Masquerade (9 page)

The receptionist’s gaze fluttered to Celeste. She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, I’ll see what I can find out.” She slipped away from her desk and disappeared through a door.

Two strides and the officer sat beside her again. “Now, let’s see about filling out this form.” He reached for the clipboard, but Celeste hesitated. He produced a warm smile. “I’ve had lots of practice pushing paper, ma’am.”

“Okay.” Releasing the board, her hands fell to her lap. “I don’t understand why they have you fill out paperwork when you can’t even think straight. I just want Joe.” She craned her neck to check the double doors leading to the triage area. If only she could tear through those motionless doors.
Oh God, what’s happening in there?

She  jumped  out of her seat.  At the  same time, the

emergency doors swung open and a doctor charged through. He slowed as he approached the waiting area. His gaze sifted through the eager faces.

Just then, the entrance door swooshed open, and in walked Cecil Donnelly.

“The family of Joe Tatem?” The doctor stepped forward.

Adrenaline pumping, Celeste flew to his side. “I’m his wife.”

The doctor pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry. There was nothing we could do. Your husband’s injuries were too severe.”

Her hand shot out, and she blinked. “No, wait a minute.” She staggered. “Everybody got out. I saw them running.”
Pain . . . go away . . .

The doctor touched her arm. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

She jerked back. “No! Go away.” Her hands flailed. The room began to spin. She couldn’t breathe.
Pain . . .

Arms lowered her to the floor as a blanket of blackness settled over her.

###

Her eyes fluttered open. She felt groggy as if she’d been sedated. She lay on a bed with Mother and Father
standing over her. She glanced around the room. “Where am I?”

Her parents exchanged worried glances.

“The hospital, Celeste. You gave us quite a scare when   your   blood   pressure   bottomed   out.”    Mother

squeezed her shoulder.

Celeste sat up, and a wet cloth fell from her forehead. “Joe!”

Taking hold of her arms, Father pressed her back. “Shh, honey.”

“I have to get to Joe.” Her gaze flitted from Mother to Father.

Mother dabbed at her upper lip. “He’s gone, Celeste.”

She squeezed her mouth with her hand, tears filling her eyes. “No.” She sank into the pillow.

An odd mix of antiseptic and smoke filled her nostrils. She turned her head. A plastic tub sat on the table beside her. A shudder rippled down her spine, and her stomach cramped. She frowned and pushed up on her elbows. In a sitting position, she slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, hand to her head. She reached for the tub, but Mother pushed her hand
away.

“No, dear, not now.”

“I have to. Please, let me see.”

The lines deepened on Mother’s brow, and she sighed.

Celeste lifted the tub and examined the contents. A tear trickled down her cheek as her hand grazed Joe’s charred shirt. She buried her face in the material. Only smoke. No hint of English Leather. A gut-wrenching sob escaped her throat. It was true—Joe was gone.

Mother laid a hand on Celeste’s knee.

A knock, then the door cracked open. Cecil peered inside the room. “Okay to come in?”

Father walked over to him.

“I’m Joe’s boss.” Cecil spoke in a hushed tone, but she could hear. “I wanted to check on Celeste this morning.”

Morning? Had she been here all night? She rubbed her forehead.

Whispers passed between Father and Cecil.

Her hand like wood, Celeste reached for her husband’s wallet. When she flipped it open, her picture fell out. She bit back tears. Under Joe’s pants lay his wedding ring, cut in half.

Slipping from the bed, she moved to the door.

“Honey, where are you going?” Mother’s agitated voice worsened the pounding in her head.

She bolted through the open door and started down the hallway. “Joe! Joe!”

A nurse looked up from her station, eyes wide, and picked up a telephone.

By the time the security guard appeared, her parents, Cecil, and the nurse had Celeste settled in a chair.

“Take a deep breath,” the nurse urged. “That’s it.” She stroked Celeste’s back.

Celeste pressed her abdomen. “I want to see my husband.”

Father kneeled in front of her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You want to remember him as he was.”

A doctor swept down the hall, his white coat flapping at his sides. Stopping in front of her, he touched her shoulder. After performing a quick assessment, he handed  Mother  a bottle of pills. “In case she needs them.”

He paused, patted her shoulder. A sad smile played on his lips. Then he was off, coat flapping behind him as he disappeared down the hall.  

Celeste slumped against the back of the chair. “What happened to the other man?”

Cecil took a seat beside her. “Randall Laverty?”

“Yeah.”

“Severe burns. Critical condition. But alive.”

“How fortunate for his wife.” She studied her hands. The white gold wedding band
embedded with tiny diamonds shimmered under the fluorescent lighting.

“Randall never married. No family that I know of.”

Her head whirled. No family. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had no family either. Joe had been her family. And now he was gone. 

Taking her arm, Father lifted her from the chair. “Come on, Celeste. Let’s get you home.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sitting in a recliner, Celeste tugged at the pins in her chignon, and her hair spilled to her shoulders. A chignon. Mother’s idea. She’d said the hairdo presented an air of elegance, dignity, and grace. Besides, it looked good with the funeral cap and veil.

Who wore a veil these days anyway? But perhaps it hadn’t all been bad. The contraption had hidden her swollen eyes as she stood quietly weeping at Joe’s graveside. Otherwise, she would’ve had to wear sunglasses. Nonetheless, she’d torn the thing off as soon as she stepped inside the house after the service.

Her mother ushered Barbara and Amelia into the living room, offered a fragile smile, and

returned to the kitchen.

