Stardust Miracle

by Edie Ramer

  With that, her voice stumbled into silence. She lifted her head and so did Sarah, tears in her eyes and mouthing Thank you.

  Becky leaned forward, kissed her on her lips, then drew back. “Joy was at the front door. She’s keeping Cody until after breakfast tomorrow morning.”

  Sarah nodded, silent tears seeping over her lower eyelids and down her cheeks.

  “She brought a sleeping pill.”

  “I don’t want—”

  “She said it’s the same pill she borrowed from you a few weeks ago and won’t hurt the baby. Do you want me to call your doctor? I will.”

  Sarah’s gaze flicked down to the pill in Becky’s palm. “I see it’s the same pill. Becky, I don’t—”

  “You’re taking it.”

  “But—”

  “You’re taking it.”

  “You won’t give up, will you?”

  “Never.”

  “You always did think you knew better.”

  Becky remembered just a few weeks ago she’d been smug in her belief that she’d married the better man. “I’m wrong often. But not about this.”

  Sarah nodded and stepped back, but then she staggered and Becky jumped forward to steady her.

  “So stupid,” Sarah said. “So stupid.”

  “It’s very stupid,” Becky said, knowing Sarah wasn’t talking about herself. “Life is stupid.”

  Sarah drew away from Becky and stood on her own, her body shaking. Her face was the picture of anguish, her lips pulled back, her teeth bared. Tears still coursed down her splotchy cheeks. “How could this happen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t believe in God anymore.”

  “Shhh, shhh, shhh. Don’t you feel it?”

  “What? What am I supposed to feel?”

  “Marsh.” The words came out of Becky, as if someone talked through her. “He’s an angel now. He’s your angel.”

  Sarah lifted her hand, curled it in a fist. “Stop! Don’t say that. I don’t want a damn angel. I want my husband.” Letting go, she socked Becky’s shoulder.

  “Ouch.” Becky put her hand on her shoulder and stumbled back.

  “Oh God.” Sarah sank to her knees on the kitchen floor. “I didn’t mean that.”

  Becky’s shoulder still hurt as she knelt beside Sarah. “I know.”

  Life was messy. So was grief. Becky held her sobbing sister while Trey got a glass of water, took the baggy from her hand, then gave the water and the sleeping pill to Sarah.

  Sarah took the water from him and then the pill. She swallowed both. Becky tried to pull Sarah to her feet but she wouldn’t get up. Sarah didn’t fight her, but she was inert. Still sobbing.

  Becky didn’t know there could be that many tears in a person, though she remembered crying half the night after her mother died. She’d cried alone in her room until she’d gotten up and walked numbly to Sarah’s bedroom around three in the morning. She’d been comforted by her little sister’s sleeping presence.

  Trey knelt down next to Sarah. “Let’s get you to your feet.”

  Sarah looked at him blankly. He slid his left arm under her thighs, his right around her back, and got to his feet, making an ‘umph’ sound.

  “Her bedroom?” he asked Becky.

  “This way.” She led the way up the steps to the second floor, looking back a couple times to make sure Trey was okay. Sarah was taller than her. Normally slim, she’d gained pregnancy pounds. But there was no strain on his face, just the same grimness Becky had seen earlier. The same grimness that lodged inside her chest.

  But he kept going up. One step after another. And with every step he claimed another tiny piece of her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Twenty minutes later, Sarah was breathing softly and evenly. Her sobs ended.

  “Are you awake?” Becky whispered. She waited a moment, then rolled out of the large bed where she’d been lying next to Sarah.

  The bed squeaked. On her feet, Becky went still. But Sarah continued to breathe evenly.

  Careful not to make any noise, Becky tiptoed out of the bedroom. The hall light was on, and she looked back at Sarah. Streaks of tears shone on her sister’s cheeks, not yet dried.

  Becky glanced around the room. It felt as if Marsh were there. She almost expected to see sparkles. The air felt...electrified. But she saw nothing.

