Celeste
settled on the sofa. She stretched out her long legs, crossed one ankle over the other, and let the tiredness seep into her bones. She only roused when
Amy
handed her a chilled glass. Sipping her drink, she watched
Amy
settle at the other end of the sofa.
Amy
held up a glass. “I’m on orange juice,” she said, sobering. ”I have an early start tomorrow morning.”
Silence fell between them. Tonight at the bar while she talked to Irene,
Celeste
had watched Maggie, to the loud cheer of friends, pull
Amy
onto the stage. She hadn’t known what to expect as she watched them tune borrowed guitars. After a few songs, she was astounded by the sweetness of
Amy
’s husky voice.
“You have a great voice,
Amy
,”
Celeste
said. “I was blown away when I heard you sing. I had no idea you and Maggie played.” She smiled when
Amy
blushed and asked, “Did you organize the acoustic set you played tonight?”
Tucking her feet underneath her,
Amy
responded shyly. “No. It was just chance.”
Celeste
smiled. “It was great. I really enjoyed it.”
Amy
sipped at her juice. “So, did Maggie bore you with her story?” she asked. “Did she talk about her band days?”
Hesitating,
Celeste
smiled. “She did get animated after you’d played.”
“It wasn’t much of a band.”
Amy
chuckled. “Maggie used it to pull guys. She loved the idea of performing.”
Celeste
’s attention was caught when
Amy
put her glass on the floor, then sitting back, ran her fingers through her blonde hair. Raising her eyebrows appreciatively, she asked, “And what about you?”
“I started off as her number one groupie,”
Amy
replied. “I’d tag behind Maggie wherever she went. She couldn’t shake me off.”
Instinctively,
Celeste
’s eyes appraised
Amy
. She wore a thin-strapped black dress with a deep V-neck. The dress, she noticed, showed
Amy
’s shape—in particular—her breasts beautifully.
“I hounded Maggie night and day to play in her band.”
Amy
laid her head back against the cushioned sofa and continued to reminisce. “And since I was tagging along with them, the boys eventually talked her into it. So, she let me play guitar.” She smiled. “At sixteen, it meant the world to me. Back then I had little to work with. I wore braces and looked like a stick insect.”
Celeste
’s eyes fell to
Amy
’s breasts, and she fought the urge to tell her she didn’t have that problem now. “You’re painting a really attractive picture here,” she teased.
Amy
laughed. “By the time I was eighteen, the braces were gone.” She looked down and added playfully, “My boobs grew. Thank God! But, eventually, Maggie gave me short shrift. I was getting far too much attention for her liking. She told me my studies needed to come first.”
Amused,
Celeste
smiled. Enjoying
Amy
’s intimacy, she asked, “So you never wanted to pursue a music career?”
Amy
stretched, and
Celeste
’s eyes fell involuntarily to her breasts.
“Yes, for a wee while,”
Amy
responded. “Who doesn’t carry dreams of making it big at that age?”
Celeste
smiled. She liked the Scottish burr and huskiness of Amy’s voice.
“I played in a band at university, but the chemistry was never right,”
Amy
continued. “I guess I’d been spoiled. I loved being in Maggie’s band. The boys were like brothers to me. It was all about having fun, a laugh, nothing more. But I lost interest. They took themselves far too seriously.”
†
Sometime later, Amy
looked at her watch, and was shocked that it was so late. A twinge of regret shot through her that she was going to have to end their chat. She really had enjoyed
Celeste
’s company, but if she was going to get up early to meet her client, she really needed to go to bed now.
“
Celeste
, I hate to cut it short, but I really need to get some sleep.”
Looking disappointed,
Celeste
nodded. “You’ve got an early start.” She tapped her glass. “I’ll finish my drink and follow.”
Amy said goodnight and headed for her bedroom. On her way up the stairs she decided to detour by her studio to quickly tidy it up. It would only take a few minutes and experience had taught her that she loathed coming home to a mess. She headed for her studio, but stopped when the phone rang.
God, it’s so late, Amy
thought, and toyed with the idea of ignoring it, but curiosity got the better of her. Running down the hallway, she entered her bedroom and answered it. It was Josh. Sitting on the bed, she shared the highlights of the evening to him.
When Amy hung up, she toyed with the idea of leaving her studio until she returned from Barbados, but she pushed herself off the bed instead knowing she wouldn’t be happy leaving it a mess. Padding barefoot down the hallway to her studio, Amy was startled to see Celeste standing there when she opened the door. Shocked, she asked abruptly, “What are you doing in here?”
