The Distance Between Stars

by Nicole Conway

  "I'm scared, but I'm so grateful. I never thought I'd have someone like you in my life."

  Great, now I was the one blushing.

  "Let's go." Her voice was small and hushed. Her grip on my hand tightened. "Now. Before I chicken out."

  I climbed out of the cab and went around to get her door for her, but she was already out. Her wide eyes panned around as she took cautious steps into the night. But if light was what hurt her, then she wouldn't find much of it here.

  I took her hand again and led her down the sloping wooden boardwalk that led over the sea grass. The moonlight made the sand glow and the tips of the waves sparkle. The sea wind blew over us, cold and abrupt. It made me wish I'd brought a hat.

  Beverly, on the other hand, didn't seem at all fazed by it. She had on a denim jacket. But under that she was only wearing a sweater with some black leggings and short boots.

  When we got down to the sand, she immediately surged forward, breaking our contact, and started yanking those boots off one by one. She started peeling off her socks, but when I came close and started doing the same, she stopped. I saw her looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

  I arched a brow. What was the holdup? She couldn't very well go tromping across the beach in socks.

  "I-I have dancer's feet."

  Dancer's feet? Was that girl-code for something? She seemed to be able to read my confusion.

  "It's a ballerina thing, mostly. When you learn to dance en pointe, over time it damages your feet. And it doesn't get much better even after you stop dancing." She was avoiding my eyes as she slowly took down her socks, like she was genuinely embarrassed and self-conscious about this.

  When she finally took off her socks, I saw why. Her feet were, well, different to say the least. I could tell they'd been battered. Put through hell, even. Her toes were callused and oddly shaped, like maybe she'd even broken a few of them.

  "I-I know it's bad," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

  Sorry?

  She had nothing to be sorry about.

  Besides, I had a few scars of my own. You didn't break as many bones as I had and walk away unscathed. My back alone was a wreck from all the surgeries I'd had when they were putting me back together.

  I squatted down in front of her, so I could look at her eye-to-eye, and reached out to take one of her feet in my hands. I slowly shook my head and pressed my lips against the top of her foot.

  Bev was still blushing red as a beet when I nodded toward the sand. We could trade war stories later. Right now, all I wanted to do was walk through the surf with her. Maybe make a sandcastle. Maybe kiss some other parts of her, too. I wasn't counting anything out.

  24

  WAVES

  —Beverly—

  I ran for the surf.

  My heart pounded. My breathing hitched and caught. The cold, coarse sand squished delightfully between my toes. It made my steps awkward and sluggish. By the time I reached the harder packed sand that was still wet from the waves, my calves were burning.

  I couldn't remember the last time I'd run like that.

  The strong wind blew against me, filling my nose with the fishy, salty smell of the sea. I could taste it in the air, a wild natural flavor no one could ever duplicate. The spray made my skin feel gritty. It sent chills over every part of me, a frigid caress that pulled me in.

  The waves rushed up, roaring and rumbling from some deep dark corner of the world. They smashed into my legs—their bitter cold made my skin numb. I rolled my leggings up as far as they would go and waded in deeper.

  With the water at my knees, I spread my arms wide and let the ocean move me. The wind blasted through my hair. It's power made me feel insignificant. Tiny. A miniscule speck in an indifferent universe.

  Until he took my hand again.

  I opened my eyes.

  Joseph was next to me, the legs of his jeans rolled up. The moonlight sparkling over the water flickered in his eyes as he gazed out across the sea.

  Then he looked at me.

  I looked at him.

  And it sliced through me like a bolt of lightning. A knowing. A truth. A piece of me that had been lying dormant all this time, waiting for this moment to finally come alive.

  I was madly in love with Joseph Clancey.

  25

  SATELLITE COLLISION

  —Joseph—

  We walked the beach for hours.

  In all that time, she never said a word. It was as though she were trying to drink in as much of the sound as possible. The constant rush, rumble of the waves made a soothing rhythm.

  Up ahead, a point of warm light revealed other people were on the beach. I could hear them from a long way off—college students who'd come out to build a fire, drink, dance, and let off steam.

  A much younger version of me would have been right out there with them. But things had changed. I couldn't go back to that life and no cell phone or apartment or job was going to fix that.

  "Do you ever miss it? Fitting in?" Beverly asked as if she was reading my mind.

  I suppose some part of me did. It was lonely out here, floating around the rest of humanity like a satellite. Alone in the outer reaches, drifting in the silence, forgotten but always observing. That had become my existence.

  I nodded slightly.

  "Me too," she said.

  We left the partiers behind and started walking back down the beach the way we'd come. I knew the clock was ticking. We didn't have much time left.

  When we got to the boardwalk, I tried stomping the sand off my legs and feet, but it didn't work very well. Everything was sticky and itchy as I rolled my jeans down and put on my socks and shoes. I still had sand between my toes.

  I stood up, looking for Beverly to see if she was ready to go.

  She was standing there with her back to me, her boots on her feet and the wind making her hair ripple like a veil of black silk. She was looking out at the water again. I wondered what she was thinking.

