Until the Stars Fall From the Sky

by Mary Crawford

  I reach carefully for my iPhone and take a series of pictures.

  The nurse takes note of my expression and observes, “It’s a pity you guys aren’t a real family. He’d make a really good dad.”

  A sour taste rises in the back of my throat. A real pity. What if I can’t give him those things? Who am I to stand in the way of his dreams?

  Jeff must sense my presence because he opens his eyes and examines me with concern as he whispers, “You look tired, Pip. I need to get you home.” He carefully unwinds himself from Mindy and lays her down. He tucks the blankets around her shoulders and kisses her forehead as he whispers “Good night Princess Mindy. We’ll be back to visit tomorrow night after dinner because I have to go to school and I need to fix Miss Kiera’s broken van.”

  “Night Mr. Jeff. Hug Miss Kiera for me, ‘kay?” she mumbles as she drifts back to sleep.

  Jeff chuckles lightly as he answers, “Got it covered, Mindy, thanks.”

  On the way home, Jeff asks, “How do you plan to tell the Girlfriend Posse? You may want to do it soon. I saw a crime reporter hanging around the hospital and it’s possible that the girls’ story might be public soon.”

  “Oh Soufflé! I never thought about that. I’d rather not break the news over the phone, but it’s better than nothing at all. Let me call them.” I dial them and put them both in a conference call on speakerphone. “Good evening ladies. I’m sorry I can’t break this news in person, but things are crazy right now. Game Plan F has been deployed,” I announce. I wait a beat for that to sink in.

  “Wait!” Tara interjects, “You got a kid? When did this happen? Why didn’t you say anything? We would have been there for you.”

  “I know you would have, guys,” I reply, embarrassed. “We didn’t have time to do much of anything. A huge crisis erupted at work and now I’m the proud foster mom to a six year old and a three month old for at least six months.”

  “Wow, you sure know how to jump into the pool with both feet,” declares Tara, admiration clear in her voice.

  “I’m more interested in her use of the word we. Did you mean it as in the royal we or did your peach pie work wonders?” Heather inquires.

  Jeff made a small choking sound and I can see that he is trying hard to suppress his laughter.

  “You’ll have to ask him about his opinion of the peach pie’s restorative value, but yes we are together. In fact, we’re pretty much engaged,” I reply.

  “How does one become ‘pretty much engaged’? It seems like one of those things that you either are or you’re not’’ Heather teases.

  “Well, when you’re an old-fashioned guy like me, you want to wait until you have a conversation with your intended’s father before you do anything formal,” Jeff explains, “but, nothing in our relationship has gone according to tradition from the second I laid my eyes on her, so why should this be any different? I gave her my great grandmother’s pearls that she got from my great grandfather who served as a Tuskegee Airman. Those will have to do until I can afford to get her a ring.”

  I hear a loud sniff on the phone and realize it’s the sound of Heather crying. “Heather, are you okay?” I ask, alarmed because Heather is not usually one for tears.

  “Yes,” she says weakly. “It’s just so romantic! Why can’t I find somebody like that?”

  Tara answers, “You never know, Heather. All Kiera had to do was jump into freezing cold lake water and rescue a kid.”

  “No,” Jeff argues, “Pip had me captivated from the first glance. The rescue was just icing on the cake.”

  Chapter 23: Jeff

  I am feeling remarkably accomplished despite the fact that the day flew by and was insane. The time honored tradition of scaring the snot out of the 1L’s is alive and well and I suppose it serves a purpose, but I feel a bit guilty taking part, because it wasn’t so long ago that I was in their shoes trying to figure out who was a respondent and petitioner on my first day of class. I remember the sinking feeling that everyone knew the secret code except me.

  I was able to get my mom started on the project and she recruited some of her friends to throw a shower for Kiera. Surprisingly, Donda volunteered to step in and help. She once worked at an old-fashioned toy store and she used to paint sets for the drama department in high school. She can paint a cute mural for the nursery if we have time. Gabriel offered some old video games to Mindy, declaring himself too mature for the Wii. I was also able to get a good size work party together for Friday night, between Kiera’s friends and mine. My mom and Heather will make sure that they are well fed.

