Denial (41 page)
“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.”
“Mom, where are you going with this?” Celeste asked gently this time.
Camille looked at her daughter for a moment. “Where I am going with this, Celeste, is that it was only after the accident happened and when Amy left that I fully understood your feelings for her.” She patted Celeste’s hand. “And I watched you go through your pain alone. I hope you understand I had to give what I had to Josh. Even though I knew that your pain was great also.” Camille tightened her grip. “And somehow, as time slipped by, I was never able to tell you that I knew. Never able to take you in my arms and comfort you. But now, I understand that I was not ready.” She sighed. “In my day, two women together were almost unheard of. But now,” she shrugged, “times have changed. It is now the era of the individual.”
Camille sat back and sipped her coffee. “Of course, I do not truly understand the satisfaction that women can have together,” she said, her mouth turning down. “I think it would be so…so…unfulfilling,” she looked at Celeste. “But, I suppose that is because I like men, no.”
Celeste rolled her eyes. This is impossible.
Obviously aware of Celeste’s growing impatience, Camille said quickly, “
Chéri
, the point is that I want to know what is happening between you and Amy.” Camille let go of Celeste’s hand. “I want to help, that is all.”
All her life, Celeste had put her intellect before emotion, except with Amy. In all other areas, she had balance. Now, her life was becoming more surreal by the minute. Her own mother was sitting here telling her that this was the era of the individual and, as such, she accepted that her daughter was in love with her son’s wife.
Celeste couldn’t handle it. Needing some distance, she stood. Lifting her mug, she moved toward the kitchen sink. Sighing, she placed it in the sink and turned to Camille. She had no choice but to take an honest tack with her mother.
“Mom, it’s true, I do love Amy.” Anticipating her question, she held up her hand. “I’ve probably loved her since the first day I met her.” Answering the question she knew would follow, she added, “And no. I don’t know why.”
Celeste smiled faintly when Camille closed her mouth slowly.
Looking at her daughter intently, Camille asked, “Have there been other…women?”
Aware that Camille was trying to understand, Celeste let her in. “Yes.”
Looking confused, Camille asked, “But you were married?” She shook her head. “Are you bisexual or gay?”
Celeste rolled her eyes again. She didn’t know if she had the strength for this. “Uhmmm…yes, I was married. But I had never been in love, truly in love, until I met Amy.”
“Does Amy know?”
Celeste didn’t answer.
Camille folded her arms and asked, “So, now that I know you are no longer bisexual, should I refer to you as gay or lesbian?” She waved her hand. “I can never understand what the difference is.”