All The Stars In Heaven

by Michele Paige Holmes

  “Christa gave me a permanent. I showed her a picture with curls and asked if she could teach me how to do my hair like that. She thought a perm might be easier than styling it every day.”

  “You mean these are going to last?”

  “You don’t like them?” Worry reflected in the deepest blue of her eyes.

  “I love them,” he said. “You look sensational. Your hair, your eyes—your lips.” He let his gaze linger there. “You look hot in those jeans, too.”

  She giggled. “No one ever told me I look hot before.”

  “Well, you do.” He let go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “There hasn’t been a day I didn’t think you were beautiful. But right now you look—amazing. You’re gonna turn heads, I’m afraid.” He frowned, worried she would do exactly that.

  “There’s only one head that interests me.”

  “Oh?” Jay raised his eyebrows.

  “May I . . .” Hesitant, she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, then rested both her hands at the back of his neck.

  “Are you intending to kiss me, Sarah Morgan?”

  She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know how.” She broke their gaze, her eyes cast down toward her bright toes, which were scrunching and unscrunching against the carpet. “Another thing I’ve never done before.”

  “That’s a problem, isn’t it?”

  She nodded but didn’t look up.

  “But then, there used to be quite a few things you weren’t certain you could do. We’ve had success with all of them—taking the subway, riding a bike, dancing . . . Of course, kissing is a bit . . . different.”

  Jay knew the pink creeping up Sarah’s cheeks had nothing to do with her makeup. He grinned, thoroughly enjoying the moment. “I’m thinking we should start with a very basic kiss. Maybe lip to cheek.”

  She shrugged and continued to blush.

  He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “I’ll show you,” he whispered, all teasing gone from his voice. He leaned in, placing a chaste kiss on her left cheek. Her skin feels incredible. Reluctantly he leaned back. “Well?”

  She looked up at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “That was nice.”

  Nice? Jay thought. I’m barely controlling myself here, and she thinks it’s nice. “Your turn.”

  She took a deep breath, fixed her gaze on a spot on his cheek, and leaned in. The tiniest whisper brushed his face.

  “That’s it?” he asked, disappointed.

  “That’s all you did.”

  “Hmm.” Jay’s mouth twisted as if he were considering some great dilemma. “Guess this means you’re ready for a more advanced lesson.”

  “I suppose.”

  He looked down. Her toes were still curling, and her hands trembled where they rested on his shoulders. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her waist. “Think you’re up for it?”

  “Ja-ay, please.” Sarah’s eyelids fluttered shut. “No more teasing. Just kiss me.”

  “My, my. This new haircut is making you bold.”

  “You make me bold.” Sarah sighed. “Now please give me my first kiss.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “I’ve wanted it for a very long time. I’ve dreamed about it. I’ve—”

  “You’ve dreamed about kissing me?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t even blush as she admitted it.

  “Tell me,” Jay whispered, leaning closer so their foreheads touched. “Tell me what you dreamed.” He reveled in the heady feeling of knowing she wanted him.

  “I will . . . later. But first I want to know if what I imagined was right.”

  “If you’re sure.” His breath touched her lips as he spoke. Her eyes closed again, and he angled his head to the side, his lips reaching out to hers, warm and inviting.

  “Jay. Sarah.” Sharp knocking followed Kirk’s voice.

  They jumped apart, Sarah blushing once again, Jay leaning his head back with a sigh of frustration. He glanced at her before opening the door. There was no mistaking the keen disappointment written on her face, and it buoyed his spirits.

  “Later,” he whispered. “And that’s a promise.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Kirk sat on a bucket of sugar across from Jay and Sarah in the bedroom. “I have some good news.”

  “You caught them?” Jay asked.

  “Not that. Sorry.” Kirk shook his head. “Though, miraculously, the police—other than myself, of course—still have no idea you’re here.”

  “How did you manage that?” Jay asked. “I’m sure someone saw me dancing around on the lawn.

