All The Stars In Heaven (11 page)

“So that’s how it’s gonna be when we’re older,” Kirk said. “No affection. Guess I’d better enjoy it while I have it.” He gave Christa a playful swat on the backside. “Get moving, old woman.”

“Watch your hands, you lecherous old man.” Christa waved her cane at him.

Kirk took the camera from Jay. “Thanks.”

“Have a great time,” Jay said.

“Thanks so much,” Christa called over her shoulder as Kirk nudged her toward the porch with his walker.

Jay closed the door behind them, listening as the walker and cane clunked down the steps. Christa’s giggles and Kirk’s laughter carried through the window.

Must be nice,
Jay thought, picturing Jane for the first time in a while.
Is her life like this?
Does her husband tease her the way Kirk teases Christa? Does she have a cozy little house, toys strewn about in every room?
He picked up a board book about a train,
Thomas the Tank Engine
. A matching toy was sticking out from beneath one of the couch cushions.
Does Jane snuggle up with her daughter every night and read to her before snuggling up with her husband?

Surprised at the fresh hurt the thoughts dredged up, Jay found himself suddenly eager for the boys’ company. He shrugged out of his suit coat and laid it across the back of the sofa. Then he removed his tie and rolled up his sleeves just as Jeffrey and James came galloping into the room.

“Good ice cream?” Jay asked, noting the rings of chocolate around their mouths.

“Grrreat,” Jeffrey shouted. “Hey, where’d my horse go?”

Jay squatted down in front of them. “Your mom needed it, pardner. But no worries. I’ve got something better.”

James stuck his thumb in his mouth and hung back behind his brother.

“You got a
real
horse?” Jeffrey’s eyes lit up.

“As real as your imagination.” Jay dropped to all fours. “This horse moves all by himself.” He crawled away from the boys. “But he’s
wild,
and you’ll have to catch him if you want a ride.”

Chapter Seventeen

Jay collapsed on the sofa and leaned his head against the wall.
Ouch.
Lifting a hand, he rubbed his fingers over the back of his scalp.
If I go bald there first, I’ll know why.
The boys had found his hair a perfect “mane,” pulling it more than a few times during the hour they played horse and cowboys on the floor.

Glancing at the knees of his pants, Jay hoped he hadn’t ruined one of his two suits. He probably should have gone home to change, though it had been nice to be free of the Trish-and-Archer drama for a whole evening. Thinking of the party he was avoiding and remembering the boys’ laughter as they played brought a smile to his face. He was surprised at how much fun he’d had.

A little of his earlier melancholy crept back. Not for the first time he wondered what it would have been like to have a brother.
What would it be like to have boys of my own? Girls, too. A real family like Kirk and Christa’s. Like Jane’s.

Knowing this was a train of thought that would lead him nowhere, Jay opened his briefcase and prepared to tackle the stack of Medicare fraud cases he’d been handed today—more exciting work for the intern.

Jay read through the first two files and was contemplating taking Christa up on her offer to finish off the ice cream when his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his bag and glanced at the screen. It was Trish, and there was no way he was going to answer.
And she has no idea where I am,
he thought with satisfaction. Maybe, if he were very lucky, Archer and Trish would patch things up tonight.

A minute later his phone beeped, letting him know he had a text. Annoyed, Jay hit the key to retrieve it.

Where R U. Sarah came. Call me. T

“No way.” Jay read the message again, then went to his call log and found Trish’s number. If it was a trick, he’d be plenty irritated, but if it wasn’t . . . His heartbeat quickened as he waited for Trish to pick up.

“Where are you?” she demanded when his call went through. “Why aren’t you here?”

“I’m working late,” Jay said. “Last I heard, there was no RSVP required, and since I didn’t have a date—”

“You’ve got one now,” Trish said. “Sarah’s here, and her cousin didn’t come. She asked for you.”

“Are you serious?” After their last encounter, he could hardly believe it.

“I told her you’re chronically late, and she’d be better off dating someone like Archer.”

“Trish,” Jay warned.

“Do you need a ride? ’Cause I’ll come get you,” she said. “The Olds is working again.”

Jay shoved his papers aside and rose from the couch. “I can’t leave. I’m sort of—babysitting.”

Trish made a choking sound.
“Babysitting?”

“It’s the truth,” Jay said.

Trish sighed into the phone. “I know. You’re just that kind of guy—the kind that does things like clean out the fridge, help friends with their homework, and babysit.”

“That’s me. Mr. Domestic.” Jay rolled his eyes.

“Give me an address, and I’ll bring Sarah to you,” Trish said. “I’m sure you’re the only reason she came. I can tell she isn’t having any fun by herself.”

“Isn’t anyone talking to her?” Jay tried but couldn’t imagine Sarah chatting with the girls at the sorority house.

