The Distance Between Stars

by Nicole Conway

  Okay, so she did all the talking. Obviously, I did a lot of listening. But I was all right with that. I liked the soft, gentle cadence of her voice.

  She was clever, funny, and perceptive. She sat near me while I worked, leaning against me as though she were afraid to break physical contact, not that I minded. If it had really been a long time since she'd seen or interacted with anyone except Pearce and Rhonda, I could see how she might be starved for it.

  And, I mean, what guy doesn't want a beautiful former ballerina leaning on him?

  But it didn't last long.

  The old house betrayed anyone moving around, and Bev was attuned to those signature creaks and moans. It was like the house could speak to her, and she knew when Rhonda was coming.

  By the time Rhonda actually unlocked and opened the door, however, Bev was long gone. She was quick as a fox, that one.

  Rhonda found me just as she'd left me—alone, innocently packing my tools back up. The window was uncovered. Dull stormy light ebbing in from outside.

  Nothing was out of place.

  That was it. Now I was down here, staring at that tower, wondering how the hell life was supposed to go back to normal. How was I not supposed to try to see her again? I needed to.

  I really liked that girl.

  Not a causal kind of "like" either. The dangerous kind. The kind that gets a guy in trouble.

  When I got home, I was still in a daze. I walked straight through the living room, down the hall, and to my bedroom door before I realized I hadn't even stopped to eat at the cafe. My stomach growled angrily.

  As much as I hated eating anything from Jacob's house, since it seemed like a moocher thing to do, I was too tired to drive back into town. Cereal for dinner it was.

  I'd poured a bowl and almost made it to the sit down at the table before I realized my brother was standing in the doorway watching me. He had that furrow in his brow. That "what the hell is wrong with you" look he sometimes gave me when we were in high school and he caught me sneaking back into our shared bedroom through the window.

  "Are you running out of money? Is it because of the phone?" he asked in a hushed voice. I guess he was afraid of waking Kara Anne up.

  I raised an eyebrow. Money? What?

  Jacob nodded to the cereal. "You didn't have enough to eat out?"

  I stared back at the cereal. It was getting soggier by the second. I gave my brother an exaggerated eye roll and shook my head.

  "What is it then? I mean, I don't mind that you're eating here. That's not it. I just … can't remember the last time you did."

  I sighed, maybe a little louder than I should have. I began cramming spoonfuls of cereal into my mouth.

  The chair across from me scraped across the tile as he sat down. "Joe, maybe I don't know what's going through your head, but I do know you. So what's the matter?"

  His expression was intense. He was worried. He wasn't going to let me bullshit my way around this.

  And, actually, I was sort of glad. As much as I hated to admit it, I was about to get in over my head. Any move I made was going to hurt someone—her or me. Maybe even both of us. I needed a moral compass.

  I needed help.

  So I took my notebook and placed it on the table between us, slowly sliding it toward him.

  19

  PROGNOSIS

  —Joseph—

  It took him almost an hour to read all the pages of notes between Beverly and me.

  In that time, Jacob never looked up. He never asked any questions. He never said anything at all. At last, he closed my notebook and placed it back on the table between us. His expression was bizarre, as though he was still processing.

  "You've seen her?"

  I nodded slowly.

  "How many times?"

  I held up one finger.

  Jacob leaned his elbows onto the table, rubbing his chin as he adjusted his weight. The chair creaked. Seconds ticked by. I was beginning to sweat.

  "I have never heard of a case of solar urticaria that severe before. But then again, her condition doesn't exactly fall under my specialty."

  Right. He dealt with cancer.

  I sat back in my chair, rubbing my forehead as I gnawed at the inside of my cheek.

  "Joe, if you keep seeing this girl, it puts your job in jeopardy," Jacob said. "You do realize that, right?"

  Seriously? I shot him an exasperated glare.

