Buried in the Stars

by Gretchen Tubbs

  Their heads are together when I round the corner and step into the living room. Easton’s smile grows tenfold when I make my way toward him. He pulls me into his arms as soon as I’m close enough and his mouth moves to my ear. “That dress looks fantastic on you.” He waits a few seconds before pulling away. “You look lovely, Scarlett.”

  A flush creeps up my face at his compliments. I’m not used to hearing them from him. “Thank you.” His stare is a bit unnerving. “Should we get going?”

  “Let’s go back to my house first.”

  After telling Em bye, he takes my hand, and we walk the short distance to his house. He turns to me when we get up the front steps, but as soon as he opens his mouth to speak the door opens. Sutton comes strolling out onto the porch, holding a corsage and wearing a suit. My breath catches in my throat, all while my heart skips several beats and then starts wildly pounding against my chest seconds later. Easton squeezes my hand and just as his brother pulls me into his arms he lets it go.

  “Surprise,” Sutton whispers. It feels so good to touch him again. The past few months have felt like years. His chest rises and falls against my cheek and I want to stay here forever.

  “Let me look at you,” he says as he puts some space between our bodies. Reluctantly, I step back from his hold and wait for him to finish his slow perusal of me. “Stunning, as always.” He looks over his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

  I suddenly remember that his brother is the whole reason that I’m dressed up and ready for a dance I didn’t want to go to in the first place. His hands are in his pockets and he’s rocking back and forth on his heels, watching our reunion unfold. “You ass,” I tell him, but the grin on my face assures him I don’t mean it.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever get you to the mall.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “What, and ruin the surprise? Never. You should have seen your face when my brother walked out that door. Totally worth your whining, Squirt. Let me take a picture of you two love birds and then you can be on your way.”

  The flash is going off, but I can’t stop staring at Sutton. We can’t stop staring at each other. He reaches up and traces the necklace resting against my skin.

  “This looks perfect on you.”

  “I just opened it last night. I texted you but you didn’t call me back.”

  “I was busy packing so I could fly home and surprise my girlfriend.” His turquoise eyes are sparkling, and I want to weep with joy over the fact that he’s really here. “And I was scared that I would ruin the surprise if we talked.”

  “How long are you staying?”

  His smile falls. “Only tonight. I have to leave tomorrow afternoon. I couldn’t wait until Thanksgiving to come back.” His hand moves from toying with the thin silver chain up to my jaw. “I’m dying there without you. I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

  My eyes shut as my head drops to his shoulder. “You can’t tell me things like that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I run my hand across the light scruff dusting his cheeks. “Let’s not make tonight about how miserable we are without each other. I don’t want to waste our time together on that. We’ll make an appearance at the dance, and then I want you all to myself.”

  The gleam comes back in his beautiful turquoise eyes. “And what are you going to do with me when you get me all alone, Ms. Cook?”

  “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Sutton turns away from me to tell his brother we’re leaving, but Easton’s no longer on the porch.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sitting with a chair pulled up to the kitchen window and stalking the mail truck has become my latest obsession. Admissions letters were sent out this week and I’m anxiously awaiting my acceptance letter for UCLA. I pulled off a 4.0 last year, and so far this year, too. Senior year’s been difficult, both at school and at home, but I’ve made sure my grades stay top priority. Nothing is more important than going to California after graduation.

  As soon as the mail truck pulls away I run out the door and grab the stack of letters from the mailbox. I flip through the stack of bills, most of which are stamped with the word OVERDUE across them in red, and I see the envelope I’ve been waiting for. My palms immediately start to sweat, and I’m about to lose my lunch right here on the cracked sidewalk. I should just rip it open and put myself out of my misery, but I promised Sutton I wouldn’t open it until I was on the phone with him.

  I’m walking back up the driveway and running through his schedule for the day, trying to figure out when I can call him, when a police car pulls up in front of my house. The nervousness I was feeling with the arrival of the letter from UCLA was nothing compared to the sensations I’m experiencing now. My mother is the only reason a cop would be coming to my house. I haven’t seen her in a few days.

  He’s talking on his radio when he steps out of his car. I can’t understand what he’s saying, but I decide to stay outside and wait for him to finish.

  “Can I help you?” My letter from UCLA is shaking between my fingers.

  “Yes. I’m looking for Amy Cook. Is she home?”

  “No. I think she’s at work. I’m her daughter. Can I help you with something?”

  He looks me up and down and then asks if we can go inside, then follows me into the kitchen.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No. Are you sure she’s not here?”

  I sit at the table but he remains standing, looking around the small house without leaving the kitchen area. All of the doors are open, and with a home so tiny it’s easy to see that no one else is there.

  “I’m pretty sure she told me she was going to work.”

  For the first time since we came in, he looks at me. “She’s not there. I just came from the diner.”

  “Oh.”

  He finally sits across from me at our two person table. “When’s the last time you’ve seen your mom?”