  She didn’t know why the sparkles appeared, what they meant, and why she was the only one who saw them. And right now, she didn’t much care.

  She turned away. Her trip down the stairs was slow. It wasn’t eleven yet, but her tiredness came from her soul – from unbearable desolation...and a question that couldn’t be answered. The same question Sarah had asked. The same question anyone asked when someone healthy and fairly young died.

  Why? Why Marsh?

  And an old question she hadn’t ever let go.

  Why my mother?

  After all, Becky knew many people she wouldn’t miss if they died. Many that no one would miss. She didn’t actively want them to die... But why hadn’t it been one of them? Especially when their only contributions to life seemed to be making other people miserable.

  Marsh had been a great guy. A great husband. A great father. Maybe his occupation didn’t pay a lot – not yet, anyway – but he loved being a picker. He loved his family. For God’s sake, he loved his dog.

  It didn’t make sense that he’d been taken.

  Seeing his ghost had made it better for her. And there was a comfort knowing his soul wasn’t dead. After all, she’d seen him. The ghostly image was seared into her brain.

  And if his soul lived after he died, then her mother’s must be alive, too.

  She reached the bottom of the stairs and tears welled in her eyes. Because even with the relief, even though it had been twenty-three years since her mom died, Becky still hurt. She still missed her mom. She still had a hole in her heart.

  It didn’t matter that now she had proof there was an afterlife. And that had to mean there was a God, too. Or at least a higher power. But right this second, none of that clarity took away the grief.

  Dead was dead. Cody would be devastated. Sarah already was devastated.

  She would tell Sarah about her experience at the accident site later. Right now it wasn’t his ghostly self that Sarah wanted. It was his solid self. His blood beating through his veins. His warm arms holding her tightly. His voice telling her it was all a bad dream.

  Becky blinked away her tears. The downstairs lights blazed. Trey must’ve left them on in case she came back downstairs. She turned off the kitchen light, then headed to the puppy room, wondering why he’d left that on, too.

  Peering in, she saw Trey sitting on the easy chair that someone – Trey probably – had dragged into the dining room in case anyone wanted a puppy cuddle. Trey sat there now, his legs spread out in front of him. The black puppy slept on his lap. Trey’s head rested against the back of the chair, his eyelids closed.

  Gratitude bloomed inside her and soothed some of the hurt.

  “Trey?” she murmured.

  His eyes opened and his head came up. He cupped the small puppy in his big hands and stood. The puppy squeaked a sleepy protest. Walking quietly for a big man, he took the five steps to Goldie and the other puppies, all tumbled together and sleeping. As he plopped the puppy between two gold-colored bodies, one animal rose to a sitting position. Not a puppy but the kitten. Awake but wary, watching them. Content to view them from a distance.

  The kitten was aptly named Lucky – the lone survivor of a bagful of kittens thrown out of a window of a moving car on the highway just outside of the village. Unlike the puppies, Lucky hadn’t fully accepted Becky. Considering the kitten’s past, Becky didn’t blame it.

  “Sarah’s asleep?” Trey stepped over the wooden barrier into the hall.

  Becky nodded. “I’m glad Joy popped in with the sleeping pill.”

  “She’s going to have a rough time. Marsh was a good man.”
<
br />   “The best. Thanks for helping out...and staying. I didn’t expect that.”

  “I wanted to make sure you were all right before I left.”

  “I’m okay.” Her attempt at a smile was an epic failure. Instead she pushed her hair back from her face. She must look like a mess. Her hair flat from lying on it. Probably the mascara on her eyelashes was smeared, too. “Most guys wouldn’t have stayed. I really appreciate it.”

  He shrugged and shifted his feet. Easy to see he was made uncomfortable with her second round of thanks. He was the kind of guy who did the right thing because it was the right thing to do.

  Gratitude surged up inside her.

  And lust. More than a surge. Like lava boiling in the pit of the volcano. Unexpected and overwhelming.

