All The Stars In Heaven

by Michele Paige Holmes

  Sarah lingered by the door, feeling out of place in the cramped kitchen. The table was set for nine—three other students would be joining them for Thanksgiving dinner. She wasn’t looking forward to making conversation with so many people, though compared to the group that had been here earlier, nine was a small crowd.

  This morning, Kirk and Christa’s young adult group had shown up, laden with bags and boxes—all full of clothing and other items to replace those lost in the fire. Overwhelmed by so many people as well as their generosity, Sarah had hardly been able to put two words together to thank them. She owned more clothing now than she had when living with her dad.

  With a pang of guilt she thought of her father, all alone today. What has he been eating? It’s not like he or Carl can cook anything. Then Sarah thought back to those awful moments in her father’s office when he had made it painstakingly clear that he viewed her more as a servant than a daughter. The guilt from a moment before dissipated.

  “I think I’ll go see what Jay’s up to,” she told Christa and went to the living room, where Jay, Kirk, Jeffrey, and James were sprawled across the floor creating a Lego city.

  Sarah knelt next to James. “That’s a great little building you have going there.”

  “Jeffrey taked all the blocks.”

  “They’re Legos, not blocks.” Jeffrey stood up. “Let’s play cowboys now. Let’s watch—”

  “Let’s not,” Kirk said, grabbing his oldest by the seat of his pants before he could reach the DVDs. “Sarah, maybe you could play something on the piano for us. Please?”

  A mischievous look in his eyes, Jay leaned over and whispered in her ear. She looked skeptical. He winked.

  “What are you two up to?” Kirk asked suspiciously.

  “Nothing,” Jay said, whistling.

  Sarah sat down at the piano. For a few seconds she placed her fingers on various keys as she tried to remember the tune Jay had requested. Raising her fingers, she began an energetic arrangement of the William Tell Overture.

  “Oh, no.” Kirk lay back on the carpet.

  “Come on, boys,” Jay said. He stood, poised to run. “To your horses. It’s the Lone Ranger.”

  “Hi ho, Sliver,” Jeffrey exclaimed, slapping his sides. He scurried to get behind Jay before his brother could. The threesome began to gallop around Kirk, still lying on the floor, hands to his face.

  “No. Not the horses,” he moaned.

  “Yes, Daddy. Horses,” James said as he jumped over his dad. Barely making it, he fell backward.

  “Umph,” Kirk said. “Careful. Unless you don’t want any younger brothers or sisters.”

  Sarah continued to play, the notes resonating around the room.

  Christa came in, drying her hands on a dishtowel as she observed the chaos. Jay swooped in close to Sarah and sat beside her on the bench.

  “This,” he said, with a smile that reached his eyes, “is what the holidays should be like.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Carl pulled a burger from the fast-food bag on the coffee table. “Nope. I still ain’t figured out where she lives.”

  “It shouldn’t be that difficult,” Grant said. His nose wrinkled in distaste as he opened the bag Carl had set in front of him. “You know when and where her classes are. Follow her.”

  “It’s not that easy anymore. She goes all these different places on campus—places I can’t get into—and disappears from there.” Carl opened a ketchup packet and squirted it on the paper next to his fries. “It’s not like I’ve had a lot of time.” He nodded toward a package on the counter. “You want syringes, I get ’em. You want that guy’s wallet, I steal it. You don’t want her to have a place to stay no more, I even took care of that.”

  “I never told you to set her house on fire,” Grant said. “If they trace it back to you, you’re looking at arson and manslaughter.”

  “They won’t be able to trace nothing. The building’s gone. What’re they gonna do?”

  “Plenty,” Grant said. He left his sandwich untouched and went to the kitchen for a drink.

  “I found out where her boyfriend works,” Carl said. “Little hole-in-the-wall nightclub near campus. Plays there nights.”

  “That’s useful,” Grant said, his tone sarcastic.

  “It is,” Carl insisted. “He and Sarah are getting tight. You don’t think she’s gonna show up there to watch him some night?”

  “Which night?” Grant asked. “Are you going to hang out there every time he works?”

  “Nope.” Carl finished his burger and leaned back on the sofa, one leg propped on his knee, a smug look on his face. “But Diedre works most every night at the bar. And she’d be more ’n happy to get Jay’s girlfriend out of her way. I left her my number. She’s gonna give me a ring as soon as Sarah comes by.”

