Second Star to the Right

by Mary Alice Monroe

  His voice was melodic, a baritone that enveloped her. She turned her head and viewed his strong profile with his straight nose and broad forehead, wondering, Who are you? He turned, too, and under his intense gaze she felt he was wondering the same about her.

  “Sometimes,” she ventured in a tortured whisper, “I don’t feel that I shine.”

  His face turned thoughtful then, and he took her fingers and kissed them, saying between the kisses, “The iron in your blood, the calcium in your bones, the magnesium in your cells, the zinc in your nails... Did you know all these ordinary elements are also in stars?” He traced his fingertip from her brow to her chin, capturing her gaze. “You, Faye O’Neill, are a star.”

  She sighed, shining.

  One slight movement and his lips were on hers. His arms tightened as her arms rose up around his neck, holding fast. Faye closed her eyes, and she was falling inward into a vastness as cosmic as the one overhead. He was the magnetic north pole, she was the south, and between them millions of electrons spiraled into a black hole.

  Their heat melted them together, the ashes of each fire serving as fuel for the next, fusing them into one synthesized star. She let go and felt herself dissolving into a million points of light.

  As the moon rose higher in the sky, Jack held Faye in his arms. He'd spent too many years on the road. A lifetime adrift. Could he finally hang up his hat, settle down, know what it meant to be on the inside looking out for a change?

  Looking up, he chose a star and made a wish.

  Faye nestled close to Jack, holding tight to what she’d told herself was only a dream. Here was a man with whom she could join hands and build a life of trust, and honor and mutual respect. Could she really believe that such a life was possible?

  Opening her eyes, she found a star and made a wish.

  They fell asleep in the open air, wishes on their lips, entwined in each other’s arms, mingled in each other’s dreams. The sea crashed and thundered on the rocks below.

  But far above the lovers, high in the heavens, the stars winked.

  The morning sun rose in magnificent splendor over the sparkling waters, shining its light on the sleeping pair wrapped in down lying on a small, curved balcony overlooking the cliffs. Faye woke slowly, blinking against the bright, prying light, disoriented. Shielding her eyes with her palm, she heard the sounds of the breakers below, and above, the harsh cries of the seagulls. Beside her she felt the warmth of a man’s skin and listened to his gentle snoring. She stretched luxuriously with her arms arched above her head and breathed in the fresh scent of sea breeze and the musky perfume of love. As the memory of the previous night dawned she felt a scintillating flush seep through her body all over again, followed by a deep sense of contentment.

  “You’re awake?” he asked, yawning loudly.

  “Mmm...” she replied, feeling inexplicably shy.

  He turned to wrap her in his arms. His eyes were sleepy and his lip curved up on one side, carving a deep dimple that touched his chin.

  “I have a confession to make,” he said.

  “Oh no, don’t tell me you’re married, you have a dozen children...”

  “Worse. I’m going to tell you about my dream.”

  She groaned and pulled the blanket over her head.

  “I dreamed of you.”

  She poked her head out from under the blanket.

  “You did?”

  “Why is that so hard to believe? Don’t you ever dream of me?”

  “You’re fishing. Oh, don’t pout. Okay, I confess. I do...Sometimes.”

  His smile spread and he seemed enormously pleased. “Well, sometimes in the morning when I awake I close my eyes again and try to put together your image. But I can never get it right. So I use my memory for better detail. What had I seen you wear last? How did you wear your hair? I’d want color. I’d want expression.” He shrugged, and his dimples deepened. “What I really wanted—was you.”

  She smiled then too, her heart awakening. She couldn’t remember anyone saying anything so lovely to her before. Cuddling beside him, she murmured, “Mmm, Jack, I wish we could be like this forever.”

  His brows gathered. “Faye, I still have to leave on Tuesday.”

  Despite her hurt, it wouldn’t be fair for her to expect more from him “I know,” she replied. “Hey,” she said, determined to show him how independent she could be. “Maybe we can be like Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr. We’ll wait six months and see who shows up on top of the Empire State Building?”

