Rewrite the Stars Page 8

  “Claire, you doing all right?” came Colin’s voice in her headset.

  She gave him a thumbs-up when he turned around. “It’s magnificent, Colin.”

  The pilot gave a few instructions on what buttons to push for the landing gear and how to pivot the controls. Colin was able, with the instructor’s assistance, to land the small aircraft when their tour was finished.

  After Claire’s feet hit the ground, she let out a yell. “You did it, baby! You landed the plane.”

  Colin shyly dropped his head, fighting off the glory she was giving him. “The pilot landed, but I helped.” He ended the declaration with a gusto of excitement. “Can you believe it, Claire? I landed the airplane. This calls for a celebration.”

  He picked her up and whirled her around. She had never seen him so happy and content before.

  “Let’s go to Mission Point.”

  “That’s an hour away, Colin. Your sister said she wanted to use the car.”

  “I’ll text her and let her know we’re shopping or something. She can take Mom’s car. Now let’s go.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Claire touched the dresses as if they were of museum quality. Red ones, blue ones, one that was sea-foam green with skinny straps and a cinched waist. They were all so pretty; she was mesmerized by them all. She’d never been in a shop like this back home. A gorgeous chandelier danced above her head with a hundred different little lights. The smell of expensive perfume lingered in the filtered air. She was afraid they’d charge just for breathing.

  Not that any of these places were in her neighborhood, but Fifth Avenue was door-to-door packed with designer dress shops. With dresses that she could only imagine herself wearing. When Claire looked past the window displays to the inside, she’d catch a glimpse of the savvy shoppers and shop girls looking back at her. This never ended up in her pulling the handle of the front door and going inside.

  The saleslady took one look at Claire’s worn sandals and off-the-rack dress and went back to helping other customers. At Mission Point, there weren’t any other stores to shop than the uppity kind. One-of-a-kind bathing suits with wraps that cost half of her monthly rent. Still, she liked to look around and dream what it’d be like to be able to afford something like the dresses that hung on the hangers.

  She looked up from one of the displays toward the door when she heard the small chime inside go off. It was Colin returning for her. He’d told her he was going for a quick stroll and to check his emails.

  He dangled a key in Claire’s face. It was on a flat plastic keychain. The number eight was stamped on it. “Look what I got.”

  “What is it?” She held a coral-colored dress, folded in her arm. It was something she couldn’t put down until she was ready to leave the shop, having admired it since she laid her eyes on it.

  “It’s a key to our very own little piece of paradise.” His face hurt from smiling so much.

  “What type of paradise?” Her forehead wrinkled when she asked the question.

  “The beach cottages down the way a little bit. I rented us one of them.”

  She pulled him by the arm behind a rack of clothing and lowered her voice. “You did what? Are you kidding me? Your parents will freak out if we don’t go back home today. The festival is tonight, Colin.”

  He took the dress she was carrying, snatched it from her arm and walked it to the sales register. He spoke loud enough for her to be able to hear him. “We’ll be back in time for it. And you’ll be wearing this dress.”

  He handed it to one of the snobby sales staff and paid cash for it. Claire watched and smiled at him as he took the bag from the store clerk and handed it to her. Her heart ached with happiness.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  They laid in bed in the tiny rustic cottage off the sandy beach at Mission Point. The little dwellings had been some of the first lodgings on the island. Now they were things of novelty. Fairy-tale escapes from the modern world. Usually only rented by the older crowd, the ones who knew what a vacation truly was, because none were equipped with either phones or television sets. The owner of them, now in his eighties, had managed to save them from the wealthy tycoons who had erected the five-story hotel half a mile down the beach. It was only a matter of time before the modest huts would meet their fate and become extinct like some of the other things at Mission Point.

  White paint covered the small room, floor to ceiling. The walls were constructed of wide planked wood and the only thing that stood out against their blinding starkness was the teal-colored dresser with its clear knobs. The swollen wood rubbed together when the drawers were opened. A basket-type light globe hung above their bed. You could see through the weave to the ceiling past the dim light. Pictures of the sea and lighthouses, framed to match the color of the dresser, hung on the wall. And shades made of sea grass clung to the window frames. It was the perfect size for two castaways.

  Colin stroked Claire’s arm, playing with her fingertips. He’d give anything to never go back; to live in this tiny one-room sanctuary for eternity. He figured Claire could get a job on the mainland and ferry across every day, and he could fly passengers over with his very own Beechcraft model airplane. Life would be complete. Simple and uncomplicated.

  “What are you thinking?” She rose up from the crux of his arm and gazed into his eyes. He could see all eight of her tiny freckles, lined up on the bridge of her nose.

  She was beautiful. Even more so when she was lying naked next to him. The warmth of her body, the kisses she smothered him with when she straddled him. He could spend a lifetime looking at her milky-white body, now draped across the bed sheets.

  “You don’t know how happy I am right now.”

  She smiled and rolled over. He saw her cover her eyes with her hand, and refrained from kissing her long, slender neck.

  “No, Claire. You really don’t. Look at me.” He moved her face toward him, looking into those endless brown eyes of hers. “I’ll never be the same.”