  When she turned around, I saw fresh tears running down her face.

  Guilt swept over me stronger than any ocean tide. I had brought her here to test her will. To see if she was still brave enough, if her spirit was still willing to run. To escape. But to her, this must have seemed like a cruel quick taste of what her life should have been like.

  All of a sudden, she smiled up at me. "Thank you for this, Joe. No matter what happens now, I want you to know this was the best night of my life."

  The best night of her life?

  I tried to wrap my mind around that as I walked her back to my truck. By the time we got there, I'd made up my mind.

  She went to the passenger side door, and before she could grab the handle, I opened it for her. She turned around to give me that innocent, almost embarrassed look, like she wasn't used to that kind of treatment.

  I grasped the back of her head, and pulled her in toward me suddenly so I could press my mouth against hers.

  I heard her take in a sharp breath. She stiffened, but she didn't pull away.

  She grabbed the front of my shirt and dragged me in closer—not that I was putting up much of a fight. My chest blazed with excited heat at the feel of her body against mine. Her lips tasted like sea salt, but she smelled much sweeter.

  Bev looped her arms around my neck, twisting her fingers in my hair as she kissed me back hungrily.

  Like she'd been waiting for it all night.

  26

  EMPTY

  —Joseph—

  "So how did it go?"

  Jacob was waiting on me in the kitchen the next morning. He peered over the rim of his coffee cup, his expression subdued although I could see the excitement twinkling in his eyes. He arched an eyebrow.

  I was still in a daze as I sat down across from him. I didn't even realize I'd never actually filled my own coffee cup until I went to take a sip and got nothing but air.

  Yikes.

  Beverly was still in my head, scrambling up all my common sense.

  J
acob grinned. "That good, hm?"

  Better, actually. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. If just a kiss and a little front seat groping had me this thrown off … geez, I hated to think what a wreck I would be after something more.

  "So what's the verdict? You think you can convince her to leave?"

  I looked at my brother squarely and gave him a firm nod. Yes. Without a doubt. She might be scared, but her spirit wasn't broken.

  "Good." He sat back in his chair, brow furrowed slightly. "Because I got a call last night from her mother. I explained the situation, who we were, and how we'd come to know Beverly. I told her what we wanted to do."

  Jacob hesitated. I resisted the urge to leap over the table and throttle him until he told me what else she'd said.

  His gaze locked with mine. "She's in. I went ahead and made the arrangements. She's making preparations, too. I contacted a specialist in the Washington D.C. area who can walk her through what needs to be done for Beverly to live comfortably and safely with her. But that isn't even the hard part. The real challenge will be transporting her. Driving is safest because it can be done at night, but it takes far longer."

  I sighed and sat back in my chair, fiddling with my empty coffee cup. I was supposed to be relieved. Happy even. If all went as planned, then Beverly would wind up with a much better life than she was living right now. She'd have freedom. She'd have a family that loved her and wanted her to have as normal a life as possible.

  On the other side of the country.

  "What's the matter?" Jacob was staring at me again.

  I shook my head. Not something I wanted to get into right now. Especially with no caffeine in my system. I left my empty cup on the table and got up to grab my coat and keys. I had a hand on the knob, about to walk out the back door, when Jacob called out to me again.

  "You're doing the right thing, Joe."

  I glanced back at him.

  Was I?

  "I know it probably doesn't seem that way. It must seem like you'll be losing her forever."

  He was absolutely right about that.

  27

  LIES AND CODES

  —Joseph—

  It was going to take time, that's what Jacob kept telling me. Time to prepare her new living situation. Time to work out travel details. Time to get the right legal documents in order in case Beverly's asshole father tried to find her. He would, eventually. There was nothing we could do about that. But the objective was to have her living with her mother by the time he did.

  Time, time, time.

  I was getting impatient. Bev didn't know what I was planning to do. I didn't want to risk leaving any trace of it in my notes where Pearce or Rhonda might find it. This was a highly sensitive mission. Failure wasn't an option.

  Bev hadn’t asked me to take her anywhere else—yet. Maybe she felt guilty because of the whole “I could lose my job” thing, but I wasn’t dumb enough to think it wasn’t on her mind. I hadn’t brought it up either, though. Not because of my job, because it was a risky game. The more often we snuck out, the greater the chance would be that we’d get caught. If we did, yeah, I’d get fired. That would suck. But the idea that her father might move her to some distant corner of the globe where I'd never find her again was much worse.

  The whole situation was beyond frustrating.

  I sat on the front step at lunch, reading her latest note. It had been two weeks since our trip to the beach. In that time, I'd snuck her some contraband to keep her occupied. Snacks. Candy. New books from her father's "banned" list. A small family photo album, which she gushed over for days.

  Apparently I was a cute kid. Good to know.

  She never once asked for me to take her out again, though. She never even hinted at it. Maybe she was afraid, too—afraid of rejection. Or maybe she was as worried as I was about the risks every little adventure like that would entail.

