by Ella Brooke
At least let her learn to walk before she figures out how people will let her down.
On Friday Celia spent the day helping a few school administrators plan a trip around the new stained glass exhibit, and Saturday she was in the office, doing more paperwork than she thought possible. Sunday, she was pressed into tour service, something that she liked to think she had outgrown, but it was satisfying, if more than a little frantic.
By the time Monday rolled around, she had practically forgotten about James’s visit, or at least that was what she told herself. The truth was that the memory of James in her house, holding her daughter, was emblazoned on her memory; but his touch and his kiss was written into her skin.When she closed her eyes, she could still remember how he had felt, his hands sweeping over her, his mouth so hot and longing over hers. It wasn’t as if there had been a great deal of time for kissing in the years they had been apart. If she were really honest with herself, however, it had less to do with opportunity and more to do with inclination. Joyce and any one of her co-workers or friends could have set her up on a date, regardless of whether she was pregnant or had a child. She knew that. Somehow, the idea of being with someone who was not James left her cold. She assumed that it was the betrayal that had prevented her from wanting to be with men, but now she wondered.
It doesn’t matter, she tried to tell herself. It doesn’t matter at all. I just need to make sure that I keep my head on straight. He’s probably well on his way to forgetting all about what happened here.
The idea stung, but it was exactly what needed to happen. She managed to get on with her day, but then close to the end, just when she was starting to think about what she might cook that night, Joyce called her into her office. Idly, Celia wondered if it was something about her schedule or perhaps the stained glass exhibit. She knocked on Joyce's door, and when she got a perfunctory greeting, she opened it.“Hi, Joyce, what’s—”
The words died on her lips when she realized that James was seated in one of the two chairs across from Joyce. He wore a deep sapphire blue suit that made his eyes look even more blue, and his face was utterly unreadable.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she blurted out.
“Celia!” cried Joyce in surprise. “Why in the world would you say that to Mr. Casey?”
“I... I’m so sorry, forgive me. I was just surprised,” Celia said, taking her seat. She felt as if her head was spinning. It was one thing to have dealt with James while she was in her apartment. This was her place of business, however, and it was supposed to be sacrosanct.
“It’s just fine, Joyce,” James said with a smile. “I’m sure that Celia is just startled.”
Joyce gave him a dubious look, one that Celia was more than willing to echo, but she shrugged. “Of course, Mr. Casey. Celia, Mr. Casey is giving us an amazing opportunity. Do you remember the exhibit on copper work through the ages you proposed?”
Of course she did, Celia could have said. She pulled together research from all over the world to show what would need to happen and how it could benefit the museum. Of course the board had decided that it was a little too dull, not exciting enough to capture the eye. She knew that it really had more to do with money, and though she was disappointed, she refused to let it get her down. It was one more pipe dream added to the pile.
“Well, Mr. Casey has said that he was interested in funding it!”
The first thing that went through Celia was joy. It was a good idea for an exhibit, she knew it was. It deserved to get all of the attention that it could. For a moment, all she could think was how kind James was to do this. Then she saw the glitter in his eyes, and she felt her stomach sink into the floor.
“That’s amazing,” she heard herself say, and Joyce nodded.
“The only thing he is asking in return is for your help with a museum that he works with in Dublin,” she said. “It’s a small museum that features Victorian-era glass. It is right up your alley, isn’t that grand?”
“It is grand indeed,” Celia said, and she knew that there was something odd in her voice because Joyce gave her a puzzled look. “What an opportunity.”
“Mr. Casey says it will only be for three months or so, lodging and a food stipend included. And of course we’ll be more than happy to put you on sabbatical, and he insisted on keeping you on payroll.”
“And that’s in addition to the money you’ll be earning at the museum itself,” James supplied helpfully.
“That sounds amazing,” Celia said, and the cruel thing was that it certainly was. If there had been practically anyone else in the seat next to her, anyone who she had less of a history with than James, she would ecstatic. This was the kind of job that people in the field dreamed of, and that dream had gotten even more more rare thanks to the budget cuts that were going on left and right.
Joyce was going on about division of labor and what she would need to fill out before she could go, but then James nodded.“I think that I’m going to need to spend some time talking things over with Celia,” he said. “You don’t mind if I steal her away a little early, do you?”
“Not at all,” Joyce said, and Celia knew that she was lost.
James accompanied her to the employee lockers, where she gathered her things slowly.
“So this is how it’s going to go?” Celia asked once they were alone. “You decide that no matter what it is you want, you can just buy it?”
“I’m not buying you and Maisey,” James said. She thought that perhaps her words would make him lash out, but instead, there was an iron control in his tone. “I would never do that. You both deserve far better than that anyway. However, what I am willing to buy myself is an opportunity.”
“An opportunity?”
