Behind the Green Curtain (19 page)

Chapter 28

Caton didn’t expect Amelia to call.
Though she had looked the picture of vulnerability when Caton left her standing
in her front room, Caton knew Amelia was far from helpless. She didn’t need
reinforcements to handle her own family. She didn’t truly need Caton for
anything.

Despite knowing that well, when the
gift basket arrived at her door, Caton still felt like she’d been jilted. There
was no identifying information, but the courier knew her name, was adamant in
telling her he had already been tipped, and there was only one place from which
it could have come. Overflowing with the type of luxury holiday fare Caton
assumed they would be dining on in the Halston Palace, it seemed to say, ‘Since
you’re alone and will be spending the holiday season outside our magical realm,
here are some items you can’t afford to buy yourself.’

It was also more food than she
could eat in a year, so Caton lumbered the over-sized basket down the stairs
and into her car Christmas Eve morning, trying to find some gratitude that
Amelia had acknowledged her at all and trying not to think about how slowly
time had been going without the prospect of Amelia suddenly appearing to drag
her away for a few hours of libidinous delight.

Moving the monstrosity from one
place to the other was difficult enough without obstacles, so she didn’t even
attempt to maneuver the basket into the backseat. Plopping it down in the
passenger side, she pulled the seatbelt across it, and it rode next to her like
a stand-in for something she didn’t have.

The second she pulled into the
driveway, it seemed, her dad was yanking her door open and dragging her from
the driver’s seat to wrap her up in a giant bear hug Caton made no attempt to
escape. When he asked what he could carry, Caton pointed him to the basket and
spared herself the shame and wound-licking of having to haul the sufficiently
jumbled gift inside.

Walking through the front door of
the house in which she grew up, the smells of the holidays assaulted her senses
before she stepped around the half wall into the living room to discover that
her father’s enthusiasm for the season had spilled over into his decorating
again. The tree, two times too big for the space, sported twice as many lights
as it needed, and barely a pine needle was to be seen beneath the garland and
icicles. The train chugging through the Christmas town on the nearby table
played a carol as it went, and every Christmas-themed stuffed animal Caton or
her two brothers had ever owned had found its way out of the closet and into her
dad’s motif.

It was almost ridiculous, the
wonderland of hope and cheer, glaring against the melancholy in which Caton had
let her thoughts hold her prisoner over the past few days. Laura was out of
town being a saint, Amelia was busy with her family, Caton missed one
considerably more than the other, and she knew it was the wrong one to miss. By
her own choice, she was heading straight into a mess of heartache. Yet, in her
childhood home, life went on, so joyful and festive, it was almost mocking.

“Caton!” her mother shouted,
rushing into the room to capture Caton in the iron vice of her embrace.

Smiling automatically, Caton hugged
her back, before a flash of memory transported her to Selene’s unexpected
homecoming and the uncomfortable steps with which Amelia approached her
daughter. Wondering what it must be like to have such distant family relations,
she frowned slightly as she pulled away.

“Are you okay?” her mom asked in
concern.

“Yeah.” Caton forced the thought of
Amelia from her mind. “Just a long drive.”

“Well, come into the kitchen,” her
mom ordered. “Come on. I’ve got all kinds of fresh cookies, and we’ll make
coffee.”

Taking her coat off, Caton tossed
it at the couch and allowed herself to be bustled into the kitchen, sending the
gift basket a small glare when she saw it sitting on the table.

“Where’d that come from?” her
mother asked, busying herself making the coffee.

“I got it from someone,” Caton
said, with all the casualness she could muster. “It’s yours now.”

Coffee finally dripping, her mom positively
shined with excitement as she stalked toward the massive variety gift and the
unknown treasures within, like an explorer on a hunt. “You haven’t even opened
it?” she asked.

“No,” Caton returned dismissively,
wishing she could share in her mother’s good humor. “I won’t eat it.”

Getting up from the table as her
mom pulled the ribbon and let the cellophane fall with childlike glee around
the edges of the basket, Caton grabbed two mugs from the cabinet and filled
them, listening to the oohs and ahhs at her mom’s findings. “Are you sure you
don’t want any of this?” she asked.

“I’ll have some of it while I’m
here. I’m sure there will be nothing left by the time I leave,” Caton said,
finally smiling as she imagined her brothers making short work of the massive
quantity of food in one late-night holiday face-stuffing.

