve seen, you’re a good mother. And our friendship—”
“Our friendship was nothing!”
She’s back to yelling and I try not to flinch in the face of her outrage.
“Do you have any idea how hard it was to pretend every time I was around you? To not slap you or tear your hair out for stealing Roland from me?” Her fingers curl into her palms, her fists clenched. “From the moment I saw you in the garden chatting up my boyfriend at your stupid party I knew you were a heartless tramp. Then after Roland callously dumped me, I had to sit back and watch as he brought you home then paraded you around, and you didn’t even leave after I did all that bad stuff.”
So I’d been right. It had been his ex.
“The thing is, I loved him so much I wanted him to be happy so when he actually married you I backed off. I left you alone. But then you broke his heart like I expected and he turned to me for comfort.” She pounds her chest with a fist. “Me, the woman he should’ve married all along. And we were happy, until you intruded yet again. YOU SLEPT WITH HIM and you cheated on your husband. How could you?”
I don’t owe her an explanation. Besides, nothing I say now will change anything. Because she’s right. I was a horrible person to Walter when he didn’t deserve it.
“For what it’s worth, Celeste, I’m sorry—”
“No, you’re not. Women like you never are. You project this perfect image all the time but you’re vile, evil to the core.”
I want to make a flippant comment about her looking in the mirror but it’s not wise to enrage her.
“And now, even after everything we’ve been through, you still won’t admit the truth. That Luna is Roland’s.”
“I have proof in my back pocket, so I can show you.” I move slowly so she doesn’t think I have some kind of weapon, and slide the envelope out of my pocket.
When I tucked it in there earlier today I never envisaged having to use it like this. “But first, tell me where Walt is.”
The anger contorting her features eases as she points at the cave. “He’s in there. I was talking to him when you showed up here uninvited. How did you find us anyway?”
I’m horrified to think she has Walt in the cave, probably captive. Or worse, and I tremble at the thought. “Something Walt said to me once, about this being your go-to spot as a couple.”
“We had some special times here…” Her expression hardens again. “When he brought me here the last time I thought he was going to propose. So I preempted it with my hopes of another baby, how it’s all I’ve ever wanted, and in response he breaks up with me and flings Luna in my face.”
She’s furious again, fairly vibrating with it as she gestures at the cave. “I’ve never seen him lose his temper but when I wouldn’t listen to him about breaking up, he got mad. Really mad, and I did too. We said some awful things. He broke my heart and I couldn’t take it any more so I shoved him… there.”
The moment she points to the spot where she pushed Walt, I know he’s dead. The low-hanging outcrop… stumbling backward… hitting his head… Sorrow wells in my chest and I stifle a sob.
“I miss him so much…” She sinks to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “I never meant to hurt him.”
“I know,” I say, when I know nothing of the sort. I can’t believe what she’s done.
Out of the corner of my eye I see several officers with Ruston on top of the outcrop and more streaming up the beach toward us.
“Celeste, the police are going to arrest you.” She’ll spot them herself any moment and I don’t want her startling and doing something crazy, like running, and making the officers draw their weapons.
I’m not sure if she hears me, and when she raises her tear-streaked face, her gaze is scared rather than deranged. She glances up the beach in the direction of the cottages and mutters under her breath, “I want the girls to be together. Vi needs a sister like Luna. She’s never had a sibling and she deserves one. I can give her this…”
Before I can say anything, she skewers me with a stark stare that raises goosebumps on my arms.
“You have to take care of Vi for me. Even if Roland lied and he’s not Luna’s father, she’s close to Luna and you’re a good mother. I may hate you but that’s your one saving grace, your maternal instincts.” She’s rambling, panicked. “Please look after Vi for me.”
I’m stunned by her request and before I can process what she’s asking me to do, she continues, “I don’t want her in foster care. She can’t be raised the way I was, unloved and unwanted. I want her w
ith you.” She reaches out, palms up, beseeching. “I’ll sign anything. You can adopt her, raise her like your own.”
I can’t believe what she’s saying, but I’m relieved the panic is making her give up both girls unharmed. But every conflicting emotion is evident in her eyes—desperation, fear, sorrow, and regret—and it makes me cry.
We’re both sobbing when the police arrive and she offers no resistance as an officer places the handcuffs on her wrists and the others enter the cave after I mention Walt is probably in there.
Ruston slides an arm around my shoulder. “You okay?”
I nod and I can’t stop crying as I watch the police take Celeste away. But I must pull myself together. I need to find my daughter. “Luna’s in one of the cottages. I have to find her…”
“The police have already found the girls. They’re safe. A social worker is with them.” Ruston squeezes my shoulder before releasing me.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Take me to them, please.”
“The police have questions—”
“Now, Ruston. I need to see my daughter.”
To his credit, he doesn’t hesitate. “Okay, let’s go.”
As he helps me up the rocky path to the road above, I hear a plaintive cry. I glance over my shoulder and my gaze locks with Celeste’s.
“Take care of my girl,” she shouts, her tears running unabated.
I should be furious at her for putting me through this, for making me live every mother’s worst nightmare.
But she’s a mother too, so I offer a brief nod.