Chasing Jupiter

by Rachel Coker

  He didn’t say a word as I read the last chapter. He just watched me. I could feel the nurse in the corner watching me too, taking her eyes off her needlework to look back and forth between us.

  The sunlight from the barred window shone onto the pages. My hands were shaking, both from the weight of the book and the thought of Cliff listening to me.

  “Of course in the end Wendy let them fly away together. Our last glimpse of her shows her at the window, watching them receding into the sky until they were small as stars.”

  I glanced at Cliff. His eyes were closed, and he was still sucking on his candy cane, but it seemed like he was paying attention. I don’t know if he could comprehend the story or not, but he could tell that I was speaking and he was listening to me.

  “As you look at Wendy, you may see her hair becoming white, and her figure little again, for all this happened long ago. Jane is now a common grown-up, with a daughter called Margaret; and every spring cleaning time, except when he forgets, Peter comes for Margaret and takes her to the Neverland, where she tells him stories about himself, to which he listens eagerly. When Margaret grows up, she will have a daughter, who is to be Peter’s mother in turn; and thus it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless.”

  I closed the book with a thud. “The End.”

  Cliff’s breathing grew heavier and the leftover stub of candy cane was now clutched in his hand. I guess he fell asleep again.

  I took a deep breath and let it out, then glanced at the nurse. She looked at me and shrugged before turning back to her needlework.

  But he did hear me! He was listening.

  “Cliff,” I said, my voice soft. I leaned forward until I was touching the gray flannel blanket, clutching it in my fingers. “You may have forgotten, but I’ll always remember what I promised you. When you come home on Christmas Eve, there’s going to be a big surprise waiting for you.”

  He muttered something in his sleep. I pressed my lips together. “I promise.”

  The air was bitterly cold, even for Georgia. I pulled my coat closer across my chest and rubbed my hands together to keep them warm. Now where did Frank keep those plans?

  I pushed open the door to the bomb shelter and flicked the light switch. The eyes of half a dozen animals blinked up at me, warm and content in their makeshift beds. I grinned. Mildred the chicken was still living and perched on a bed of hay. I wondered if Frank’s mother was the one feeding them all. By the looks of it, someone had been in here not too long ago and refilled the food buckets.

  Papers were stacked on a small desk on the other side of the shelter. I hopped over a couple turtles and flipped through the pages. Aha. Frank’s plans for Cliff’s rocket.

  The door suddenly slammed behind me. I whipped around half-expecting to find Mrs. Leggett standing behind me, very confused as to why I was in her bomb shelter.

  Instead my eyes rested on Frank. My mouth dropped open. “Wh— What …”

  An amused smirk played on his lips. He lowered the heavy piece of wood in his hands and stepped back.

  I tried to reel my mouth back up, doing my best not to gape at him. “What are you doing here?” Frank had been away at Boston University for the last five months, living out his dream and studying to be a vet. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see him again. I certainly didn’t think I’d see him again right now, right here.

  He folded his hands behind his back and smirked slightly. “I could ask you the same question, seeing as this is my backyard and no one seems to know you are here.”

  Guilt pinched at my cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, stepping back and bumping into the desk. “I just … I thought that I could …”

  “Scarlet.” His face softened into a smile. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

  I gulped. “Thanks.” Holding up the paper, I managed an explanation. “I’m building a rocket for Cliff. He’s coming home on Christmas Eve, and I want it ready for him. So, I … I needed the plans.”

  “Cliff?” A darkness covered Frank’s face. I wanted to know what he was thinking. Did he miss Cliff, like I did? Did he wake up every morning expecting to see him, then feel that thud in his chest when he remembered that Cliff wasn’t the same anymore? That he was gone?

  Frank cleared his throat, like it had suddenly become hard for him to swallow. I looked up just in time to see him glance away quickly. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes.

  The silence hung over us and reminded me of everything we’d lost. That easy friendship between the three of us. That peaceful feeling of knowing everything was fine.