“She’s not exactly a social butterfly, and that
costume,
Jay. You could’ve chosen something a little more—well, next time you need to pick something out for a girl, let me help.”

Jay frowned.
What’s wrong with a medieval gown?
he wondered. The woman at the store had assured him they rented a lot of dresses like that. And he hadn’t been able to resist getting a knight’s costume for himself. Which of course left Sarah’s cousin to be the dragon.

“Address?” Trish asked again.

“It’s not far.” Jay crossed the room and stepped outside on the porch. He read the house numbers to Trish and gave her directions.

“See you in a few,” she said and disconnected the call.

“Yeah,” Jay mumbled. He leaned against the porch rail.
I can’t believe Sarah’s coming here.
Running his fingers through his hair—hair that no doubt looked wild from his time spent acting like a horse—he went back inside.

Some date I turned out to be.
He’d gone from a knight in shining armor to a little kid’s horse. Jay started gathering up the toys from the living room floor.

Nothing like going all-out to impress.

* * *

Worried about the late hour, Sarah clenched her hands within the confines of her choir robe. If she wasn’t back at the church in forty minutes . . . she pushed the thought from her mind and glanced at Trish—in the middle of a phone conversation while she drove. Instead of feeling nervous, Sarah was in awe, wondering how it would be to drive with such confidence and to have a cell phone and friends who called her. Though from the sound of it, this wasn’t a particularly nice call.

“I’ll be back when and if I’m good and ready,” Trish said, her voice rising. “It’s not my fault you chose to show up an hour late—and with some other girl hanging all over you. And I don’t want to hear excuses, Arch.”

Sarah flashed another concerned glance Trish’s way.
I guess other people have problems too.

“It’s none of your business where I am,” Trish said. “And no, I’m not alone. No. I’m not with Jay—
yet.
” Trish snapped the phone shut. “Oooh,” she fumed. “That man is driving me crazy, and not in a good way.”

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “I hope I haven’t caused a problem.”

“Of course not.” Trish waved a hand in the air. “Archer and I had problems long before tonight. I wish . . .” She smiled wistfully. “I wish we’d get over them and get back to how things were when we first started going out.”

“I hope . . . that happens,” Sarah said. She had no clue about dating or relationships, and she didn’t know anything about Trish’s boyfriend.
Is he like Jay? Is he kind and interesting and funny at all the right times? Does he listen when you talk and hold the door open and buy prints of paintings you like?
She hoped, for Trish’s sake, that Archer was that kind of guy. And she hoped, for her own sake, that tonight Jay wouldn’t be quite so nice. It would make what she had to say to him easier.

She’d come to the party to apologize for wrecking his motorcycle—and to explain why she couldn’t see him again. She couldn’t risk any more Carl incidents, couldn’t risk Jay getting hurt, or her losing her opportunities at Harvard, her future freedom.

“Here we are.” Trish stopped the car in front of a small, craftsman-style bungalow a few blocks from campus. “Looks like Jay is waiting for you.”

“Thanks again,” Sarah said. She unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door.

“I think I’ll go back to the party,” Trish said. “But if you need a ride home later, have Jay call me.”

“I’ve already arranged for a taxi. Thanks, anyway.” Sarah closed the door and walked around the front of the car. She lifted her choir robe and touched her satin slipper to the sidewalk. She kept her gaze down for the first three steps, then, against her will, felt her eyes pulled to the man standing on the porch.

Jay leaned against the post, watching her come up the walk. A cobweb-covered light illuminated his best features—slightly messy dark hair, fine cheekbones, a trim physique. He was dressed differently than she’d seen him before, in navy slacks and a white button-down shirt. But his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and the top button was undone. She got the feeling that if he’d worn a tie earlier, it had long since been abandoned. Still, Sarah felt she was glimpsing the business professional—the attorney in him—for the first time.

It seemed he’d gone from college student to all grown up. She could imagine this was his house, that he’d just come home from a long day at the office and was waiting for her to do the same. The carved jack-o’-lanterns on the steps belonged to their children.
What an imagination,
she chided herself, but continued to drink it all in, knowing that for months—probably even years—she’d call up this quaint image and hold on to it.

Jay came down the steps toward her. “Hello, Sarah.”

He seemed about to take her hand, then changed his mind, his arm brushing hers as he stepped aside to let her pass. She hesitated on the porch, and he held the door open for her.

Stop it already,
Sarah scolded her escalating heartbeat. She crossed the threshold into the living room. The brief fantasy she’d indulged in continued as she took in the cozy room—comfy-looking sofa; family pictures; antique, upright piano.
Some lucky woman lives here.

“Whose house is this?” she asked.

