by Ann McMan
Maddie gasped. “Dad had an affair?”
Celine nodded. “It had been going on for some time. Your father was devastated that I found out, and he was terrified that I would tell you.”
Maddie felt like the ground was pitching up beneath her feet. It was incredible. It was impossible. “Who? Who was it?”
Celine looked at her with her heart in her eyes. “It was Arthur Leavitt.”
Maddie was dumbfounded. Uncle Art? Dad? Oh my god. She saw flashes of white behind her eyes. She was afraid she might hyperventilate. “Jesus. Oh, god.”
Celine reached out a hand toward her. “Maddoe . . . oh, honey . . . I’m so sorry. We never should have lied to you. We thought it was for your own good. When it became clear to both of us that you were gay, too, I tried to convince your father that it was time to tell you the truth. But he refused. He couldn’t face it. I was bound by my promise to him. A promise I stubbornly kept even as it cost me the love of my only child.”
Maddie gazed at her mother with wonder. “What happened to the baby?”
“I lost it. I left Virginia and went back to Manhattan. My parents were characteristically unforgiving. They saw the end of the marriage as my failure. I didn’t even tell them I was pregnant until I miscarried in the middle of my second trimester. That’s why I didn’t see you during those first few months after I left your father. I was stupid. I didn’t want him to know about the baby.” She shook her head. “Then I got the teaching position at Johns Hopkins and sent for you.” She paused. “You know the rest.”
“Oh, my god.” Maddie was beyond stunned. “I feel like my head’s gonna explode.” She looked at Celine like she was seeing her for the first time. “I don’t know what to say, much less what to think.” She fell silent. Then she met her mother’s eyes. “Where do we go from here?”
Celine gazed back at her with an open expression. “Where do you want to go?”
“Honestly?”
Her mother nodded.
“I have no idea. I need some time to absorb all of this.”
Celine nodded again, slowly, and lowered her gaze.
Maddie watched her for a moment. “Mom?”
Celine raised her eyes.
“Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn’t easy to do.”
Celine’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Maddoe. I’m so very sorry.”
Maddie nodded. Her throat felt thick. “I am, too. For everything.” She went to sit on the edge of her mother’s chaise. She took hold of her hand and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it all out. We’ve got lots of time, now. Lots of time.” Celine squeezed her hand and gave her a watery smile. Maddie pulled her into a gentle hug.
Over her mother’s shoulder, Maddie could see the white sage plants shining like beacons in the late afternoon sun.
THE REST OF that evening, Maddie and Celine were understandably shy of each other. Celine seemed to be as emotionally drained as Maddie, and they seemed to agree in nonverbal ways, that enough had been said for now.
But Maddie was aware of a difference in the quality of the silence they shared. If it wasn’t exactly companionable, it wasn’t hostile either. For once, they were not antagonists. They were more like two exotic fish that had been plucked from separate tanks in a pet store, and then dropped together into the same small bowl. And tonight, they were cautiously swimming around each other in wide circles until their new environment became familiar, and they understood how to relate to it, and to each other.
They ate a light supper from the food that Maddie had picked up the previous evening, and then Celine retired for the night. Maddie helped her get settled in her room, and then sat with her for a few minutes, perched on the side of her bed. She couldn’t recall ever having done that before—at least, not in Brentwood. She had rarely entered her mother’s bedroom during the years she lived here. It had seemed like an alien place to her—cold and inaccessible, much like her mother’s interior life. As she looked around the spacious room now, she realized that her perception had been inaccurate.
This room, unlike the other rooms in the house, was decorated in a richer palette—shades of dark green and gold, with bolder patterns on the upholstered chairs that sat near the large windows overlooking her garden. There were stacks of books and sheet music piled on the table between the chairs, and many framed photographs—some of Oma and Opa, and several of herself, with and without Celine, taken at different signature events in her life. There was even a photo of her with David from her med school graduation ceremony, and that one confused her. Celine had not attended the event, so who had sent her the picture? Dad? David? She remembered that Uncle Art had driven up from Charlottesville to be there. She wondered now if that had been the reason for Celine’s absence.
There would be time to ask her mother about that tomorrow. She shifted her gaze away from the photos.
Even the artwork in this room was different—a stark contrast to the Bauhaus paintings that made up the rest of Celine’s collection. Maddie saw her mother’s treasured Cassatt drypoint etching hanging on the wall opposite the bed. She had forgotten about that picture. The hand-tinted watercolor of a young girl in a bonnet had always hung over the fireplace in the parlor of the Virginia house, and it had been one of the few things Celine had taken with her when she left.
Maddie remembered the day her mother held her at eye-level with the picture and taught her that the Impressionist painter was actually an American from Pennsylvania. Her full name, Celine explained as Maddie traced a stubby finger over the delicate lines beneath the glass, was Mary Stevenson Cassatt, and she actually was a distant relative of Maddie’s father. The Stevensons and the Cassatts had been among the more prominent families in Allegheny County, and Maddie’s great-grandfather had moved to Virginia in 1880 as a manager for the Virginia and Tennessee Railroad, establishing rail service to mines along the Appalachian Coal Basin that stretched from Pittsburgh to Knoxville. Mary Cassatt’s father had been one of the investors who helped fund the railroad expansion, and her brother, A.J., went on to achieve great prominence as president of the Pennsylvania Railroad. The lives of the two families intersected again when, more than a century later, Celine acquired the etching at an estate auction in Philadelphia. She had been shocked when she read the provenance of the picture and realized that it once had belonged to relatives of Davis’s in Pittsburgh.