  My chest ached. I felt so alone. Even here, with the one other person who might have understood me like Cliff did, I still felt unspeakable pain. My throat felt tight, making it difficult to speak.

  “I just … I should go,” I muttered, intending to brush past Frank and run far away.

  But instead Frank grabbed me as I walked by and enveloped me in a crushing hug. My face pressed against his shoulder, buried in his jacket. I could tell by his shaking arms that he was crying, and I was crying too. We stood there for what seemed like a century, just hugging and crying and thinking about the summer we’d all shared.

  I pulled back and wiped my eyes, and discovred Frank’s face was as red and swollen as mine. He rubbed at his cheeks and managed a wobbly smile. Reaching up one finger, he brushed away a tear from the corner of my eye and left his hand there for a moment. “Hey,” he said softly, his face only inches away. He smiled at me like he hadn’t seen me in years, like the sight of my face was the most wonderful Christmas present he could ever have received. I smiled back and even laughed, which only managed to shake my wet tears down to my coat.

  I brushed them away and held up the rocket plans. “So can I have these?”

  Frank shook his head. “No.” He grew solemn, staring at me.

  I blinked. Is he kidding? His face remained stony. I felt irritation and a touch of anger beginning to rise. I clutched at the paper. “What? But, Frank …”

  He finally cracked a grin. “But you can share them. With me. Because we are going to build that rocket together. I already brought some wood back from Massachusetts, and I intend to see this rocket through to completion, whether you plan on helping or not.”

  I exhaled, my heartbeat slowing. “Oh. Okay.” I folded the paper as gently as possible and placed it in my pocket. “I’m glad. Cliff would have wanted us to do it together.”

  Frank nodded. “I only have two more weeks off for Christmas break. Then I’m back to school the first week of January.”

  The buoyant feeling from a moment ago disappeared, and I was glad he couldn’t tell. I was afraid to have him know about how much I’d missed him and how completely wonderful it felt to be standing here with him again. “Well then, we’ll have to get to work.”

  “Hot cocoa?” Mrs. Leggett called from the large bay window, waving at us.

  I glanced at Frank. “I’m pretty cold. How about you?”

  He shrugged. “Some cocoa might be nice.”

  We pulled off our tool belts and laid them out on the work bench, stepping back to admire our progress. The sides of the rocket were coming together nicely. A few more nails and we would have a pretty fine five-foot rocket. The perfect size for a shortish ten-year-old with a wild imagination.

  Mrs. Leggett handed large hot pink mugs of steaming cocoa, with the words La Vida Loca painted across the front. “Aren’t they just darling? I got them from my cha-cha instructor,” she explained. “He always was wildly crazy about me. He begged me to run away and marry him when I was very young, but of course I was too in love with my Luke to even consider it. Although we did have a few great dances together.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled, looking very pleased with herself.

  “Yes, Mother,” Frank responded, smiling at me over his cocoa. I giggled as his mother rambled on about the technical difficulties of the darling cha-cha.

  After ten minutes of patientl
y listening, Frank excused us and led me back outside. “Sorry about that,” he said, giving me a sheepish look. “She tends to really go on sometimes.”

  I grinned and shook my head. “No, I like her. I can tell she really loves you and your dad.”

  Frank looked up and nodded. “Yeah.” A strange light flickered in his eyes. “I know she does.”

  I couldn’t resist adding, “And the cha-cha.”

  A surprised laugh escaped from Frank and rumbled inside of me. It made me chuckle too, which forced him to laugh even more. We snorted and giggled until our sides hurt, and Frank begged me to stop.

  “I hate it when you do that. Because when you laugh, it makes me laugh too,” he complained.

  I calmed the chuckles still stuck in my throat and concentrated on hammering. “Hey, Frank?”

  “Yeah?” He didn’t look up. Maybe he was was afraid he’d start laughing again.

  “What does the voice in your head sound like?”

  “What?”

