Masquerade by Eileen Rife

its grip. The warm tissue-paper skin soothed her. “How are the children?”
    “They miss you.” Amelia’s cheeks wrinkled when she smiled.
    “Oh, clumsy me. I nearly forgot. They made you something.” Barbara unzipped her oversized bag and retrieved a homemade card.
    Amelia leaned in as Barbara handed the card to Celeste. “Jocelyn drew the scene on the front.”
    Celeste sniffed. “Look at that—a beautiful rainbow over a field of flowers. She’s certainly artistic.”
    “And look inside. All the children signed their names. Well, we helped Teddy and Lewis.” Barbara winked. She grinned, and her eyes crinkled into those lovely quarter moons Celeste adored.  
    “How’s the sub getting along?” Celeste worried her bottom lip.
    Barbara patted Celeste’s knee. “Now, don’t you be concerned about a thing. She’s doing fine, and so are we. You take as long as you need.”
    “I need to be back with my children. I can’t stay here cooped up with,” Celeste pointed toward the kitchen, “ them .” 
    A soft chuckle from Barbara.
    The sound warmed Celeste to her toes, the sensation immediately followed by guilt. She shouldn’t be happy about anything right now.  The only man she’d ever loved was gone, and he was never coming back.
    “Rainbow promises.” Barbara cocked her head and peered into Celeste’s eyes.
    She arched her eyebrows.
    “That’s right. Rainbow promises. The sky’s stormy for you right now, but it won’t always be this way. God gives the rainbow after the storm.”
    God. What had He ever given her? Joe? Perhaps. If so, why had He taken him away? To punish her?
    Then again, maybe God had nothing at all to do with attraction. Maybe people merely fell in love by chance. Some unexplained cosmic pull toward one another. She sighed. Rainbow promises. Sounded like a nice sentiment, even a song, but reality was so much different.
    “Whenever you see a rainbow, God is saying, ‘I am here.’” Barbara squeezed Celeste’s hand.
    “You’re here, both of you,” Celeste said. ‘That’s all I need.”
    “Before we go, can we pray for you?” Barbara smoothed her skirt.
    Bile crept up her esophagus and flooded her throat. The last prayer she’d heard was offered by a priest during confession seven years ago. After all, Mother insisted all tracks be covered, including the God track, Celeste’s sin so great and all. Her sin? What about her mother’s? Her baby would be here now if it hadn’t been for her mom. Joe’s child would be by her side. Together, they would comfort each other.
    Heat surged through her body. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
    The light dimmed in Barbara’s eyes. Immediately, guilt washed over Celeste, and her shoulders sagged.
    “That’s all right.” Barbara reached for her bag.
    “Sure.” Amelia nodded, seemingly afraid to say anything for fear she might say the wrong thing. 
    “Try to get some rest now, okay?”    Barbara stood,
    fastened her gaze on Amelia.
    The three of them walked through the kitchen where Mother and Father wrapped leftovers and tucked them inside the refrigerator. After exchanging good-byes at the back door, Celeste moved back through the kitchen. Could she make herself invisible? Slip past her busy parents and into the bedroom without them noticing? All she wanted to do was lock the door against them and throw away the key.
    “Here, dear, drink this. It’ll calm your nerves and help you rest.” The shrill voice spilled from her mother.
    At the bedroom door, Celeste pivoted, dread threatening to drown her.
    Her mother held a glass in one hand and a wine bottle in the other. She swirled the sparkling liquid, a frown etched on her brow. With lowered head, her father wiped the counter. He snuck a glance at Celeste, pity written all over his face. Why didn’t he come to her rescue? Tell her mother where to get off.
    Celeste stepped forward and grabbed the glass, slamming it on the table as her mother stood frozen. “Wine. Is this