  His smile was brief. He took her hand and played with her fingers.

  “Jack,” she said in a serious tone. “Don’t do this. I’m not asking for more than what it is. An Affair to Remember. I’m happy we had this time together. I’ll always cherish it.” She slipped her hand away and tucked it beneath her. “But I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. And my children.”

  His face grew thoughtful. “I wish I could offer you more. I’m used to my life being the way it is. It’s too late. I’m incapable of change.”

  “No one is incapable of change, Jack. Like it or not, we are grown-ups. But we have to choose to give up our carefree childhood. Adult relationships: marriage, being a good parent, a good neighbor...Those aren’t games, Jack. That’s real life and they have their own rewards. But it all takes work.”

  “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

  “No,” she said sadly. “You’ve got it all wrong. All play and no work makes Jack a lonely boy. We are the decisions we make. Isn’t that at the crux of quantum mechanics? You tell me. You’re the scientist.”

  “I am,” he replied thoughtfully. “And that’s part of the problem. It’s hard to explain. I’m a scientist of the nonlinear-thinking variety. The logical, slow building on a solid foundation is not for me. That’s for engineers like Henry Ford or George Washington Carver. I like to leap beyond the conventional and see things in a new and different way. I’m a dreamer, like Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein.”

  “Just because you’re born a dreamer doesn’t mean you can’t live on earth, too. Jack, what is it that you fear so much about compromise? About commitment?”

  “I can’t be bound by rules and expectations, Faye. I need to be free to roam, physically and in my thoughts. It wouldn’t be fair for me to expect anyone to follow, or to put up with me.”

  Faye looked at his sincere expression and thought how it would be such a pity for a man as kind and good and utterly lovable as Jack to end up a lonely, pitiful old man who clung to the slippery image of youth because he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, grow up. He would always be, she realized sadly, a lost boy.

  Suddenly she missed her children.

  Rising and wrapping herself with the blanket against the sudden chill she said, “Jack, I think we’ve said everything that needs to be said. A storm is blowing in. And it’s time to go home.”

  * * *

  The closer they drew to the city, the more ominous the clouds overhead became and the farther Faye felt from her starry dreams of the night before. By the time they reached London the storm broke and it was raining in earnest. Fallen leaves gathered in wet clumps on the streets and on the steps of No. 14. Pulling up at the curb, all she could think about was seeing Tom and Maddie. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Maddie and Tom. Jack followed her in as she hurried up the stairs to the nursery.

  “Halloo! Everyone, we’re home!” she called out, opening the door.

  “You’re back! And so early!” Wendy called back, her smile radiant as she stretched out her arms in greeting. Wendy was sitting on the window seat before the wide-open window, wrapped in her wool throw against the damp chill. The nursery was frigidly cold.

  “Wendy, you mustn’t sit before that open window. You’ll catch your death. Look at you! You’re frozen solid. Let’s close this window up.”

  “No!” she exclaimed with some alarm. “We must keep the window open!”

  “Just a bit then.” She glanced down at Wendy
, and though she was as neat and tidy as a pin, as usual, her face appeared fatigued and lackluster, as though she’d been awake all night.

  Filled with a sudden uneasiness, Faye’s gaze darted around the nursery, past the warm and cheery murals and bric-a-brac, a smile plastered on her cheeks. But she didn’t see Maddie and Tom. She felt a twinge which she told herself was disappointment. She’d imagined that they’d fly into her arms at the sound of her voice.

  “Maddie! Tom!” she called out.

  Only the canary chirped in reply. The nursery was strangely quiet. Instinct flared a warning, and she turned toward Wendy, casting her a questioning glance. The tense expression on the old woman’s usually serene face set her own heart pounding. Wendy appeared strangely guarded. Even wary.

  “Where are the children?” she asked, trying to keep her alarm from her voice.

  Wendy coughed lightly and averted her eyes. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. They’re gone, dear.” She looked up quickly. “But not to worry. They’ll be back soon.”