  “That might work,” Grant admitted grudgingly. Though the thought of Sarah out at night caused him no small amount of panic. If Carl could get to her, so could anyone else.

  “No appreciation.” Carl shook his head. “No matter what I do, I don’t get no thanks. No wonder she took off,” he mumbled.

  “What’d you say?” Grant asked.

  Carl matched his threatening tone. “You heard right. I said it’s no wonder Sarah left.”

  “I do what I have to to keep her alive,” Grant said. “And you’d better remember that it keeps you alive too.”

  * * *

  “I can’t figure it out.” Kirk looked at the reports spread across the kitchen table. “Why would the chief have someone with a criminal record acting as a bodyguard for his daughter?”

  “In my mind the bigger question is why he thinks she needs a bodyguard,” Jay said.

  Kirk nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but look at this guy’s rap sheet.” His fingers roamed the pages faxed to him from a friend in another precinct. “Armed robbery, grand theft auto, assault. He’s no prince. What’s to keep him from using his unsavory talents on Sarah?”

  “He got off all those times, didn’t he?” Jay asked. “That can’t be a coincidence. Maybe Sarah’s dad is holding that over his head. Maybe he’s told Carl that he’ll do time if he doesn’t behave himself—at least around Sarah.”

  “Maybe,” Kirk said. “But I think it’s got to be more than that. This guy’s greedy. He wasn’t stealing to put bread on the table. His type wants the high life—without working for it.”

  “I doubt he has that now,” Jay said. “You saw that beater truck he drove.”

  “You’re right,” Kirk agreed. “And the car he drives now isn’t much nicer. But I’d still bet Chief Morgan is paying Carl to keep an eye on Sarah—and now you.”

  “I haven’t seen him at all this week,” Jay said. “And I’ve been watching my back.”

  “He’s been busy,” Kirk said. “Since Sarah left, he’s developed a sudden drug habit.”

  Jay stiffened, and Kirk sent him an apologetic look. He was one of the few who knew a little about Jay’s less-than-perfect past.

  “He’s been seen at ‘the office’ in O’Brian park twice, buying some pretty hefty quantities of cocaine and meth. Too much for one guy, so he’s sharing or something.”

  Cocaine. My old enemy. Jay still remembered the taste, the deceptive feelings of euphoria after shooting up. It would haunt him the rest of his life. “Why don’t you bring Carl in?”

  “Can’t,” Kirk said. “Since half the park is in Cambridge, Chief feels like it’s their problem. And you know how lax this city is about drugs.”

  Jay rolled his eyes. “Let’s not dare bust any of the rich and privileged youth.”

  “Especially if they’ve got parents who contribute to the university coffers,” Kirk added. “It annoys the heck out of the chief. But we’re supposed to concentrate on the areas closer to the city center. Problem is, half the stuff that’s coming from that park eventually makes its way to the city center—the neighborhoods, the schools.”

  “You’re watching off the clock?” Jay guessed.


  “Sort of. I get over there during my shift as much as possible, and I’m starting to put names and faces together. It’s become kind of an obsession with me—stopping it, I mean.” Kirk looked at Jay. “You know what drugs do to people—families. I’ve seen firsthand that meth is the worst. I keep hoping that if I come to the chief with enough evidence, he’ll take some action.”

  “Except now it’s his pet nephew who’s buying.”

  “Yeah.” Kirk looked at the papers again. “And I wish I knew why.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Now will you tell me where we’re going?” Sarah asked, hurrying to keep up with Jay as he towed her across campus.

  “Nope. Top secret.”

  “So secret Archer wrote about it in the school paper?” she guessed as they neared the Science Center.

  Jay frowned. “You’re taking all the fun out of it. I wanted to surprise you.”

  “I think it’s going to be the other way around tonight,” she said. “That is, if you’re planning to take me to the grand opening of the Putnam Gallery.”

  “I was.” Jay sounded disappointed.

  Sarah tried to hide a guilty smile. “I came this afternoon, between classes.” She shrugged. “But that’s okay. Isn’t it about time you had a first with me for a change?”

  “It opened today. And already—” He shook his head. “What’s a guy have to do to surprise you anymore?”

  “You surprise me every day,” Sarah said. “You’re still hanging out with me.”

  They went in the Science Center’s east entrance, and Sarah led the way to the newly completed first-floor gallery.