“Hmm.” Her mom hummed thoughtfully,
and Caton froze at the unexpected tone. She knew that hum. It was the same one
her mother used whenever she caught her at something punishable as a kid. “I
think you’ll want this. It has your name on it.”

Looking over her shoulder at once,
Caton’s eyes fell to the silver box, held together at the edges with red silk,
a small envelope tucked behind the ribbon at the corner. Given a look that was
far too inquisitive as she stepped back to take it from her mother’s hand,
Caton ignored it, watching her mom return to the basket and pretend to focus
her attention elsewhere.

Turning back to the counter, Caton
slid the envelope from the ribbon, thumb swiping beneath the metallic sticker
that held the flap in place, and pulled the small white rectangle from inside,
watching the words appear little by little, like an oasis rising on a barren
landscape.

Thinking of you.

That was all, penned in red ink in
Amelia’s unmistakable handwriting, half severe angles and half large, flowing
curves, a personal calligraphy, as much a contradiction as the woman herself.
Just seeing the scrawl, Caton was hit by the same undeniable sense of longing
that had plagued her for days. She shouldn’t miss Amelia. After all that had
happened between them, with so few days that could have been considered civil,
there was no place for such a visceral reaction to knowing what she was
without. She wasn’t even sure if she ever really had it.

Pressing the card back into the
envelope, Caton closed the flap against prying eyes and her own uncomfortable
thoughts and placed it name-down on the counter. For a moment, she considered
seeking privacy, but knew it would only result in a barrage of questions that
she would eventually answer anyway. To spare herself the foreseen
interrogation, she slipped the ribbon from one corner of the box. It fell in a
slack pile of red as she moved her hand to the lid, almost afraid to open it.

Trembling fingers at last easing it
off, Caton dropped the lid to the counter and pulled back the light swath of
fabric inside, biting her lip to suppress a gasp or an expletive, not sure
which would escape her mouth if she let it open. The moon and star pendant
might have been mistaken for highest-quality silver if Caton didn’t know the
giver so well. Intimately-acquainted as she had become with Amelia, she could
only guess how much those four small diamonds set in platinum and sapphire had
to cost.

“Is that real?” Her mother didn’t
bother to stifle her gasp, leaning in over Caton’s shoulder, mouth slightly
agape.

“No.” Caton forced a laugh. “I’m
certain it isn’t.” She was certain it was, and Caton could see the disbelieving
look her mother wore from the side of her eye.

“It looks real to me,” she
declared, a hint of accusation in the tone that Caton chose not to hear. “Who
did you say this was from again?”

She hadn’t, and with her mother
hovering at her shoulder awaiting explanation, Caton wasn’t sure if that was a
good or bad thing. “Why? Do you want it too?” she joked, moving the fabric back
into place to hide the proof of her less-than-pristine love life.

“No,” her mom replied. “It wasn’t
my name on that card.”

That sounded accusatory too, but,
then, maybe Caton was just waiting to be burned at the stake. She tried to
imagine the look on her mother’s face if she told her she’d not only been
sleeping with someone behind the back of the sweet, sincere woman she had been
dating for months, but that someone was a married woman. Able to imagine the
disappointment with painful clarity, Caton lifted the card from the counter
before her mother’s curiosity could get the better of her and carried the gift
back to the table, sliding into her chair and dropping the box into her lap,
hoping the barrier of the tabletop would make her mother forget what she had
seen.

Distracted by the rampant thoughts
in her head, the sentiments of the card, and the question of whether or not she
should call Amelia, Caton was surprised when the coffee she’d left on the
counter was put in front of her, and she smiled up at her mom gratefully.

“All right.” Caton’s dad entered
the room with his usual bluster, and Caton was even more grateful to have
someone else to occupy her mom’s attention. “I’ve got you all stowed away upstairs.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Caton
said, watching him approach the fresh pecan pie on the counter. “I was going to
get it later.”

“Too late,” he announced. “Already
done.”

As he reached for the pie, Caton’s
mother turned instantly, just waiting for her moment to intervene. “Don’t touch
that pie,” she scolded. “There are all kinds of cookies and other things you
can eat.”

“I was just going to get a little
piece of the crust,” he said.

“Don’t,” Caton’s mom warned as her
dad reached for the pie again. “Don’t,” she repeated. “Don’t.”

Her dad’s fingers barely brushed
the crust, and Caton swore her mother pulled a spatula out of thin air. Dodging
the flying utensil, her dad laughed at every swat. “All I do around here, and I
can’t even have a piece of pie?”