              Celeste set the hairpins on the floor and put her hands out to receive the women. Barbara clasped them while Amelia laid a hand on Celeste’s shoulder. Both ladies sat on folding chairs, one on each side of Celeste. Lorna had come and gone, along with other teachers from the center. Uncle George and Aunt Sheila Tatem left after the service, and since Joe, like her, was an only child, she had no siblings to comfort her.

A few factory workers huddled on the sofa, speaking in hushed tones while they ate off Chinet plates. The aroma of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and desserts wafted through the small house. But the smells only upset her stomach since they reminded her of Joe. He loved chicken and mashed potatoes.

              “I’m so sorry.” Barbara rubbed Celeste’s arm.

              Amelia nodded, but remained silent.

              The tears flowed freely. Although she gripped a linen handkerchief, she didn’t use it. She reached for a pile of tissues wedged between the seat cushion and arm of the chair. The white hanky trimmed with lace was her mother’s idea, along with the polyester black shift. Even though Joe would have wanted his wife to wear vibrant colors for his funeral, Celeste was too weak and worn to argue the point with her mother. “It’s the proper thing to do,” Mother said that morning before walking out of the bedroom.

              Celeste blew her nose. “I’ve been asking questions, trying to make sense of all this. Nobody seems to know how the fire started.”

              “Don’t put yourself through this,” Barbara said.

              “The report’s not conclusive, but it wouldn’t surprise me if somebody tossed a cigarette butt on the floor.” One of Joe’s coworkers inched forward on the sofa, holding his empty plate. “Smoking’s banned inside the factory, but that hasn’t stopped some of the guys, even with the boss’s threats to fire offenders. I’ll tell you, though, I’ll never forget how quick that pile of magnesium shavings lit up.  Terrible thing.  With wooden  pallets  and 

other combustible goods in the area, well, it didn’t take long to ignite.”

              Another worker sighed. “Explode is more like it.”

              Celeste’s heart beat faster. Her sweet Joe. Had he suffered? “I never even got to see him.”

              “Oh, you wouldn’t have wanted to, ma’am.” The second worker shook his balding head.

              “Thank you, gentlemen, for the explanation.” Barbara put her arm around Celeste. “She could use some rest now, I think.”

              “Uh, sure. You take it easy, Mrs. Tatem.” The first worker rose and shook out his legs, followed by the other three men. “If there’s anything we can do, just let us know. None better than Joe, I’ll tell ya that. Yep, he was the best, ya know?”

              She did know.

              The men shuffled toward the kitchen, heads hung low. Her father’s voice emanated from the utility room, then the back door clicked.

              She squeezed her eyes shut.
Thank God they’re gone.

              “We should be going too.” Barbara stroked Celeste’s hair.

Celeste grasped Barbara’s hand and held it against her cheek. “Please, don’t go yet.” She searched for Amelia’s hand, finally resting hers within its grip. The warm tissue-paper skin soothed her. “How are the children?”

“They miss you.” Amelia’s cheeks wrinkled when she smiled.

“Oh, clumsy me. I nearly forgot. They made you something.” Barbara unzipped her oversized bag and retrieved a homemade card.

Amelia leaned in as Barbara handed the card to Celeste. “Jocelyn drew the scene on the front.”

Celeste sniffed. “Look at that—a beautiful rainbow over a field of flowers. She’s certainly artistic.”

“And look inside. All the children signed their names. Well, we helped Teddy and Lewis.” Barbara winked. She grinned, and her eyes crinkled into those lovely quarter moons Celeste adored.  

“How’s the sub getting along?” Celeste worried her bottom lip.

Barbara patted Celeste’s knee. “Now, don’t you be concerned about a thing. She’s doing fine, and so are we. You take as long as you need.”

“I need to be back with my children. I can’t stay here cooped up with,” Celeste pointed toward the kitchen, “
them
.” 

A soft chuckle from Barbara.

The sound warmed Celeste to her toes, the sensation immediately followed by guilt. She shouldn’t be happy about anything right now.  The only man she’d ever loved was gone, and he was never coming back.

“Rainbow promises.” Barbara cocked her head and peered into Celeste’s eyes.

She arched her eyebrows.

“That’s right. Rainbow promises. The sky’s stormy for you right now, but it won’t always be this way. God gives the rainbow after the storm.”

God. What had He ever given her? Joe? Perhaps. If so, why had He taken him away? To punish her?

Then again, maybe God had nothing at all to do with attraction. Maybe people merely fell in love by chance. Some unexplained cosmic pull toward one another. She sighed. Rainbow promises. Sounded like a nice sentiment, even a song, but reality was so much different.

“Whenever you see a rainbow, God is saying, ‘I am here.’” Barbara squeezed Celeste’s hand.

“You’re here, both of you,” Celeste said. ‘That’s all I need.”

“Before we go, can we pray for you?” Barbara smoothed her skirt.

Bile crept up her esophagus and flooded her throat. The last prayer she’d heard was offered by a priest during confession seven years ago. After all, Mother insisted all tracks be covered, including the God track, Celeste’s sin so great and all.
Her
sin? What about her mother’s? Her baby would be here now if it hadn’t been for her mom. Joe’s child would be by her side. Together, they would comfort each other.

Heat surged through her body. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

The light dimmed in Barbara’s eyes. Immediately, guilt washed over Celeste, and her shoulders sagged.

“That’s all right.” Barbara reached for her bag.

“Sure.” Amelia nodded, seemingly afraid to say anything for fear she might say the wrong thing.