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

“But this wasn’t your fault. Okay? I have things I need to speak to your mom about. That’s all.” My arm wound around his shoulder, pulling him close. It was one thing to be angry with Sadie but another to be angry with him. And I wasn’t. But I’d made him feel like I was.

“But what about Mr. MacKinnon? Do you know him? You never answered me before.” Charlie’s eyes sparkled in the late afternoon sun.

“I do.”

“Oh.”

“And I thought he was a friend. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Charlie tilted his head and squinted at me. “So why was he talking to Mom?”

“I’m not sure. Do you have an idea?”

A flush moved up Charlie’s neck into his face, and he pulled away. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. Maybe I didn’t want to hear the details. “Charlie?”

“You’re going to get mad.”

Doc’s voice echoed in my head. “Your family is here to help you. Use them when you can, Theo.”

Before I second-guessed myself, I took Charlie’s hand in mine and held it up to my chest, just over my heart. “I won’t get mad if you help me, Charlie.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here. Keep hold of my hand even if my breathing changes. I’m going to focus on something cool while you tell me whatever it is you want to say, okay?” Would this work? Who knew? But it couldn’t hurt.

“Okay.” He wriggled his fingers against my chest. “What are you focusing on?”

With my eyes closed, I conjured a calming image. Last summer. A hike on the old trail that wound around the lake. “Remember our epic hikes? To the beach and back? Wading in the Bear River? And that one day, when we got really far, you remember what you did?” I smiled at the memory. “You ripped your clothes off and jumped into the raging river and—”

“She kissed him, Dad. Mom kissed Mr. MacKinnon.”

Breathe in, breathe out. One, two, three.

Chapter 26: Sadie

“Mom what are you doing here?” I exited the porch, and the screen door slammed shut behind me, causing her to wince at the noise she’d always despised. Sadly, a rush of pleasure coursed through me for one moment, followed by a surge of guilt.

Mom had opened her car door but still yanked at the seat belt, which had somehow wound its way through her purse strap and back again. “Well, Sadie,” she said, without looking at me, “I thought you might want the company.”

“But who told you we were here?” I had no intention of letting the issue go.

“The receptionist at your office, of course. Who else would know? Who else would tell me?”

Suppressing an urge to get angry and slam the door shut, I gripped the edge of it. Was she serious? I thought I’d been clear when I informed the folks at work I’d be taking a family vacation. For my family. But the woman had driven close to seven hours to get here, no matter having endured twenty-seven hours of labor for my sake (or so she claimed), so I couldn’t just send her home.

“Well, you can have one of the empty rooms upstairs or the one in the basement. Your choice.” An overstuffed suitcase begged to be set free from the rear of the car, and I placed it on the pocked driveway.

“Which room is available upstairs?”

“The yellow one toward the front of the house. It’s the one with the twin beds and the trundle, and it’s got a fan. Don’t be surprised if Charlie wants to bunk in with you, though.” The next suitcase I grasped was lighter, but why had Mom packed two entire suitcases? How long did she plan on staying with us? We had less than two weeks to go here.

“That’s fine. I don’t mind Charlie.” She pulled her purse to her chest and slammed the rear door of the car, turning her head to take in the surroundings. It had been a few years since we’d invited Mom up to stay with us. Her presence usually meant aggravation for me, which in turn meant aggravation for everyone else. What did she see when she looked at the cottage, the lake, the trees? Was it an idyllic space like we’d come to love, or was it something more feral and threatening? Based on our interactions here in the past, I’d have chosen the latter as her answer. The more I thought about my mother, the more my head throbbed at the spot where I’d hit it. Mom had to get settled, soon.

.    .    .    .    .

The next few hours passed smoothly as I dusted off most of Mom’s micromanaging and assigned her the task of playing with Lexie and Delia. Charlie was with Theo, and Lena took a trip to the general store for a few perishables. At dinner, after I had placed the baked chicken, potatoes, and fresh veggies into the center of the counter for plating up, my mother turned to grab a bowl and then filled it with leftover soup from the fridge.

“You don’t mind, do you?” My shock escalated as she placed the bowl in the microwave and pressed the start button. Was my cooking not good enough? As an uninvited guest, shouldn’t she be grateful I hadn’t sent her packing when she arrived? Before I answered, she jumped in again. “And where’s Theo?”

He’d opted out of sitting with us for dinner, offering no explanation, and Lena, who had chosen to stay, regarded me with sympathy in her eyes. We hadn’t had time to speak much, but I was grateful for her presence and her apparent understanding and placed her into the category of temporary ally. Her calming presence made me sorry about my rush to judge her the first night, although I had no plans on telling her. I flickered a quick smile in Lena’s direction and stabbed my fork into my chicken; the poultry was clearly done, and so was I.

After the dinner dishes had been put