Star Promise

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  My daughter was probably the most photographed child on the planet. I’d captured thousands of her moments through a lens. I’d never grown out of being impressed by every move the kid made and I loved seeing her grow and change and dazzle me on a daily basis. If I could come up with a way of photographing the workings of her little mind, I would’ve done that too.

  I was so engrossed by the pictures that I didn’t hear the front door open – which wasn’t good, considering I was the only person attending a gallery with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of art displayed within its walls.

  I looked up at hearing my name to be confronted by the person I’d been avoiding all week.

  “Olivia, hi.” I stood quickly, as if jumping to attention.

  “Don’t get up,” she said loosely waving her hand.

  I sat back down. “How have you been?” I asked, purely to be polite.

  “Fine,” she replied. “You?”

  My answer came too quickly to sound anything other than rehearsed. I told her how busy we’d been, and then rambled about Trieste’s wedding and Ryan’s secret engagement. She cut in when I mentioned the pointless topic of Bridget’s squirrel phobia that cut our morning walk through the park short.

  “They’re pesky creatures, that’s for sure,” she agreed.

  I laughed, which sounded just as forced as the rest of the conversation.

  Olivia turned around and wandered away, following the line of art on the wall. “You have some lovely pieces in here.”

  “We do,” I agreed.

  She briefly turned back. “Are they all for sale?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m thinking of getting something for the studio,” she replied. “Perhaps when I’m ready, you can help me choose something.”

  I shrugged. “That’s what I do.”

  It wasn’t the most interesting discussion I’d ever had, but it was a welcome relief from the usual heavy topics she favoured – right up until she asked me why Bridget was a no-show at her dance class.

  “I thought we agreed that she’d start yesterday.” Olivia sounded hurt. “I was looking forward to seeing her.”

  My eyelids felt like tonne weights as I blinked. “We’ve been busy, that’s all.”

  She began her aimless wander again. “I wondered if her father had put his foot down,” she said. “Adam made his feelings perfectly clear. I understand that he calls the shots.”

  “Don’t do that,” I berated. “Don’t make comments like that. You’ve no idea how my family works.”

  Olivia turned, looking wounded.

  “I’m sorry,” she replied. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I couldn’t find words. I shouldn’t have been giving her the time of day. If I’d kicked her out of the gallery it would’ve been in accordance with my own rules that I’d set less than a week ago.

  But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  “I brought you something,” she announced.

  I lifted my head to see her reach into the three thousand dollar bag I’d unintentionally gifted her. She slowly ambled toward me as if she was scared to approach. When I was within reach, she handed me a small square wooden box. “Your father gave me this. I thought you’d like to have it.”

  I looked down at the box in my hand; quickly deciding it was far more Alex’s speed than the gaudy locket.

  “He didn’t have a lot of money for presents, but he was forever giving me bits and pieces,” she explained. “Alex’s heart was big, and so were his dreams.”

  As hard as I fought against it, she’d struck a chord with me. The guilt that came with tying Alex down for so many years had crippled me in the past. “What did he want to do?” I asked.

  If Olivia was to tell me that he once aspired to travel the world it might just have been the end of me.

  Her smile was small. “He just wanted to be happy, Charli. Happy and free.”

  Gripping the box much too tightly, I demanded an explanation. Olivia’s story was compelling, but I took it with a grain of salt. She didn’t realise it, but we had believability issues.

  According to her, Alex’s home life was abominable. His mother was a hopeless, neglectful drunk. Every few months they’d move house when she stopped paying rent.

  So far, so good, I thought. It was nothing Alex hadn’t already told me.

  “When we found out I was pregnant, he begged me to keep you,” she revealed. “He was desperate for stability.”

  “Or perhaps he just wanted to do the right thing and raise his child,” I suggested unsympathetically.

  If my comment hurt her feelings, she did a good job of hiding it. She continued as if I hadn’t spoken.

  “We were just a couple of stupid kids,” she said. “He used to make me promises. It was never things like houses and riches. Even Alex knew he’d probably never be able to deliver on that.” Olivia smiled as if she’d said something funny. I remained stone-faced.

  “We used to go to the beach a lot,” she continued. “Does he still like the beach?” I shrugged as if I didn’t know. “It was best at night – in the summer of course. I still remember how clear the sky was. Millions of stars on show.”

  There was something different about her that day. I wasn’t getting the usual made up, overacted rubbish she’d tried to regale me with in the past. There was a small chance she was being honest, and I had no idea how to deal with it.

  “Alex once told me that stars were little promises wrapped up in light,” she continued. “And that shooting stars were broken promises falling from the sky.”

  It wasn’t a tale that he’d ever told me, but I couldn’t discount it. Plenty of legends are based on stars, and most are wildly different.

  “We’d lie on the beach at night, and he’d point out star after star as he claimed them.” She turned and wandered away, but kept talking. “’That one is my promise that I’ll always look after you’ he’d say. Or ‘That star is my promise that I’ll love you forever’.” When she turned back to face me, her eyes were glazed with tears.

