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

water to my face, I hunted in the freezer for a bag of frozen veggies and placed them on my throbbing hand. Then, I took the keys to my mother-in-law’s car. She had never been my most ardent admirer, but Marjorie wouldn’t mind me taking the car either. I needed to get out of there. Pronto. A quick note explaining my actions would need to be enough.

A jumble of thoughts twisted in my head as I peeled out of the neighborhood and drove away. From my life. My family. From anything and everything. The scenery flew by, and I’d never been more thankful for the rural life: two-lane roads with a fifty-five mile per hour limit. With little water on the streets, I pushed the limit, pressing my foot to the pedal with force. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty. Eight-five. The old car shuddered as the speed increased, and my fury unleashed. Sadie. Andrew. The tension in the almost-moment Sadie described; I embodied it. What the hell? It was all too much. Too much. Reflexes took over, and the car lurched as it tried to keep up with the demands of the hill.

A glance in the rearview mirror showed the lake behind me. I’d left them all there, removed myself from their lives. Removed myself from my life. That was the answer: removal. The tires squealed as I wrenched the steering wheel, barely making the quick jog onto the road running along the river that lay to my right. The river, with its slow-moving, clear water sparkling in the sun. Placid, peaceful. The perfect place to rest...

Chapter 30: Sadie

 

Based on Theo’s departure from the cottage and my breakdown with Andrew at the bakery, I decided to leave Walloon Lake early. Truncating the fun and disappointing the kids was never my intention. My mom pulled those stunts; I did not. But to gain perspective and figure out where to go and what to do, immersing myself back in reality—which included going into the office and taking the children to school—had to happen. I held a certain confidence in myself, although some would call it a delusion. Releasing the full truth had lifted the burden. Now, I’d put my best foot forward and turn things around. A future with Andrew might be possible, if that’s what I truly wanted. But I needed to do Theo a favor and pull the plug on our relationship for good. I hadn’t heard from Theo for a good thirty-six hours, so I imagined he planned to stay up in the area for a bit longer.

With a heavy heart, I told the kids Theo was going to remain at Walloon Lake for a few more days. As expected, the news about Theo affected Charlie the most. After I had spoken to the children, he placed his hand on my arm and stared at me.

“Mom, can I stay here with Dad? Please?” Charlie said. The planes of his face contorted with sadness, and the tone of his voice, full of hope and longing, hurt my ears. An arrow pierced my heart as I denied his request.

“Charlie, you can’t. You have school to get back to, and we have Christmas shopping to do. This was a surprise vacation anyway. And we had a good time, didn’t we?” A curl sprang away from his forehead, and I smoothed it back while holding my eyes steady with his.

“Yes.” Charlie’s quiet voice spoke volumes.

“But I’ve already put the deposit down for next year. Okay?” A hug and a smile might be able to wipe away his sadness, at least for a little while. He looked up at me through the mop of hair flopped over his forehead.

“Okay,” Charlie said, leaning in for a quick squeeze.

I told him to get packing and then headed to the laundry room to finish up the wash. The piles would take at least two hours, so we’d aim to leave after lunch. I sorted the clothes into lights, darks, and towels and set a few pieces aside to be hand-washed later at home. Something about the monotonous act of laundry soothed my flustered self. I was happy to be doing it and was glad I’d asked my mom to take care of the kids.

When I stooped to pick up the rest of the bath towels, a pair of Charlie’s pants—tucked behind the door—caught my eye. Checking the pockets, I laughed when my fingers encountered a Petoskey stone and a bottle cap on the right side, along with a wrinkled piece of tin foil. And in the left pocket a piece of paper, folded into eighths. Charlie the collector, we’d always called him. If we didn’t watch it, he had the potential to become a hoarder. The items found a transient home on the bathroom counter because if I threw them away without asking Charlie about them, we’d have a real problem later.

A load of wash took twenty-five minutes, so with the kids occupied and a few minutes on my hand, I jogged over to the library to say a quick goodbye to Pickles.

“She’s not here today,” the substitute librarian told me. “Something about her knees. Would you like to leave her a message?”

Pickles didn’t have a cell phone, and while I could knock on her door on the way back to the cottage, I left a message just in case.

And that was a good thing: when I got to her house, the blinds were drawn, and no one answered the door. Was she okay? Despite my reservations, I texted Andrew.

All okay with you and your mom? She’s not at work, and I wanted to say goodbye. I’m leaving today.

Andrews’s reply—short and curt—cut to the quick.

I’m under the weather, as is Mom. I’ll give her your goodbyes and make sure she has a cell phone. Safe travels.

It lacked the warmth of his past texts and interactions. Was something wrong? I didn’t have time to dwell on that thought.

Back at the house, as I stood transferring clothes from the