Page 38 of Full Circle

All I wanted to do was make everything better for Celeste. The helpless feeling was foreign to me; for so long, all I had to do was smile and be present—Celeste was simple like that. A million times better and easier than someone as high maintenance as Hillary. But a serious illness wasn’t something I could solve for her by my presence alone. Hell, I didn’t even have the right words to say because this wasn’t something I had ever experienced before. It wasn’t right that the Universe would make someone like Celeste suffer twice with a deathly sick parent, but then again, you can’t always escape bad luck. If she was going to have to go through this again, the only thing I could do was make sure she didn’t have to go through it alone. And I would damn sure get her father the best medical care my family had access to because Celeste and I both needed Mr. Hendricks around for a good long while yet.

CHAPTER 15

ATLANTA AIN’T FOR THE FAINT OF HEART

CELESTE

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind. Nana, Wes, and I went home to pack for a few days in Atlanta, though we weren’t entirely sure how long we would be staying. Today should have been the first day of school, but if Daddy was going to be undergoing treatment so far away for the foreseeable future, I had no idea how I was supposed to concentrate on school back home. Nana said we would figure it out once we knew more. She also had the wherewithal to call Marla at The Comfy Cushion with an update. Marla swore up and down it was no trouble, that she would take care of the restaurant for the next few days until we had more answers. She promised to talk to the other waitresses to see if they could pick up more hours this week, too.

“Worst case scenario,” Marla added, “we can always change the operating hours and close on the weekends.”

My heart dropped to my stomach at the suggestion. Could we afford for the restaurant to be closed like that? Before I could ask Nana, however, Wes chimed in.

“It’s normal for business owners to take time off, Lovebug. Your customers aren’t going anywhere else.”

I cocked my head to the side, peering at him quizzically. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Lovebug’?”

Wes shrugged. “If you can be your daddy’s sugar bee, you can be my lovebug.”

That was another thing to contend with. Desiree was going to lose her mind if she heard Wesley speak to me like that. Not to mention how catty and cruel Hillary could be. I had already fallen out of their good graces, but this seemed more like I was stoking the fire.

Yet feeling love and cherished during something so horrible was also like a lifeline. It kept the darkness at bay that had been gone since I met Wes after Mama’s passing. I could see it swirling off in my periphery, waiting to swarm over me and suffocate me in its depths. And I refused to live like that again.

The flight to Atlanta was quick, but mottled with tension. Hillary went into a total meltdown when Desiree told her she wasn’t coming with us. She threatened to trash all of Desiree’s things while she was gone, screaming and stomping like a toddler. More than once I heard Nana muttering that some kids deserve whippings and Wesley outright labeled Hillary as a diva. I had secondhand embarrassment from watching her.

Oddly enough, though, Desiree stuck to her guns and stated Hillary couldn’t come. She made arrangements for Jeremy and Hillary to both stay with their grandparents on their daddy’s side until we got back. It gave me a sliver of hope that perhaps something good would come of this as far as Desiree was concerned. Maybe she and I could find some common ground if Hillary wasn’t there to make everything a contest.

That all disintegrated the moment Desiree’s hateful gaze fell on me, however. She glanced at Nana as though considering her words with care before whispering, “I’m watching you, Celeste. Never forget that,” and then taking a seat in the back of the plane.

I had never been on a plane before to compare it to the Madden family jet, but it was surprisingly spacious and comfortable. We discovered that Nana was a nervous flyer as she white-knuckle gripped both her armrests for the duration of the flight. One side of the plane had seating similar to a couch, which Wesley made me use to nap while using a pillow on his lap. His long fingers stroked my hair the entire time, soothing me enough to actually fall asleep. Wheels up to wheels down (a term I learned from the jovial pilot I met upon boarding) was only 45 minutes. Much faster than we ever could have made it by car.

A sleek black Cadillac Escalade met us right on the tarmac when we landed, complete with a red carpet at the foot of the stairs. Several skyscrapers could be seen in the distance, which already looked intimidating from so far away. There were far more trees than I imagined for a big city, but the airport loomed enormous and imposing ahead of us. Wesley laughed at how big my eyes widened trying to take it all in.