James looked around. “Let’s talk this over during dinner,” he said. “Is Chez Jacques, that little French place we liked still operational?”
She looked at him for a long moment, and then she realized that he wasn’t joking. Celia laughed a little, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “You really are new to the world of parenting, aren’t you? Come on. I need to pick up Maisey, and after that, I’ll give you the list of pizza places that I like to order from.”
***
James seemed surprised, but not shocked when she offered him the pizza menu and told him to get whatever he thought he could stand. While he was puzzling over some of the more esoteric items, it gave her time to change Maisey into her more comfortable home clothes and to get her fed.
Even as she was feeding her daughter, Celia couldn’t help but notice that Maisey was glancing around her, always finding James with her curious blue eyes.
“Aww, sweetie, I think you might be barking up the wrong tree,” Celia murmured.
James at last reported that the pizza was going to be forthcoming, and Celia set Maisey down to play in the living room then turned to James.
“Well?” she asked, her voice taut.
“You’re different now,” he observed, and though a part of her wondered whether it was simply a ploy, something that was designed to distract her from what truly needed to be discussed, she paused.
“I think that I am,” she admitted. “I mean, I don’t think you could have the two years that I did and not emerge changed, do you?”
“And me, do you see that I have changed at all?”
She narrowed her eyes at question. She looked him up and down, and to his credit, he submitted to the examination willingly enough. There was even some tension in his eyes that made her wonder whether he was somehow bracing himself for her answer.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I hope you have.”
James nodded, but there was a hurt edge to his expression, something sad and a little distracted. The idea that she could hurt him was still new and unsettling to her, but she kept her distance. When it came to people who had changed her life without even trying, James was high on the list.
“So are you ready to listen to me?” he asked, and she nodded.
“I’m ready to hear you out at least,” she said, and James smiled, because he understood the difference. Just because she heard the words that he was saying was no indication that she would listen.
“I did some research,” he said. “The two months after we broke up—”
“After you left,” Celia muttered. “You said that you were returning to Dublin and that you wanted to come back to Eastwick ‘soon.’” The reality was that he left, making her a few promises to return, and then she never heard from him again. It was a message that she received loud and clear, and a part of her was hurt just as much for the lies as the leaving.
James flinched a little, but he nodded. “Yes. The two months after I left, they were odd ones for a number of reasons. I intended to return to you. I meant to. At some point.”
“At some point?”
James’s smile was thin, and not without some self-deprecation. “Certainly. I am what I am, and I am not a man who thought much of being tied down. I would return at some point, and I very much wished to do so. I truly wanted to stay with you. I have always thought that you were special, Celia.”
She might have snorted at that, but he kept going.
“I found out why I wasn’t getting your calls. At the time, I was using a new secretary, as my old one had gotten married and left the office. Over those five months, I had two deals cave in, and a slew of ridiculous misunderstandings that were all the work of one very confused young woman. When I confronted her about how terrible she was at her job, she confessed her love for me. I got rid of her, and I did my best to curtail whatever damage she had done, but... Well, I think you know where this is going. She was taking calls when you tried to contact me.”
Celia stared at him, at how calm he looked.
“You make it sound as if this happens to you a lot,” she said, twisting her hands together. “Does it? I mean, do secretaries decide that they love you and stop taking your calls very often?”
“Well, it likely happens more often for me than it does to others,” James allowed with a slight smile. “But she is gone, and Celia, I never knew about Maisey. I never knew about the fact that you tried to contact me. When the dust settled—”“—You forgot me.”
James was a big man, but he moved so quickly that she barely realized he had moved at all until he was standing right before her. He touched her cheek, and there was a strange shiver to his voice when he spoke. It was both longing and dread, sadness and grief.
“Never,” he said hoarsely. “I have never forgotten you, and perhaps some day you will see that.” Then he took a step back, all business again. “The past is the past, and you can never return to it,” he said. “All we can do is move forward, and I want you to come forward with me, Celia.”
“With you. To Dublin. With Maisey?”
“Yes. You said I was buying you, and that is not true. I can never buy you or our daughter, no matter how much I might wish it to be so. However, I will purchase your time because I cannot get it any other way. Come to Dublin with me. Come do the work that I do need done, and let our daughter at least breathe the air of her blood. Ireland is her homeland as much as it is mine, or at least it could be.” James paused. “I am not asking for forgiveness,” he said bluntly. “All I am asking for is an opportunity.”
It felt as if the earth was opening up in front of her. There was no way forward but to fall, and Celia could feel the dip in her stomach that of standing at heights that she could barely imagine. She could try to fight James, but she knew that with all of his resources, he would win, almost undoubtedly.
But she did not want to fight him.
