Rewrite the Stars

by Julieann Dove

  “No, she says Dad doesn’t care to go. They had something planned already.”

  The complete and utter nerve of that bastard. She was his mother, for God’s sake. Claire knew he didn’t know, but still she wondered whether that would even make a difference. He’d known her all his life. Not only did Frieda care for him when he was little, but she took care of his children as well. She was like family.

  “Well, I think I’ll go.” She said it quickly, without thinking. Someone had to go and pay their respects. She’d worked hard all her life and kept the secret that killed her the most. Claire suddenly wondered why she never told. It certainly didn’t matter now whose child James was. Unless she felt that too much time had passed and he might feel ashamed to have a mother who was a caretaker of Kelly’s Cove beach house.

  “I can’t go. Not with Bailey being sick. And Jason is horrible at taking care of sick kids. He runs in the opposite direction, it seems.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll pay respects for the both of us.”

  She got off the phone and wondered how she was going to tell Alex she wanted to go to the beach house. She wouldn’t be extending an invitation to him. She had to get some things out of the guesthouse before anyone saw it.

  Three months after Claire returned from the last summer at the beach house, she discovered she was pregnant. She’d already been seeing Alex on a regular basis, more as friends than anything else. She was still too heartbroken to have imagined herself dating anyone, including him. When it became obvious she was growing a baby inside her, he confronted her.

  “So, when do you think you’re going to tell me about what you’ve got coming in a couple months?” He stared at her from across the table, a piece of cheese pizza hanging from her mouth.

  She had the look of a moose, lodged in the crack of a mouse hole. “What?” she asked, wiping the sauce from her mouth with the backside of her hand.

  “Claire, I’m not stupid. And no one has this type of appetite without a reason. You had two hamburgers and cheese fries for lunch. And not that I’ve studied up on this, but your belly isn’t growing fat—it’s growing round. Like a melon.”

  “Gee, thanks.” She looked down at the obvious bump she assumed no one saw but her.

  The jig was up. She only hoped he wouldn’t call the Prescotts and put it in the New York Times. She swallowed what was left in her mouth and looked at him with pleading eyes. “You’re not going to mention this to anyone, are you?”

  “Who would I tell, Claire?”

  She tried to read into the inflection of his tone. As if wanting her to pony up the name of who would want to know. “No one.”

  “Oh, you mean Colin?”

  She sunk down in the booth like a deflated balloon.

  “No, I don’t plan on talking to that jerk any time soon.”

  She rose up a bit. “Thank you.”

  “So it’s his?” He clenched his jaw when he asked.

  She stared at the pepperoni that had dropped onto the table when she answered. “Yes.”

  It was difficult to admit for one that she was pregnant, and for two because she knew Alex liked her. More than a friend. What friend puts you up in one of their apartments, sees that she doesn’t need for anything EVER, and then calls or drops by all the time for no reason?

  But she found herself liking all of the drop-bys. She’d go as far as waiting with anticipation for those pop-overs. He was beyond nice—better than she deserved. She told Pam all the time. Alex was a gentleman to the core. He headed three charities and did most of the work for them himself. He was also hell-bent on making the world right for Claire. Down to foot massages every Sunday night. It started after she reinjured her ankle and he came to her aide with lotion and a bag of frozen peas. Any girl would be lucky to have him.

  “How are you going to support it?” He pushed away his plate of a half-eaten slice of pizza.

  “What do you mean? I make good money. I’ve got insurance with the company. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “And when the baby grows up and asks who his or her father is, then what? Who’s going to play the daddy role? Especially if the daddy doesn’t know the baby exists?”

  “Maybe I’ll meet someone by then.”

  He stared down at the table. Did she miss something? She never had a dad; it didn’t kill her. Then she thought about it: it did kill her. Every time they had a father-daughter dance, she couldn’t go. When the others at school bragged about their dads, they excluded her. She didn’t have one. Crap, what if anything happened to her? The baby would have no one. When she confided in Pam after she took the pregnancy test, she agreed to babysit, but she doubted she wanted to be saddled with a baby who didn’t ever get picked up. Claire knew what being an orphan felt like, and she’d had the fortune of having her mother until she got out of college.

  “I’m sure you will, Claire.” He asked the waitress for the check and continued to look off in the distance.

  Claire sat motionless. Obviously, she didn’t think past health insurance and baby names. “What if I don’t?”

  He looked at her. “What?”

  “What if I don’t meet anyone? What’s going to happen to my baby? I mean, who thinks it’s sexy dating a girl with a daddy-less baby? It doesn’t exactly make the top ten ‘What A Man’s Looking For’ in Cosmo.”

  He studied her eyes. “I could be there for her or him…if you wanted.”

  By all accounts, Alex was the total package. Personality, aspirations, a great job, a nice house, and he was easy on the eyes. Once, she imagined kissing him. They’d gone for the coffee pot at the same time and nearly collided. It was awkward. They hovered over the counter a few seconds until it passed. Maybe she was overlooking something that was there. Something more than easy companionship.

  “Sure.” It sounded committal, right?

