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

“All right, I’m going. But if you need something, give me a shout.”

Leaving no time for me to answer, Andrew spun on his heel, pushed open the screen porch door, and left the way he’d come in. He hadn’t disturbed the happy family image that inhabited the cottage. But he had to guess our contentment and well-being had already been disturbed and life as we knew it was on the brink of breaking. Didn’t he?

Through the porch window I tracked his movements as he ambled down the driveway and up the modest hill at the end of the street. The sound of his whistling met my ears and drew me toward him like the Pied Piper had done with the rats. But I was better than a rat. At least that’s what I told myself.

“What ya looking at?” Theo, who’d taken off his outdoor shoes and replaced them with fleeced-lined moccasins, had come up behind me. Theo’s ability to be stealthy increased when he wore those slippers.

I turned around to face him and stopped. Had he seen me watching Andrew?

“You okay? You look like you need a hug,” he said and extended his arms.

It had been a long time since we exchanged such gestures, but I hesitantly stretched my arms around his mostly fit middle. The action felt off somehow, like my arms weren’t sure why or where they should go and were awaiting instructions. But within seconds, they’d found their groove, and I rested my head on his shoulder, trying to figure out how to answer his question.

“Just looking at the gorgeousness of this place and thinking how much I love it here.” My roundabout answer spoke the truth, but I hadn’t been honest either.

“It is gorgeous, isn’t it? I’m glad you introduced me. You missed lunch.” He pulled his head back to look me in the eyes. “How’s your head? Do you want to come out on the porch? The kids would love—”

The crunch of tires on the driveway pulled my attention toward the back porch, and I maneuvered out of Theo’s arms and peeked out the door.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. This can’t get any worse. What in the world is my mother doing here?” A tension hit my jaw, and I bit the inside of my cheek. Another conflict or another person to take care of was the last thing I needed.

“No clue. I didn’t tell her we were here. And I’m guessing you didn’t.”

He was right. Vacation away from everyone included my mother in that everyone. “No, no I did not. Does any of my life look like a bad Lifetime movie to you?” My question bounced off Theo, who leaned against the counter with a confused look on his face. I swung my glance back in the opposite direction to check if Mom had finished parking.

“What’s so bad about it?” Theo asked from behind me. “I mean, from where I’m standing, you have quite the life.”

His words struck a nerve, to the point they hurt, because Theo was right. Down deep, I understood. But I still floundered with so much. “If you only knew.” My voice ran thick with petulance, but the back of my head was not the only part of me that had taken a beating. My psyche was bruised and while helping it heal should take priority, I needed to find time to do that. With Mom around, I wasn’t sure I would.

“Then tell me,” Theo said as I twisted to look at him. His features—so uncharacteristically patient and composed—challenged me to be truthful, to open up and enlighten him. He was still a part of my life, a player in our unfortunate situation whether he wanted to be or not. He challenged me with his gaze. To tell him what was so wrong with my life. To tell him about Andrew, about what I wanted. My words might produce irreparable wounds, but it was time.

“Let me get my mom settled, and we’ll talk. I promise.” I reached out and touched his arm, hoping my gesture told him I would follow through with my promise. Then, I moved toward the door. My mother struggled with her seat belt; a long afternoon, it would be.

Chapter 25: Theo

Sadie’s mom had always been more than I wanted to handle, so speaking with Sadie likely wouldn’t occur until well after dinner. Maybe the kids would want to play a game or something in the meantime. The unseasonable weather continued today, and despite the early hour for a sunset, we’d have plenty of time for something fun. After slipping my shoes back on, I headed to the front porch. All three still lingered there: Delia on the swing with Lena, Lexie in the chair to the side of the swing. Charlie leaned against the porch railing, eyes closed, as if he was thinking hard.

The screen door creaked as I opened it, but only Lena looked up and smiled at me.

Delia thrust her finger toward her brother. “Dad! What’s he doing? What is Charlie doing?”

Charlie had always been kind and loving to his little sisters, but the look that passed across his face—full of scrunched-up nose and clenched teeth—said this wasn’t one of those times. But he had far more patience than I did.

“Can’t I have time to think?” His eyes remained closed.

“Sure,” Delia said. “But what are you thinking about?”

“Something.”

“Charlie, come on! You have to tell me! Lena!” Delia turned to Lena for help. “Charlie’s not telling me something, and I want to know what it is.

“What is it you want, sweetie?” Lena leaned down to take a decayed leaf from Lexie’s hands. Lena had learned trash and other things always found their way into Lexie’s mouth.

“I want to know what he’s thinking.” Delia’s lack of true explanation—dead-on for a kid—caused Lena to smile. I snickered but cut it short as soon as she threw me a “better stop now” sort of look.

“Oh,