One of Mr. Madden’s drivers opened the doors for us, with Desiree insisting on getting in first, and he then loaded our bags into the back. The drive from the airport to Emory University Hospital should have been short given its proximity, but traffic was backed up for several miles. The highway was the largest I had ever seen and there were so many cars on the road that I felt anxiety for the first time in my life from being inside a vehicle. It seemed impossible we wouldn’t be involved in an accident from one of the numerous drivers weaving in and out of lanes far too quickly for everyone’s own good.

I tried not to gape at it all. I didn’t want Wesley to notice my rising panic.

Desiree complained the entire drive. The car was too hot, then it was too cold, and then the high population of the city was the root of all evil in the world. She spoke as if she frequented the area and knew firsthand what went on inside the city limits. Mr. Madden’s driver never said a word in response beyond a polite “yes” or “no, ma’am.” It made me wonder if he was paid to be silent or if he was so used to someone like Wes’ daddy that Desiree’s whining rolled right off him like butter. I made a mental note to ask Wesley about it at some point.

When we arrived at the hospital, a man with gorgeous terra cotta skin in a three piece navy suit waited for us at the entrance to the hospital. He had a blue tooth device hooked onto his ear and a tablet in his hand.

Wesley greeted the man with a sardonic smile. “Phillip, you didn’t need to spy on me, too. Surely the hospital staff will do enough of that.”

Phillip rolled his eyes. “Your father demoted me to being your PA since we are apparently ‘so close.’” He used finger quotations as he said it. “Do me a favor and let him know what excellent service I provide you so that I can return to my original position, please.”

No one else could have picked up on the faint blush of shame that bloomed across Wesley’s cheeks, but I noticed it right away. Taking his hand in mine, I gave it a gentle squeeze of comfort.

“I’m Celeste,” I introduced myself, holding out my other hand to shake Phillip’s.

That helped bring Wesley back into focus. “Yeah, sorry, I had a brain fart for a second. Phillip, this is my girlfriend, Celeste, and this is her grandmother, Suzanne, and her daddy’s fiancée, Desiree.” The way he said Desiree’s name reminded me of how a child reports finding dog poop in the yard. I had to fight the urge to laugh.

My soon to be stepmother pushed between Wes and me to stand directly in front of Phillip, though she eyed me as she corrected, “Celeste is not his girlfriend. She’s not allowed to date. We can do introductions later; I need to see Doug right away.”

Emory University Hospital Midtown was bigger than any building I had ever seen. Hallways went on forever, turning into different wings, and there were signs indicating special clinics and medical disciplines for as far as the eye could see. It was overwhelming to take in, especially given the hundreds of people that were hurrying along. And everyone seemed to be hurrying, lending to an atmosphere that felt like its own electric pulse. Thankfully, Phillip knew how to efficiently get to Daddy’s room and I didn’t need to interrupt the flow of traffic by asking for directions I’d never be able to follow.

Once inside, we found Daddy already sitting up with another IV hooked into the vein in his elbow. The lights in the room were dim, but I could tell it was significantly bigger than Smithson General. There was a separate seating area that had a kitchenette along one wall and an enormous bathroom with a marble tub. Everything looked sleek and modern, more high tech than anything I had ever seen. The flat screen tv’s (yes, there were multiple) were all bigger than the television we had back home. Floor to ceiling windows provided a panoramic skyline of downtown Atlanta, but there was some sort of screen behind the glass that darkened the view. A woman in a plain gray dress was holding a tablet in front of Daddy and explaining the different functions as we entered.

Desiree’s eyes narrowed on the woman, who looked to be approximately 25 years old or so, and had very pretty curls cascading down her back. The woman did not look back at us or stop her explanation. Desiree made a great fuss over clearing her throat and adjusting the neckline of her top before she rushed to my daddy’s side with an emotional, “Darling!” She all but cooed as she rounded the bed to stand across from the woman and pepper his face with kisses. I noticed with disgust that they left lipstick residue on his cheeks.

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