  "I'm just saying. Once feelings get involved, once a girl gets under your skin, it's hard to see anything else. The risks. The costs."

  I looked down at the empty cereal bowl in front of me.

  It was true. Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw her. Not a second went by without me hearing her voice in my head. It was the first time in years I’d heard or seen anything other than the same old demons.

  Beverly had completely eclipsed that dark expanse.

  We sat in silence for a moment. I was trying to sort things out in my head—to convince myself it was ridiculous to even think that somehow Bev and I could ever be …

  "Do you love her?"

  The question startled me. I looked into my brother's eyes, studying the somber sympathy in them.

  Did I love her?

  "Because if you do, of course, then I don't see how you have any choice but to find a way to be with her. Which, considering her circumstances, means you'll have to find some way to break her out of that house. You'll need a safe place to take her. A plan. And help. Lots of help."

  I swallowed hard.

  Common sense demanded I answer "no." Why? Because I barely knew her. Because I'd seen her once. Because neither of us were in a situation that was even remotely stable enough to build the foundation of a relationship on.

  But common sense and love are two roads that rarely intersect.

  20

  EXPERIMENTAL

  —Joseph—

  "All right, here are the keys." My new landlord handed me a sealed envelope with the number 143 written on the outside. "There's also a copy of your lease and the combination for your mailbox in there. Oh, and a few takeout menus. We collect rent the fifth of every month. You can slip it under my door, just be sure your name is on it. I'm in apartment 98. If you need anything else, let me know."

  He seemed nice enough. Your average large, hairy, liquor-loving guy. And as far as I could tell, he didn’t seem freaked out by me. Bonus.

  The apartment wasn't huge. Barely 800 feet total. But it was clean and I hadn't seen any drug deals going down in the parking lot yet.

  "Thank you. We appreciate it." Jacob shook his hand after I did. He'd come along for this adventure, both to explain my nonverbal situation and because it had been about a week since our talk. He had news to share.

  We got back into my truck and I started driving back to the Filibrault house. Jacob had met me there to begin casing the place with me for our secret rescue plan. I parked in my usual spot on the curb, making an effort not to stare up at the window in Bev's tower to see if she was watching.

  Who was I kidding? Of course she was.

  "You've done a nice job fixing it up." There was a nervous tremor in Jacob's voice.

  I shrugged and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. Come on, get to the point.

  "You have to figure out how to get her out of the house, Joe. That's your end. I can't help you with that," he said quietly. "As for my end, I found her. It wasn't easy. But I did."

  My heart was pounding in my ears. I gripped the wheel harder.

  "Beverly's mother still lives in the Washington D.C. area. Although not at the same address. She's in a town home in Kingston," he continued. "Her name is Mary Esmont. I was able to find her through some news articles posted online about the custody dispute. Looked like it was a nasty ordeal. Doesn't seem right, a parent being able to take a child like that."

  I glanced sideways at my brother. I knew kids were a sore spot for him. He wanted them—badly. Kara Anne didn't.

  "She filed a few appeals but it doesn't lo
ok like she had the financial ability to follow up. Dawning's lawyers swamped her."

  That's essentially what Bev had told me. David had gotten his ass kicked by Goliath.

  "I managed to track down her work number. She's a manager at a large hotel now. I assume the same one she was working at before. I left her a message at her office this morning." Jacob sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Guess now we wait."

  I nodded. Yes. And waiting sucked. But it also gave me more time to prepare.

  "I'll text you if she calls." He patted my shoulder. "Hang in there, okay?"

  I had no choice but to hang on. I did appreciate his help, though. He was better at the logistical stuff than I was. I was going to have to thank him somehow later on.

  Jacob climbed into his shiny silver BMW and drove away, leaving me alone with my feelings for a minute or two before I got back to work.

  On my way up the sidewalk I saw Bev's curtains rustle. I smirked.

  Once I got into the foyer I jotted down a quick note before stuffing the notebook into my coat pocket and hanging it up in its usual place.