  “Gone? Where?”

  “It’s the most wonderful thing.”

  “Where are they, Wendy?”

  “The Neverland!” she replied, her eyes aglow.

  Faye blinked. Surely she didn’t hear right. She cast a consulting glance to Jack.

  “Wendy,” he said stepping forward, “Faye doesn’t like to be teased when it comes to the children. Where are they really?”

  “But I told you. The Neverland.”

  Faye clasped and unclasped her hands. She could not believe her ears. Words couldn’t come to her tongue, and her heart pounded loudly in her ears.

  “You mean the amusement park?” Jack persevered but she detected a tone of alarm. “Did someone take the children to the park? Who?”

  “Why, Peter, of course,” Wendy replied. “And no, not The Neverland Theme Park. Not this time.” She held her hands together, and her eyes gleamed, challenging them not to share her delight “He came! Just as I suspected he would. It was a full moon, you know. He especially likes to come when the way is lit. He...” She looked down demurely and plucked at her skirt “He came for me, of course.” She looked back up and her eyes flashed. “But Tootles so wanted to go. And Maddie begged. You know how persistent she can be. So I thought, why not? It would be such a wonderful treat for them to see the lagoon, and the treehouse, and to have so many adventures. Peter complained, but he went along eventually.

  'Oh, my dear, I am sorry not to have asked your permission, but there wasn’t time. I had to make an instant decision, and I felt sure you would agree once you understood. So you see? There’s nothing at all to worry about.”

  Faye’s hand rose to her throat as she stared at the tiny woman seated by the window with her white hair like spun glass and her inordinately bright blue eyes sparkling and the rapt expression on her sweet face as she clenched her birdlike hands to her breast and she thought to herself, Oh my God, the woman is crazy!

  “She’s delusional,” she said to Jack, her voice raspy. Then, guilt hit her full force, slapping her head back, shaking her, tearing her heart to shreds. “What have I done? How could I have left them? Why did I take the chance? My God, where are they?”

  Panic clicked in. Rob... Was he here? She ran into the bedroom calling, “Maddie! Tom!” Then into the front of the nursery, peering out the window to the street below, then to the back, leaning out the open window, calling their names at the top of her lungs. Jack had already run downstairs to check his flat and she followed down to her own.

  When Faye pushed through her front door Mrs. Jerkins dropped her sewing and clamored to her feet.

  “The children, are they here?”

  The stunned confusion on Mrs. Jerkins’s face sent Faye’s hopes spiraling.

  “They aren’t with Mrs. Forrester?”

  “No, they’re not. You didn’t check on them? Not once all morning?”

  “Why, if I thought...” she stammered.

  “This is just too negligent!” Faye cried. With terror racing through her veins, she ran through the rooms, calling out. Her voice echoed in the empty hall. The beds had not been slept in, there wasn’t a wrinkle in the pillows, toothbrushes sat dry in the cups, dishes were stacked and clean, jackets hung on the hooks by the back door. Everything was in its place but the children.

  Jack raced in, meeting her at the door. His face was grim. “They’re not downstairs. Nana’s there, but no kids.”

  Faye blanched, knowing instinctively that the children wouldn’t have left Nana alone. She ran back up to the nursery straight to Wendy, who was standing at the window staring out, wringing her hands, her slim shoulders slumped. She was muttering softly, “They’ll be back. Not to worry, he’ll bring them back.”

  “I want my children!” Faye screamed, collapsing against the wall, burying her face in her hands. There was only panic now, bordering on hysteria. All her dreams collapsed as she came face-to-face with her worst nightmare.

  Her children were missing

  Chapter 20

  Detective Inspector Ross had the tired, doubt-filled face of someone who, after twenty years in the Criminal Investigation Department, had seen it all. But even Detective Ross was unprepared for the case at No. 14.

  “So what you’re saying is that you believe the children ran off to the Neverland?” he asked in a heavy Cockney accent. He didn’t betray himself with so much as a wry smile.