From behind them in the living room, Maisey’s voice came, burbling with laughter and what Celia could have sworn was excitement. When she looked over to where her daughter was playing, she saw that Maisey had hauled herself up on the baby gate, looking at both of her parents with glee.
“All right,” Celia said. “But James, if we are going to go with you, you better not hurt us.”
“Never,” James swore, and she wondered if she could start to believe him.
Chapter Five
Celia knew that James was wealthy. After all, it would take a rich man to make sure that she had a passport in her hand within just a day, and it would take a rich man to ensure that a lovely set of leather luggage was delivered to her door.
If I were you, the accompanying note read, I would just pack the things you don’t want to leave behind. Just about everything else can be accounted for when we land in Dublin.
Packing up the little life that she shared with Maisey took less time and effort than she would have thought. She and her daughter did not own much, and when the day came, a grave-faced pair of men came to take it all in a car, leaving Celia and Maisey to wait for James himself. Looking around her, Celia wondered when she would return to her little apartment. James was paying the rent for her; he had said he would almost as a matter of course. Everything would wait just like this for her return, and Celia felt a slight pang at leaving her life behind.
Then James was at the door, a bright smile on his face, and she felt as if she were taking a plunge into a brave new world.
“You didn't bother to tell me when the plane was leaving,” she said with a slightly harried smile. “I've been tense all morning trying to figure out if doing just one thing or one thing more was going to make us late.”James chuckled. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” he said, opening the back door of his sedan so that she could buckle the curious Maisey into the seat he had provided. “But we are not going to miss the plane. It’s my plane, after all. It is going to stay grounded as long as it takes for me and everyone I want on board to get ready.”
Celia automatically sat down in the passenger’s seat, buckling her own belt before she looked at James in surprise. “What are you talking about, your plane? It sounds like you own it.”
“I do,” James said with a shrug, pulling into traffic. “There’s the company jet of course, and the helicopter that I fly on occasion, but this jet is simply for my own personal use. I find that when I am trying to take care of things between continents that simply having my own was best for time sensitive matters.”
“Of course,” Celia said, as if she had any idea what that was like. She still wasn’t quite sure that she believed him until they breezed through the airport, Maisey clutched tight in her arms. Her daughter looked around her with wonder, and Celia knew that she was not doing so much better when they were escorted to the large private jet that James spoke of so lightly.
“Who are you?” she asked as a smiling young woman settled them into the plush seats. There were only four seats on this plane, facing a small table. She and James sat in one, but there was a downright luxurious child seat strapped to one of the others. Maisey had obviously been remembered.
James raised an eyebrow at her question. “You should know who I am at this point, I think.”
“I thought, you know, that you were well-off. Like, I knew that you could do mostly what you wanted when you wanted to do it. I knew that you had money, but I’m not sure I knew that you had jet money.”
James threw back his head and laughed, a bright and amused sound that had no sting to it at all. She realized somewhere deep within her that he was not laughing at her.
“I’m delighted that you’ve gone all this time without knowing,” he said, and before she could ask him about knowing what, he passed her a tablet. “Perhaps you can do some light reading on the flight,” he said.
Then the plane started its run down the asphalt, and Celia had to deal with Maisey who was suddenly not so certain about everything. A small and fretful whine turned into an outright shriek as the plane ascended, Maisey’s little face screwed up in panic.
“Oh poor sweetie, poor thing,” Celia murmured. “It’ll be fine soon.” James looked alarmed, but he pressed a large hand to Maisey’s back. The rueful look he gave her told her that he was aware that it was not much, but the added touch of her father
seemed to at least calm Maisey a little bit.
Even after the plane leveled off, Maisey was still fretful, her face hot and red. She was ready to pitch one hell of a tantrum, Celia knew. Maisey did not pitch fits very often, but when she did, they could impressively intense.
“Can I try holding her?” James asked, and she looked at him with surprise.
“You want to test out your baby-holding skills now?” she asked, and he nodded.
“She’s of both of us, and I think that means we should both be able to handle a crying jag, don’t you think?”
As a matter of fact, she had met many people who disagreed. However, she handed Maisey to James and then she sat back to watch in bemusement. Maisey did not quiet for him immediately. Instead she regarded him with a wariness that seemed to demand that this new person explain himself immediately.
“Well hello, darling,” James murmured, shifting to settle the tiny girl more comfortably in his arms. “How are you doing, now?”
She whimpered a little, but then James bounced her in his arms, nuzzling the top of her head a little.
“There’s a fine girl, that’s my sweetheart.”
Maisey stiffened a little, but then abruptly and to Celia’s surprise, she relaxed into James’s arms. She went from nervy and upset to practically boneless, and Celia hid a shocked smile behind her hand. James looked as startled as Celia felt, as if he had somehow performed a miracle. The little girl in his arms stared up at him, he stared down at her, and then he looked at Celia.