“I didn’t spend all day on these so
you can have them half-gone before everyone gets here.”

“I tried to help.” Caton’s dad
looked to her for support. “She didn’t want me in here.”

“You eat more than you help.”

“Well, every job has its rewards,”
he countered.

“If you want something, get it out
of that basket over there,” her mom finally ordered. “There’s all kinds of
expensive stuff in there, both of the edible and non-edible variety.”

Risking a glance at her mom’s
inquisitive expression, Caton knew she wouldn’t say another word without her
permission, though she did wish her mom would just forget about it completely.

Going to the basket as directed,
Caton’s dad found plenty of acceptable options. Gathering three boxes in his
arms, he sat down at the table across from her and started popping them open.
“How’s your job?” he asked. “Do you like it?”

“It’s temporary,” Caton returned,
realizing she’d made even neutral topics uncomfortable, and wondering, with
remorse, how she was going to get through the visit without a constant stream
of lies.

“Does that mean you don’t like it?”
he prodded.

“No,” Caton uttered. Hand going to
the box in her lap, her fingers tangled in the silk ribbon, and she tried to
shake off the reminder of Amelia’s skin beneath her fingertips. “It’s just best
not to get too attached.”

“What are you doing there exactly?”

“Charity stuff,” Caton responded
distractedly. “Fundraising and planning.”

“Sounds like worthwhile work.” Her
dad smiled.

“It may be the most important thing
I’ve ever done,” Caton declared instantly. She had repeated it to herself at
least a thousand times over the course of the last three months. Like a pep
talk. Eyes dropping to Amelia’s gift, she only wished it could be less
complicated. “No matter what happens.”

It was the abnormal silence in the
kitchen that alerted Caton to the fact she’d said too much, and she tried not
to look stricken as she raised her eyes to meet her dad’s.

“What’s going to happen?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Caton forced casualness.
“I’m just being dramatic.”

When her dad glanced to her mom, in
a silent communication she hadn’t seen since she lived under their roof, Caton
knew she hadn’t sold it. “Is something wrong?” her dad asked, turning the
concerned gaze back on her.

“No.” Caton lied for the first time.
“Everything’s fine.”

Every recent decision she had made
only heightening the demands for secrecy, there were no truths in her current
life she could share with them. She had made her own bed, she was lying in it
with Amelia, and having to face her parents with a muddied conscience was the
price she had to pay.

Chapter 29

Glancing toward the passenger seat,
Amelia wanted to turn the car around and take her daughter home in accordance
with both of their wishes. Of course, she knew what the outcome would be. Jack
would come in, see a piece of his life out of place, hear nothing said to him,
and put Selene in a car with a chaperone who would make sure she got where she
was supposed to go.

That was the reality of the
situation. Amelia wasn’t consistently overruled. Her voice went completely
unheard. Most of the time, it wasn’t even worth the effort to speak.

Pulling into the first available
parking space, she killed the engine and tried to remain stoic as she looked
fully at Selene for the first time since they had left the house. The accord
they had was genuine, but delicate, and if there was anything that could
destroy it in an instant, it was sending Selene back to the place of her
greatest misery. Both grateful and troubled when Selene forced a sad smile,
resigned to the circumstances, and got out of the car, Amelia listened to the
door close with a hollow thunk and couldn’t stand the sound of her own life.

Before she could disintegrate, she
followed her daughter from the car, helping Selene retrieve her bags from the
trunk and carry them as far as airport security allowed. When she held her arms
out to her daughter, she did so without hesitation, but with the lingering fear
of rejection, feeling tears gather as Selene stepped into them without a fight.

“Call me when you get there,”
Amelia requested. It was a poor substitute for all the things she wanted to
say, for what she truly wanted to do. She wanted to keep Selene home, to
continue rebuilding the fragile relationship they had. She knew well how it felt
to struggle with the same torments day after day, and knew she had been
compliant in her daughter’s suffering.

For many years, Selene blamed her
alone for it, and maybe she was right to blame her. After all, Amelia thought,
standing on the other side of the barricades with a forced smile as Selene
waved and disappeared amongst the passengers in the terminal, what kind of
mother sent her own child away?

When she got back to the house,
Sole was out, and the void inside the walls felt deeper than Amelia had
anticipated. Her breakdown had come in the airport parking garage, a veritable
spectacle, she suspected, for anyone who happened by, and she was utterly cried
out. Not knowing what else to do with herself, she walked the empty recesses of
a house too big to be useful. More maintenance than living.

