All The Stars In Heaven

by Michele Paige Holmes

  “Too many crooked lawyers,” he mumbled. “And more on the way,” he noted, seeing a group of law clerk interns walking down the sidewalk.

  Recognizing one of them, Kirk’s mood took an upward swing, and he pulled over to the curb. Rolling down his window, he called to the man walking ahead of the others. “Hey, Jay. Need a ride?”

  Jay looked over and lifted a hand in recognition. “Depends on if you’re offering the front or back seat.”

  “Today it’s the front, though after you pass the bar . . .” Kirk grinned.

  Jay laughed and walked toward the car. “Which one’s got you angry now?”

  “Nicholsine,” Kirk said. “But interns like you give me hope for the profession. Get in. I’ll give you a lift. Is your motorcycle nearby?”

  “Not exactly.” Jay pulled the sedan door open and climbed in the passenger seat. “It’s kind of out of commission right now.”

  “Must make it difficult to take the ladies out on Friday night.” Kirk pulled away from the curb as Jay fastened his seat belt.

  “It would,” Jay said, “if that were an issue.”

  “Still not dating, huh? I could introduce you . . .” Kirk let the offer hang in the air. He’d been impressed with Jay since meeting him last June when they worked on a case together. That had led to an invitation to a barbeque that Kirk and Christa hosted for the young single adults in their stake. A few of the women there that night had asked about Jay. But, so far, he’d shown no interest in seeing any of them again or attending the other LDS singles’ activities Kirk and Christa had invited him to.

  “No thanks,” Jay said.

  Oh well, Kirk thought. No harm in trying. “So how’s the third year so far?” he asked. “You haven’t come by the house for a while.”

  “It’s busy,” Jay said. “In fact I’m thinking of quitting my job at the club. I enjoy playing there, and it pays the rent, but I really need the time to study.”

  “I guess the internship looks a little better than night club performer on a résumé,” Kirk said.

  “Just a little,” Jay agreed. “If I quit, it’ll probably mean an additional student loan next semester, but I want to finish strong, and right now there just isn’t enough time to do everything.”

  “Hate to tell you this,” Kirk said. “But it doesn’t get any better. After school, other stuff fills in the time you thought you were going to have.” He signaled and changed lanes. “Drop you off at your apartment?”

  “Yeah. I really appreciate this,” Jay said. “How are Christa and your boys?”

  “The boys are so wild you’d think they’re already on the sugar high from Halloween, and Christa’s not too happy right now. We were supposed to go to a costume party tonight, but our sitter canceled at the last minute.”

  “I’ll do it. I can watch the boys for you.”

  Kirk shook his head. “Are you kidding? You just got through telling me how much you have on your plate and how little time you have.”

  “True. But tonight’s a bit different. There’s a big Halloween party, and my roommate’s girlfriend is really pressuring me to come. I was going to if I got a date—”

  “But you didn’t,” Kirk guessed.

  “I tried. Honestly,” Jay said. “I asked a girl, took the night off . . . But it didn’t work out, and now I’m the charity case for my roommate’s girlfriend—which, of course, doesn’t make my roommate all that happy. It’s not a good situation.”

  “Must be bad if you want to hang out with a couple of monkeys all night.”

  Jay shrugged. “Jeffrey and James are great. And when they go to bed I can study.”

  Kirk looked at him sideways. “You sure?”

  “Yes,” Jay said. “In fact, don’t even take me home. That way I can avoid the whole party issue.”

  “Okay. It’s your Friday. If you want to spend it on the floor with a couple of kids climbing all over you . . .”

  “Sounds like the best Friday night I’ll have had in quite a while,” Jay said.

  Kirk could tell he meant it. “You know, you’re not the typical college student.”

  “Yeah, I’m a lot older.”

  “I’m not talking about age, and your difference is good,” Kirk assured him.

  * * *

  “Well, what do you think?” Christa asked Jay as she hobbled into the living room, leaning heavily on a cane.

  “You look really—old,” Jay said. Really awful. I didn’t say that, did I? He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to stare at Christa’s ugly house dress or the nylons pooling at her ankles. Looking at her gray-streaked hair and wrinkled face wasn’t any better. He racked his brain for a better comment.

