The Soldier's Dark Secret

Jack, who had in fact come to pretty much the same conclusions himself, wished now that he had given vent to some of the many pithy things he’d wished to say to Madame Rosser. ‘I’m so sorry this has turned out so badly,’ he said.

Celeste looked surprised. ‘But no. I cannot doubt now that Maman loved me, for she went to such pains to keep me. I am sure if she’d wished it, Madame Rosser could have arranged for me to be given away. Maman must have loved my father a great deal to risk so much for him. And he—as she said in her letter, he would most likely have loved me too, because he obviously loved Maman. You are wondering that I am not more upset? I told you...’

‘I’m wondering what it is you’re really thinking, because I get the distinct feeling you’re not saying it,’ Jack said frankly.

Celeste smiled. ‘You are right, but I will. Only I— It is difficult.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘It is complicated. I am sad, of course, but I understand Maman so much more now. I will never know for certain if I could have made a difference that day, when she came to me here, but I do know now the source of the guilt which made her life unbearable, and I know I could never have changed that. It was her decision, her life. I think— I hope that I will learn to accept that in the future.’

‘So you have your answers finally?’ Jack asked.

‘I have my answers—or all the answers I’m ever going to get,’ Celeste agreed. ‘You have done what you promised, and I am very grateful because without you—I don’t know.’ Her voice quivered. She closed her eyes, her fingers clenched tight on the cushion she was holding against her. ‘Jack, I have things I need to say before you go.’ She tilted her head and met his gaze determinedly. ‘I know you will go, I know that. But I need to— You need to— I need you to listen before you do, because I love you.’

* * *

And so after all her careful rehearsing, she had blurted it out! Celeste held her breath. Jack simply gazed at her as if she had shot him. Had she expected him to throw his arms around her and tell her he loved her too? Angrily, Celeste was forced to admit that she might indeed have hoped this. ‘Don’t look so surprised,’ she snapped, ‘you must have guessed.’

‘I did not dare.’

‘Well, I do,’ Celeste said, crossing her arms over the cushion. ‘I love you, and I’m telling you because I decided in Cassis that I won’t let you do what my mother did to me.’

‘Your mother?’

‘Yes, you know I too am a little tired of talking about her, but she is— You and she have so much in common, Jack. She wouldn’t let me love her either.’

He flinched. ‘Celeste, don’t say that.’

‘I love you, Jack, and you can’t stop me.’

‘Celeste, I...’

‘No.’ She shook her head stubbornly. ‘You have to listen first. I have thought it all through, so you have to listen. Only now I forget what I was saying.’

‘Duty,’ Jack said.

‘Yes, yes. There is Maman doing her duty by Henri and Madame Rosser, even though she has to hurt me. And I can understand that now a little, but why, I ask myself, was she so determined to continue with the situation when it was making her miserable? Now I know the answer to that too. She felt guilty. She had been the architect of the death of one man, and she no doubt blamed herself for having failed to rescue the man she loved, and every day she could look at me, and see the evidence of what she had lost, and—so you see, guilt. She didn’t feel she deserved to love me. She certainly didn’t feel entitled to be happy, and so she chose to be miserable.’

‘Chose?’

Celeste nodded firmly. ‘Chose. I think it was her penance.’

‘And you think that is what I am doing?’

She flinched at the cold note of anger in his voice. ‘I don’t think you choose to be miserable, but you don’t try to be happy either. And I do think that you see your life as a penance, as Maman did.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘But I do. I know perfectly, because no matter how many times you say it is not, our cases are the same.’ Celeste tried desperately not to panic. Jack looked as if he was on the verge of leaving. What had seemed so clear was now becoming jumbled in her mind. ‘I love you,’ she said, resorting to the one thing that had not changed. ‘Jack, I love you so much. You’ve done so much to help me, why won’t you let me help you?’

‘Because you can’t. Because nobody can.’