  And so after that date, which they deemed as their first real one, Alex kissed her at the door. It was enough to make her believe she could be happy with him. Five years later, he still kissed her good-night every night and she knew he was better than she deserved. Some day she might even live up to what he hoped she felt for him. Besides that, her daughter loved her daddy. Pearl was the apple of his eye.

  “Baby, what did Mallory want?” Alex came into the room to get his suit jacket from the closet.

  Claire stood there, wringing her hands. “She called to say Frieda died last night.”

  He walked to her and warmed her with his embrace. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, but I want to go to the funeral on Saturday.”

  “Sure, I’ll get Tiffany at the office to stand in for me at that fundraiser for diabetes and we’ll take Pearl. She can see where her mom and dad met.”

  Claire freaked out at the very thought of going there with Alex. Among going and paying her respects, she was going to find all the pictures she’d sent Frieda over the years of Pearl. To Frieda, Pearl was her great-granddaughter and Claire was more than happy to pretend it was true. At least the part of being the biological child of Colin was true. But Frieda had no idea Colin and Mallory’s father wasn’t James.

  “Don’t be silly. Go to the fundraiser. You know how Tiffany gets hives when you call in to say you’ll be late to a meeting. The woman needs a twenty-four-hour security blanket.”

  “Hey, now that’s not true. She’s wonderful at organizing my schedule. And remember that time when—”

  “I’m not saying she can’t, Alex. I’m saying there’s no reason to alarm her by you not attending the event. They’re having it at the Berkshire Hall. Everyone expects to see you. And Pearl has a sleepover with Janie. She’s been planning it for weeks. I’ll be back Sunday night.”

  “Are you sure? I can come with you. It won’t be a problem.” He touched her chin with his finger, searching for her expression.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.” She smiled confidently and touc
hed his cheek.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Claire finished up her week of work and mom duties. Returning to the beach house churned in her stomach every time she thought about it. Little did she know that fate was stirring the pot of her future return to the place of secrets.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Going Back

  Claire was running late. The church service started at 11:00, and it was 11:15. She had to wait for the ferry on the mainland—it was running behind schedule, too. There were only four cars in the parking lot of the church when she pulled in from the street. Not that she thought it would be packed, but still it reassured her to think Frieda had more friends than the Prescotts, who, incidentally, weren’t there—not one of them.

  The service was quick, practically over by the time Claire took her seat in the second pew. Fifteen or so people showed up to pay their final respects and to hear the reverend talk a little about how Frieda would be missed. He spoke about how every Sunday Frieda made it to the church with her pretty smile and how during the holidays she was always the one who initiated sending Christmas cards to soldiers stationed across seas. She was an asset to the community. Claire saw one of the women wiping her cheek with a handkerchief. She was probably the one who found her that morning.

  The casket was closed, so after the preaching was done and one lonely song that the organist played was finished, Claire waited until the others left to go stand by it. It was long and silver. She’d only been up close to one other one: her mother’s. That was burgundy, trimmed in gold. Melanie purchased it, along with taking care of the plot expense. Claire could never bring herself to make the trip out to Westmeyer’s cemetery to visit. To think of her mother in the ground brought sadness to her heart.

  Claire rubbed her hand down the side of Frieda’s casket. It was cold and hard. Thoughts of a younger Frieda came to her mind. The one whose baby had been taken away from her. How she was never able to live the life she’d dreamed about that summer at the beach house with Buddy Jr. How she never could admit James was her son, and could never spend the holidays with him or brag to her friends, these fifteen elderly women and men, how proud she was of him. She had lived a lonely, secret life and now she’d died lonely, with her secret buried with her.

  Someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned and saw Colin. Her eyes widened with surprise and her stomach fell to the ground. What was he doing there? She swallowed hard. “Colin, I didn’t know you were coming. Mallory didn’t mention it when I talked to her this week.” She was going to kill Mallory for not telling her.

  “Hi, Claire. It’s nice to see you.” He shuffled to get out from the pew where he must’ve sat, unseen by her.

  “How are you?” She walked back toward the empty rows. The only one left in the church was the preacher, and he’d disappeared somewhere.

  “I’m good. I just wanted to come and pay my respects.”

  The thought didn’t really shock her. It seemed Colin was Frieda’s pick. He always got more ice cream scoops than the rest of them and she’d caught Frieda, several times, telling him stories in his room before bedtime.

  “It’s all such a shock. I feel like I just saw her.” Actually, six years was a long time. However, Claire and she wrote to each other every month.

  “Yeah, I know. She seemed fine a few months ago.”

  “Then you saw her? A few months ago, that is?”

  “No, actually Mom and Dad came up and said she was no different than usual. It’s just all so sudden.”

  Claire rubbed the wood on the pew with her fingers. It was worn and soft from forty years of church services, weddings, and funerals. Her heart raced being so close to Colin. He’d barely changed since the last time she saw him, although his hair was styled a little longer, and he was parting it on the side. And his eyes seemed a bit older. More years of life sat behind the blueness of them.

  “So hey, would you like to go grab some coffee? Catch up before you leave?” He rocked back and forth on his heels.