  “I know it sounds silly. But it’s just something that Cliff asked you once. You never really answered him, and I never really thought about it.”

  Frank ran a hand through his hair and looked away. “Do you ever see him anymore? Cliff, I mean.”

  “Yeah. We drive into the city and visit him every Saturday.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “Hard.” I straightened and lowered my hands to my side. “He doesn’t remember me. Or anything we ever did together.” I motioned to the rocket. “He doesn’t even remember this.”

  Frank grimaced, like someone had punched him in the stomach. “I had heard that he wasn’t the same, but I had no idea.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this except for the fact that I still remember. And that I’m going to keep my promise to Cliff no matter what. I’ve realized that I can’t keep blaming God for tearing my family apart, or feel guilty for everything I could have done differently. I just have to take each day as it is and try to do the right thing.”

  “Wow.”

  I looked down and started hammering again, my face reddening. I’d never meant to get that personal with Frank. “So, um, you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Frank stepped back and cocked his head, as if thinking intently. He glanced up with a smirk. “The voice in my head sounds dashingly handsome and mysterious.” One of his many cats pranced up and rubbed its head against Frank’s leg. He leaned down and scratched between the cat’s ears, sending me a wink.

  I nudged him. “Seriously.” The sound of metal hitting nail resounded in my ears, making them ring. I took another break and rolled the hammer around in my hands. I watched him and noticed how the muscles in his forehead tensed when he thought really hard.

  “Well, um …” Frank took a breath and let it out. “I guess the voice in my head is serious sometimes, maybe most of the time. But sometimes it sounds a little lighthearted. Like it’s trying very hard to be good and studious and get things done, but every now and then it just can’t resist a little amusement.” His face broke in a smile. “Especially when it hears the laugh of a certain freckled girl.”

  I pressed my lips together. “Yes, I think that perfectly describes what your voice should sound like.”

  “And let me guess yours.” Frank took a step forward, his eyes looking deeply into mine. I shivered at the intense yet kind look reflected in his gaze. “Your voice is sweeter than peach pie and stronger than steel nails and softer than summer clouds.”

  I took in a sharp breath, unable to tear my eyes away. “Um, yeah, I guess.”

  He reached out to gently cup my elbow in his palm. At his touch, I jumped. I spun back around to the rocket, accidentally whipping his face with my hair. “Oh, sorry! Um, I …”

  He winced and shook his head. “It’s okay.”

  “Yeah, well, um …” I gulped. Things were escalating into a very awkward and still painful territory that I wasn’t sure how to navigate. “We should probably get this finished.” My voice sounded shaky and tense to me. Drat. I squeezed my eyes shut. I gritted my teeth and hammered in another nail. Stupid, stupid Scarlett.

  My brush swept across the wood in smooth, even strokes. Electric-green paint, exactly the color of Cliff’s crayon drawing.

  The sun felt a bit warmer, providing a little relief in the cold winter. I glanced up and saw Mrs. Leggett watching me from the window. I smiled and waved. She nodded before the curtain fell back into place.

  Frank wasn’t home. He’d gone to the grocery store to pick up a few things for Christmas supper, his mother had told me. But I couldn’t wait for him to paint the rocket. It needed to get done by that night. Christmas Eve.

  A chilly breeze tickled my neck and pulled at my loose waves. With a paint-splattered hand, I reached back and pushed at my hair, managing to smear green paint on my cheek. Drat. I attempted to wipe it away, likely only smudging it further.

  I give up. I dropped the brush back into the bucket of paint. Then I grabbed a fresh brush to dip in red for the finishing touch. To Jupiter, written with a Cliff-like scrawl.

  I put down the paint brush and stood back, pulling off my smock. I placed my hands on my ruined blue jeans and sighed. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  “Wonderful,” someone whispered.

  I turned around to see Frank beaming from ear to ear.

  “I thought you were at the grocery store.”