She had given into the most morose
form of self-indulgence, and was sitting on the edge of Selene’s bed, when the
intercom shook her from her despondency. “Amelia, I’m home.” Sole’s calm voice
sounded throughout the house.

It was pity, Amelia knew, but she
was nonetheless thankful for the disruption of her thoughts, which were leading
to all kinds of worrisome places. Trying not to let her desperation show, she
waited as long as she could take her own company before finally making her way
down to the kitchen. Sole smiled at her entrance, and Amelia sat on the bar
stool that Caton seemed to favor, trying to appear reasonably pleasant.

“Are you okay?” Sole asked.

“Yes,” Amelia returned
automatically, unable to remember the last time she’d taken the time to
consider or respond truthfully to that question.

“I’ll make you coffee,” Sole
stated, and Amelia nodded numbly. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No,” Amelia replied, the emptiness
of her stomach feeling perfectly in line with her mood.

“Have you eaten anything?” Sole
questioned, but didn’t wait for response. “I’m making you something. Do you
want an omelet?”

“Okay,” Amelia uttered, and Sole
went instantly to work, starting the kettle and pulling expensive kitchenware
from drawers and cabinets.

Examining the tools as Sole put
them on the counter, it occurred to Amelia she didn’t know the use of half the
things in her kitchen. Growing up, she didn’t have those things. Everything she
helped her mother make was by hand, the kind of time-consuming work that made
you stronger and wearier at the same time. It was no kind of life, she knew,
but not knowing the purpose of the contents of her own kitchen, maybe that was
no kind of life either.

Sighing, Amelia reached for the pile
of magazines at the edge of the counter, smiling at Sole’s fondness for
Spanish-language tabloids. Pulling one from the pile, she flipped to an
embarrassing picture of a celebrity she didn’t recognize as Sole slid a
steaming mug of freshly-pressed coffee in front of her.

“You could call her, you know?”
Sole said quietly, and Amelia glanced up.

“She’s on the plane,” she returned,
rolling her shoulders at the intense way Sole was studying her.

“I meant Caton,” Sole returned.

Read with too much precision by the
inquiring eyes that stared over the bar, Amelia tried to act as if Caton hadn’t
crossed her mind numerous times since she dropped Selene off, as if she hadn’t
wanted to go straight to Caton, take solace in her arms. Absolute certainty she
would find it there was enough to frighten Amelia back to her own home instead
of to Caton’s apartment.

“I will,” she uttered, dropping her
eyes to the magazine, feigning interest in the words on the page. “I have to
tell her she can come back.”

“Or you could tell her you want her
to come back,” Sole suggested.

Gaze rising once more, Amelia knew
she could stare all day and she wasn’t going to intimidate Sole out of the
conversation. It was the kind of thing Amelia would have once argued, whether
it was true or not. “I think it’s fair to say I’ve made that clear,” she stated
instead.

“Mm,” Sole countered lightly.
“Because all these material things have always made you feel so appreciated?”

Sitting back on the stool with
deliberate calmness, Amelia closed the magazine and dropped it back into the
pile. Clearly, Caton’s gall had rubbed off on Sole, and she wondered if she
should expect the spread of any of Caton’s other bad habits. “You have a lot of
thoughts on things you claim not to see,” she said.

“I never claimed not to see this.”
Sole shook her head, finally walking off to start gathering ingredients, giving
Amelia some space in which to get her bearings. “I can ignore almost anything,
but there are some things I can’t help but see.”

“And what do you see?” Amelia asked
in a near-whisper, knowing she should put an end to the discussion, but unable
to channel anything but curiosity.

Turning back to her, Sole’s eyes
pierced her skin and Amelia knew that she could, in fact, see everything. “Ever
since I have been with you, there has been exactly one thing that has made you
genuinely happy.”

“Selene,” Amelia responded
instantly, and Sole nodded her agreement.

“Now, there are two,” she surprised
Amelia by declaring.

The defensive urge to assert her
authority was immediate. Clamping down on it, Amelia cast her eyes toward the
floor and took steadying breaths. Sole was her friend, perhaps her only true
friend, but that hadn’t stopped Amelia from treating her like a servant in the
past when it suited her interests. If she told Sole to mind her own business,
Sole would mind. It was her job to mind.

“I wouldn’t characterize my...
relationship... with Caton as happy,” Amelia finally uttered.