  When I pull into Kiera’s driveway, I notice that her van is nowhere to be found. Instead, I see Denny loading some old carpet into the back of his truck. I run over to help him lift it over his tailgate. “Hello sir. It’s nice to see you,” I greet. “Weren’t we working on Pip’s van today?”

  Denny takes off his baseball cap and wipes the sweat from his forehead as he explains, “Well, I started to get into it so I could pick up some parts for us and it looks like there’s a million piddlin’ things wrong with it. So, with Pipsqueak planning to carry around precious cargo, I just took it to the dealership to have them give it the once over. I want to make sure it’s got no recalls or whatnot.”

  I nod as I wipe my hands off on my jeans and say, “It makes perfect sense to me. We have tons to get ready around here for the girls. Have you heard how Mindy wants her room decorated?” I reply, chuckling.

  “I’m guessing that Princess Pumpkin has a pretty wild imagination” Denny comments. “Lucky for you, that Tara, the spooky one in Kiera’s little group is a fine artist. She used to airbrush faces at the fair. She has all the equipment and everything.”

  “I already called her,” I retort. “She mentioned bringing her ‘stuff’, but I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant.”

  “I have some good news about the floors too,” Denny states. “I was shocked. Someone covered up beautiful polished hardwood floors with that butt ugly-carpet. Why they would do that beats the Hershey’s Bars outta me. So, I was able to rearrange Kiera’s room some and still fit her desk in there with plenty of room for you guys to get around,” Denny looks me up and down thoughtfully. “What exactly are your plans with regard to my daughter, son?” he asks as he reshapes the brim of his baseball cap.

  I walk over to my truck and grab the six-pack of bottled root beer I had stowed in the cooler and carried it to Kiera’s porch swing. I sit on one end and motion for Denny to sit on the other as I offer him a soda. After he settles, I begin my halting explanation of our whirlwind love story. “Sir, if things had not been so crazy, you need to know I would have preferred to do things in a much more traditional manner. But, I love Kiera. I would have married her after our first date if I could have figured out the logistics of it. She might have thought it was a little extreme since all we did was go to Starbucks. Yet, I knew my life was never going to be the same,” I say the last three sentences as part of a big long breath as if it’s a confession, so I look up to see how Denny is responding to my admission.

  Denny grins at me. “Well, it’s good to know that my daughter’s not alone in her feelings,” he teases, “So, what are you planning to do about it now?”

  “Things have changed so suddenly that we haven’t even had time to think long term, other than to acknowledge that we’re in this forever.” I answer, shrugging and slumping my shoulders sadly, “I want her to have a dream wedding, but I’m not in a position to provide that for her right now and with the situation with the girls, we’ve got much more important priorities.”

  “What if I could arrange it so you guys could get married in an environment that Kiera adores and could relieve some of those financial pressures for you?” he asks.

  “That would be amaz — ”, I start to reply, only to be interrupted.

  “Jeff, we can get this done over Labor Day,” Denny suggests, with a serious expression. “You have a three day weekend and the girls will be out of the hospital. Willia
m and Isobel own some beautiful beachfront property in Cannon Beach. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to play the part of minister.”

  “I don’t know,” I answer skeptically. “That’s only eight days away. Everyone, especially Justice Gardner, is probably busy. It’s a lot to ask Kiera to get done.”

  Denny guffaws as he says, “Obviously you don’t know William well. He would clear his whole schedule — docket, I think you fancy lawyer folks call it — for Kiera and that Heather gal can work miracles. You let me handle them. I can help you with the ring part too. I have my grandfather’s wedding set. I wasn’t sure what to do with them because they are jade, but they fit with that necklace you gave Kiera perfectly.”

  “Denny, sir. Thank you. I’m not even sure what to say — ” I stammer, shaking his hand.

  “No, son. I should be thanking you. For the first time since I found my baby at the bottom of those stairs, she’s truly smiling and not just faking it to make me feel better. It’s all the proof that I need that you love my daughter,” Denny replies wiping away tears with the back of his hand.

  I drop my arm around his shoulders as I utter sincerely, “Denny, I’m so sorry that you and Kiera had to endure all of that, but you’ve raised a spectacular daughter, sir.”

