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‘I can’t go there,’ he said, because he truly couldn’t. ‘I didn’t want to love you, but I do, Celeste, and I don’t want to love Willow, but I know I will. I’m so scared of losing you...’
‘You did, though, Ben.’ She was still angry, so angry with him. ‘You don’t want to fall in love in case something happens, so you’d rather just let us go...’
‘I’m here now.’
‘Half of you!’ Celeste exclaimed. ‘And the other half is stuck in a place where no one can visit. Well, Willow and I deserve more than that.’
‘I’ll give you more than that,’ he vowed.
‘When?’ Celeste demanded, and Ben couldn’t believe his ears.
‘What are you asking for, Celeste?’
‘Your love,’ Celeste said, and her heart was breaking, but she was determined to be very, very strong.
‘I just did. I told you I love you...’
‘No, Ben.’
‘And I will love Willow.’
‘No.’ She absolutely meant it.
‘I don’t know what you want here, Celeste!’ It was Ben that was angry now—he’d never been more open, more honest, had never revealed his heart like this since Jen died, and now he knew why. ‘What? Do you want me to say that I love Willow?’
‘Anyone can say it,’ she pointed out.
‘Okay?’ He picked up the bottle. ‘Am I to hold her, to feed her?’
‘I’m quite capable of that.’
‘What, then?’ Ben demanded, because he didn’t know what she wanted from him, didn’t know what test she had in her mind that he had to pass.
‘I want you to let yourself love her.’ All she did was confuse him, because he was going to love her, in time, he knew that it would grow. ‘And when you do, we’ll both be here waiting for you...’
‘I don’t understand you, Celeste.’
‘Well, I don’t understand you.’ She picked up the bottle and walked into the lounge and picked up Willow, feeding her in silence as he stood at the door and watched.
‘You can’t just demand instant love,’ he protested.
‘I can,’ Celeste came back immediately. ‘She’s already got one poor excuse for a father—she doesn’t need another, hanging around, waiting for love to grow.’
‘You’re impossible!’ he growled.
‘I’m very straightforward, actually,’ she replied calmly.
‘Say goodbye to Ben.’ She stood up, held up a little hand and waved it at him. ‘We’ll see him when he’s ready.’
She put Willow in her crib and tucked her in. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get on with my packing.’
‘That’s it?’ he asked incredulously.
‘That’s it,’ she confirmed.
‘I’ve come over here, I’ve told you why, I’ve told you I love you and that I’ll do everything I can for Willow, and it’s not enough?’ He walked over and looked her in the eyes. ‘It’s not enough for you?’
‘No.’
She meant it, he knew that she meant it, he just didn’t get it. ‘I don’t understand you, Celeste,’ he said again helplessly, and kissed her on her taut cheek. ‘I’ll go.’
‘Please.’
‘I’ll never understand your mother,’ he said, looking at Willow. He stroked her little cheek and again it was Willow who looked into his eyes—the same way she had the day she’d been born and the next morning too.
Once more, Ben closed his eyes, only this time he opened them again, and she was still there, smiling—patiently waiting for him to love her.
He didn’t want to do this—he felt as if he were dying—in fact, he was sure it would have been easier to have died.
‘She was made for you, Ben,’ Celeste said softly beside him, staring down at her daughter and understanding the world now. ‘Because you’d never have done this yourself—you’d never have done it again.’
She was right—and somewhere deep inside him something aligned. Because even with Celeste, without a certain little lady being born into his hands, under his tree, he would never have taken that chance again, would never, ever have risked having another baby.
Yet he risked it now.
He looked at this little new life and remembered all that hope, all that love, all that promise he’d once had...
‘She was never born.’ It probably didn’t make sense to Celeste, yet it was so vital to him. He could feel the petal of Willow’s cheek as soft and white as a daisy and it felt as if he was being hollowed out inside. He still wanted to run, only there was no beach long enough, no universe that could contain the grief that split him. ‘There’s no birth certificate, and we hadn’t chosen a name...’ It hadn’t felt right to name her without Jen.
He could never separate the two, had grieved for Jen and their baby, but had never actually separated them, had never let himself grieve just for the baby. ‘She was never born.’
‘She still was, though,’ Celeste said, her voice there beside him, her arm around him—and if he’d been there for her before, she was there for him now. ‘She still is.’
‘Daisy.’
He stroked Willow’s cheek and finally named the daughter he should have had. And just as he had cut Willow’s cord, Willow let him cut his daughter’s—her little star hands holding his as grief pitted him. In holding Willow he got to hold his own baby, pressed his lips to her soft cheeks, got to hold Daisy just for a moment, and then sent her back to rest with her mum.
‘I love you.’ He said it to Willow who was there now, only he didn’t just say it, he felt it too. He held her close, but he didn’t just hold her—he finally let himself love her, finally let himself hope, and he promised her silently that he would always be there for her. ‘And I love your mum too.’
‘She knows that,’ Celeste said.
‘Don’t go to your parents’.’ Holding her baby, he turned to Celeste. ‘Come home.’
And it was home—even if she’d never lived there, his house was already her home.
‘Well, I’m all packed.’ She was smiling and crying, so very, very proud—and safe too—and for the first time in the longest time absolutely sure. ‘I’d better ring Mum and tell her. She’ll be on her way soon.’
‘What will she say?’
‘She’ll probably be relieved.’ Celeste laughed. ‘I’m not the easiest person to live with.’
‘I can’t wait to find out,’ he murmured.
He didn’t want her, didn’t want them in this shabby, bare unit a moment longer. He wanted them home where they all belonged. The boxes and crib and bags and baby baths and car could all wait till later, so Celeste rang Rita and Ben packed a quick bag for Willow, and they walked down the street pushing a pram, only as a family this time. She was such a good baby, because she slept for a couple of very necessary hours while Ben and Celeste kissed and made up and cried a bit too, and when Celeste finally fell asleep in his arms, Ben stayed awake, just so he could feel her warm skin. Then he heard Willow, who was starting to stir in her pram, and he finally felt what had been missing for all those years.
Peace.
A peace that wasn’t shattered by Willow’s lusty cries, a peace that remained as Celeste chatted incessantly on as she brought in the baby’s bottle and then handed him an angry bundle as she decided that instead of feeding her daughter, he could do it while she explored the spa in her new bathroom!
Peace as, fed, changed and content, he put Willow back in the pram and wound up her mobile for her.
* * *
Peace perfect peace, Celeste thought as she lay in the spa, her toes wrinkling, knowing how much he loved the two of them, mother and daughter. She stared out at the glorious view and at a wonderful future too.
‘Marry me!’ Celeste shouted to the silence.
‘I was about to suggest the same thing,’ Ben said, standing in the doorway grinning. ‘We should get married out there on the beach, where we met...’
‘I take it that’s a yes?’
‘It’s a yes...’ He looked out to the beach and he could almost see them—see their wedding, Celeste holding Willow, the celebrant, with family and friends gathered around, and he could almost see Jen, holding Daisy and smiling. And it was a blessing, a long-awaited blessing, to be able to think of them both and smile.
‘Oh, well, if you insist.’ She laughed.
Lost in thought, he had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Pardon?’
‘I suppose there’s no talking you out of it...’ She gave a martyred sigh. ‘I guess you’d better climb in and ravish me.’
He didn’t ever compare, because there was no comparison—two more different women he could never imagine, and yet he loved them both. But it was then, when he least expected it, that he got his sign, the one he had been longing for from Jen, because just for a second he could have sworn he heard Jen laugh, could have sworn he heard her letting him go with grace, urging him on, to live this wonderful life.
