Katy, the receptionist, knew that Gwen was expecting me and just waved me through the main doors. I hurried down the corridor, arriving in Gwen’s office breathless and only a little sunburned.
Gwen smiled when she saw me, shaking her head slightly in exasperation. Still, she didn’t scold me about my appearance or my last-second arrival.
“Good afternoon, Celia.”
“Hi, Gwen.” I didn’t apologize. I had come. I wasn’t even late.
Her smile broadened. She has a good smile, one that lights up her face. Without that smile, she’s a very ordinary-looking older woman. With it, she’s a knockout. “Before we get started, how have you been doing since our last visit?”
How had I been doing? I thought about how best to phrase it. “Okay, I guess. It’s been … hard knowing Ivy’s gone for good. I miss her a lot. I mean, I knew she was dead before. But she wasn’t
“Are you going to be all right for this meeting? If not, we can cancel. You don’t need to feel compelled.”
Did I feel compelled? Not really. But, much as I dreaded it, I did feel this meeting was necessary. We needed to let Mom know about Ivy. And Mom, Gran, and I all needed to start dealing with our family issues. Our relationship wasn’t a healthy one—hadn’t been in years.
“I’m okay.”
“If you’re sure.” Gwen’s voice was neutral, but I got the niggling feeling that, while she would honor my decision, she wasn’t sure it was the right one.
Gwen had originally suggested we use Skype or one of the many other available video-chat programs, but she ran into an issue. The magical barrier around the prison where my mother was an inmate caused interference on regular networks, so we were stuck using specialized equipment.
That had meant rearranging Gwen’s office to make room. The large, comfortable couch had been placed facing the camera, with its back to the bank of windows. Gwen and I would sit there, close but without crowding each other. The video screen was already live, and one part of it showed my gran, who was sitting on her own couch in her new home. When she’d first moved to Serenity, Gran had rented a real rattrap of a place, but after the attempt on her life, I’d promised myself I’d get her out of there.
I’d needed the help of Helen Baker, a member of the Siren Secret Service who had worked with me a number of times. Helen’s mother had been a friend of my gran’s, and Helen had talked Gran into renting her mom’s house, which was part of the Queen’s compound. It’s very nice and very secure, which makes me feel a lot less worried. And Gran liked the place and was comfortable there. Still, I was surprised to see her at home today. I’d expected her to be with Mom at the prison.
“Hi, Gran. You’re looking good.” That was both true and not. Physically, she looked much better than she had the last time I’d seen her, shortly after she had been attacked on Serenity. Gran is a tiny woman and has always been wiry. She keeps her white hair cut close to her head and carefully curled. Looking at her today, in her pretty lavender church suit, I could see that she was tan and that she seemed more vital. I was glad to see that she’d regained some of her energy, that she was closer to the little whirlwind I’d grown up around. But while she looked better physically, it was easy to see that she was in emotional turmoil. Her expression was both angry and sad, and her jaw was set in that familiar oh-shit-now-we’re-in-for-it line. “How come you’re not with Mom?”
“Hello, Celie.” Gran smiled and her face lit up. “This is so much better than a phone call. I get to actually see you.” Then her eyes narrowed as she inspected me and I knew I was about to be scolded. “You have a burn! You know better than to go out without sunscreen.” Being chastised was so familiar, so right, that I found myself smiling. During our last visit, she’d thrown me out of her hospital room. We’d said things to each other that could have damaged or even ended our relationship, and for months we’d barely talked and were excruciatingly polite with each other when we did. But the call last night had felt so different, almost normal, and today it seemed that the old wound had healed.
“I didn’t want to be late. Besides, it was just a dash across the parking lot. It’ll heal in a couple minutes.” In the meantime, it hurt. But I wasn’t going to say that.
She harrumphed. “You need to take better care of yourself.”
“Do that.” She grinned at me and I couldn’t help but grin back.
Then, with a flicker, my mom and her shrink, Dr. Thomason, joined us via split screen.
Dr. Thomason was a big man, probably a good six six, built like a linebacker, and obviously Polynesian. He was dressed in a dove gray suit with a white shirt and blue-and-silver-striped tie. His smile of greeting was warm but professional. My mother sat next to him, wearing prison orange, on a long couch not much different from the one Gwen and I were seated on.
My mother, Lana Graves, had once been a beautiful woman, and you can still see the echoes of that beauty in her bone structure. But years of heavy drinking and drugging have put a lot of rough miles on her. Even now, clean and sober, she looked hard, brittle, and angry at the world. Her hair needed a good cut and a dye job, to make the two inches of dark roots match the yellow blonde of the rest of her hair. The bright orange jumpsuit washed out her skin and hung limply on a frame that was moving past thin and on to skeletal. Honestly, she looked older than my gran, and not nearly as nice.
She didn’t bother greeting either me or Gran. Instead, she glared at the screen and said, “What have you done with Ivy? Where’s my baby? For days now she hasn’t come when I called. What have you
“Lana…” Dr. Thomason’s voice was calm but firm.
At my sarcasm, Gran’s expression darkened. “That’s enough! Both of you.” She looked directly into the screen, but I could tell it was my mother she was addressing. “Lana, baby, Ivy’s in heaven. She found her way home.”
“
“Lana, stop,” Gran ordered. But Mom wasn’t listening to her. She wasn’t listening to Dr. Thomason either as he tried to get her to sit down and calm down. Instead, she started calling my sister’s name, shouting for her the way she had when we were little, when she called us in from playing outdoors—to no avail. When she finally realized that Gran and I were telling the truth, that Ivy was never coming back, she started sobbing hysterically. Dr. Thomason called a halt to the proceedings so that he could deal with her privately.
Half the screen went dark. I stared at it for a long moment, trying to decide what I was feeling. I knew I should care that my mother was distraught, but I didn’t. That lack of feeling was so cold it scared me. But it was the truth. “Well, hell. That was useless.” The words popped out of my mouth, unbidden.
“Celia Kalino Graves!” Gran snapped.
I sighed and decided an apology and a change of subject were probably in order. “Sorry, Gran. So, um, how are you doing? How are you liking your new place?” Yeah, I was re-covering old ground, but it was the best I could think of under the circumstances.
She gave me a level look, to let me know that she absolutely knew what I was doing before letting me get away with it. “Yes, I am. Quite a lot. It’s so beautiful and peaceful. The view is magnificent.”
“The stairs are a pain in the butt, though.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “Yes, they are. But there’s a trail. It’s longer but less steep. I tend to take that instead. It’s easier on my knees.” She paused, her eyes going a little distant, her expression wistful. “It’s hard to believe Ivy’s really gone.”
“Yes, Gran.” My vision blurred. I hadn’t expected to cry. I didn’t want to. But the tears were very close to the surface. It wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge.
“What was holding her here?”
I swallowed hard. Talking about this, even to Gran, wasn’t easy, but she deserved to know. I forced myself to form the words, my voice soft and rough. “It was me. I blamed myself for what happened, felt guilty because I