  My hands began to tremble, reminding me that I was still holding the box. “What does it have to do with this?” I asked, holding it out to her.

  Her smile was tiny but honest for a change. “He told me that star promises stay hung in the sky until they’re fulfilled or broken. The broken ones fall, and the fulfilled ones just disappear. All the others just wait, twinkling in the sky,” she explained. “One day I asked him how I’d know they were still there while I waited for them to be fulfilled.” She pointed at the box in my hand “That’s when he gave me the box.”

  I flipped open the lid to find a small card inside. “They’re always close. All you have to do is look for them.”

  “That’s it?” I asked, slightly disappointed. “It’s not even a handwritten card.”

  Her laugh choked. “I know,” she replied. “I think he typed it up on his mother’s typewriter.”

  I placed the card back in the box and snapped the lid shut. “Thank you,” I said. “I would like to keep it.”

  I half expected Olivia to ask me to shout her a free piece of artwork in return, but she didn’t. She told me that she had to get back to the studio and made a quiet, fuss free exit.

  After a minute alone with the box and my thoughts, I wondered if guilt was her ploy – and then totally confused myself by feeling guilty for thinking it. I eventually concluded that I wanted to believe her, but couldn’t do it without proof. Ignoring the fact that it was three in the morning in Tasmania, I typed a ridiculously vague text message to my father.

  – What are stars?

  I wasn’t expecting a reply for hours, but didn’t get through too many more crackers before my phone chimed with a reply.

  – They sit in the sky, serving a punishment for something that happened so long ago that no star now knows what it is.

  It was probably the longest text Alex had ever sent me, but Peter Pan quotes aren’t short.

  – What el
se could they be?

  He was probably cursing me for not accepting his first long one-finger typed reply, but he answered anyway.

  – Promises wrapped up in light

  There it was – cold hard proof that Olivia was telling the truth. I wondered what would change because of it.

  I tapped out one final sentence to my dad.

  – I love you.

  No matter what happened, that would never change.

  38. JUNIOR NEGOTIATOR

  Adam

  Things were back to normal, but deep down I knew it would only be a matter of time before the hateful ballerina sank her claws back into Charli. It took just under a week.

  Using her usual routine of tugging at Charlotte’s heart with mementos of her past, Olivia showed up at the gallery and weaselled her way back in. Within days, Charli was back to being irritable and uncertain, and my daughter was back on the list of Minuet Dance School pupils. There was no point protesting a second time. The first time hadn’t worked out well, and I wasn’t foolish enough to incite round two.

  ***

  I answered directly to my father at work. Some days he was pleasant and encouraging. Today was not one of those days.

  I was summoned to his office first thing in the morning. I usually spent the time it took me to walk from my office to his to work out my defence. The problem I faced that morning was that I had no clue what I’d done wrong. I hadn’t been late to work in over a week, and as pitiful as it sounded, that was a good effort for me.

  As it turned out, his foul mood had nothing to do with me. My mother had dropped a bombshell on him over breakfast and he was still seething.

  “She thinks Ryan’s about to propose to Bente,” he said getting straight down to it. “Do you know anything about it?”

  The level of panic in his voice wasn’t unexpected. Men in this family didn’t have the luxury of falling in love with a nice girl and marrying her without fuss. There were rules. We were expected to wrap our finances up and ensure our money was sufficiently protected in case our nice girls turned out to be not so nice.

  “I think he’s already done it,” I admitted. “That’s what dinner tomorrow night is all about, isn’t it? They’re going to announce it.”

  Dad’s shoulders sagged. “I wish he had come to me first,” he muttered. “It makes things infinitely harder in the long run.”

  What he really meant was that Ryan had removed the option of a sneak attack. The ring couldn’t be held to ransom until Bente signed the pre-nup. It was a done deal.

  “And they say romance is dead,” I sighed.

  My father pointed a finger at me. “The inclusion of romance in your life is the sole reason your judgement is so skewed,” he chided.

  “Let’s not start,” I begged. “I have enough trouble protecting Charli from other forces at the moment. I’d appreciate a break from you.”

  Speaking freely was costly. My father was like a dog with a bone at the first hint of information. A smarter man would’ve run for the door, but I wasn’t feeling particularly bright that morning.

  I spent the next few minutes filling him in on all the details instead. I had no clue how he’d take the news that Charli’s mother was on the scene, especially after I voiced my concerns that she was after money.

  He didn’t fly off the handle and rant and rave. If anything, he seemed quietly concerned. “Her story doesn’t sound credible, Adam.” A deep crease appeared in his forehead. “She could’ve made contact long before now.”

  “I know,” I agreed. “Nothing about her is credible. I struggle to believe anything she says. Even her résumé is a piece of fiction.”

  Dad wasn’t overly outraged. “People embellish their credentials all the time,” he said. “Especially in this profession.”

  “She’s a ballet teacher, Dad. Who’s she trying to impress?”

  He smiled, but avoided my question. “Have you told Charli?”

  “No, not yet.”