  Marsh was dead. There was nothing she could do to change that. But they were still alive. She wanted, no, needed to celebrate life. She needed to wallow in it.

  Most of all, she needed to do the most alive thing there was – create another life.

  She crossed her arms. That wasn’t going to happen. None of it was. He was going to leave, and she was going to try to sleep. More likely, she’d stay awake and wish Joy had given her a sleeping pill, too.

  “Anything else I can do before I leave?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth, intending to thank him and walk him to the door, but her arms uncrossed and words spilled out of her mouth. “You can make love with me.”

  He stood motionless. Staring into her eyes as if trying to see into her soul.

  If it worked, he was looking at her soul on fire. Her body on fire.

  Her breath shuddered out of her throat and she swallowed. “Come into the bedroom with me.” A statement, not a question.

  This was the second guy in two days.

  And the most inappropriate time ever.

  She was officially a slut.

  And she didn’t care. She did not give a flying finger for what anyone might think. Her new friend and brother-in-law, her sister’s lover and husband, and a great father to his son...was dead. Her body abhorred the vacuum and the loss. So did she.

  She held out her hand and it trembled. He looked down and didn’t take it.

  Maybe he didn’t want her?

  The thought was a pain in her heart.

  A denial came fiercely. She didn’t believe it.

  There’d been something between them way back in high school. A different kind of electricity from what she’d felt earlier. A charge between them. She’d felt the danger that came along with that, and had turned from it.

  She wasn’t denying it this time.

  But he might.

  The thought scared the hell out of her.

  Right now she didn’t just want him. She needed him.

  “I wasn’t planning on this,” he said.

  “Neither was I.” Please, she thought. Please.

  It was hard to keep her mouth shut. Hard to hold back the pleas. She wanted this so badly.

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he said slowly, the old-fashioned words sounding oddly gallant.

  She pressed her palms against her belly, her lips together to hold back a cry. Nodding, she backed up. “I understand.”

  The hurt showed in the thickness of her voice. Putting her hand over her mouth, she turned away.

  “I don’t want you to be sorry tomorrow,” he said.

  She snapped around, the pain and sorrow wiped away by a lightning bolt of anger. “I can make my own decisions on whether I’ll be sorry or not. I don’t need you or any man deciding that for me.”

  Glaring at him, she embraced her anger. It filled her, keeping the searing grief and other sucky emotions at bay.

  “Thank you for supporting me and Sarah.” She enunciated the syllables sharply. “And for the dinner. I’m sure you’ll want to get home to your bed.”

  Instead of turning away, he stepped toward her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I do want to make love to you.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Her breath sucked in as he said the word ‘love’ to her, and she realized that she’d used it first. Maybe that’s why he’d hesitated. Maybe if she’d said ‘have sex’ his first answer would’ve been different.

  Because she didn’t want love. She just wanted sex. Hard and fast and so heated she wouldn’t think of anything else.

  Becky opened her mouth to tell him so, but his lips came down on hers and stopped the words from coming out of her throat. His kiss, soft and sweet and slow, stopped her heart for a second, too. And she was ready. She realized she’d been ready since she saw him with the puppy on his lap.

  A small noise came out of her throat – pleasure, she thought. Surprise at his gentleness. At her body expressing appreciation.

  But she still thought about other things. Like how he was bending to fit her, the size of his penis – contrary to the spam on her email, she didn’t want a giant-sized penis. And did he have a condom?

  At the last thought, her hands came up and clung to his upper arms, feeling the strong muscles of his bicep as she had two more thoughts.

  Don’t have a condom. I want a baby.

  Maybe his swimmers were stronger than Jim’s. Maybe they could find one of her few eggs. After all, she didn’t need a lot of eggs to have a baby. Just one fertilized egg.

  She wouldn’t expect him to be a father.

  She just wanted to be a mother.

  Pulling away, she held out her hand. “There’s a bed in the other room.”