  “Hey Jeff?” Denny requests with a teary smile. “Can you knock off the ‘sir’ stuff? You’re making me feel ancient.”

  “Well, I can try Denny,” I reply with a grin. “However, between my mom and my grandpa, it’s pretty well ingrained, so I make no guarantees.”

  ~*~

  I’ve just picked up Kiera from work and the ring box is like a brick in my pocket. I’m trying to think of the perfect way to formally ask Kiera to marry me. We’ve talked around it at least a half a dozen different ways, but I want her to have something that she can remember and tell our grandchildren about someday.

  “Weren’t you and Dad going to fix my van today?” Kiera asks, shrugging off her jacket and flexing her shoulders.

  “Apparently, there were a lot of small things wrong with it, and your dad decided to take it into the shop,” I answer. “Never fear, we found other things to do. We have the girls’ rooms completely cleaned out and taped off for painting tomorrow. We’re going to have a large work party and barbecue tomorrow night; I’ve set it up with my mom and your dad.”

  “Did you really get that much done?” she asks with a surprised expression, “that makes me feel so much better. I’m so worried that I’m not going to get it all finished before the girls come home from the hospital.”

  “Pip, when I first started caring for Gabriel, I had to clean out the bottom drawer of my dresser for him because I wasn’t expecting to take him in. He survived just fine and he isn’t any worse for the wear. No one is ever truly ready to be a parent,” I explain gently. “Anything you provide those girls is going to be worlds better than where they came from.”

  “Don’t you see?” Kiera pleads, “That’s why it has to be perfect. For now, we are their only shot at happiness.”

  “Pip, baby, we make the girls happy. It’s not really about the stuff. The stuff is a fun perk, but in the end it doesn’t really matter. The girls are going to think that you’re perfect — just like I do,” I say leaning over to kiss her thoroughly before we get out of the truck.

  “You’re right, I just want them to be happy and healthy and I’m just a little scared I might not be enough for them,” Kiera admits, slumping her shoulders and bowing her head.

  I tilt her chin up with my knuckle and kiss her lightly as I remind her, “Hey now, remember we’re in this together. I’m sure between the two of us; we can figure it all out. Come on; let’s go check on our princesses.”

  As we enter Mindy’s room, Mindy is diligently concentrating on snapping the onesie that Becca is wearing. She has her tongue stuck out between her two front teeth in total concentration and her pigtails are askew. I nod to the nurse keeping a careful, but amused watch over the proceedings. She grins at my presence, takes a step back, and begins taking chart notes.

  When Mindy notices us, her entire face lights up. She begins tugging on my sleeve and excitedly announcing, “Guess what Miss Kiera and Mr. Jeff, Becca can roll over now! It’s so cool! “’Cept she almost fell off the changin’ table. That part was bad. She spilled the baby powder, so she had to have a bath. The nurse said she is too little for a timeout.”

  I chuckle as I nod, “Well Mindy, I’m going to have to agree with a nurse on that one. Your sister is too little for a timeout. Besides, I’m sure that she didn’t spill the powder on purpose. What about you Princess? I notice that you have powder on your nose. Do you need a bath too?”

  Mindy’s bottom lip pops out a bit as she grumbles, “Yeah, the nurse said I hafta take a shower.”

  “I’ll make you a deal. If you go take a shower, I’ll braid your hair into pigtails — like Pippi Longstocking. If you hurry, I might even take you down to the playroom for a while.”

  “Ooh, I know who that is. My teacher read that book in school. I think Miss Kiera looks like Pippi Longstocking with all of her freckles,” Mindy comments as she giggles covering her mouth shyly.

  I wink at Mindy as I whisper, “I think so too, and that’s why I sometimes call her Pip. Now, go take your shower while I feed your sister.”

  “Okay Mr. Jeff,” Mindy says as she throws off the blankets, “I’ll hurry ‘cause I want to play checkers.”

  “Whoa there, Mindy Mouse, slow down a bit,” cautions Kiera, “you don’t want to tear out your I.V. Can I play the winner?” she finishes with a smile.

  Mindy shakes her head as she patiently explains, “No silly goose. We’re gonna play go fish.”