“What are you looking at so intently?” Celine asked.
Maddie, startled, looked at her mother, feeling slightly guilty—like she’d been caught eavesdropping. “Oh. I’m sorry. I was thinking about the Cassatt etching. I’d actually forgotten about it until right now.” She gave her mother a small smile. “I was remembering when you showed it to me for the first time.”
Celine looked at the picture. “I think about that day a lot.”
“You do?” Maddie was surprised.
She nodded. “Of course I do. It reminds me of a happier time.”
Maddie shook her head. “How did we get so far away from that?”
“That was my fault. I was stubborn and proud, and I made bad decisions that I clung to even after I knew they were wrong.” She met Maddie’s eyes. “I can never forgive myself for how cold I was—for how much I held you at arm’s length. I knew how devoted you were to your father, and how angry you were at me for taking you away from him.” She dropped her gaze. “I loved you so much, and I couldn’t face the pain in your eyes.” She smiled sadly. “So I did what I’ve always done. I just went away. Emotionally withdrew. I submerged myself in work, and I ignored the hurt—mine and yours.” She looked at Maddie. “That’s what I learned from my parents, so those were the reflexive behaviors I resorted to when my own life unraveled.”
It was unusual for Celine to be so expansive—especially about anything this personal. Maddie didn’t really know what response to make, and she didn’t want to do or say anything to disrupt her mother’s narrative, so she remained silent.
&nbs
p; “I don’t want you to think that I’m excusing my behavior, or that I’m blaming my parents for the choices I made,” Celine said, after a few moments. “I’m not. I know what I did, and what responsibility I bear for the choices I made. Coming to terms with that has been more painful than you can imagine.”
Maddie looked at her with wonder. “What changed?”
Celine sighed. “I did. Your father’s death, happening the way it did—so sudden and unexpected—shook me to the core. I was unprepared for the emotion it unleashed. I couldn’t contain it—it overwhelmed me. Suddenly, I was confronting everything I’d ever lost—my marriage, my parents,” she hesitated, “you.” She looked down at the bedspread. “I nearly had a breakdown. I took a three-month sabbatical and went into therapy. Laszlow managed my lab and worked with my grad students. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”
Maddie tentatively touched her hand. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Celine met her eyes. “I couldn’t. I knew what you were dealing with, and I had nothing to offer you. I was a mess. Finally, about six months ago, I knew I was ready to see you—to try and make amends. That’s when the conference opportunity came up. I was fairly certain you would be there since the venue was so close to Jericho, so when the organizers approached me about speaking, I agreed immediately.”
Maddie sighed. “But when we met that day after your speech, you seemed so angry and distant.”
Celine laughed bitterly. “What was it you said the other day? About old habits dying hard?” She shook her head. “And it was more frustration than anger. I was already terrified about seeing you, and then Gina showed up.”
Maddie raised a hand to her forehead. “Oh, god.” She gave Celine an apologetic look. “Yeah, I’m certain that little performance didn’t help much.”
“No, it didn’t.” She regarded Maddie quietly for a moment. “What on earth were you thinking?”
Maddie shrugged. “I haven’t had the best relationship track record, either.”
“Until now?” Her mother asked.
Maddie nodded. “Until now.”
They sat quietly for a while. The only sound in the room was the monotonous tick of Celine’s bedside clock. Celine moved her hand so it rested on top of Maddie’s. “About your father. Are you all right?”
Maddie looked back at her for a moment, and then shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t really know. I’m shocked, of course. But I’m more distressed than anything. Why on earth would he never tell me he was gay—especially once he knew about me?” She shook her head. “I always thought we were so close. But now I find out that I never really knew him at all.”
Celine squeezed her hand. “That’s not true. You did know him. You just didn’t know this one thing about him.” Her blue eyes were fixed on Maddie’s. “You know better than anyone that being gay doesn’t define you. Think how many times you’ve said those words to me, and how frustrated you’ve been when other people couldn’t see past that aspect of your own character. Don’t do the same thing now to your father. This reaction is what he feared most about telling you, and it’s why he kept it a secret.”
Maddie shook her head slowly. “I still don’t understand it.”
“Give yourself time to understand it. This isn’t like some new element on the periodic table that you can just review and memorize. You’re going to have to live with this for a while before you understand how it fits in with the rest of what you know.”
“God.” Maddie looked back at her mother with amazement.
“What is it?” Celine asked.
“I forgot what these little instructional chats with you were like.” She smiled. “You could’ve saved me a fortune in shrink bills.”
Celine patted her hand. “I don’t know about that. Maybe we could’ve qualified for some kind of family discount.”
