by Ann McMan
CELINE WAS AWAKE when they arrived at the hospital. She had been moved into a private room early that morning after her condition had been upgraded to stable. Her attending physician confirmed for Maddie that she probably was experiencing more discomfort from the splenectomy and broken arm than from the surgery to repair her PNI. He stated that her color had improved and that the dressing on her throat had been replaced with a more modest bandage. She was still on IV fluids, but her breathing seemed clear and free from obstruction. If she continued to progress at the present rate, he said, she could be looking at discharge in three to four days. It was an amazing turnaround. For now, she just needed rest, and lots of it. They were keeping her fairly well sedated to facilitate her recovery.
Celine was alert, but visibly confused when she saw Syd enter the room behind Maddie. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Maddie with surprise.
Maddie took hold of her mother’s hand and bent over to look more closely at her dressing.
“Good morning to you. May I say that you’re certainly looking better today?” She stood upright and gestured at Syd. “I’m booked at a great hotel. Look what room service sent up.”
Syd stepped forward shyly. “Hello, Dr. Heller. I’m so happy to see that you’re doing better.”
“Celine.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Call me Celine.”
Syd smiled warmly at her. “Celine. I hope it’s all right that I came here with Maddie today.”
Celine gave her a faint smile. “Glad you’re here.” Her eyes tracked up to Maddie. “Did you rest?”
Maddie smiled. “Yes. I had a good night’s sleep. Dr. Kramer tells me that you did, too.”
She gave a small nod.
“How are you feeling?” Maddie perched on the arm of a bedside chair.
“Okay. Sore throat. Abdominal tenderness. Back ache. Not too bad, considering.”
“I’ll say. You had us all pretty worried for a while there.”
“Sorry for that.” Her voice was husky. “Laszlow told me about Diego.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Will you call his family for me?”
“Of course.” Maddie squeezed her hand as it lay motionless atop the bed. “I’m so sorry.”
Celine met her eyes. “I am, too.”
For just a moment, it seemed to Syd that they were talking about something else. She felt a lump in her own throat as she watched them struggle with this level of enforced intimacy.
Maddie saw the small iPod dock on the bedside table. “Would you like to hear a little background noise that isn’t mechanical?”
Celine smiled at her.
“Let’s see what we can do, then.” Maddie stood up and bent over the unit. “I’m pretty sure I have something you’ll like on this.”
While Maddie fussed with the iPod, Celine looked at Syd. “Sit down. Please.” Syd complied, and Celine continued to regard her. “How is your library?”
Syd smiled. “Thank you for even asking. It’s just fine.” A thought occurred to her. “And I need to tell you that my uncle Marsh sends his best regards. He was beside himself when my mother told him that I met you in Richmond. He spoke very highly of you.”
Celine smiled. “Tell him it’s too late for extra credit.”
Syd laughed and heard Maddie snickering, too. Strains of Bach began playing softly in the background.
Celine closed her eyes. “Glenn Gould?”
“Who else?” Maddie replied, sitting back down.
Celine looked up at Maddie. “How long will you stay?”
“That depends on you,” Maddie replied. “I, at least, want to see you set up and able to manage when you leave the hospital.”
Syd thought that Celine looked relieved. “What about your practice?”
“Oh that’s the best part. I didn’t get to tell you in Richmond about my new nurse practitioner. I’m in high cotton these days. I’m even thinking about going on one of those golf junkets through Scotland.”
Celine rolled her eyes and looked at Syd.
Syd shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I keep telling her the wardrobe won’t do a thing for her.”
Celine looked back at Maddie. “Go to the house. Don’t stay in a hotel.” Her gaze shifted to Syd. “You, too.”
“I don’t want to do that. I want to be closer to the hospital.” Maddie’s voice was gentle.
“I’m fine now. Go to the house. Take my car.” She gestured toward the tiny closet in her room. “Laszlow brought my bag from the office. The keys are in it.” Her blue eyes met Maddie’s. “Please.”
“All right,” Maddie relented.