  Kiera gives a sharp bark of laughter as she replies, “I fell for this once before you little card shark, so I know to place a three hand limit on you or you’ll play all night.”

  After a lightening quick shower, I carefully comb out Mindy’s freshly washed hair. She seemed so young and innocent as she tells Kiera about how Becca was laughing at her during a particularly lively game of peek-a-boo as the sound of their giggles combined with the smell of baby shampoo. I try to focus on the happy times to come instead of the horrors this poor child has already faced in her young life, but it’s difficult. I place the tiny hair bands in place and adjust Mindy’s I.V. pole up. I gingerly hoist Mindy on my back and give her a piggyback ride to the playroom. I set her down at the checker table.

  I sit down across from her, pull the box from my pocket as I look at her with a very somber expression, and ask, “Mindy, I have a really big secret. I need to know that I can trust you to keep a secret. It’s a nice secret and it’s not going to hurt anyone, but it’s important to me.”

  “I’m really good at keeping secrets,” Mindy assures me.

  “I know you are, Sweetheart,” I answer. “Still, it’s something no kid should ever have to deal with. No one should have to keep bad secrets, but this is a good, happy secret — so it’s okay. Anyway, I want to marry Kiera. Let me show you the ring. I don’t have anything planned for the proposal and I’d like your help, please.”

  She looks at the ring and says solemnly. ”That’s really pretty! I know what I’ll do. I’ll draw her a picture. I’ll make it pretty just like a card. You know those really mushy Hallbark commercials on TB that make all the girls cry. I can make a card just like that.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” I confirm. “But, you can’t tell anyone, because it’s top secret. Okay?” I make a zipping motion across my lips with my hand and she giggles.

  Oh great, now I’m conspiring with six year olds? What is the world coming to?

  ~*~

  I certainly don’t look very lawyer-like right now as I squat down in the corner by the breakfast bar with a rainbow of paint cans spread out on thick tarps. I am carefully mixing in thinning medium so that the paint won’t clog Tara’s airbrush. I hope the girls love the results because this is a truly messy endeavor. I am watching the semi-controlled c
haos unfold around me with some amusement.

  “Tyler Colton, if you mess up my grill marks again, I may have to swat you. Now go run along and do something manly — like paint — and get out of my hair,” Heather threatens as she shakes her spatula in his direction.

  Tyler grins as he adjusts his cowboy hat and drawls, “Well, Gidget, what if I like bein’ in your hair?”

  “Gidget? What the heck, cowboy?” Heather sputters.

  Tyler holds up a paper towel and waves it in surrender as he acquiesces, “Sorry, no offense, ma’am. You’re a little bit of a thing, a girl, blond, and you are dressed as if you walked off of a 1957 cover of Life magazine. It seemed like a natural fit since I don’t know your name.”

  Heather snorts after a second of complete befuddlement as she replies, “Honey, maybe you need glasses, but even on the days I can fit in my skinny jeans, I don’t qualify as a little bit of anything. My name is Heather, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you Heather, I’m Ty,” he responds as he takes three giant steps forward crowding her space until her nose is touching his chest. “See what I mean? Compared to me, you’re just a small fry.”

  Heather gasps and blushes bright red. She slowly backs up and begins fanning herself with the hot pad that she is holding. She looks up at him after a beat and quips, “Oh there were plenty of fries involved. How do you think I got all this extra padding?”

  I haven’t had much of an opportunity to hang out with Heather yet, but Kiera has told me so much about their friendship that I feel like I am her friend by proxy. I know that she has been criticized by others for her size since childhood. So, she tends to be self conscious about her curves and deflect a lot of pain with humor.

  Ty takes off his hat, runs his hand through his short-cropped hair, and replaces his hat as he walks around Heather in a slow circle. He sighs heavily as he half mutters to himself. “What is it with naturally beautiful woman? Do you’all go to some sort of secret class that teaches girls that boys like toothpicks that eat like rabbits and talk like asthmatic eight year olds? I happen to like my women with real curves, eatin’ real food and speakin’ in their real speakin’ voice — not some little girl falsetto. You look right pretty to me Gidget.”