Maddie chortled. “Yeah. Imagine if we could’ve bundled Oma in, too?”
Celine gasped. “Oh, good lord. She could’ve put a porch on Freud’s house all by herself.”
Maddie laughed merrily. The cell phone in her front pocket buzzed, and she quickly placed her hand over it. Celine noticed.
“I’m sorry,” Maddie apologized. “It’s probably Syd.”
“It’s fine. Go on ahead and talk with her. I’m fading fast.” She smiled. “Tell her I said hello.”
Maddie kissed her mother on the forehead. “I will. Call if you need anything?”
Celine nodded. “Count on it. Goodnight, Maddoe.”
Maddie smiled. Celine’s use of her childhood nickname warmed her heart. “Goodnight, Mom.”
Chapter 21
Maddie sat outside on the patio with a glass of wine, smiling as the sound of Syd’s voice filled her ear. She had decided to wait until she got home to share Celine’s stunning revelation about her father. Just now, Syd was in the middle of a story about how David had managed to twist his ankle during a drunken encounter with a vacuum cleaner hose.
“Do I want to know what he was doing with the hose when this happened?” Maddie asked.
“I really don’t think you do,” Syd replied.
Maddie closed her eyes. “God. I really need to knock some sense into that boy.”
Syd laughed. “Well, I told him that was likely to be your reaction when you saw him limping around.”
“And?”
“It didn’t faze him a bit. He told me there were more old drunks than old doctors.”
Maddie sighed. “That sounds about right.”
“Then he looked me over and told me how relaxed I seemed.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“Yeah. He said he was happy that you had apparently not lost your touch.”
Maddie chuckled. “It’s hard for me know what to say to that.”
“Tell me about it.” Syd exhaled. “I had a few moments of insane jealousy, wondering just who he was using as a basis for comparison.”
“Oh, honey, I feel your pain on that one.”
“You do?” Syd sounded confused.
“Hell, yes. Remember the night you had dinner with Jeff? I drove myself nuts, thinking about you being out with him.”
Syd was quiet for a moment. “You had nothing to worry about.”
“I didn’t?”
“No. I was already way past gone on you. I know that now.”
Maddie smiled into the phone. “So, on a scale of one to ten . . .”
“You’d be about a ten thousand. Relax, Doctor. You’ve definitely not lost your touch.”
“God, I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. When are you gonna come home and remind me of just how extraordinary you are?”
“I was thinking I’d stay through the weekend and come back on Monday—that’s if Mom continues to do as well as she is now.”
There was silence on the line. After a few moments, Maddie wondered if their call had dropped. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah.” Syd sounded confused. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard . . . Did you just say ‘mom’?”
“Oh.” Maddie was embarrassed. “I guess I did.” She hesitated. “I have some things to share with you when I get back. We’ve . . . managed to make some peace with each other.”
“Apparently. Are you okay?”
Maddie nodded. “I am. Better than okay, actually. We had some difficult conversations. I learned some things I didn’t know about her—about both of my parents, actually. It’s going to take me some time to work through it all. But, for now, at least, we’re in a better place than we’ve been since I was a child.”
“Oh, baby, I’m so happy to hear that.”
Maddie smiled, feeling an uncustomary surge of giddiness. “I’m pretty happy about it, too.”
“I don’t doubt that a bit.” Maddie could tell that Syd was smiling. “I like Celine.”
“She likes you, too.”
“It sounds like we’re going to have lots to talk about when you get back.”
“Maybe eventually.”
&
nbsp; “Eventually?”
“Well, lemme put it this way,” Maddie deadpanned. “I don’t plan on doing much talking for the first few hours.”
“Oh, really?” Syd asked, sweetly. “Does that mean you’ve developed some new ability to remain silent?”
Maddie gasped. “That’s between me and my god.”
“I know,” Syd drawled. “Remember? I’ve overheard a few of your so-called private exchanges.”
“Smartass. You’re just begging for it, now.”
“In fact, I wasn’t, but I’d be happy to start begging if it would help get you home any sooner.”
“Be patient. I’ll make it worth the wait.”
“Smooth talker. Oh.” Syd’s voice changed timbre. “I forgot to tell you that Lizzy came by the library today.”
Maddie was intrigued. “She did?”
“Yeah. She was next in line for the newest Chelsea Cain novel.”
“Really?” Maddie was amused. “Should I be concerned that my new nurse is reading books about a serial killer?”
Syd laughed. “Look at the bright side—it might negate the need for a public option in health care reform.”
“Hmmm. Murder the infirm? Now there’s a creative strategy. Would we have to torture them all first, too?”
“Isn’t that why we have Medicare Part D?” Syd asked, sweetly.
Maddie laughed. “I think that you and Lizzy could be a dangerous combination.”
“Well, hold on to your hat, then, because we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”
“You are?”
“Uh huh. You apparently didn’t realize that your new assistant plays a mean flute. Phoebe’s already coerced her into joining the orchestra.”
“God,” Maddie said, incredulous. “That woman can really sniff them out.”
“No kidding. My lazy Sunday afternoons are now a thing of the past.”