  “Last night.” It’s a lie, but I don’t know what this is about and I’m scared she’s in a lot of trouble. I don’t know why I’m protecting her, but it seems like the right thing to do, even after everything she’s done to me. “Can you tell me why you’re looking for her?”

  He ignores my question to ask more of his own. “Do you know where else she could be? Any friends she likes to hang out with?”

  “Um, she has a few friends but I don’t really know them.”

  “Do you mind writing down your number in case I have any other questions?” He pushes one of his cards towards me, and I write my name and number on the back. He pockets it and takes out a second card, placing it on the table. “Call me if you hear from your mom.” I walk behind him on unsteady legs so I can lock up when he leaves.

  While I’m contemplating all the reasons behind a surprise visit from the police, memories of my father’s death come barging at me. I remember the police showing up at the house, delivering the news of the accident to my mother. Is that why that cop was at my house? I assumed my mom was in trouble, but maybe she was in an accident. Maybe something happened to her. My knees go weak just as my cell starts ringing.

  “Hello?” I answer without checking the caller ID first.

  “Scarlett,” Sutton says through the line, his voice heavy with grief.

  “What’s wrong?” Does he know something I don’t?

  “It’s my grandfather. He had a stroke last night.” He clears his throat. “He didn’t make it.”

  “Oh God,” I whisper and sink to the floor. “I’m so sorry.” I listen as he cries through the line. “Sutton, where are you?”

  He takes a few deep breaths. “I’m at the house, waiting for my family to get here. My dad is a wreck.”

  I’m shuffling around my room, changing clothes so I can go across the street and give my condolences to his family. They are certainly devastated by the news.

  “I want you to fly out with them,” Sutton says. “I need you here.”

&nbs
p; “Sutt-,” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “Please don’t argue about it. Tell me when you can come, and I’ll make sure you’re here.”

  I think about it for a few brief seconds and then tell him, “I can fly out Friday.”

  “Okay,” he exhales. “Okay. Thank you.” He sounds infinitesimally better now that he knows I’m coming.

  “I need to go see your parents. Are you alright by yourself?”

  “Yeah, baby. I’ll be alright. I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “I love you, Sutton. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Love you, too, Squirt. Go see my family. They’re leaving tonight.”

  ***

  I should have just missed the week of school and flown out to California with Sutton’s family. My mind was there instead of on my studies. My nights were spent on the phone with Sutton, even though his family was there with him. School was a pointless haze. I throw some clothes together as soon as the bus drops me off and call a cab to take me to the airport. I missed the funeral but I will be able to spend a few days with Sutton. Easton is going to fly back with me Monday. His parents are staying for a few additional days. The estate has to be settled and the will has to be read.

  The taxi honks, alerting me of its arrival. I pull the front door shut and my phone rings. I answer it and get settled in the backseat of the cab. Someone’s speaking on the other end, but I’m telling the driver to take me to the airport. When I realize what I’m hearing, my pulse starts to pound in my ears and I ask the cab driver to stop. He must think I’m talking to the person on the phone because he keeps driving.

  “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

  “It’s your mother. She was in a bad accident last night. Officer Lewis had your contact information and gave me your number.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Lourdes Medical Center.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I repeat the name of the hospital and the cab driver changes directions. I’m having a hard time pulling air in and out of my lungs. The nurse didn’t give me any information about the condition of my mother. I have no idea what I’m walking in on.

  When we get to the hospital, what feels like hours instead of minutes later, I throw some rumpled bills at the driver and lug my suitcase from the backseat. The automatic doors of the ER slide open, and I’m terrified to step through. Terrified of what I’ll find.

  As long as I stand out here, I think, I don’t have to face the reality of this situation. Everything is like it’s supposed to be as long as I don’t walk through those doors. My mom is just on a bender, and I’m still on my way to California.

  A bitter laugh bubbles up. California. I should be sitting in the airport right now, waiting to board my flight. I need to call Sutton and tell him what’s happened. Hell, I don’t even know what’s happened. I can’t give him any information until I know what’s going on. Running my hand through my hair a few times and pulling in a few deep breaths, I grab the handle on my bag and pull it through the hospital doors and straight to the front desk.

  “Excuse me,” I say. “I just got a phone call about my mother. Amy Cook. I’m not sure where she is.”

  The receptionist types in my mom’s name and directs me to her room, two floors up. I thank her and head to the elevators. Once I check in with Mom, I’ll call Sutton and fill him in. When the doors open, I notice that there are two police officers hovering outside one of the doors close to the elevator. I get closer and realize that it’s my mom’s room. I recognize one of the officers as the one who came looking for her at the house.

  “Scarlett,” he says with a chin nod.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

  “I need to see my mother.”

  “She can wait a few more minutes.”

  I find his comment oddly comforting. Her condition must not be life threatening or he wouldn’t take me from her bedside. He tells the other officer posted at her door that we’ll be back in a few minutes and we take off down the hallway.