  “The only neighbors who witnessed anything aren’t sure what they saw, other than two men and a woman outside. Two men escaped in the car, so we’re covered there. And Sarah”—Kirk turned to her—“pulled off an amazing interview with a Cambridge detective.”

  “And you’re still here?” Jay asked, turning to her.

  She nodded, then rubbed the back of her neck. “It was a bit uncomfortable, but we managed.” She cast a conspiratorial grin Kirk’s direction.

  “What?” Jay asked, wanting to be in on the joke—as if there were anything remotely humorous about their situation.

  “My hair,” Sarah said, “was finally good for something.”

  “While Christa removed the perm rods, she had Sarah positioned so that the top half of her face was covered by a towel—to protect her from the chemicals,” Kirk explained. “Christa informed the officer that the perm was already on the verge of ruin due to the morning’s activities—and that Sarah might very well go bald if the chemical didn’t come out of her hair soon. The cop never saw her face. And the chemicals smelled so terrible that he could barely stand being close enough to hear her talk.”

  “But I’m sure he asked your name,” Jay said.

  “And I gave it to him—Sarah Phillips. That is my name—just not the whole thing. I told him Christa is my cousin, and I’m visiting for the holidays. When she saw the man outside with her little boy, she panicked. Instinct kicked in, and I ran across the street to get him. End of story.”

  “Liar, liar,” Jay said, tsk-tsking.

  “Pants on fire,” Kirk agreed. “I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do as soon as all this comes to light.” He sighed heavily. “But we’re in it this far; there’s no stopping now.”

  “I can’t stay here anymore,” Jay said. “You’ve got a family to support, and—”

  “None of us are going to stay here,” Kirk said. “It’s too dangerous. Tonight Christa and I are going to Worcester for a Christmas party at my great-aunt’s house. I’m going to leave Christa and the boys there when I come back for work tomorrow.”

  “You have to work on Christmas?” Sarah asked.

  Kirk nodded. “I’m one of the new guys, remember? But half the department has shifts tomorrow. Crime knows no time, or something like that; so the saying goes.” Kirk reached in his shirt pocket for a key. “You guys are going to stay at our friends’ house a few blocks away. A couple from our single adult group at church got married recently, and they’re in Hawaii on their honeymoon. The house they live in belongs to her grandparents, who are out of the country on a mission.”

  “So no one is going to come home and surprise us in the middle of the night,” Jay said.

  “Right.” Kirk handed him the key. “I wouldn’t dance on the lawn while you’re there, but you should be safe until tomorrow.”

  “What’s tomorrow?” Sarah asked warily.

  “Protective custody, I hope,” Kirk said. “I’ve found someone who can help us. My friend in the DEA, Detective Doyle, has agreed to drive down and meet with you tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That’s great.” Jay squeezed Sarah’s hand.

  “On Christmas?” she asked.

  “This is big,” Kirk’s face was serious as he looked at both of them. “The meth problem in this area has grown exponentially, and things are starting to poin
t to your dad having something to do with it. You’ll need to tell Detective Doyle everything you can remember. He needs to know about the jobs your dad sent you on, the contacts you met, your cousin.”

  “I’ll try,” she said.

  “Good. The more you remember, the faster we can put the pieces together, and the sooner you can have a life again. Plan on several hours of questioning. It’s going to be hard.”

  “Can Jay come too?”

  “Yes. And after Detective Doyle has talked with you both, he’ll be able to make a determination as to what type of protective custody you should be put in.”

  “Custody?” Sarah flashed a worried glance at Jay.

  “Not like you’re thinking,” Kirk said. “You won’t be behind bars or anything like that, though you both need to plan on being cooped up for some time while we sort this out. We could be looking at several months.”

  “Months?” Sarah exclaimed, clearly dismayed. “But winter semester starts after the new year.”