  She wasn’t sure that was a good idea. It’d taken so long to rid her mind of daydreams of him. Going back to square one wouldn’t be advisable for her mental health. This chance encounter would possibly take months to get him from her mind.

  “Sure, why not?”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  He followed her car to the café down from the church. The little town seemed so empty without all the tourists. Only a few people could be seen milling around the shops—the ones that remained open for the off-season. It was October and everyone who was on the island lived there year round. There were orange lights blinking in the front window of the coffee shop and a poster of a ghost hung on the door. He opened it for her to go inside first. He watched her hand as it swung beside her when she walked past. He remembered holding it in bed all those summers ago, playing with her fingers.

  They sat down with their cups of hot coffee and looked out the window. He couldn’t imagine her to be as nervous as he was. She looked so put together. So amazingly mature and beautiful. She’d managed to improve with age. Not that he thought she wouldn’t. She crossed his mind all the time. But she wasn’t blonde like she was now. Her hair reached the middle of her back. And she wore makeup. He noticed her red lipstick had transferred to the white coffee cup. The type of clothing she wore was certainly different than he remembered. The carefree dresses he loved on her were replaced with a tailor-made navy pant suit with a silky blouse underneath.

  “So, how’s New York? Still busy there?” He had no idea what to talk about.

  “Colin, I’m sorry about what happened before.” Her eyes seemed sad when she said it, growing smaller as her brow weighed down on them.

  He set down his cup from taking a sip. It was too hot to drink. “Claire, let’s not talk about that. It’s over now.”

  “I know. I just wanted to say how sorry I was about it. That’s all.”

  He resituated himself in the hardback chair. Nervous energy. Just the thought of the pain he went through that night Claire left was beginning to anger him. All of his hopes and dreams left with her. And so did the only girl he ever loved.

  “So, Mallory tells me you have a daughter.” He gnashed his back teeth, trying to channel his thoughts to someplace else. The thought of her and Alex happy with a child gave him hives.

  Claire smiled. “Yes, Pearl. She’s a little fireball. In fact, I have to call in a few hours to check on her. She’s having a sleepover at a friend’s house.” She checked her watch. “And I hear you also have a daughter.”

  “Yes, Mirabel.” He took out his phone and found a picture to show her.

  She touched his hand in the exchange. The sensation pinged his insides like a high-pitched alarm.

  “She’s the spitting image of you, Colin. How old is she?”

  “She’s two. The terrible twos, but she’s actually been sick lately. So, it hasn’t been too terrible. Just pitiful, pretty much.”

  Claire let go of the phone and clasped her mug in her hands. It was chilly in the little shop. The cold wind blowing outside was making its way underneath the gaping crack of the door.

  “I hope it’s nothing serious. Mallory said hand, foot, mouth disease is going around where she lives.”

  “I’m sure it’s just a virus, too.” He stretched and finally leaned in on his elbows and took a deep breath. “So wow! What a twist of fate. You and Alex?”

  She fidgeted with the clasp on her necklace, taking it back around to the nape of her neck. It seemed she would’ve liked to change the subject.

  “Yeah, how about that.”

  “It turns out you became a Prescott anyway, huh?”

  She looked over at the lonely lady behind the counter. She was engrossed in their conversation—both elbows rested on the Formica countertop and her chin perched on top of her folded hands.

  “I really do have to be going, Colin. I’m checking in at the hotel on Mission Point, and I’m tired from the plane ride here.�
�

  He’d touched a nerve. Why did he go there? He had to. It’d been burning a hole right through him since his mother called and told him she’d read the announcement in the paper. It would’ve been all right if she’d married anyone but that guy. He was so smug. And now he was the one who got to spend every night lying next to her long, soft arms. Rubbing her hair and kissing her bare breasts.

  “Okay,” he said, with his mind going in a million different places while seeing a million different splices of his past with her flash before his eyes. “I’m going to try to make it back to the mainland before the last ferry.”

  They stood at the same time. He wasn’t sure what was appropriate. Could he hug her, or would a handshake seem more apropos? He didn’t have to wonder long. Claire leaned in and kissed his cheek. Although technically her lips never touched him. Her cheek did. It pressed against his and his eyes shut. He inhaled deeply to smell her. She smelled like home.

  “It was good seeing you, Colin. Have a safe trip home.”

  He watched as her car pulled out of the gravel parking lot. Her brake lights were the last thing to see before she released them and pulled away. He looked back at the table…at the lip-stained mug. There was so many things he wished he would’ve said.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  She watched through her rearview mirror at the guy who still haunted her. Now, being on the island with him, was making her crazy. She made sure he wasn’t following her and turned right to get on the tiny bridge that connected the beach house to downtown. She remembered driving it with Frieda and hearing her secret that day. That’s why she’d stayed in touch with her these past years. They shared a bond. And a secret. So it was fitting to tell Frieda about Pearl. It wasn’t unnatural for her to think Pearl was her great-grandchild. And Claire continued to send pictures of the little girl as she grew up. Now she had to go and retrieve them from the house. If someone else had found them, it would be hard to explain why they were grouped with Bailey’s, Carson’s, and Mirabel’s. Claire would slip in and slip out. No problem.