  “Of course I don’t believe that!” Faye replied, her voice high with tension. “That is what Wendy told us when we returned.”

  “The first thing we have to do, Mrs. O’Neill, is stay calm. Have you contacted all the neighbors, friends, anyone who may know where your children may be? Where they may’ve run off to?”

  “Yes, yes, I’ve done all that,” Faye replied impatiently, knowing that each moment that ticked away was precious time not searching. She was sitting in the nursery with Wendy, Jack, Inspector Ross, and two uniformed police. This time, Faye had had no qualms about picking up the phone and notifying the police immediately. She had to find out if Rob had followed her to England.

  “I...I know what to do. You see, I’ve been through this before. My husband kidnapped the children last spring. We were in the United States at the time. I have full custody, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t fly over and take them. That’s why I want to file a missing person’s report. Immediately.”

  “Yes, of course. Well, that does change the picture, doesn’t it?”

  She handed the inspector an envelope. “In here you’ll find an identification kit I had made up, just in case. It includes updated photographs, fingerprints, birth certificates, passports, dental records, birthmarks, and a medical history. I’ve also included a photo of Rob O’Neill, the father, and information on him.”

  Inspector Ross raised his brows. “Very good. Nicely done. This will save us a good bit of time.” He signaled to a policeman and handed him the kit. “Looks like we’ve got a parental abduction here. Notify all the searching agencies. I want an extensive search covering a five-mile radius of the city. Also notify border crossings and ferry-rail-airport services.” To the other policeman, he ordered, “Go downstairs to her flat and spin the drum, see if you can find anything at all that looks unusual.”

  Jack stepped forward. “We’ve already searched the entire building. Everything is in place. Nothing is missing.”

  “And who might you be?”

  “A friend of the family. I live in the garden flat.”

  “I see,” replied the Inspector, narrowing his eyes in suspicious scrutiny. “And may I ask where you were last night?”

  Jack slid a glance to Faye, then, clenching his jaw, he replied tersely, “No.”

  “It’s okay, Jack. We have to cooperate fully,” Faye replied.

  Jack swung his head back to face the Inspector. “I was with Mrs. O’Neill. In Brighton.”

  The inspector’s brows rose again, then, rolling his tongue in his cheek, he jotted this information
in a small notebook. “Mrs. Forrester was the baby sitter during this...this interlude, I presume?”

  Faye blushed at the barely concealed criticism and nodded. From under her lashes she looked over at Wendy sitting slumped by the window, still gazing out forlornly at the incessant rain. She looked decades older, tired and spent with worry. Seeing her like this, Faye berated herself for the hundredth time for ever leaving her children in her care. An old woman everyone called Crazy Wendy. She saw in the inspector’s eyes that he questioned her competency as a mother.

  “It was just for one night,” she tried to explain. “The children love Wendy, and they’ve spent a great deal of time with her. Nothing bad ever happened before. She was always so loving, so very able. If you had seen them together, before...”

  “Umm hmmm,” he replied noncommittally, scribbling quickly in his book.

  “And of course there was Mrs. Jerkins. Their regular baby sitter.”

  “Oh? And where was she?”

  “Downstairs. She was to supervise. The children wanted to stay with Wendy. It was all supposed to be such a holiday.” Her voice broke, and she turned away.

  He directed the next few questions to Wendy, politely drawing her attention away from the outdoors. She leaned heavily against the windowsill, and her face appeared worn and spiritless.

  “Mrs. Forrester, did you hear any strange noises last night? See anything unusual?’’ Faye held her breath and met Jack’s anxious gaze.

  “No,” she replied softly, still gazing out. “Nothing unusual.” Then she turned her head and offered, “There was a full moon.”

  “Would you have contacted someone if you had?”

  “Of course I would have,” Wendy snapped back as though speaking to an impertinent child. “Mrs. O’Neill left me a long list of names to call. She’s quite responsible. I may be old, but I’m quite capable of dialing a phone, young man.”