  She laughed. “I think you just had a really good plane ride.” She cleared her throat. “And possibly a satisfying time with me. It’s like loving whatever you’re eating, after you haven’t eaten all day. I get it. And it makes me happy you’re happy.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t belittle my feelings for you.” He moved his hand from holding her arm and fell backward. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

  “I’m sorry, Colin. It’s just that I’m not used to someone telling me how I’ve possibly changed them. For the better. If I can be truthful, I’ve never had a guy tell me he loved me. It’s new to me and it’s difficult to express the way I feel about you. I feel like any minute I’m going to open my eyes and realize I’m back in Queens and I’ve been delirious because the air conditioner is broken and I don’t know reality.”

  He situated himself on his side, looking at her intensely. “Well, you’re not in Queens. You’re in this cottage with me. And I love you. Get used to hearing it.” He tried to read her thoughts. He wasn’t sure what her blank look was saying to him. “Unless you don’t feel the same. Maybe I’m scaring you off with telling you how I feel. It’s only because I’ve never in my life been able to say what I truly feel…what I want.” He touched her chin. “Are you feeling differently, Claire? I’m a big boy. Please tell me if you’re having doubts about us.”

  She fell back on the pillow. “If you only knew how much I loved you, it might scare you. Because I know it scares me.”

  “Tell me then. Tell me how much you love me.” He rose back up and took her hand she had rested on her chest, and began rubbing it back and forth tenderly.

  “I’ve never loved anyone else, other than my mother. I’ve had what I considered a more-than-a-friend guy once, whom I thought I loved. And then, of course, after he got what he wanted, it was soon over. I regret that more than anything, but I had no idea that something like how I feel with you even existed.” She took back her hand and sat up in bed. “I wanted to love som
eone in my life, you know, and have them love me, but I didn’t think it would seriously happen. I thought I’d get sucked into my career, maybe date a co-worker and out of sheer obligation to cohabitate and procreate, I’d one day marry him. He’d probably have something I’d have to bear, like gingivitis, and I’d constantly feed him gum to get through it. Perhaps our children would fulfill me more than him, and that would be my life. It beat out the fantasy of going home alone every night to an empty apartment and looking forward to Thursday Bingo nights at the citizen’s center.”

  “Wow. High aspirations, huh?” He grinned.

  “Well, yeah. I didn’t exactly have a model of the all-American family. You could say I’ve lived single my whole life. Mom didn’t really date. She did once. I remember her introducing me to some guy. Then he never came around. And after that, it was just me and her. Our Thursday night wasn’t Bingo, but the all-you-could-eat buffet at Neko’s Family restaurant. You had to get there at eight o’clock—that’s when it became free. Neko liked to advertise free but made it unbearable for people to wait so late to eat.”

  “I guess my model of family was different. Mom and Dad tolerate each other. I saw family life, but I can’t say they were role models for happiness.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Yeah. Mom deserves to be happy.”

  “So do you.” She laid back down and stared blankly at the crystal knobs on the dresser.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s just that Mallory is happy with Jason, but I think she feels she can’t be because her dad is against any thought of them being a couple. And your mom isn’t completely happy. And now you. And me. I love you, Colin.” She pierced him with her eyes, and rubbed his cheek. “I can’t see how you could ever tell him about us. You can’t even tell him you don’t want to run the company.”

  “I will. I just need to find the right time.”

  She sat up and pulled the sheet to cover her bare chest. “I’m worried.”

  He moved closer to her and stroked her chin. “Don’t worry.”

  “No, I’m worried because I let my guard down. You have the power to break my heart now, Colin. I know I’m not what your dad envisions for you. He can barely tolerate me during one week of the summer.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Colin, it is. I overheard him one year yell at your mother for always inviting me and Mom.”

  “He’s an ass. Don’t concern yourself with him.”

  “How can I not? He’s the head of your family. I’m afraid how far you and I go won’t be determined by us—it’ll be your family that kills it. And I’m not sure I can take another death. I’m still paralyzed by having my mother taken away.”

  Colin slowly moved in for a sensual kiss. When his eyes opened, he said, “Claire, I love you. No one can change that. I’m not going to be taken away.”

  “I hope not.”

  “I’ll tell him tonight. About us and about my career path. I won’t have you worried about this anymore. I don’t want to see those little worried lines on your forehead. Although they are cute.” He smiled and kissed her head.

  They held each other, soaking up the moment of what true love felt like—without limitations.

  Chapter Eight

  Frieda’s Secret

  Claire felt tingly all over, as she and Colin walked hand-in-hand at the festival. They’d gotten back in time to shower and get ready for the event. Colin wore a white polo shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, with no socks and slip-on boat shoes. Claire never before dated a guy who looked as handsome and well-dressed as he did. The closest was Chuck Winston, but other than his blazers with the elbow patches, his hair was always messy and he never tucked in his tee shirts. They usually fell below the dress shirts he wore over them.

  The festival was an annual event. It always took place on the second Saturday of June, come rain or shine. Many of the locals rented space in the white tents that lined Main Street. They either sold their baked goods or something they’d made with their own hands: ships in bottles, baskets, or carved beach wood sculptures.

