“Yes, it’s her. Celeste, don’t look,” I say, turning away.
“Is she alive? We need to call for help,” Celeste says, pulling out her phone. “Damn, there’s still no service.”
“There’s nothing we can do for her,” I say wearily. I’ve now seen death up close again, in Palm Springs again. I’m shaking all over. “Let’s go. We’ll drive until we get service. We can call for help then.” I hustle them back to the car. My hands shake as I slip back behind the wheel.
“You OK to drive, Mom?” Celeste asks.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I say, my senses all on high alert. My response has kicked in big-time, and my heart is racing. I check the rearview mirror, half expecting to see Ryan and his mystery woman behind us, watching us again. Thankfully, they aren’t. I put the image of the horrific accident out of my head and try to tell myself to relax and breathe. But I know that will happen only once we’ve put enough distance between us and this horrible place.
We drive in silence for half an hour. I take it slow, carefulto drive around downed branches and power lines. It takes us another half an hour to reach a place that has electricity, and our phones begin to work again. I know we need to send help to that godforsaken house, but I also know if I call from my phone, I’ll always be linked to everything that happened this weekend. I suppose I will be anyway, but I can create some distance. I don’t want to be the star witness to the disaster this weekend was. And I’ve promised Jamie discretion. I pull into a gas station.
“I’ll pump the gas, Ms. Harris,” Zach says, slipping out of the car.
“Beth,” Celeste says before he gets out of the car. Zach ignores the correction, as usual. Once he’s outside pumping, she says, “So annoying he won’t call you by your name.”
“It’s OK. There are bigger issues, I think, honey. I’d be more concerned that he is a lot like his mom, and his dad. It’s a problematic gene pool, either way. Have you seen any signs of a temper? Narcissism?” I ask. “Ryan seems to have anger issues these days.”
“I don’t know. What signs?” she asks. “He’s only been great to me.”
“Good question. You know, I had no idea who Ryan truly was, not until this weekend together,” I say, facing my daughter. “I didn’t realize he’d never gotten over Sunny’s death, that he’d truly never moved on from that night, in many ways.”
“But he did. He married Roxy. They had Zach,” she says, her eyes damp with tears. “They seemed like the perfect family. They have it all, don’t they? At least I thought so until yesterday.”
“You never know what goes on behind closed doors,” I say. “But you could, maybe, take your time getting married? It’s probably a good idea after this weekend.”
She nods, wiping a tear with her finger. “We live together, though. What if he…”
The car door opens. Zach’s back. I smile at him and then at Celeste. I decide we will not be the ones to call the police. There is nothing that can be done for Brett or Amelia, or for Ryan. He’s found his own weird version of happiness.
As I pull back out on the highway, I pat Celeste’s leg. You’ll always have me, my touch says. And maybe that’s the point of this whole weekend. Maybe I had to find out everything I never wanted to know about what really happened the night Sunny died, to fully appreciate my life. My daughter’s life. And I’ve been careless. Now that I know what Ryan has become, I’ll be watching him too. I’ll make sure he stays far away from me, and Celeste and the future she will create with Zach. And I know another thing for certain: I’m finished interacting with all of my sisters.
“When’s your flight back to Chicago, Zach?” I ask.
“We leave early this afternoon, from LAX, Ms. Harris. I moved our flights up a day. We appreciate the lift,” he says. “You’re still flying back home with me today, right, Celeste?”
I look at my daughter. She takes a deep breath. She pivots in her seat to face him.
“I’m going to spend some time with my mom,” she says. “The weekend was, well, something. I need time to processeverything. I’ll let my adviser at school know. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. I can take classes online from home.”
“Sure, yeah, whatever. But are we good, you and me?” he asks.
“Yes, I love you. I need a little time, with my mom, I really do,” she says. “I saw so much this weekend. I’m spinning.”
“Well, I did too. I understand. And I’m still flying home to Chicago. I’ve got too much to do before our next big shindig,” Zach says. “I mean, I think Mom will still want to host a big engagement party. I know she had the invitations printed and sent already.”
“Nothing is going to get in the way of your mom throwing a party, you’re right,” I say. I feel sorry for Zach and Celeste. This is all so unsettling. I’m not sure what, if anything, to tell them both about Ryan. Except, maybe, to stay away from him.
I can’t help but insert myself into the conversation. I’m right here, in the car. “Did your dad tell you to meet Celeste? Did he tell you who she was? Was this all arranged?”
Zach shrugs. “Sort of, I guess. Maybe my mom told him about Celeste? I really don’t know. All I know is that he said she was gorgeous—he was right—and that she was the daughter of a special friend from college. I mean, he was looking out for me, like he always does.”
I swallow and keep my eyes on the road. How did Ryan know Celeste was in Chicago? Roxy and I weren’t in touch. How did he know she was gorgeous? Why would he put them together? A chill runs down my spine again. I suppose it’s another link to Sunny, another tie to the past. It’s not right.
“So your dad was on my daughter’s social media, right?” I say carefully. It’s the only way he could have gotten into her life, figured out where she went in Chicago, what her favorite things were.
“Sure, I guess he was,” Zach says. “But he was right. We’re meant to be together.”
Celeste doesn’t say anything, not right away. And then she says, in a quiet voice, “You never told me you knew who I was. You acted like it was a chance run-in when we met.” She pauses, shakes her head. “To answer your question. You know what I’m afraid of? Your family. You haven’t told me the truth about how we met. What else are you hiding or lying about?”
