Chapter 3 – THE PROMISE HE NEVER MADE

Celeste didn’t answer immediately.

She looked toward the dining-room doors, where the first guests were beginning to arrive.

Then she smiled the way she always did when something unpleasant happened in public.

“Roman, we can discuss the ceremony privately.”

He didn’t raise his voice.

“We are discussing it.”

“People are arriving.”

“Then they can wait.”

Celeste stared at him.

I had never seen Roman embarrass her in front of anyone.

He was a private man, almost excessively so. Even when he disagreed with her, he usually waited until the staff had left the room.

Tonight, he seemed to have forgotten there was anyone watching.

“Emily,” he said, “please tell the kitchen to hold dinner. And ask the guests to wait in the reception room.”

I went to the service door, gave the instructions, and returned.

Oliver was standing beside June, holding the sleeve of her coat.

Celeste had removed a folded sheet of paper from her small evening handbag.

She held it out to Roman.

“This is what he’s talking about.”

Roman unfolded it.

At the top, in elegant printed lettering, were the words:

Our New Beginning.

Below them was a short speech.

I couldn’t read every line from where I stood, but I saw Roman’s thumb stop halfway down the page.

He read aloud.

“‘Today I welcome Celeste as my mother, and I promise to leave the sadness of our old life behind.’”

June’s face tightened.

Roman continued reading silently.

Then he looked at Celeste.

“Who wrote this?”

“I worked on it with Oliver.”

Roman held the page toward his son.

“Did you help write this, buddy?”

Oliver nodded uncertainly.

“I picked the part about being a family.”

“Which part?”

Oliver pointed.

“‘I’m happy Dad found somebody who makes him smile again.’”

Roman read the sentence.

It was the only one that sounded like a ten-year-old.

“What about the rest?”

Celeste intervened.

“I polished the wording. We wanted something appropriate for the ceremony.”

Oliver stared at the page.

“I told her I didn’t want to say Mom’s name was old.”

June looked at him.

“Did you?”

He nodded.

“Celeste said I wouldn’t have to say it if I was brave about the other stuff.”

Roman placed the paper flat on the table.

“Celeste, this isn’t a wedding speech. It’s a declaration that Rebecca no longer matters.”

“That isn’t what I intended.”

“Then why does it ask my son to promise he won’t bring up his mother at our wedding?”

Celeste’s composure began to crack.

“Because you don’t understand what it’s like!”

Her voice carried farther than she’d intended.

She lowered it.

“You leave early. You come home after he’s asleep. I’m the one here when he wakes up crying.”

Roman’s expression changed.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Celeste continued.

“I’m the one who sits on his bedroom floor when he won’t get back into bed. I’m the one who talks to his teachers and remembers the things he won’t eat.”

Oliver looked down.

“And every time I think we’re finally becoming a family,” she said, “something happens that reminds me I will always be standing in Rebecca’s place.”

June spoke quietly.

“Celeste, nobody asked you to stand in her place.”

Celeste turned toward her.

“That’s easy for you to say. You already belong here.”

June looked at the coat she’d never taken off.

“Do I?”

That stopped Celeste.

Roman pulled out a chair.

“Sit down, Oliver.”

The boy shook his head.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No.”

“Because I didn’t memorize it.”

“Buddy, look at me.”

Roman knelt in front of him.

“You don’t have to give any speech at my wedding. You don’t have to call anyone Mom. And you never have to promise to stop talking about Rebecca.”

Oliver studied his father’s face.

“Even if Celeste gets sad?”

“Even then.”

“But you said you wanted everybody to be happy.”

“I do.”

Oliver frowned.

“Then how come I keep making people sad?”

Roman’s expression changed in a way I’d never forget.

He reached for his son’s hands.

“You aren’t responsible for making the adults in this house happy.”

Oliver pulled one hand away.

“But if I don’t do the speech, Celeste might not marry you.”

Celeste went pale.

Roman looked at her.

“Did you tell him that?”

“No.”

Oliver’s chin trembled.

“She said weddings are for people who are ready to be a family.”

Celeste closed her eyes.

“I was trying to explain commitment.”

Roman stood.

“A ten-year-old shouldn’t have to prove he’s ready to belong in his own home.”

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then June spoke.

“Roman, perhaps we should let him have his Thanksgiving dinner.”

He looked toward the waiting dishes.

She continued.

“Whatever else happens tonight, that child shouldn’t remember Thanksgiving as the day every adult argued over him.”

I thought she was right.

But Roman didn’t seem ready to stop.

He looked at June.

“There’s something else I need to ask you.”

She waited.

“Why didn’t you call me directly when Celeste said Oliver wanted distance?”

June’s expression became guarded.

“I did.”

Roman frowned.

“When?”

“Twice in February. Again in March.”

“I never received those calls.”

June looked toward Celeste.

“She said you were traveling and that she would give you my messages.”

Celeste shook her head.

“Roman was dealing with serious business matters. I wasn’t going to interrupt meetings because June wanted to discuss holiday presents.”

June swallowed.

“My daughter was dead. I was trying to speak to her husband about her son.”

The words weren’t loud.

They didn’t need to be.

Roman looked away.

I saw him glance at the silver watch on his wrist.

Rebecca had given it to him on their fifth wedding anniversary. I’d heard Oliver tell a guest that once.

He touched the watch as though he’d suddenly remembered what it meant.

Then he turned back to June.

“I should have called you.”

“Yes,” she said.

There was no anger in her voice.

That made it worse.

Oliver tugged at Celeste’s sleeve.

“Can I have my box now?”

She looked down.

“What box?”

“The one you promised.”

Roman turned.

“What box?”

Oliver glanced between them.

“Mom’s things.”

Celeste stiffened.

“I told you we’d discuss that after the ceremony.”

“But you said if I learned my speech, I could have them back.”

June gripped the edge of the table.

“Oliver, what things?”

He answered as though it were obvious.

“Mom’s bracelet. Her little recipe book. The stuff from her bedroom.”

Roman stared at Celeste.

“You told me those things had been put away for safekeeping.”

“They were.”

Oliver’s voice dropped.

“I’ve been good. I didn’t ask about Mom in front of the guests last time.”

Celeste reached for him.

He stepped backward.

Then he looked at his father.

“Dad, why do I have to earn my mother’s things back?”

Share