Chapter 19
Lucy asked to see Celeste when she was ten.
Raffaele said no.
Immediately.
Lucy stared.
He heard himself.
Then closed his eyes.
“I need to think.”
“Better.”
Teresa laughed from the kitchen.
Raffaele ignored her.
Dr. Mercer spent several sessions asking why.
Lucy’s answer remained:
“I want to see.”
Not enough for Raffaele.
Enough for Lucy.
Eventually she added:
“I don’t remember her face right.”
That changed something.
Celeste existed in fragments.
Strawberries.
Bedtime stories.
Suitcase.
Crying.
Airline ticket.
Letters.
Lucy wanted the fragments connected to a real person.
The meeting happened in Dr. Mercer’s office.
Forty minutes.
Raffaele next door.
Claire had no role.
No lawyers at the table.
No bodyguards inside.
Celeste entered first.
Lucy entered second.
Celeste stood.
Then sat again.
“Hi.”
Lucy stared.
“You look old.”
Celeste almost laughed.
“I am older.”
“Daddy too.”
Fair.
Lucy sat across from her.
Not beside.
For almost a minute, nobody spoke.
Then Lucy asked:
“Did you really cut strawberries hearts?”
Celeste’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You liked them.”
“Did you like doing?”
“Yes.”
Lucy looked confused.
The contradiction again.
“You liked me.”
“Yes.”
“Then suitcase.”
Celeste nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why lid?”
There it was.
Not why leave.
Not Marcus.
The lid.
Celeste took time.
“Because you were trying to climb out.”
Lucy became very still.
Raffaele, listening from next door, felt his jaw tighten.
Celeste continued.
“I was afraid someone would see you before I got outside.”
“So you closed.”
“Yes.”
“I cried.”
“Yes.”
“Did you open?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Celeste’s face changed.
“Because once I had started, I kept telling myself stopping would make everything worse.”
Lucy frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No.”
Good.
No defense.
Celeste said:
“I should have stopped.”
Lucy looked toward Dr. Mercer.
Then back.
“Did Uncle Marcus tell?”
“He told me we needed to get you away before you repeated more.”
“Did he say suitcase?”
“No.”
That mattered.
Celeste owned that choice.
Lucy asked:
“Do you hate him?”
Celeste looked down.
“No.”
Lucy seemed surprised.
“I’m angry with him.”
Another pause.
“I also loved him most of my life.”
Both.
Again.
Lucy sighed.
“Adults.”
Dr. Mercer almost smiled.
At thirty-two minutes Lucy stood.
“Done.”
Celeste stayed seated.
No hug request.
No promise.
At the door, Lucy turned.
“Do you still make strawberries?”
Celeste looked surprised.
“Sometimes.”
“Okay.”
Then Lucy left.
In the car Raffaele asked:
“How was it?”
Lucy stared at him.
Wrong question.
He corrected.
“How do you feel?”
“Hungry.”
Of course.
They stopped for pizza.
Two weeks later Lucy said:
“I don’t want see her again now.”
“Okay.”
“When older maybe.”
“Okay.”
She looked suspicious.
“That’s all?”
May you like
“Yes.”
Apparently Raffaele could learn.