  It might’ve been his calm demeanour, or perhaps I’d completely lost my mind since walking into the room. They were the only two explanations for what came next. I asked my father what he thought I should do, then dropped my head so I wouldn’t have to watch him keel over in shock.

  “Divorce your wife and move on,” he replied. “All your troubles will disappear.”

  I glowered at him, but the effort was wasted. He was grinning.

  “Not funny.”

  “Oh, come now, Adam,” he replied, walking to the window. “It was both witty and comical.”

  He stood at the window a long time, staring at the skyline. At first I thought he was stalling, but soon realised he was using the time to ponder my question.

  “Charli’s not a weak girl, Adam,” he said finally. “She faces her adversaries head on. I greatly admire her for that.” He kept his back to me, probably because it was a hard admission to make. “Chances are, she doesn’t need you to do anything.”

  “So you think I should just keep what I know to myself?”

  He slowly turned. “I think if this woman’s intentions are less than honourable, Charli will work it out,” he suggested. “If you try and rush the process, it may not end favourably for you.”

  As hard as it was to accept, he was right. Pushing Charli to cut her mother from her life would never work, especially with bullying tactics like digging up dirt. I’d end up coming out of it looking shadier than Olivia. The only option I had was to take a back seat and wait for the wretched woman to come unstuck by herself.

  ***

  Bridget had been asleep for hours by the time I got home. Charli was in bed too, but still awake. She sat up as I walked in.

  “Hi.”

  I leaned down and kissed her. “Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “I got something at the office.”

  “Bridget helped cook tonight,” said Charli. “There’s some funky-looking pasta in the fridge if you’re interested.”

  I smiled. “Pass, thank you,” I replied, dragging off my tie.

  “It’ll still be there in the morning,” she pointed out. “She’ll make you try it for breakfast.”

  I dropped my cufflinks into the glass dish on the dresser and turned back to face her. “I’m out early. A meeting at eight.”

  Charli groaned, a hint that the conversation was about to take an unpleasant turn. “It’s Bridget’s first ballet lesson tomorrow,” she reminded me. “I was hoping you’d come.”

  “Why?” I asked thoughtlessly. “Do you need backup?”

  Her face dropped. “That was unkind.”

  “It was,” I agreed, feeling a total jerk. “I’m sorry.”

  Charli shuffled across the bed. I didn’t move. “Please ditch your meeting.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s my job, Charlotte.”

  “Get a new job, Adam.” If looks could kill, I would’ve been dead.

  I grinned at her. “You’re so pretty when you’re mad.”

  Lightening the conversation was the best I could do. Charli was very tolerant when it came to the outrageously long hours I worked, but occasionally she needed to vent. It was always in my best interest to shut up and let her do it.

  “You’re on the wrong path, Adam,” she muttered.

  I wanted to tell her we both were lately, but I didn’t. I defended my choice of career as if I believed in it. “As long as we’re in New York, this is my path,” I told her. “It’s what I do.”

  “But why?” she asked. “You hate it. I know you do.”

  I unbuttoned my shirt while I pondered her question. “I studied for years to do this. It seems like less of a waste of time if I actually make use of my degree.”

  Her ire slipped as curiosity set in. “Why do you hate it so much?”

  I almost laughed. I’d spent three years tearing up boats for a living. Entire days were spent hanging out on the beach with our kid. Going from that to wearing a su
it and working horrendous hours in an office was never going to be a good transition.

  “It’s not my bliss,” I said simply.

  “Quit.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Take on the renovations at the club. You’d be perfect for the job.”

  I screwed up my shirt and threw it at the chair. “Maybe.”

  She groaned. “Why won’t you just do it?”

  I wasn’t ready to give her the truthful answer. A change in vocation wasn’t going to fix things. A change in scenery was what I was hoping for, and now that Olivia was on the scene, the urge to grab my family and run was at an all-time high.

  “Did you pick up the dry-cleaning?” I asked, changing the subject. She shook her head. “I need it, Charli. I told you this morning that I needed it.”

  “And I told you I’d pick it up,” she replied.

  I was confused. “So you did pick it up?”

  “No.” She grinned. “I forgot.”

  “Perfect,” I muttered.

  “You have ten million shirts in there.” She flapped her hand at the closet. “Find one.”

  I angrily swept the hangers across the rail. “I don’t need this at midnight. Seriously.”

  “Probably not,” she agreed. “You know what you need?”

  “No, tell me.”

  “A distraction.”

  I turned back to her. She’d managed to get undressed in three seconds flat. I was impressed – and successfully distracted.

  “How did you do that so fast?”

  Her smile was the best kind of wicked. “Ever tried getting into a wetsuit while naked on a public beach?”

  “No, but I’m assuming you have.”

  “Once or twice.”

  I grinned. “You’re dangerous, Charlotte.”

  “Are you still thinking about the dry-cleaning, Adam?”

  Our room wasn’t exactly large. Three steps were all it took before she was pinned beneath me on the bed. I answered her by kissing the wry smile off her face.

  My next move was quickly halted by a little voice behind me.

  “Hi Daddy.”

  Charli made a grab for the bedding. I made a dash for the little girl in the doorway.