Part 39 (1/2)
We had been seeing each other for two years before I got pregnant.”
”How did you meet?”
”I came from a very poor family, Jaclyn. I had no education and no prospects for a future. I did what I could to help support my siblings. I cleaned houses, sewed clothes, and baked to help my family.”
”You gave me away because you were poor?” she said, exasperated. ”That's no reason to-”
Celeste raised her hand. ”The money wasn't enough to feed so many mouths, so I did the unthinkable. And that's where I met your father.”
”What do you mean?”
”I was working in a brothel at the time.”
* 296 *
”You mean you were a...a...”
”Prost.i.tute.”
Jack dropped back against the couch and ran her hands though her hair. ”Jesus f.u.c.king Christ.” She pulled out her pack of cigarettes and prepared to light one. ”I need a smoke.”
”I will not have that in my house. It's a disturbing habit, and I will not have you kill yourself in front of me. And watch your mouth, young lady.” Celeste frowned.
”First of all, I'm forty, and second...really? Cursing and smoking are what bother you about all this?”
”There's no need for harsh language,” Celeste said sternly, ”or self-destruction.” Her face quickly softened. ”Your father took you away, and he was right to do so. A place like that is not where a child belongs. You deserved a better life than I could offer.”
”How...how did you know he was the father? I mean, you were seeing other men then.”
Celeste shrugged. ”I just knew it. I was careful with other men, but not with your father. He knew there was a good chance you weren't his, but that didn't stop him from coming right over. Once he saw you, he knew. Just like I did.”
”So, where is he now? What happened to him? Because I sure as h.e.l.l didn't grow up with my father.” Celeste looked away. ”I don't know. I was never informed.”
”I grew up in an inst.i.tution, adopted by a private organization in the US where they train children from all over the world to kill, steal, and die for them.” She saw Celeste wince in pain at the recounting of her history. ”Did my father sell me to them?” Celeste took the lid off the s...o...b..x. ”I don't know,” she replied as she busied herself with the contents.
”What was his name?”
”Jack Burnes. He named you after himself. I had given you the name Isabelle, but he insisted on changing it to Jaclyn even though you were already three years old.” Celeste removed a picture from the box and held it up. ”This is the day you were born. You were such a beautiful baby.”
* 297 *
Jack took the faded Polaroid and stared at it. A much-younger and weary-looking Celeste, propped up on pillows in a bed, cradled her infant daughter with an expression of serene joy. She had never expected to see a picture of herself as a newborn in the arms of her mother; the experience was so overwhelming she had to fight back tears. ”This one was taken six months later.” Celeste handed her another photo.
Jack was clutching a stuffed bunny, her eyes bright with glee as she smiled at the camera.
”And this one was taken on your first birthday.” Celeste wiped her eyes.
Jack in a highchair, dressed in green overalls, caught laughing- her tiny fist gripped a remnant of cake and she had chocolate smudged all over her face. ”I do like chocolate,” she said, and her voice broke.
”And these are-”
”I remember those,” she said, when Celeste gently lifted a mobile from the box. Five cherubs-thin, delicate sculptures about three inches long and made of braided gold wire-hung from a frame of wooden dowels. ”My angels. My golden angels.”
”I made them for you,” Celeste said. ”They used to hang over your crib. From the day you were born until you left.” Jack reached for them and couldn't fight the tears anymore.
They fell freely down her cheeks. ”My angels,” she said again.
Celeste put her arm around her and they cried together. ”I'm so sorry, Jaclyn. I want you to know if I had to do it all again, I would do it differently. I would have never let you go. Not to that kind of life.”Jack kept looking at the mobile. ”They were always in my dreams. The golden angels.” She held it up. ”One angel is missing.”
”I gave it to your father when he took you,” Celeste said.
”You used to look at those angels for hours. I wanted you to have something from your time with me. Something you loved, that made you smile.”
”I don't know what happened to it.”
* 298 *
”Maybe your father does.”
”How did you know I changed my face?”
”I used to get pictures of you every few years.” Celeste reached in the box and handed her pictures starting in her preteens up to before she left for Israel and changed her life and face. All were candid shots taken of her private life-the early ones when she was away from the Colorado EOO campus on field trips, the later photos when she was in New York between a.s.signments. ”Who sent you these?”
”I don't know. There was never a return address but I'm sure it's your father.”
”Was he keeping tabs on me?”
”Maybe.”
”You said he was American, so I guess it's possible he found me or knew where to find me,” she mused. ”Do you ever hear from him?””No, but he still sends me money. He has a man deliver it to me once a month. He was always very generous.”
”I see.”
”Do you still work for that organization?”
”No...well, I haven't for years. I faked my death to get away from them, but...they found me ten years later. I agreed to work with them this once because some f.u.c.k...jerk kidnapped the woman I love. She's an op...works for the same organization.”
”I'm sorry to hear that.” Celeste didn't seem the least bit surprised at her s.e.xuality.
”This is her.” She removed the picture of Ca.s.s from her back pocket and held it up. ”Her name is Ca.s.sady.”
”Very pretty.”
”Yeah.” She smiled but could also tell from the neutral look on Celeste's face that the picture didn't ring any bells. ”She's in a lot of danger and I have to find her soon.”
”You love her.”