  But today's note was different. Today she'd sent me something in return. Folded up inside my notebook was a torn out page from a magazine. On it was a full-page spread, and it actually took me a second or two to realize who the ethereal looking woman in tights was in the photo.

  It was her.

  She was wearing a bejeweled white tutu with white tights, those pointed ballet slippers laced up her ankles, and a feathery tiara that looked like it was encrusted with jewels. She was standing on one toe, one single solitary toe, her back arched, arms extended, and eyes looking off into the distance. Angelic was the only word to describe it. And the caption at the bottom of the photo read, "Beverly Dawning dances the role of Odette in a presentation of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake."

  Her message in my notebook was brief.

  I don't have any old family photos to show you. My father didn't let me bring most of my personal belongings with me. But I do have this.

  I sighed and closed the notebook, making sure the picture was safely folded up inside. I hated this; waiting, feeling useless and helpless, sneaking around like a damn kid after curfew. All I wanted to do was kick down all the doors between me and her. But that wasn't an option.

  I went to my truck, hiding her picture in my glove box before I wrote out a reply.

  I wish I could have seen you dance.

  I did. Even if the idea of attending a ballet was sort of bizarre even by my standards. It’s definitely not something I could have guessed I'd ever volunteer to do. A younger me would have laughed at the idea. Ballet? Are you kidding me?

  But yeah. Times they were a'changing.

  That night, I went back by Jacob's place to pick up my last box of stuff. I'd officially moved out days ago, but apparently Kara Anne kept coming across more of my stuff. She was eager to erase me completely from their living space.

  Jacob, on the other hand, was waiting to talk to me again as soon as I hit the door. He was excited, handing me a printout of an email exchange he'd had with Beverly's mom that day.

  "This is it, Joe! Everything will be ready next month." He pointed excitedly to the pages. "See? The date is set. She's really excited. How do you think Beverly will react?"

  I skimmed the emails, reading over all the responses and finally looking up at my brother. All I could do was shrug. I had no clue whatsoever, and I was nervous as hell about that.

  "How are things with her?" Jacob was studying me. "Are you guys arguing?"

  I sighed and shook my head. How did you have an argument with someone you only got to write a few sentences to twice a day?

  "Worried about all this?" He guessed again.

  I flashed him a look. Bingo.

  Jacob's expression was sympathetic. He put a hand on my shoulder. "I wish there was more I could do."

  He'd already done more than his fair share. I forced a smile and messed up his perfectly combed hair. It made him scowl a little, like when we were kids.

  I started looking around for the so-called box of my stuff.

  "It's in the hall," Jacob said when he noticed I was on the hunt.

  I strolled through the kitchen, living room, and made for the hallway. I got about halfway down it when the smell of paint fumes hit me, and I could hear Kara Anne jabbering away on her phone.

  When I stuck my head around the corner of my old room, and saw her sitting on the floor, which was covered in plastic sheeting. She was repainting the whole room a horrific shade of lime green. Typical. With her back to me and her phone against her ear, she had no idea I was even there.

  "I know! I'm so relieved. You have no idea what it was like." She laughed at something said on the other end. "Awful. And you know he's like mentally deranged, right? Yeah, totally. Probably from killing all those people in Iraq."

  Wasn't hard to figure out who she was talking about.

  "And you know how Jacob is, ugh. Took me forever to finally get him off his fat, lazy ass to do something about it." She started lowering her voice like she was afraid someone might overhear. "I told him we could try for a baby if he did it. You know, like the room would be a nursery. He actually bought
it, too. Can you believe it? I know! As if I'm ever going to go for that. Diapers, stretch marks, and baby vomit? Umm. Hell no. I told him I quit taking my birth control, but I just hide it in the car now. It’s not like he’ll ever know the difference. Men are so damn stupid about that kind of stuff. Right? Hah!"

  Kara Anne was laughing hysterically.

  I was thinking it was time to go because I felt like I was going to puke. But then she turned around.

  Our eyes met.

  Oh. Shit.

  I started backing away from the door. But before I could make a fast getaway, Kara Anne snarled like an angry baboon. She hurled her phone across the room and was on me in two seconds flat. She grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me back into the room.

  "What the hell are you doing back here!" She was doing that whisper-scream thing girls are so good at. "You listen to me, you damn freak, you may have the rest of your family kissing your special snowflake ass, but I know your game. So don't even try to dick with me. You ever tell Jacob about this, ever, and I swear to god I will ruin you. I'll make sure no one in this shitty family ever speaks to you again."

  Whoa. She'd gone from zero to crazy bitch in record time.

  "Got me, retard? Maybe you can't talk but I know you're not deaf."

  Hitting girls was staunchly against my moral code of conduct.

  I nodded and I let her walk away.

  I was still shell shocked, trying to process what had just happened as I picked up the box of my stuff and carried it out to the truck. Jacob was nowhere to be seen, thank god. I sat in the driver's seat and stared at my steering wheel. That's when it started to sink in. I mean, really sink in.