Celine seemed pleased. “Remember how to get there?” Even though it was barely above a whisper, her voice still sounded teasing.
“Oh, I think so.” Maddie tentatively pushed some hair back from her mother’s face. She had a nasty-looking contusion on the left side of her head. “Got any headache?”
Celine slowly shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.” Her eyes were starting to droop a little. “Laszlow can help you find the car.”
Maddie continued to gently stroke the top of her head. “Okay. You get some sleep now. We’ll go check out of the hotel and be back by to see you after lunch.”
Celine smiled. “Good. I’m glad you’re here.” She looked at Syd. “Both of you.” Her eyes slowly drifted shut, and the only sounds in the room came from the rhythmic clicking and beeping of the various monitors she was connected to, and the unassuming strains of Bach’s Goldberg Variations.
LASZLOW KRAMER WAS able to direct Maddie and Syd to the area of the staff parking lot that contained Celine’s car. From there, it was a short drive back to the hotel where they retrieved their bags and checked out. They stashed their suitcases in the trunk of Celine’s black Lexus and made their way back to the medical center to grab lunch, and to spend as much of the afternoon as they could with Celine.
Maddie wanted to have another opportunity to talk with her attending physician, and she needed to visit Celine’s office so she could get contact information for the family of Diego Vaz Peña. She had a short, poignant conversation with Mariel Peña, Diego’s mother, and conveyed Celine’s deepest regrets about her son’s untimely death. Mrs. Peña was very gracious, and said they were all very concerned for Celine, and had prayed that she would make a complete recovery. Maddie resolved to represent her mother at the funeral service for Diego in Santa Monica on Thursday.
By five o’clock that afternoon, Celine was adamant that they leave the hospital for the day and head on to her house in Brentwood so they could relax and get a good night’s sleep. Rush hour traffic was in full swing, and they crawled along Wilshire Boulevard for nearly twenty minutes before finally heading west on San Vicente.
It was after six when they finally arrived at Celine’s house in Crestwood Hills. The Brentwood neighborhood was a community of textbook mid-century Modern homes, ringed by undeveloped greenbelt tracts that functioned as mini-parks. Celine’s house was a sprawling, post and beam creation designed by architect Frederick Emmons in 1956. She bought the house shortly after relocating to Los Angeles from Baltimore, and had lived there ever since.
Although Maddie lived in the affluent neighborhood with her mother for over six years, she never truly regarded California as home. She attended local public schools in and around Brentwood before transferring to the prestigious California Academy of Mathematics and Science in the eighth grade. Her tenure there was brief, since she gained early admittance to Stanford University at age sixteen. She never lived with Celine again.
She did, however, return to Brentwood for holidays and summer breaks—dividing her time fairly evenly between her estranged parents and their respective coasts.
Maddie pulled Celine’s car into the garage and led Syd through a glass-enclosed breezeway into the house. The interior space was bright, with high ceilings and an open floor plan. Large window panels ran all along the back wall, overlooking a spacious patio and well-landscaped lawn. The décor was clean and artful
ly spare. Celine’s tastes were straightforward, but elegant, and the simplicity and functionality of her home was a perfect complement to her no-nonsense approach to life. The only personal touches were the many books and potted plants that punctuated the interior.
The house was decorated in all neutral tones—the only observable traces of color derived from several pieces of original Bauhaus art—including a Paul Klee that Maddie said she remembered hanging in the New York apartment of her grandparents. The rest of the main living space was dominated by an enormous piano that sat at a right angle to the patio wall and faced into the room. Syd noticed it immediately and hypnotically went to it.
“This is an incredible instrument.” She stood next to the six-foot, Steinway Parlor Grand in awe. She ran her hand over its smooth, ebony finish. She bent over the keyboard and played a sequence of chords that resonated throughout the room. “It’s in tune. She must be playing this.” She stood back and opened the upholstered top of the deep bench seat to reveal an impressive stack of sheet music and several hardbound scores. She lifted out some of the pages.