  Caught you spying.

  That evening, her reply made me smile again as I sat in my usual spot at the cafe.

  Was that your brother? You don't look much alike.

  P.S. Congrats on the apartment.

  That snoop. Of course she'd gone through the rest of the stuff in my pockets. She'd apparently found all the stuff from my new place.

  Yeah. He's older. And probably from another planet but I don't have any solid evidence to back that up. The apartment is ok. Not really looking forward to furniture shopping though. Any tips?

  P.S. Putting in your cherry tree tomorrow.

  P.S.S. We should drive out to the beach sometime.

  I waited anxiously all the next morning for her reply. I was testing the waters. I wanted to see if she was going to be willing to go anywhere with me. If she trusted me. At half past noon, sitting on the front step of the house with half of Rhonda's egg salad sandwich in my mouth, I got my answer.

  You should check some flea markets before you pay retail prices. You might find some unique pieces that way, too. My mother used to take me to the open flea markets on her days off. Once she bought me this beautiful wool scarf. It was emerald green and hand knitted. I loved it so much. But I forgot it in the coat closet when my father took me.

  P.S. The tree looks beautiful. Will it have flowers this spring? Those are my favorite.

  P.S.S. I've never been to the beach.

  21

  DIRTY WORK

  —Joseph—

  Two hours.

  That's how long it would take to drive her to the beach. I had some factors in my favor, though. Not many people would be going that way at night, especially this time of year.

  She probably thought I was kidding when I'd asked her. But as I wrote out my last message to her on Monday night, even my stomach was in knots. I could only imagine how she'd feel reading it. Scared? Petrified?

  Tonight. Open your window. The side one facing the garden. Be dressed and ready by 9. Beach attire optional, but it'll be cold out.

  P.S. Hope you like cheeseburgers.

  I closed the notebook. It felt heavier now as I tucked it into my pocket. I walked slowly to the front door. I didn't need to knock anymore. Pearce and Rhonda were expecting me. They didn't even look up when I came in.

  I'd been working here two and a half months, but it felt like two and a half years.

  I hung up my coat on the same peg by the door, and started to go to the kitchen for my usual morning cup of Rhonda's magnificent coffee. Pearce was in the kitchen, too. She looked at me square in the eye.

  Her harrowing gaze reminded me of the old buzzards that sometimes roosted outside my parents' house. Dad warned me never to shoot them. It was against the law to shoot a buzzard.

  The child version of me hadn't understood that. They were nasty, ugly animals. We didn't want them around. They were creepy, lurking in big groups in the tops of the old hardwood trees. Why not shoot one, if only to scare off the others?

  Because buzzards, ugly and nasty as they were, had a job. A job that no one else wanted. And they did that job well.

  I smiled at Pearce. She had a job, too. And while I didn't approve of it—hell, I couldn't understand why she was even willing to do it—I had to admit she was damn good at it.

  But even buzzards had to sleep.

  22

  TEMPORARY INSANITY

  —Joseph—

  At 8:50 PM I was parked two blocks down from the Filibrault place, trying to figure out if I was completely insane or not.

  Yep. Definitely.

  Everything was ready. It was now or never. I got out of my truck and started walking. Every step made my heart race faster and faster. By the time I reached the base of the tower, I was sweating like I'd just done a 10-mile run.

  I peered up into the dark … and I waited.

  Suddenly, the window opened. Under the pale light of the moon, I saw Beverly looking down at me. Her face was pasty and her eyes were wide. Petrified it was.

  I smiled, hoping to show her some confidence.

  "Joseph Clancey you are insane!"

  Well at least we agreed on that.

  I waved her down and after a few minutes of huffing and stalling, she swung a leg over and started to climb down the outside of the tower. It was hard in the dark; it would've been hard for anyone, but the fact that she barely cleared five feet tall didn’t help. Once she got to the trellis things were easier. I'd anchored it down good to make sure it wouldn't collapse under anyone's weight.