  Claire stopped to look at some hand-blown glass. The lady who’d crafted them stood proudly behind the clothed table, smiling at her and Colin. The iridescent colors were majestic. She thought briefly about picking up one for her mother, and then became aware no one was waiting for her to return in their apartment in Queens. The feeling was a slow surge of suffocation that gripped her by the throat and made her stomach uneasy.

  Feeling Colin’s fingers clasped around hers lifted her spirits a bit. They walked out from the tent and continued down the street to the other vendors. As people passed them, carrying their bags of homemade fudge and garden flags, she wondered what they saw when they looked at her and Colin. Did they look as in love as Mallory and Jason? Did they catch the fact Colin was holding her hand? Probably not. By all obvious signs, they were like anyone else at the festival. Only Claire felt much more like the queen of it, having found her first love.

  It wasn’t until they walked into Colin’s parents that Claire realized she had been awakened from her dream. Colin suddenly released her hand as his mother approached them, holding one of the baskets Claire had just seen for sale. His dad stood beside her, wearing his usual annoyed look. Although this time he seemed to have more of a pinched lip look to him than usual. Perhaps Frieda had used too much starch in his underwear. His beady eyes darted from Colin to Claire. Melanie ran her normal interference of father and son.

  “Look what I picked up over there, Claire.” She held up the basket for her to see better.

  Claire was still reeling from the dropped hand at her side—it dangled like a withered bloom. She smiled at Melanie and gnashed her teeth, trying her best to seem normal—as though nothing monumental in her world just happened. “I like it. I saw a lady weaving one just like it over on the side street. It’s pretty.” She touched the weaving, still smoldering from the neglect of Colin.

  “So where did you two run off to and spend the entire day?” His father looked at Colin with flames in the midst of his pupils.

  “Oh, you know kids, dear. They probably spent the day downtown at the public beach.” Melanie twisted her necklace with fret. “You kids just love those waves. We just don’t get that at the cove.” She looked at her husband. “Frieda said you used to love the public beach, James. Do you remember?”

  “Melanie, let the boy answer for himself and stop your rambling. I never went to that beach. Who wants to see a bunch of tourists taking pictures?”

  “I beg to differ, but—”

  “You’re always trying to cover for him. Let him answer the question. Where were you, Colin?” His father stepped into Colin’s space.

  Claire waited with bated breath. Now was his chance to declare their feelings for each other. He didn’t need his father’s permission to love the girl he’d chosen to love. Or to fly planes over running the business. Now was his chance—his golden opportunity.

  Colin rubbed the back of his neck, perhaps searching for the top of his backbone—which was now vanishing before her eyes. “Mom’s right, Dad. We spent the day at the public beach. I asked Mallory and Jason to go, but you know how they’re acting. Then I dropped Claire at the shops and waited until she found something to wear tonight.”

  “And what a lovely dress it is, Claire,” Melanie exclaimed.

  The ticking bomb sound in Mr. Prescott’s head could be detected by passersby. But nothing compared to the gust of wind Claire’s was experiencing with each long sigh from him.

  “Thank you.” Her voice was barely audible. She was crushed by Colin’s omission of their relationship. “Please excuse me. I think I’ll go back and get one of those baskets for myself.”

  Claire walked away from the trio. Water blurred her eyes, exasperation clutching her throat. If Colin followed her, she was going to tell him to leave her alone until he knew how to tell the truth to his dad. Instead, she ran into
Mallory and Jason two tents down from the couple. “Hey, girl. Love the dress.”

  Mallory had hold of Jason’s hand, draped around her shoulder. She saw Claire’s expression. “Oh my goodness, Claire. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Claire wiped a stupid tear from her cheek. “I think I’m having an allergic reaction to the shellfish, that’s all.”

  “Good Lord. You scared me. By the way, Dad’s looking for Colin. He’s irritated at him being gone all day. Do you know where he is? I thought he’d be with you.” She looked around after asking the question.

  Claire pointed in the direction she’d just left. “He’s with your dad now. If you don’t mind, I’m trying to get some of that taffy on the corner before they sell out.”

  “Sure. Are you staying for the dance?”

  “I’m not certain. I’m really tired.” Claire said it walking backward, trying to get away from all the members of the Prescott family, Mallory included. She couldn’t take how she could date Jason and not care what Daddy thought.

  Claire made it to the end of the street and looked back. The closed road was filled with people. She wondered whether Colin was trying to follow her. She tried to see past a man walking on stilts with a top hat. His red, white, and blue jacket sparkled with sequins as he waved an American flag to the people walking by. Sweet cotton candy from a street vendor permeated the air and among the happiest of sites, she felt the most desolated.

  She crossed the street and noticed Frieda buying a candy apple from a rolling buggy with painted butterflies on the side. It was larger than any apple she’d seen for sale back home. Leave it to Kelly’s Cove to even have a market on the best apples. It was perfectly round and packaged in crisp cellophane paper. Frieda handed her money to the girl with blonde hair, wearing an apron that read, “Candied Apple a Day.”