Maddie went to stand beside her and shook her head in amazement. “I don’t know what to say. I didn’t even know she had this. It wasn’t here the last time I visited.” She paused. “Of course, that was about seven years ago.”
“Well, it’s pretty obvious that she’s using it, and judging by the caliber of this music, I’d say she’s using it well.” Syd continued to leaf through the pages of compositions by Debussy, Schumann, and Prokofiev. “My god. She’s no amateur, is she?”
Maddie laughed. “Nuh uh. She’s a pro, or, at least, she could have been a pro. She started out in piano performance at Columbia before switching to premed. She ended up having to leave home over that decision.”
Syd gave her a confused look. “Why?”
“Her parents were both career musicians. My grandmother, Madeleine Heller, was assistant concertmaster at the Metropolitan Opera, and my grandfather, Josef Heller, was on the faculty at Juilliard.”
Syd stared in astonishment. “Holy shit. Now I know what Phoebe meant when she told me that your mother was the best musician who’d ever lived in Jericho.”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think made her change her mind about a career in music?”
Maddie sighed. “I honestly don’t know. According to my father, Celine was good enough to gain admission to any top-tier music school. She must have known when she started out in the Columbia/Juilliard joint degree program that music wasn’t the path she wanted to follow. I think already being a student at Columbia made her transition to premed less complicated.” She smiled. “Even in those days, Celine always had a plan.”
Syd carefully put the music back into the bench and closed its lid. “The more I learn about your family, the less I seem to understand it.”
Maddie chuckled. “What’s the matter? Sorry now that you decided to go wading in this part of the gene pool?”
Syd glared at her. “I’ll admit that the air is a bit . . . thinner around you. It’s harder and harder for me to keep my bearings.”
Maddie gave her an appraising look. “Oh, I dunno about that. You’re short, but I think you’re tall enough for this ride.”
Syd rolled her eyes. “You know, you’re all show and no go.”
“Am not.”
“Are, too.”
“I can prove it.”
Maddie crossed her arms over her chest. “Then what are you waiting for? Let’s have it.”
“Be careful what you wish for.” She looked at Maddie with an exaggerated, sultry expression. “Is your mother’s living room really the place you want to explore this?”
Maddie raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Oh, please, don’t let our location stop you. We have an entire house at our disposal.” She waved her hand dramatically. “Carve out any little piece of real estate you’d like.”
Syd stood there regarding her, wondering just how far they should take this verbal sparring match. She knew how far she wanted to take it. Maddie’s eyes were glowing with something more than her usual, harmless challenge. She knew she should probably just back off and change the subject—beat a hasty retreat to safer ground. But, for once, she didn’t want to. And judging by the look in Maddie’s eyes as their standoff continued, she wasn’t ready to wave a white flag either.
Syd felt her pulse drumming in her ears, but she kept her voice steady as she decided to up the ante. “Okay, wise guy. Where’s your bedroom.”
Maddie suddenly looked like someone had fired a gun next to her head.
“My what?” She looked so stunned that Syd burst out laughing.
Maddie threw her head back and sighed loudly as she stared at the beamed ceiling. “You suck. You know that?”
Syd composed herself and touched Maddie’s arm. “Why don’t we sit down? We probably should talk about a few things.”
Maddie eyed her suspiciously. “Am I gonna like this or hate it?”
“Even money on that one.”
“Oh, great. You know how much I love sensitive chats.” She turned toward the kitchen. “Why don’t I find us something to drink, and we can go out and sit on the patio?”
“Works for me. Where should I drop my things?”
Maddie stopped and gestured to a doorway behind Syd. “Down that hallway. First door on the left. It used to be my room. so, please, remove your shoes before you enter.”
Syd went to the breezeway and picked up her suitcase. “I’ll be sure to genuflect before I approach the shrine.”
“Oh, really?” Maddie smiled sweetly at her. “You got that far in your religious education before getting bounced?”
Syd bit the inside of her cheek. “You know, there’s really nothing wrong with you that a life-sized condom wouldn’t fix.”