  Christa laughed at his obvious dismay. “That bad, huh? I’ll take it as a good sign.”

  “You look like Great-Grandma,” Jeffrey said.

  James’s brow wrinkled, and his mouth puckered like he was getting ready to cry. “Grandma?”

  “No, silly. Mommy.” Christa abandoned the cane and walked lithely toward the couch. She sat between the boys so they could get a closer look at her. “Mommy’s dressing up, the same way you’re going to dress up for trick-or-treating.”

  “You don’t look like a cowboy,” Jeffrey said. “You don’t even got a hat. And you’re using that stick wrong.” He jumped up from the couch and grabbed the cane, straddling it. “You got to sit on it like this.” He galloped around the room. “Then people know you’re riding a horse.”

  Christa laughed again. “I’ll remember that.” She reached out to tickle him as he came closer to the couch. “You two better get into the kitchen and eat your ice cream before it melts.”

  “You hear that, Arrow?” Jeffrey asked his imaginary horse. “We get ice cream.” He swung his leg over the cane and handed it to his mother.

  “Be good tonight,” Christa said, grabbing his arm and pulling him close. “Be Jay’s helper, and don’t tease your brother.”

  “Don’t tease,” James echoed.

  “That’s right.” Christa gave him a hug before he ran after Jeffrey.

  Kirk appeared in the doorway. If Jay had thought Christa’s costume strange, he was even more bewildered by Kirk’s attire—a loose Hawaiian shirt made from the same gaudy fabric of Christa’s house dress, a pair of Bermuda shorts, argyle socks with geriatric-looking white tennis shoes, a broken straw hat, a half-inflated pool ring around his middle, and a walker with some type of mini surfboard wired on top.

  “You’re quite the pair,” Jay said. “Is this party at the old folks' home or something?” He said it jokingly then wished he hadn’t as he realized the idea wasn’t that far-fetched. In the five or so months he’d known Kirk and Christa, he’d discovered they were very involved in their church—always serving someone or hosting activities. Kirk wasn’t kidding about all his time being filled up.

  “No,” Kirk said. “Though maybe we’ll swing by if it turns out the party isn’t that great.”

  “It’s a costume party with a twist,” Christa explained. “Mormons are big on discovering their ancestors, so as a sort of tie-in, everyone was supposed to dress up in something that has to do with their heritage.”

  “And yours would be . . . old people?” Jay asked.

  “No—oo,” Christa said, rolling her eyes. “C’mon Mr. Law Student. You’re smart. Think harder.”

  Jay scratched his head. “I’m not that smart, I guess.”

  “You are,” Kirk assured him. “Think about what state we’re from.”

  “California,” Jay said. “You’re retired snowbirds?”

  Kirk shook his head and started humming a Beach Boys song, but Jay still didn’t get it.

  Christa finally took pity. “I’m ‘The Little Old Lady from Pasadena.’”

  “Oh-h,” Jay said. “That’s clever—and funny.” He turned to Kirk. “Who or what are you?”

  “I’m a beached boy,” Kirk explained. “You know, like the band, except old and all washed up.”

 
Jay laughed. “That’s great. Did you think of that, Christa?”

  She nodded. “Neither Kirk or I have the pioneer ancestry many people in our church claim. We’re first-generation converts from a state considered to be radical, so I decided to have some fun with it.”

  “How long did it take to get your skin to look like that?” Jay asked. He stepped closer, inspecting their wrinkles. “Because you look pretty authentic.”

  “An hour or so. Just some tricks that I learned in beauty school,” Christa said.

  “It’s a very useful profession,” Kirk pointed out. “If I ever need to go undercover, she can dye my hair, alter my face—pretty much whatever I need. I keep trying to persuade the chief to let Christa set up shop at the station. You wouldn’t believe the stuff people spill while getting their hair cut.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Jay said, his fingers brushing the hair curling at the base of his neck. Christa had been after him to let her cut it since July.

  “How about taking our picture?” Kirk asked. He pulled a digital camera from his shirt pocket.

  “Sure.” Jay took the camera and held it up as Kirk and Christa moved close together. Kirk turned to her, leaned over, and planted a kiss on her cheek as Jay snapped the photo.

  “Hey. You’re going to mess up my wrinkles,” she complained.

  “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 mid
dle 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.”