  “I was.” He held up two large paper bags, one in each arm. “And I returned only to find you in my backyard. And I suppose my mother is …” He glanced at the house and nodded grimly. His mother was standing at the window watching us. “Just as I suspected. Here, let me drop off these groceries, and then I’ll take you on a walk.” Without waiting for my response, he ran back to the house and returned a few short minutes later. He immediately looped his arm through mine and began strolling toward the orchards. “Come, let us discuss the success of Cliff’s rocket.”

  “Um, okay.” I tried not to focus on how close he was standing to me and how blurry my thoughts were.

  We rambled through the orchards of bare peach trees without talking much at all. Instead, we stopped before each tree and stared at the naked branches, sometimes glancing at each other with a small smile. It felt strange to be walking together again. Almost as if we were adults trying to remember what it was like to be kids. But could that really be possible after only a few short months?

  A thousand thoughts ran across my mind as we walked in silence. I thought about Cliff, about the rocket, about our summer of picking peaches, and how great it would be if we put the rocket by the pond.

  “I’ve been doing some thinking,” I said slowly, glancing at Frank.

  He shot me a teasing grin. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” I rolled my eyes. Then I looked away, focusing on the ground below me. “I prayed for God to give me a purpose. Something to do that would please him and take my mind off all the pain.”

  “And has he?” Frank’s voice was quiet.

  I wrapped my arms across my chest and looked up at the sky. “Yeah. I think so.” I glanced at Frank. He was watching me, a thoughtful smile on his face. “I want to travel,” I told him. “I want to see all the places Cliff only dreamed about. I want to tell people about his hopes and dreams and find out about other people too.” A new thought occurred to me. “I want to fill others with the same hope that God has given me every time I think of Cliff’s hopes and dreams. Even if he doesn’t remember them now, that doesn’t mean they can’t inspire a whole new group of people.”

  Frank nodded. We walked in silence for a while, thinking about the future.

  “You know.” Frank cleared his throat and tightened his grip on my arm. I glanced at him, surprised to see his face slowly turning a bright shade of red. He looked at me and looked away. “I was thinking too. You know, while I was away at college.”

  I grinned, deciding to tease him back. “You were thinking? At college? As
tounding.”

  He didn’t smile back, only puckered his brow more. “I did a lot of thinking about … Um, well, you know … I took a good look at my heart, and I know now that I’ve loved—”

  Oh, no. I suddenly felt like my body weighed four hundred pounds. There is no way I can live through this again. No way I can handle him rejecting me for Juli again while I stand here like a stupid, silent ragdoll. I bit my lips as words gushed out of me too fast to comprehend. “You know what? I just really …” I could feel my breath speed up as I broke away from him. “I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

  I shouted good-bye over my shoulder and bolted, ignoring the judging looks I was sure the empty trees were giving me. Coward. I shivered, pulling my jacket over my cheeks. You just can’t handle the shame. Can’t handle feeling second best.

  My stomach churned. I needed to be brave. Fearless. Maybe I should go back and …

  I glanced over my shoulder. Frank was still standing in the same spot, hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumped. His face was too far away to read. I wondered if he even saw me looking.

  Squaring my shoulders, I focused on the road in front of me and quickened my pace back home.

  Chapter 18

  The smell of peppermint filled the house, drifting from the kitchen into the living room where we stood looking at the tree. All the lights were on, filling the room with dazzling brilliance. A little angel twinkled at us from her perch on top of the tree.

  Mama sighed and buttoned up her coat. It was pretty cold outside for Georgia. “Are you ready to go?”

  I nodded. Pulling on my jacket, I gave my hair a final pat. My unruly waves were somewhat tamed for the moment, pulled back into a loose twist. I was dressed in my old cranberry red velvet dress, which was a little small but still long enough to cover my knees. This is almost too much even for the church service. I still don’t know why we have to be this dressed up to go get Cliff. It’s not like he’ll notice.

  Catching myself, I pushed that thought out of my mind and tried again. It’s sweet that we’re dressing up. Mama’s just trying to make things nice.