  “Archer is still in critical condition, Jay is wanted for a host of other crimes, and someone tried to kill you both—twice.” Kirk’s expression was grave. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way either of you will be returning to Harvard in January.” He stood. “At any rate, your accommodations will be a lot better than this.”

  Sarah rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, face in her hands. Her crestfallen look reminded Jay of how desperately she hadn’t wanted to lose what she saw as her one chance at freedom—her education.

  “I have one favor to ask,” Kirk said.

  “Sure,” Jay said, curious since there wasn’t much they could do right now—what with the warrants, stalkers, and all.

  “I have a couple of Christmas presents for the boys that I haven’t had time to assemble.” Kirk spoke in a whisper, as if the galloping gang upstairs might hear. “A couple of bikes and a toy castle. They need to be put together tonight, so I can bring them to Worcester tomorrow after I get off work. Think you two can handle it?”

  “We get to play Santa?” Jay asked, starting to feel better about everything. Tonight he and Sarah would be safe, and they’d be spending Christmas Eve together—alone. “I’m in.” He glanced at Sarah.

  “Sure,” she said without much enthusiasm.

  “Thanks,” Kirk said. “I’d better go. We’ve got to get the boys bathed before we go, and you have no idea what kind of adventure that is.” He pushed up his sleeves as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Jay let go of Sarah’s hand and put his arm around her, pulling her close. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Nothing is all right. Archer’s in the ICU. My dad is a drug lord or something. We’re in hiding for who knows how long. You’re not going to be able to graduate this spring. Doesn’t any of that upset you?”

  “You know I’m worried about Archer,” Jay said. “But the only thing I can do is make sure that whoever shot him is caught. As for graduating . . . right now I’m more concerned with keeping you safe. School will work itself out later.”

  “You’re right,” Sarah said. “And I’m awful and selfish to even think about such a thing. But I’m worried that when I don’t show up at church to sing tonight, the Ladies’ Aid may decide to take away my scholarship. There’s no way I can pay tuition myself. Then, when we can finally go back to school, I’ll have to work for a few years to pay for it, and I’m already old for a freshman.”

  “You’re getting way ahead of yourself,” Jay said. “I’m sorry you can’t sing tonight—really sorry—but that doesn’t mean you’ll lose your scholarship. I’m sure they’ll hold it for you, and waiting one semester isn’t the end of the world. I’m old too, you know.”

  “But law school is different,” Sarah said. “If I go weeks—or months—without practicing—”

  “We’ll make sure that wherever they keep us, they’ve got a piano. And you can sing to me every day.”

  “Not the same,” she insisted.

  “I know,” Jay said. “But it’s a whole lot better than the alternative. We’ve got to look at the positive side of things. We’re likely going to have a lot of time on our hands. We can read books together, play games, watch all the movies you’ve missed, and then there’s my music education 101.”

  “I don’t know if I can handle that,” Sarah said with just a hint of a smile.

  “And of course, there will be ample time for me to teach you the finer points of kissing.”

  “Must I wait for everything?”

  Jay dropped his hand to her waist and tickled her. “Those curls have made you shameless. Or is it the jeans?”

  Sarah giggled and tried to squirm out of his reach. “Neither. I told you earlier. It’s all your fault.” She tilted her face to his.

  “Shh.” Jay placed a finger over her lips. “We don’t want the boys to hear us.”

  Her smile faded, and she swallowed slowly. Jay’s finger left her lips and traced the curve of her face. He still couldn’t quite believe that this beautiful woman was the same shy girl from the library only a couple of months ago. Her transformation—both inside and out—was miraculous. How privileged he felt to be a part of it, to have shared so many of her first experiences. And a first kiss I need to make extra special.

  Reluctantly he let his hand fall from her face. “A first kiss should be something extraordinary,” Jay said. “It shouldn’t be in a crowded little room in a cold basement.”