“It isn’t,” Sole acknowledged.
“Given the circumstances, it probably won’t be. But for the past few weeks,
every so often, for the briefest of moments, you have been. I can’t help but
have seen that.”

Aware that any argument would be
false and futile, Amelia didn’t deny it. Still, she couldn’t shake the doubt
that had haunted her for days, the uncertainty that had stayed her hands each
time she’d thought about calling Caton, that had brought her back home when she
left the airport, that made her fear Caton’s return.

“She didn’t even acknowledge my
gift.” Amelia knew she sounded pathetic, petty even, but she had spent the
entire morning pretending to be together as she fell apart. She didn’t have it
left in her to pretend Caton’s silence hadn’t hurt.

“Maybe she didn’t know if you
wanted her to,” Sole returned, opening her mouth again and closing it a beat
later, as if she decided the rest of her thought best withheld.

“Go ahead. We’ve come this far,”
Amelia prodded, not sure what could be more out of line than the things Sole
had already said, and more curious about the rest of Sole’s observations than
she dared admit.

When Sole stepped forward to lean
against the bar, though, gaze unwavering, Amelia wasn’t sure she wanted to hear
the rest after all.

“If you want more, Amelia,” Sole
carefully stated. “You’re going to have to give more.”

The honest assessment stealing her
breath, it also took her voice, Amelia discovered, when her words came out
barely a wisp. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“Yes,” Sole acknowledged. “I also
know Jack never has to know.”

It was both advice and assurance,
and, swallowing against the fear that crawled its way up her throat, Amelia
wondered how many times in one morning the woman could be right.

~ ~ ~

Selene texted when her plane
landed, and called when she made it back to school. Though she tempered the
distress in her tone, Amelia could hear it, pronounced and aching in her
daughter’s voice, and regretted not taking the risk of bringing Selene back
home with her. It was late in London, so she told Selene to try to get some
sleep, but she imagined her lying awake dreading the coming days, just as
Amelia always did when Selene went back to school.

Hanging up the phone, it felt like
a lifeline in Amelia’s hand. She knew the call could wait, that, in her
emotional state, it would probably be best, but her hand dialed the number
automatically and she found herself waiting impatiently for Caton to take her
call.

“Hello.” Caton’s voice was
tentative.

“Hello, Caton,” Amelia returned,
not sure where to look in the room, what to do with her body, or which words
should come next. The things Sole had said made it harder, not easier, she
realized. Maybe she did want more, but with Caton, nothing ever felt certain.
It was like grasping at something before her, finding it solid half the time,
and the other half an apparition. “Selene left this morning.”

“I’m sorry,” Caton replied with
such sincerity Amelia thought she might dissolve back into tears.

“So am I,” she admitted, blinking
them back.

“How did it go?” Caton sounded
scared to ask.

“Surprisingly well,” Amelia
returned.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Amelia said simply, still
amazed at the fact herself.

“What about, you know...” Caton
questioned. “What she saw?”

Settling deeper into the sofa,
Amelia let her head fall back, oddly soothed by the sound of Caton’s voice.
“She had a lot of questions,” she responded. “It was the best conversation
we’ve had in three years.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Caton sounded
truly relieved.

Silence descending, thick and
heavy, it didn’t feel threatening or overbearing. She could live within that
silence, Amelia realized, shivering at the knowledge that she would gladly
spend the whole night listening to Caton breathe.

“You can come back whenever you’re
ready.” She cut the silence short, scared of her own thoughts.

“Okay,” Caton returned uncertainly.
“I guess I’ll see you on Monday then.”

Suddenly despising the two-day
weekend like the owner of a sweatshop, Amelia glanced toward the darkness
outside the window, watching time stagnate. “Mm hm,” she breathed.

In the lull that followed, Amelia
started to wonder if Caton was still on the other end of the line, before Caton
finally spoke again. “Or you could come over now.”

Feeling something she couldn’t
define and wasn’t sure she should feel, Amelia knew it was unwise to give into
it. “I could,” she hedged, filtering through all the valid reasons she should
decline, feeling them edged aside by all the reasons she wanted to accept.
“Give me an hour.”

“Okay,” Caton returned softly.
“I’ll see you then.”

As the call ended, Amelia wondered
what it would look like to others if they could see her. What she was feeling,
it had to be a noticeable blight, a soft spot in the steel she had worked so
hard to forge. She should have been working to repair it, to fortify herself
against potential destruction. So long she had been hiding, though, fighting
from behind the safety of shields and mirrors. For just one night, all she
wanted was to let down her guard.