“Maggie showed me this room when I got here, but I never got a chance to look.” Celeste picked up a paintbrush. “I’ve heard how talented an artist you are. Maggie said it would be okay to look around. I hope you don’t mind?”
Yes, I do bloody mind!
Putting the paintbrush down,
Celeste
motioned for
Amy
to come into the room.
This room was Amy’s inner sanctuary, and usually Maggie respected her space. Biting back, she entered and closed the door. Resting against it, she watched
Celeste
move around the room.
Celeste
examined a model build of the new house and other projects
Amy
was working on.
“You’re a busy woman,” she finally commented as she peered through a window on the miniature new build.
Color rising in
Amy
’s cheeks, she watched
Celeste
continue to touch her things. When she stopped at a painting,
Amy
cringed.
Celeste
tilted her head to view it.
Embarrassed,
Amy
slowly approached the brunette and noticed she was barefoot.
“When did you do this?”
Celeste
asked, staring at the painting.
“Uhmmm…a few weeks ago,”
Amy
replied.
“The day of the barbeque at Irene’s actually.”
That day she had been unable to resist the urge to sketch
Celeste
. Since meeting her, she had mused at the similarities and differences between the twins, and in the afternoon an opportunity arose when everyone was watching the football game and she found
Celeste
alone at the edge of the pool, deep in thought.
Impulsively, Amy had retrieved crayons and a sketchpad from the children’s room and quickly sketched her.
Watching
Celeste
look at the painting,
Amy
studied her profile. She remembered wanting to find out which was stronger between Josh and
Celeste
, their similarities or differences in looks and gestures. Instead, she had captured something else, an essence that radiated from
Celeste
, something that surprised her—melancholy.
Turning her head,
Celeste
looked at
Amy
curiously. “I’m flattered.”
To
Amy
’s complete astonishment,
Celeste
, as if needing the closeness, hugged her.
Startled by the physical contact and unsure how to react
Amy
placed her arms awkwardly around
Celeste
and squeezed her gently. “You’re welcome.”
“I’ve never had my portrait done before,”
Celeste
said, her arms around
Amy
.
“It was a pleasure,”
Amy
responded. Feeling awkward and uncomfortable, she tried to fight the urge to pull away. Aware she didn’t want to overreact to an instinctive moment, she forced herself to relax.
“You caught me thinking of someone,”
Celeste
said eventually.
Amy
noted the rawness in her voice.
“I lost someone very special to me,” she said, her hold on
Amy
tightening.
Surprised,
Amy
listened as
Celeste
inhaled deeply.
“Her name was Felice,”
Celeste
whispered.
Unsure how to react but sensing
Celeste
needed to talk,
Amy
waited for a moment, “What happened?”
Celeste
hesitated, her hold loosened. She looked at
Amy
. “I probably don’t need to tell you about the war in Somalia?”
Amy
nodded. “I know what’s going on.”
Celeste
shut her eyes. “A few weeks ago, my team was sent to a camp.” She wearily opened them. “The camp was a compound, surrounded by militia, and we needed to treat the people inside.” She paused then sucked in some air. “I’m sorry,
Amy
,” she said, pulling away. “I don’t mean to…burden you.”
Sensing this need to talk was uncharacteristic,
Amy
quietly pleaded, “Stay. Tell me. I want to hear.” She hugged
Celeste
, encouragingly.
Celeste
lowered her long, dark lashes.
Amy
shuddered unable to imagine the kind of violence
Celeste
must have witnessed over the years.
Celeste
pulled out of
Amy
’s arms. “It was agreed that we wouldn’t be harmed, and we were sent there to provide medical assistance.”
Amy
held her breath, registering for the first time
Celeste
was probably often in situations where she could be killed.
Celeste
folded her arms. “We were told that thousands of displaced people were in the camp, but when we got there,” her voice lowered as she recounted the moment, “many had been slaughtered.” She frowned deeply. “The militia suddenly decided the camp was a sanctuary for their enemies.”
Amy
could barely imagine the fear she must have experienced about the fate of those people.
Celeste
swallowed. “We couldn’t find anyone. The place was littered with belongings, but it wasn’t until we moved deep into the camp that we found them.” She closed her eyes briefly. “Thousands of terrified people herded together.” She looked at
Amy
. “Like sheep. All huddled along a ridgeline that ran through the camp.”