Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

bed or if one of the kids needed help with their homework. My mood changes frustrated me, but I didn’t always control them. I should tell Doc about that fact.

“If you’re angry, be angry with me,” Sadie would say. “Be angry with the PTSD. With the doctor. With yourself. But not the kids. And what about a change in meds? What are your thoughts?”

“It’s hard,” I’d reply, answering only half her question. “It’s so damn hard.”

And it was. Our situation exasperated me, and while I “turned inward”—again, thank you, Doc—much like Sadie would, it meant I spent too much time thinking about me, about us. The more I did, the more I had reservations about signing those papers. A simple signature would dismantle two decades of memories. Was I ready to be finished with all things Sadie? Doc’s lips would twitch if I shared my thoughts, and I might get a “nice touch, being more self-aware” comment too. Maybe Sadie was right about this vacation. It would be a good idea. But where—

“And...we’re going to...Walloon Lake!” Sadie announced.

“Yessssss!” Delia and Charlie cheered in unison and fist-bumped each other. The enormous smiles on their faces said far more than words: they were ecstatic to be heading to our haven, and school could wait. For Delia, who normally didn’t say much, a fist bump to her brother was a big deal, and she looked over at me and Sadie, sheepishly, as if we’d caught her taking a cookie from the cabinet without asking. Sadie smiled at the two of them.

“When do we leave?” Charlie asked and then spun around on his toes to grab Delia in a hug. “We need to bring the sand toys and our swimsuits and the raft and markers and the pool bag and sunscreen—”

Charlie’s enthusiasm spread throughout the room: Delia twirled around the kitchen, continuing to list the items we’d need to cram into the minivan.

“Whoa, hold up, kids. It’s fall, and the weather’s pretty cold. They might have had snow already. Not sure about the pool bag or the swimsuits.” My words might have deflated other kids. But ours? Not a chance.

Charlie slapped his forehead, a smile dimpling his face. “Oh right. But we should bring the toys to make sandcastles. We can build a snow family and a snow fort and what about the lake, will it be iced over yet?” Charlie’s squint indicated he’d already started construction of the fort—complete with intricate, elaborate details—inside his head.

“We’ll see,” Sadie said. “I’ve never been to the lake in any other season than summer, so this’ll be a new experience for us all. But I’ve heard good things, really good things about this time of the year up there. The trees, the leaves, the snow if there is any. It’s supposed to be gorgeous.”

A huge grin, much like the sort she’d sported when I first met her and she’d serve an ace, spread across her face. That face. If I concentrated on it, I’d fall down a rabbit hole again. Getting away from this place might be a good thing.

“A few more arrangements need to be made, but then we’re good to go.” Sadie flung her hands back and forth in front of her, trying to forge her way through two dancing children to the phone desk. She picked up her calendar, which reminded me that even with a vacation in mind, work still called, for both of us.

I turned my chair, the legs scraping against the tile, as I beat my fingers against the tabletop. “What about your work?”

“I’ve triple-checked with everyone there already, and we’re good. Jackie can handle in-house items, and I can do some tasks from the cottage. It should be fine.”

“What about Wi-Fi?”

“Really, it’s fine, Theo. The library has great hours, and if the owners have caved and gotten it at the cottage...”

Of course, Sadie had a ready answer. She always did.

She was right, though. We’d been staying at a private cottage for several years, and much of the reason we both enjoyed our time at Walloon Lake was because of our ability to unplug. No land lines and weeks without Facebook and Twitter. No email, even, if that’s what you wanted. That time away from technology used to be sacred, and any Walloon Lake vacation was deemed “blissful” by Sadie’s standards. On the other hand, having Wi-Fi access would make the trip much easier this time. However, my job—I’d need to take vacation days, those I might not even have.

“But what about me?” I continued the drumbeat on the tabletop and realized the act helped me, kept me in the present with my family; maybe it even tamped down the “mercurial swings in mood” Doc and I had discussed.

“You, Theo? Did you think I was going to leave you here?”

Sadie’s tone of voice teased me, yet at the back of my mind I had to question her motivation: did she have a notion that time away from me, from us, would be a good thing?

“Do I have a choice?”

“Actually, you do. If you want to stay here, so be it. If you want to come, the offer is open.”

“But what about the kids when you’re trying to work? Is Brooke coming?”

Comprehension seemed to wash over her, and she stretched out a hand to cover my fingers, stopping their movement. “Oh, no. She couldn’t this time, but thankfully, I found someone who would be more than happy to earn a couple extra bucks by helping out when I’m out of the house.”

Sadie—always prepared for come what may—would have a current itinerary of a typical day drawn up in no time, including all emergency numbers and applicable medications. Her ability to multitask, well, it was admirable at times. She “got shit done,” as Liam used to say.

“Well, it’s clear you’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

With a quick nod she said, “I hope so. Which means I should get our belongings together and find all the extra things we need and contact the teachers