  “Your mom was involved in a car accident early this morning. She was drunk and hit a pole. Luckily, no one else was injured.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s pretty banged up. Some broken ribs, a broken arm, I think a concussion, but those are questions for the doctor. Scarlett, your mom is in some legal trouble.”

  “What kind of legal trouble?”

  He takes a deep breath. “For starters, she was driving under the influence. She already has two DUIs on her record. The biggest of her troubles, though, are why I was at your house. Some money went missing from the diner where she works. The owners pulled the surveillance tapes and your mom is the one that took the money.”

  “Jesus,” I exhale. I don’t bat an eye at the DUIs, but theft? This is a new low for her.

  “Yeah. When she’s healed enough to be released, she’ll be put in jail until a hearing is set. She’ll need a damn good attorney to get out of this.”

  I stop walking and drop my face in my hands. A good attorney? We don’t even have money for bills most of the time, much less money for legal counsel.

  “The state will provide your mother with an attorney if you can’t afford one,” he tells me, as if reading my thoughts.

  I shake my head and fight against the tears. “Yeah.”

  “Scarlett, this isn’t a good situation. Your mom may be put away for a while. Do you have family that would be willing to take you in?”

  The seriousness of the situation finally hits me. My mother is going to jail, and I will be put in foster care. I’m still considered a minor, even though I’m seventeen. Suddenly, standing is too daunting. I slide down along the wall and my face hits my knees. I sob until my chest aches, until I have no more tears left to cry. The cop who just delivered some of the worst news I’ve ever received just sits with me and waits for my breakdown to end before he escorts me back down the hallway to my mother’s room.

  I don’t want to see her. I thought I hated her before.

  I was wrong.

  That was nothing compared to what I feel for her now.

  My mom stayed in the hospital for three days. I watched from the parking lot, from a distance, as she was transferred from a wheel chair to the back of a cop car. She is headed to parish prison where she’ll await her trial with a state appointed attorney. Mrs. Landry, her legal counsel, met with her once in the hospital. We talked briefly in the hallway during one of her visits. I camped out at the hospital the duration of my mother’s stay, but I never did go in the room to see her. I was scared I’d say things that I wouldn’t be able to take back. As angry as I am, I refuse to turn into a version of her.

  To say Sutton was upset about the fact that I couldn’t come to Santa Monica was a vast understatement. He’s taking his grandfather’s death really hard. My heart is breaking for him. I know what it’s like to lose someone so unexpectedly. I wish I could be there to comfort him. The last time I talked to him was two days ago and he was at a party. He told me he needed to get out of the house because his mother was smothering him. His speech was slurred and he sounded drunk. He assured me he wasn’t, but I’m an expert at identifying drunk people.

  I’m currently on the roof of the treehouse, trying to pluck some courage from the night sky for tomorrow. My mom is having her arraignment and her fate will be decided. Mrs. Landry is trying to get her into a treatment facility for her alcohol and drug addiction, but with no money and no insurance it’s not looking promising. Chances are she’ll be sentenced to some jail time for the DUI charges, as well as the theft. She’s also pushing for emancipation for me, since I’m a senior in high school. I’ve basically raised myself and can do it until September when I turn eighteen.

  Rustling pulls me from my thoughts. Easton’s face appears, lit from the flashlight he’s carrying.

  “Shouldn’t you be in bed? You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

&nbs
p; Tears sting the back of my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Coming to drag you home for dinner.”

  “What?”

  “Mom cooked. You know her main thrill in life is feeding you.”

  “She’s home?”

  He nods. “She flew back early.”

  “You told her?”

  He exhales and rubs his face. “We had to, Squirt. She needed to know why you weren’t coming.” He takes my hand in his. “She hasn’t really been in the dark like you’ve thought. As long as you were alright she promised us she wouldn’t intervene. Things aren’t okay anymore. It’s time for her to get involved.”

  “This is humiliating.”

  “You didn’t do anything; your mother did.” He smooths the hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. “Let’s go eat. You have a big day tomorrow.”

  After we get off the roof I turn to my friend. “How is he?”

  Easton doesn’t answer right away. Bile churns in my stomach as I wait for a reply. “He’s not taking this well. He was always close with Grandpa, even when we moved away. I’m worried about him.”

  “Has he been drinking?” The question burns. Of all the ways he could choose to cope, that hurts the most.

  “I don’t think so. I went to a party with him one night so I could keep an eye on him, but I wasn’t feeling well so I left early.” Easton must see how hard this conversation is for me because he tugs me into his chest. “He just needs some time. Let’s focus on getting your mess straight, and then we’ll worry about my brother.”

  I’m not ready to go inside with Easton when we get to his house, so I stay on the porch and enjoy the cool night air. My worry for Sutton surpasses my worry for tomorrow. I feel like he could cope with what was happening better if we were together.

  Just as I’m getting all worked up about it again, Mrs. Vera walks outside and sits next to me on the top step. She curls her arm around my shoulder, and I sink into her warm embrace. She wraps the other arm around me and kisses the top of my head, such a motherly gesture, but one I haven’t felt from Amy Cook since I was a small girl.