Masquerade (13 page)

when the unpacking settled. He’d never gotten the chance.

              She reached up and yanked a velour sweater off a hanger and hugged the garment to her chest.
Oh, Joe . . . why did you leave me?
If you’d just  called in sick  that  day.

              Tears welled up in her eyes. She pressed the sweater to her face.
I’m sorry, Joe. I’m so sorry. I should’ve stopped you.

She should never have let him go to work, and she should never have let him leave her eight years ago. Maybe their child would be here if he hadn’t left. She crumpled the sweater in her fists and pounded her legs, sobbing into the stillness.             

He’d said he wanted to see the world, so he quit college after his sophomore year, leaving her heartbroken. They were in love. How could he up and leave? Especially after the wonderful weekend they spent together.

But he needed his freedom. Something about finding himself. And when he did, he’d be back. Would she wait?

Of course she’d wait. Joe was the only man for her. She’d wait a lifetime if need be. How quickly her resolve had melted. She hated herself for it, but she hated Joe more. If he hadn’t left, she wouldn’t have succumbed so easily. 

Exhaling, she crossed her legs Indian-style and dropped her hands with sweater into her lap.
There’s so much you don’t know, Joe, and now, never will
. Maybe that’s for the best.

She tugged the box to her side. A solitary tennis ball. Baseball cap. Screwdriver. A thermos bottle. Pens. Bike chain. Random receipts. She sifted through the stubs. Though haphazard about it, Joe had always taken care of the bills. Now she had to. Luckily, his life insurance and compensation from Schreiber Metal Works would pick up the lack of a paycheck, at least for a while. She gnawed her lower lip. Surely, she’d be able to keep the house, because there was no way she’d move back in with her parents.

She pushed to her feet. A flash of white passed the bedroom door. When would these phantom images go away? Hope kindled one minute and dashed the next. With her fist, she beat her forehead. Joe was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. She smoothed a hand over her queasy stomach, moved through the utility room and kitchen and into the bathroom.

After losing her supper, she flushed the toilet. The water rose in the bowl. Not again. Frantic, she scrambled for the plunger, but the water crested and overflowed onto the hardwood floor, soaking her feet. How many times was she going to have to plunge this thing? She peeled her socks off, tiptoed to the kitchen for the mop, and returned to the bathroom.

Two swipes and she slung the mop. The handle bounced off the wall and hit the tub. She sank to the floor outside the bathroom door and sobbed. “I can’t do this, Joe,” she screamed, squeezing her fists until her knuckles turned white. “You’re supposed to be here, to fix things.”

The phone warbled. Shivering, she pushed off the

floor. “Hello?”

“Celeste, it’s Mother.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.
Not now
. “Hi.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

Not
how
are you doing? “Oh, cleaning out a few things.”

“Joe’s things?”
“Sort of.”

“Celeste, the longer you put this off, the harder it’s going to be. You need to get rid of everything that reminds you of Joe.”

She winced, biting back hateful words. “Joe’s only been gone a little over a month, Mother. I’m just not ready.”

“Are you getting out?”

“Sure.” If she counted the grocery store and the bank.

“I mean, besides school.” Her mother exhaled.

“How’s Father?”

“Left for an insurance convention this afternoon. He’ll be gone the entire weekend.”

“And you didn’t go?”

“I needed some alone time.”

“Oh.” That clearly wasn’t like her mother. Conferences provided opportunities to flaunt her latest outfit or jewelry piece.

“You know, dear, I could come and help you sort through things. Take some stuff down to that cute little thrift shop on the corner.”

“I thought you said you wanted to be alone?”

“Well, I’d certainly sacrifice to give you a hand. I could be there in a couple hours.”

“No need. Why don’t we both enjoy our alone time?” She raised her eyebrows as if her mother could actually see her.

“Are you eating?”

Good grief. Did her mother have a checklist in front of her? “Yes, I eat.”
Are you satisfied?

A rap on the utility room door. It was dark out. Who could that be? “I gotta go, Mother. Someone’s here.”

“You’re alone, Celeste. Don’t answer at this hour.”

Her gaze flitted to the kitchen clock. “It’s only seven p.m.”

“Still, you can’t be too careful when you live alone.”

“I have to go. I’ll talk to you later. Good-bye.”

Her mother rattled off something as Celeste slipped the receiver from her ear and gently cradled it back on the hook.

She dashed toward the utility room, slowing as she approached the door. The outside light must have blown out. Pressed against the wall, she inched the curtain aside and peered onto the stoop, pulse pounding in her neck.

Lorna? What in the world? She tugged the door open.

“I’ve come on a mission of mercy.” Lorna propped a hand on the doorframe, a grin tugging at her lips. “I’m whisking you away for the evening.”

Celeste rolled her eyes, started to speak.

“Uh,” Lorna raised her hand, “not a word. You’re far  too  cooped up.  Just thank  me for rescuing you.” She

stepped inside, and Celeste shut the door.

In the kitchen, Celeste wiped the butcher block counter and straightened the toaster and canisters. Anything to look busy. Maybe Lorna would take the hint and leave her alone.

“What are you doing? The place is spotless.”
Lorna leaned against the fridge, arms crossed. “Come on. Get your purse, and let’s go paint the town red.”

Holding the rag, Celeste studied the woman. Sheer sapphire blue blouse over khaki pants. Long beaded necklace with matching earrings. And a fresh haircut. Shorter, but still layered to frame her face. Heavier makeup. Definitely primped for a night out. “Where are the girls?”