“Friends of mine—Kirk and Christa Anderson. They had a party to go to, and their babysitter canceled at the last minute, so I offered to watch their two boys.” Jay pointed to the pictures above the sofa. “Jeffrey and James, also known as Thing One and Thing Two.”

“
Cat in the Hat,
right? I remember that book,” Sarah said.

“Some
Things
stay with you more than others,” Jay said. “Pun intended.” His eyes met hers.

She looked away. “My dad got it for me—he thought since I liked cats I would enjoy the story.”

“Did you?” Jay asked.

She shook her head. “No. The
Things
drove me crazy. I liked the fish, though.”

Jay frowned. “I don’t remember the fish. Guess I’ll have to check the book out at the library for a review.”

“The fish obeyed the rules,” Sarah said. “It tried to keep the Cat and Thing One and Thing Two from destroying the house.”

“Ah,” Jay said. “You were a rule-abiding child who liked to keep the peace.”

She tilted her head to the side, considering. “I guess that describes me. Why do I suddenly feel as if I’m on the witness stand?” She folded her arms, waiting for an answer.

“You are,” Jay said in mock seriousness. “And as the prosecuting attorney, it’s my job to get inside your psyche and mess it up so you can’t answer straight.”

Sarah played along. “Exactly what am I accused of?”

“Failure to notify me you were accepting my invitation to the party tonight. And failure to wear the great costume I selected for you.”

“What about failure to bring my cousin? Is that a charge, too?”

Jay grinned. “No. Case dismissed based on the plea agreement.
No cousin
far outweighs
no notice
and
no costume.
”

“I couldn’t get to the shop,” Sarah said. “And I didn’t intend to stay long at the party.” She attempted to steer their conversation to the reason for her visit. “About the other day, I need to explain—”

“Why don’t you sit down?” Jay nodded toward the couch. “Can I get you some water or something?”

“Um—sure.”

“Be right back,” he called as he left the room.

She walked over to the sofa, intending to use the break to gather her thoughts that seemed to have scattered in Jay’s presence.
So far, so good. He thinks I’m a boring fish. Shouldn’t be too hard to convince him we can’t even be friends.
She sat down, turning to look at the pictures on the wall behind her. There were several photos of a couple on their wedding day, and even more pictures of the little boys Jay had pointed out. An aching emptiness swept through her. This home felt so different from hers. And she knew—after less than five minutes inside—what that difference was.

She focused on the woman in the photos.
This mother will never abandon her children. She wouldn’t dream of killing herself the way my mother did.
Sarah’s eyes shifted to the man in the picture. He looked vaguely familiar, and she wondered if he had anything to do with the university. His smile seemed to reach his eyes, and Sarah couldn’t imagine him being unkind to his darling boys.

At that moment, the smallest of the two toddled into the room, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He took one look at Sarah, walked over, and climbed on her lap.

“H—hello,” she said. Uncertain what to do, she looked down at the head nestled against her chest. She’d never held a child before.

“I see we have company.” Jay returned with their water. “I’m afraid your choices are a Ninja Turtle mug or a sippy cup. Apparently glass is at a premium around here.” He set the cups on a side table and held his hands out. “James.”

“He just came to me,” Sarah said.

“Can’t say that I blame him,” Jay said. “I’d snuggle with you too, given the opportunity.”

Sarah tried to ignore Jay’s comment but felt a blush heating her face. She didn’t dare entertain the images his suggestion called to mind. Keeping her head down, she adjusted James’s leg, clad in fuzzy, blue footsie pajamas, so that it wasn’t pulling up her choir robe. “He’s cute.”

“Mmm-hmm. And he’s also supposed to be in bed. Sir James?” Jay squatted down in front of him.

“You forgot”—James yawned—“my story.”

“You mean the one about the talking train that I read
three
times?”

James stuck his thumb in his mouth.

Jay stood and reached for him. “Come on. Your parents won’t let me come over and play anymore if they come home and find you up.” He took James from Sarah. “Be right back.”

James pulled his thumb from his mouth long enough to say, “I didn’t get my drink.”

“Yes, you did,” Jay said.

“You didn’t sing the good-night song.”

“I don’t know the good-night song.” Jay walked toward the hall.

“But I can’t sleep without the good-night song.” James began kicking his legs. “I can’t sleep!”

Sarah watched helplessly as some distant, long-buried memory tugged at her heart. Once
she
had been the little girl pleading that she couldn’t sleep without that something special. “Wait.” She rose from the couch. “I’ll sing to him.”

Jay stopped mid-stride. He turned around slowly. “You will?”

She nodded, feeling awkward and foolish for volunteering. But the hopeful look in the little boy’s eyes gave her courage. She walked over to him. Brushing the bangs from his forehead, she said, “I don’t know your good-night song, but I’ll sing you a lullaby.”