  Once she was low enough, I grabbed onto her waist and helped her the rest of the way to the ground. The grass was damp with dew. The wind was blowing her dark hair everywhere.

  She looked up at me, like a tiny porcelain skinned doll, and grinned. It made the insanity worthwhile.

  "I was promised a cheeseburger," she whispered.

  I smirked, took her hand, and together we started running through the night back to my truck.

  23

  BATTLE SCARS

  —Joseph—

  You learn a lot about a person when you watch them eat. If they eat fast, you can bet they were a younger sibling, have kids, or maybe they work a fast paced job. Eating for survival, not pleasure.

  Bev didn't eat fast.

  She nibbled the cheeseburger I'd brought her from my favorite cafe slowly, savoring every single bite. She also made noise, which I doubted she was even aware of. A sort of "mmm … mmm" sound as she chewed. It was cute, almost as cute as the ketchup she had smeared on her cheek that I also doubted she was aware of.

  "I haven't had anything like this in so long." She flashed me a smile.

  I had a small cardiac arrest. God, she was beautiful. What was I even doing with a girl like this sitting beside me in my filthy work truck? It took my breath away every time she looked at me. Her skin was as fair as clean milk and her big dark eyes pulled me in like a tractor beam.

  I'd almost kissed her the first time I'd ever laid eyes on her because of that.

  She caught me marveling. "What? Is there something on me face?"

  Saved by the ketchup.

  I winked and swiped a thumb over the spot on her cheek, licking it off my finger.

  Beverly blushed. She went back to eating and I turned my attention, as best I could, back to the road.

  We were almost there. I could smell it in the air. Bev had insisted we leave the windows rolled down and I was glad for it. Every passing mile brought more of that salty scent, and less worry about what we were leaving behind.

  "I bet you've wondered why I never go out at night like this." She was licking burger juice off her fingers.

  Yep, I’d wondered that a time or two.

  "It was a while ago. Almost two years now. Before I came here." Her voice got quiet as she stared out the windshield, the air blowing her long black hair over her shoulders. "I tried to run away. I thought I had e
verything planned out. That I could move at night and stay cooped up in dark hotel rooms during the day. It worked for a week. I made it back to the place where my mother and I used to live. But when I got there, it was empty. She was gone. And I had nowhere else to go. When my father finally found me, I was hiding in another hotel room. I was covered in hives because I'd walked there at dawn. My eyes had swollen shut. I could barely breathe and I was going into shock. Another hour or two and I would have died."

  There were tears rolling down her face.

  "My father promised it would never happen again," she said. "That I would never escape. And I almost believed he was right. He took everything, my mother, my freedom. He told the police that my running away had been a suicide attempt, so he took my credibility, too. No one would ever believe a word I said again."

  I took her hand and carefully laced my fingers through hers. Her palm was smooth and fragile against my own. Like it was made of glass.

  "The thing is, he didn't have to make that threat. I was already scared. Ever since that moment on the stage, I'd felt betrayed by my own body. But after almost dying on a hotel room floor, I felt like I was my own worst enemy. I hated my body. And it hated me back."

  We took a left turn. Then a right. I was pulling through the gate of the state park, which was most definitely supposed to be closed at this hour. I was really living on the edge tonight; sneaking grown women out after curfew and breaking into closed state parks. We were well on our way to being Bonnie and Clyde.

  I parked and killed the engine.

  For a moment, we sat in silence. Outside, I could faintly hear it—the roar of the waves.

  "I'm scared now," she whispered.

  I was too.

  Jacob and I had run through every possible scenario that might go wrong tonight. I had medications in case she started to have a reaction stashed away in my glove box, courtesy of my doctor brother. I didn't want her to know that, though. I didn't want her worrying about what might go wrong because if I had anything to say about it, then tonight was going to be perfect.