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

“What a pickle you’re in, huh?” Pickles said as she giggled.

“Really? Now?” But I laughed, and it felt so good to ease some of the anxiety, to let myself go and pretend that, while I was here, ensconced in the Crooked Tree Library, everything outside the library either didn’t concern me or could be easily ironed out.

Sometimes, the universe works in mysterious ways, and I sensed Pickles wasn’t there to judge what I had to say. Even if she didn’t understand or approve of my situation, she’d listen. For some reason, I trusted her, and while a week ago I might have called Jackie, now, in between sips of tea and bites of shortbread cookies, I shared most of what was going on in my life, including exactly how her son was involved.

“Oh no.” Pickles shook her head, a slight scowl marring her face when I revealed Grocery Store Man and Andrew MacKinnon were one and the same, that we’d seen each other off and on since our first meeting, and he and I, well, had more than just a passing interest in each other. Her tone of voice and the softness in her eyes told me the truth: my words had touched her. But had I been right to confide in her? What would she say? How would she react?

“Oh yes,” I continued. “The whole situation started out as the beginning of a tawdry romance novel and now, well, it’s gotten out of control. I’m stuck in the plot of a heartbreaking book-club book, and the ending is still murky. It sucks, pardon my French.”

“No offense taken.” Pickles stacked a few of the shortbread cookies into a sugar-infused tower that began to lean. How long would it be before it tumbled? What if I asked myself the same question?

“And one more thing. Theo left last night.”

Pickles cocked a thin eyebrow, much the way Jackie would have, as she extended her hand to my right forearm and patted it several times. “Oh Sadie, really?”

“Yes, really.” I leaned back in my chair, removing my arm from under Pickles’ fingers with care. Before I went on with my thoughts, I needed space, even from such a gem of a woman. “That’s what I get for being honest with him. I mean, I knew what the consequences might be if I unloaded the truth on him. I knew he might choose to leave, which oddly enough is what I’ve been trying to get him to do, right? I owed him the whole story, a no-holds-barred discussion, but I should have spoken to him sooner.”

“But did anything actually happen with Andrew?” Pickles pointed her index finger and shook it at me. “I raised him better than to prey on a woman!” The expression on her face cut the tension within the limited space of the break room, and a glimpse of the mother I wished I’d had peeked through. The type I might have had, if Mom had been more confident, more present.

“Oh, no, no. Nothing physical happened. In fact, once I told him I had feelings for him, at least what I thought were feelings...no they are...I need to keep being honest...they are.” I took a breath. “Anyway, no, Andrew didn’t do anything. At all. He’s been honorable for the most part, trying to fight his feelings. You did a great job.”

This time, I patted the old lady’s hand and marveled at her smooth skin. Despite the liver spots and veins lining the surface, the skin was as soft as a baby’s bottom. It reminded me of the hands of my grandmother, who used to visit for weeks at a time, keeping me company and providing comfort when I found none from Mom or Dad. A few tears welled up in my eyes.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to bring up anything that would hurt you.” Pickles placed her free hand on top of mine, young alternating with old, sandwiching our hands and simulating the weave of a basket. Even an amateur basket maker would tell you overlapping the materials added strength to the actual basket itself. Hoping to gain fortitude from my new friend, I clung to her hands and squeezed them.

Despite my tears, I managed a small smile. “You didn’t do anything to hurt me. You’re making me feel better by being here. And there’s nothing you can say to make any of it any better.” Unlike my mother, who in my shoes would be blaming Theo or Andrew or the people who built Bloom Market, the only person I should castigate was myself; I had to stay accountable. “I’m not confident about what to do. The kids will have a few weeks of school and then Christmas break. All that time, if Theo’s not back, they’ll be looking at me, condemning me, I’m sure of it. And we can’t stay here. As much as I’d love to stay, working remotely will only pass muster for so long. Plus, Charlie has his presentation day at school soon. I promised we’d go. I can’t break that promise. I’ve already done enough harm to my family.” I pulled my hands out of the configuration they’d been in and twisted them in my lap.

Pickles’ gray curls bobbed back and forth as she shook her head. “Don’t take this one on by yourself, Sadie. I don’t know you well, but it always takes two to tango. That cliché rings true almost every time. Your situation...it’s up in the air right now, but you know what you want, what you’ve wanted since you both agreed to divorce in the first place. This is a minor setback, but figure out what you want, even if this new information from Theo changes things, and then move forward. Remember, he’s as much a part of this dilemma as you are.”

Stray crumbs from my cookies had landed in my lap, and I brushed them away. “I know. I’ve known this. I thought coming