  “It doesn’t matter where—”

  “Oh, yes it does,” Jay countered. “It matters a lot to me that we do this right. I want it to be a moment you never forget.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I know,” Jay said. “For the rest of your life, on Christmas Eve, when you stand by the tree with the lights glimmering, you’ll always remember that was where and when I first took your face in my hands and kissed you.”

  “Tonight is Christmas Eve,” Sarah whispered.

  “Exactly.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Jay crossed the living room and set a box beside the lopsided, artificial Christmas tree. “That’s everything.”

  “Okay.” Sarah pushed the plug into the wall socket, and the soft glow of tiny colored lights filled the room.

  “Wish we could turn on the overhead light.” Jay pried open the first box. “I have a feeling I’m going to need to read the fine print on the instructions to assemble these babies.”

  “But the tree lights are nice—romantic.”

  “Romantic?” He rolled his eyes. “That’s about the saddest-looking tree I’ve ever seen in my life, and this house smells like old people. We’re going to have to postpone the whole kissing thing until we’ve got a better location.”

  Her face fell. “I’m here. Isn’t that the important part?”

  Jay chuckled. “Of course. Though I had hoped for a really nice home with a Jacuzzi or something. You’re tempting me, though.” You have no idea how much. “But I’m afraid it’s bicycles first, romance later.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “We don’t want James and Jeffrey to be disappointed.”

  “You’re taking this Santa stuff pretty seriously.” She ran her fingers wistfully over the piano.

  Jay pulled a bike frame out of his box. “Santa is serious. Take it from a guy who grew up hearing about Santa from his friends, but never actually got a visit himself.”

  “You didn’t celebrate Christmas?” Sarah looked bewildered. “Even my dad believed in Christmas.”

  “Not in the traditional sense. My father would ask me what I wanted, then he’d go out and buy it—sometimes when I was with him. I could look at it all I wanted, but I couldn’t actually open the new toy or game or whatever until Christmas day.”

  “That’s really sad.”

  Jay placed the last box beside the first two. He shrugged. “Look who’s talking. I can’t imagine that Christmas at your house exactly resembled a Norman Rockwell portra
it.”

  “It didn’t,” Sarah admitted. “But my father did take me to see Santa once. And there were always surprises under the tree. The year I was eleven, he bought me a piano—even though he’d told me over and over that we couldn’t afford one. He tried to make things good.” Her voice had turned melancholy. She knelt beside the square box and began taking plastic parts from inside. “I’ll work on the castle while you do the bikes.”

  He leaned forward, prying a long flap of cardboard free. “I have two bikes to assemble. That’s hardly fair.”

  “Whine, whine.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “You’d better get busy. I’ve got the drawbridge together already. She reached inside the box again. “Cool—I get to use stickers.”

  “Hmmph,” Jay grunted as he dangled a chain from his hand. “I get chains, tires, and pedals.”

  “It can’t be that difficult. It’s just a little kid’s bike.”

  “And I hope a little kid can safely ride it when I’m finished. This isn’t quite the same as working on my motorcycle.”

  He attached the back tire and monitored Sarah’s progress from the corner of his eye. She sat cross-legged on the floor by the tree, busily snapping pieces together. He stuck the handlebars on the front and attached the seat, but the front wheel was giving him problems.

  Sarah picked up one of the miniature cannon balls, placed it in the launcher on top of the castle, and sent it flying in his direction. It hit him in the arm.

  “Hey.” He scowled at her. “Have you forgotten I was near death a couple of days ago? If you’re done already, then quit playing and come hold this for me.”

  Sarah held up the sheet of stickers. “Sorry. I’ve got some interior decorating to do. A good castle needs banners and swords.”

  “And Jeffrey needs his front tire to stay on when he’s riding. Besides, you don’t want my shoulder to get too sore. That could affect my ability to put my arms around you later.”

  “Since you put it that way . . .” She crawled across the floor and sat on the opposite side of the bike. “You set it in, and I’ll attach the bolts.”

  “You sound like you know what you’re doing.”