The Barren Tree
Chapter 5
by Myeerah, published on May 2, 2001
Celeste woke up, heart pounding. Where am I? She analyzed that thought. Oh, like that's original. That's right. She was in a castle, of all things. In Germany! Unbelievable.
I'm amazed that Mom let me go. That was some fast talking there, girl. Her mother trusted Gran, but the idea of her baby girl going off to parts unknown put a stick in her craw. It had taken a lot of charm and liberal mention of her mother's favorite author to make her relent.
This is not helping me sleep. Celeste got up and padded downstairs in her socked feet to the main hall. Everything was still. She looked around at paintings and decorative art. A large portrait drew her eye. It was a handsome older man. Looking closely, she made out the plaque underneath it: Wolfgang Ritter. It looked fairly new.
He looks so. . . compassionate, she thought. Like a fairy-tale king.
A muffled sound drew Celeste's attention. There was a doorway leading to what looked like a small chapel, or a shrine. A woman was sitting on a bench inside, face buried in her hands, back shaking with silent sobs.
What was her name? "Grace?" Celeste asked, tentatively.
The woman froze. She slowly raised her head, red-rimmed eyes prominent in her tear-streaked face.
"What?"
"I'm sorry, it's just that I couldn't sleep so I came downstairs and I thought I heard something and I don't mean to-- I'll just go, and--"
"No. That's okay. Celeste, wasn't it?"
Celeste nodded. "I don't mean to intrude."
"Actually, I'm glad you're here. Being alone isn't helping me."
"Do you want to talk?"
"You wouldn't believe how much if I told you, but--"
"I'm too young? Don't let that stop you. Age doesn't mean that much."
"Even more than age, though--"
"Think of it this way." Celeste smiled angelically. "I don't know anybody here but Gran, so I don't have any preconceived notions. I'm not as innocent as you might think, so you can't really shock me. Besides, people tell me I'm a great listener."
Quirking an odd half smile, she continued. "What's the worst that could happen? You give a bad impression to a complete stranger who you'll probably never see again. On the other hand," the smile was complete now, "you get a weight off your chest and, who knows, maybe even some insight into your problem. What's it gonna be: noble suffering in silence or free amateur psychology?"
Grace laughed. "You're right. There's nothing to lose, is there?"
"Nope. So spill it."
"So let me summarize. Correct me if I'm wrong. You still love him. He said he loves you. A notoriously committment-shy man has asked you to marry him, but since he said and did some things to hurt you, you don't want to take any chances. You've said and done some hurtful things yourself, but never mind that right now. Reading between your carefully edited lines--you had sex. You felt used. Now, he can't anymore--yes, I heard you talking with that blonde lady--and you don't know whether to feel relieved that it's not an issue anymore, or upset because you'll never get the chance for some guilt-free nookie. Am I right?"
"You-- That--" Grace was stunned. "But you're only--"
"Sixteen. Yes. I already said that age isn't important. I'm hardly inexperienced, either."
"But--"
"Don't start. I know all of that. The fact remains that physical pleasure is the only thing you can be certain of. Everything else is illusory and transitory. People die, friendships whither, problems go away or they kill you. The only certainty is that the comfort of a hug, the excitement of a kiss, the pleasure of sex is real and now and always will be, every time it happens."
Reflecting on that, Grace muttered, "Why do I feel like I'm talking to Gabriel?"
"It's probably how he feels, he just hasn't ever said it out loud."
"You may be right. It--it feels like his attitude. I'd just never thought about it before."
"Think about it Grace. Please do. I'm going back to bed now, but I want to tell you one more thing. My Dad died about a year ago. It's why Mom and I moved to New Orleans. I'll never get him back, but I'll always have him. I'll always have the feel of his hands on mine when he taught me how to play baseball. I'll have the kiss on my forehead before he went to work. I'll have his hug when he found out that I was going to skip fifth grade. That will always be there, and every time someone touches me, I'll know that. Every hug, every kiss reminds me that my father loved me. Nothing can ever change that, and nothing will ever change the way you felt with Gabriel."
Silently, Grace watched Celeste go back upstairs, long dark hair in a girlish pony tail concealing an active, mature mind. After several minutes, still deep in thought, Grace followed her up the stairs and went to her own bed. It was some time before she slept, and she dreamt of Rennes-le-Château and Gabriel.
Last update: October 24, 2007
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