“You’re just saying that because I have an infectious personality.”
“Oh, good god.” Syd grabbed the handle of her suitcase and headed toward the bedroom. “I hope to hell that Celine has alcohol in this place.”
TEN MINUTES LATER, they were seated outside on Celine’s flagstone patio. Maddie had uncovered a cold bottle of Russian River Pinot Gris in the refrigerator, and she carried it outside with glasses and a corkscrew. They sat on upholstered chairs under a large market umbrella and faced each other as they sipped the spicy, oak-aged wine.
“So. Against my better judgment, you wanted to talk about something?” Maddie set her wine glass down on the table in front of her and regarded Syd, feeling slightly wary.
Syd seemed vaguely uncomfortable, but determined. “Well, I’ve been doing a little bit of research.”
“You have?”
“Yes.”
Maddie was intrigued. “On?”
Syd began to color. “On lesbian . . . well . . .” She waved her index finger between them.
Maddie frowned as she looked at her, then recognition dawned. “Sex?” Syd nodded. “You’ve been researching lesbian sex?” Syd nodded again. She was bright red now. “Well, I sure hope you didn’t use one of the library computers—those web cookies are pernicious.”
Syd seemed to recover some of her composure as she met her gaze. “Oh, don’t worry. I have better sense than that. I used yours.”
“Mine?”
“Yeah. I had to have something to do while I waited for you to call.”
“So.” Maddie tapped her fingers on the glass top of the table. “What did you learn?”
“Um. Well, it all seems pretty intuitive.”
Maddie nodded. “I wouldn’t disagree with that.”
“And none of it was particularly scary. Well, maybe one thing, but that looked pretty advanced.”
Maddie narrowed her eyes. “Just what kind of research were you doing?”
Syd gave her placating look. “What kind do you think?”
Maddie stared in shock. “You were looking at porn?”
Syd exhaled. “You know, it’s been an experience discovering how much of a prude you
really are.”
Maddie was aghast. “I am so not a prude.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Having a healthy respect for restraint doesn’t make me a prude.”
Syd took a sip of her wine. “And that’s exactly what I wanted to discuss—restraint.” She set her glass back down. “Explain the value of this concept to me again, please.”
Maddie sighed as she looked at her. “I thought we agreed that we were going to take things slow. Give you time to be sure about what you really wanted before we went too far.”
“That’s all true,” Syd agreed. “But since then, I’ve made some other discoveries that now demand greater exploration.”
“Such as?” Maddie asked.
Syd sighed. “It’s more of a show than tell kind of thing.”
Maddie felt her pulse rate begin to pick up. She knew they were playing with fire. “Really?” She tried to keep her tone neutral.
“Oh, yeah.” Syd pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. “I can see that I’ll have to demonstrate.” She extended a hand. Maddie took it, and Syd pulled her to her feet so they stood facing each other. Syd looked left, and then right, before meeting Maddie’s eyes. “Great back yard—nice and private.” She stepped forward and looped her arms around Maddie’s neck. “Put your hands on my hips, please.” Maddie slowly complied, and Syd closed her eyes. “Okay. That part appears to be working right.”
Maddie was finding it hard to concentrate. “What part?”
Syd pulled her closer until their bodies were touching. “This part.” Her breath was hot against Maddie’s mouth, but she didn’t kiss her. She felt Syd’s hands moving into her hair, tipping her head back as her mouth traveled an invisible path along her chin and down her neck—gliding, but not quite touching—still managing to singe her with the heat of its exploration. Her nose brushed against the skin at the base of her v-neck t-shirt—the heat of her breath penetrating the thin fabric.
Maddie began to tremble as Syd’s hands started to run up and down her arms, gently stroking and squeezing. She felt a tentative lick against the skin at the base of her neck. Syd’s warm palms were still in motion, gliding up over her waist and along the base of her ribcage. Her mouth was moving against the underside of her jaw now, leaving a damp trail as it continued on its provocative journey.