  He took her hand and she led him down the hall into her temporary bedroom. She switched on the light then closed the door. She started to take off the necklace Sarah had loaned her.

  A laugh came from him, and she turned to look at him. “You don’t waste time,” he said.

  Her cheeks heated. She’d been married too long. Foreplay was what she and Jim had done naked, actually. And not much of it. But she didn’t want to think about Jim now.

  He grinned. “Sorry, I stopped you. Go ahead.”

  Looking at his grin, a bit of the horror melted inside her. A bit of the desperation, too...but not the need. Right now, in the bedroom with him, the need flamed up, more powerful than before. Became a force that consumed her with its wildfire of desire.

  She set the necklace and earrings on the corner desk. Then, holding her arms straight out, she barreled into him. He caught her, and his arms curved around her back. All the need and desire and primal emotions that she didn’t even understand swirled up inside her. Standing on her tiptoes, she stretched up, wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and head, then pulled his lips down to meet hers, to crush onto hers.

  No more softness, no more dancing around, no more, no more, no more.

  Just this. Just him and her and the bed as they shifted closer to it in small sideways steps. Her eyes closed, she felt the edge of the sofa bed that was still in pull-out position.

  They tumbled onto it, and she felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, only in Becky’s case, she was happily falling. Pulling him with her. He twisted to his side to let her land on top of him. His erection pushed against her belly. Hardness against softness. Yin and yang. Male and female.

  She started rocking, a knee on each side of his thighs, even as he shifted his legs up. His shoes still on. Hers still on.

  She should have taken hers off right away.

  And why hadn’t she worn a skirt or dress instead of pants?

  She wasn’t ready to leave him yet. To take time to undress. Too maddened. Too busy riding him. Still completely dressed.

  Their mouths locked together. Sloppy wet kisses. Coming from her, not him. And she didn’t care. Her mouth mimicking the wetness below her waist and between her legs.

  He broke away and held her apart from him.

  No! No, no, no! She choked back the words and only a moan escaped.

  His breaths were harsh and loud. “If we don’t take our clothes off,” he said, his vo
ice guttural, coming from deep in his belly, “I’m going to come in my pants.”

  She rolled off him so fast that she came down on her knees on the carpet. He didn’t notice, pulling his shirt over his head. By the time he got it off, she was busy taking off her top, frantic to get rid of her clothes, wishing she’d taken them off earlier.

  No buttons popped but her hands seemed clumsy and she found out kicking off her shoes and unzipping her pants at the same time didn’t work well. Her teeth ground together but her frustration didn’t lessen her need. Instead it increased. The need grew louder and more imperative until it became a thrumming in her blood.

  Then she was naked and she turned and he was naked, too. His arms held out to her. His muscles defined, his legs long. And his penis...

  She froze for a minute. Her skin chilled as she stared at the condom-covered penis.

  All she could think of was that there would be no baby.

  Then he sat up and reached for her. She let him draw her down to the mattress. Let him position her on the bed. Let him kneel over her. Let him lay on her. Let him touch her.

  The need slammed back at her and she was wholly aroused again, wrapping her legs around him. Keening in a high, small voice. He made noises, too. A moan as they came together. Foreplay short, not needed. Both of them on fire.

  The first orgasm hit her. Shivers of delight. She curved her back up and put her mouth against his shoulder to muffle her cry. The shivers went on and on. Then they stopped abruptly, and she slumped back onto the bed.

  And then another one.

  And another.

  And another.

  Sometime after the tenth orgasm, she stopped counting. She was shivering when his body jerked, and he cried out, a hoarse shout of release.

  He held her tight as small shudders went through him. Like the aftereffects of an earthquake. His skin was damp, though the house had cooled with the night. His breaths came out on gulps that lessened in magnitude with each inhale and exhale. Finally his breaths were shallow and he lifted his upper body, the separation of their sweaty chests making a sucking sound.