“With their dad for the weekend. So, I’m free and ready to par-tay.” She jiggled her arms in the air, creating a ripple effect from her head to her toes. Not a pleasant sight.

Celeste draped the rag on the sink, rested her hip against the counter. She dare not sit down or Lorna might stay.

“Come on, get your purse.” Lorna urged with a jerk of her head.

“Look, I appreciate the thought, but I’m really not up to going out. I thought I’d take some time to work on next week’s lesson plans.”

“It’s Friday night, girl. You just got out of school for the week. Give it a rest.” She reached for Celeste’s arm. “Come on, I won’t take
no
for an answer. Besides, I could use the company.”

So that’s what this was about. “Okay, but only for a little while. And absolutely no bars.”

Lorna puckered her lips. “What? Where am I supposed to find a man?”

“I don’t know. The library, maybe?”

An abrupt laugh escaped Lorna’s mouth. “Yeah, right.”

“Anyway, I thought you’d given up on men.”

A toss of the hand. “Never hurts to keep the options open. Keep lookin’, you know. Maybe I’ll find Mr. Right one of these days.”

Mr. Right. Her Mr. Right had come and gone. Joe and Celeste—like salt and pepper, a little seasoning and a little spice, the perfect combo. She preserved their relationship with a steady influence, and he added zest and excitement along the way. For some people, love only came around once. She was one of those people. And she’d have to live on their brief love affair for the rest of her life. 

She rubbed her forehead. “You know, Lorna, on second thought, I think I’ll turn in early. Nip this gnawing headache in the bud before it takes hold.” She inched toward the utility room, hoping Lorna would follow.

“You’d forget all about that headache at the bar.” Lorna moved beside Celeste as she retrieved her nightgown from the dryer.

“Yeah, and have a bigger one in the morning. No, thanks. I don’t want to be within a hundred miles of alcohol.” Her escalated voice caught her off guard. She sounded like her mother. Not good.

“All right. Don’t freak out. Wow, talk about worked up. I’ll chalk that one up to grief.”

“Good of you.” Celeste leaned against the dryer and hugged the warm material to her cheek. She softened, lost in reminiscence and regret. “Joe drank most of the weekend before he was killed. I told him to stay home that Monday, but no, the mighty Joe Tatem wouldn’t let drink get the better of him.” She sighed, staring off into space. “But really, it’s my fault he’s dead.”

Propped against the washer, Lorna put her arm around Celeste’s shoulder and squeezed. “Come on, how could that be?”

“I told him we couldn’t have a baby. He tried to minimize the whole thing, said we’d get a second opinion. But I could tell he was upset. In denial, you know? After he finished painting the bedrooms, he drank one beer after another.” She shook her head and pressed the gown to her chest. “If I hadn’t told him, he wouldn’t have drunk so much. Maybe he’d been more alert at work. Stayed out of danger, I don’t know . . . ”

“Celeste, darlin’, you can’t take responsibility for Joe’s actions. You didn’t put the bottle to his lips. He made that choice for himself.”

“No matter. We’re both paying for it.”

One more squeeze, and Lorna removed her arm. “Sure you won’t come with me?” She backed toward the door.

“No thanks, really. I better get some rest.”

Lorna reached for the doorknob.

“You  don’t  happen  to  know  a  good plumber, do

you?”

Lorna turned, produced a sly smile. “Why, you looking for an in-house date?”

Not hardly. A date was the last thing on Celeste’s agenda.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The day before Thanksgiving break, Celeste stood in The Brighton Center gym beside Teddy and Lewis. Hands tucked inside the sleeves of her cardigan jacket, she braced herself against the cold. Barbara and Amelia, both pink-cheeked, formed a circle with the other children to play a game. Pigeon-toed, Lily tripped from the bleachers to join the circle.

Martha walked over, rubbing her hands together. “Turning cold, that’s for sure. Wish they’d get the heat fixed in here.” Her breath formed a slight cloud. “Weatherman’s calling for significant snow tonight. Good timing for a holiday break.”

“Yes.” Celeste urged mittens onto Teddy’s hands. “Seems the superintendent has made the decision to let us out early, what with the heating unit on the blink and the snow prediction.”

“Good.” Martha kept her gaze glued on her students who practiced a series of exercises at her aides’ direction. “What will
you
be doing for Thanksgiving?”

Why the sudden interest in her personal life? It wasn’t like they were close friends. Hardly ever spoke except about school matters.  “With snow coming, staying

home.” Truth was, she’d planned to hole up at home anyway.

“Alone?” Martha’s eyes blazed. “No family coming in?”

“Nope, just me.” She studied Lewis, now sitting on the floor, hands tucked under his legs. “How ‘bout you?”

              “Oh, mercy, alone is not my style, dearie. My roommate and I are having some friends over.” She cocked her head and produced a mischievous grin. “Say, why don’t you join us?”

              She couldn’t be serious. Just flying off at the mouth, most likely. Maybe trying to ease her guilt for not showing up at Joe’s funeral. Who knew what went through this woman’s mind.

              “Thanks for the invite, but I’ll be fine. And there’s the snow coming, you know.”

              A myriad of plastic balls bounced provoking giggles mixed with delightful squeals. Lewis clapped while Luke trotted toward Mark with his finger extended.

              “When are you going to get back to living?” Martha caught a ball and tossed it back to Linda.

              “Excuse me?”

              “Sweetie, I hear the reports.”