  “Mind if I show you my favorite things?” she asked, excited to have switched roles for the evening. She loved all the new experiences Jay had shared with her, but sometimes their relationship felt unbalanced, as if she had nothing to contribute. There were so many things she felt naive about, so many jokes told at the lunch table she missed, so many references to pop culture she didn’t understand.

  But tonight would be different. This she understood. The sun, the moon, the stars had always been there for her, reminding her of something much bigger than the narrow world she’d been confined to.

  Her music teacher Miss Amelia had once told her to “reach for the stars,” encouraging her to use her talents to get everything she wanted from life. Sarah had never forgotten that sentiment. There had been times of discouragement certainly, but a glimpse of the night sky sprinkled with stars or of the full moon was all it took to remind her to stay on course. After all, if man could walk on the moon, so far away, she could someday walk away from the life she hated.

  But she had never expected to have someone to walk with, someone who encouraged her instead of holding her back. This new combination of freedom and friendship became more exhilarating each day—much more than she’d ever hoped for or dreamt of.

  Sarah stopped in front of an exhibit about Galileo, pointing to a geometrical compass. “There are only three of these in existence.”

  Jay gave a low whistle. “And Harvard has one.”

  “They have a lot of great things,” Sarah said. “Wait until you see the astrolabe. It dates back to 1400.”

  She took Jay’s hand, guiding him through the exhibit, showing him vintage telescopes from the 1700s up through the more modern and complex equipment used to study the stars today.

  “How do you know about all this?” he asked when they were about three-fourths of the way through the displays. “You’d have to have a photographic memory to have learned all this in a few hours this afternoon.”

  “I’ve been fascinated by the stars, the sky, forever,” Sarah said. “It’s so immense, and it’s always seemed so full of promise.”

  “How so?” Jay asked.

  “Well . . .” She considered, trying to put into words the feelings she had when standing beneath a starry sky or looking up at a crescent moon. “For one thing, it’s always there. Dependable. Constant. The moon cycle is exact; its timing precise. The constellations are the same. Always there. Always accessible if you can get somewhere dark enough to see them. When I was younger, my dad took me to the country a couple of times. And out there where you can see them . . . Well, there are so many. They represent so much possibility.”

  “I’ve never thought of it like that,” Jay said. He leaned over a large globe, his finger hovering over the West Coast.

  “Are you thinking about home?” Sarah asked, suddenly seeing less promise in her world than she had a moment before. She knew Jay planned to return to Seattle after he graduated next spring. What will happen when we’re separated by 3000 miles? She was surprised at how much pain accompanied that thought.

  “I don’t think about home as much as I used to,” he said, turning away from the globe. “Seattle’s a great place, and I do miss it.” He bent his head close to hers. “But all the years I spent there can’t compare to the past few weeks with you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Joe Sent Me”? Sarah shot Jay a quizzical look as she read the sign hanging outside the redbrick building. “Sent me what? Kind of a strange name for a restaurant, isn’t it?”

  “It’s from the 1920s,” he explained. “Back then ‘Joe sent me’ was often the password to get into a speakeasy.”

  Sarah walked ahead of him into the pub-style establishment. “I should have known you’d choose a place that has something to do with history.” She looked curiously at the bottle cap art on the wall.

  “Not history. Pickles,” Jay said. “Deep-fried ones, to be exact. That’s why we’re here. One taste and you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  A college-aged woman wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a black apron met them inside the door.

  “Two, please,” Jay said. “And preferably away from the bar and the darts.”

  “No problem.” She led them to a table near the front windows. “This okay?”

  “Great,” Jay said.

  She placed two menus on the table. “Your waitress will be here shortly.”

  “Thanks.” Jay held Sarah’s chair out for her, then shrugged out of his jacket before sitting down himself.

  “Are you sure we should sit right here in plain sight of the street?” she asked. “What if Carl—”

  “Kirk’s following him tonight.” Jay leaned forward over the table. “And I really don’t want to talk about Carl while we’re here.”

  “Agreed,” Sarah said. “This evening is all about you. You’re finally going to reveal your deep, dark, mysterious past.”

  She has no idea. The dread he’d felt all week as this evening grew closer settled in his chest.

  “I’m glad we’re here,” Sarah said. “I miss seeing you all the time, miss living downstairs with Mrs. Larson.”

  “Her funeral was nice,” Jay said. “Bringing flowers was thoughtful.”

  “I’d like to keep it up—her grave I mean. She doesn’t have anyone else to do it for her, and . . .” Sarah’s voice trailed off as she looked outside at the passing traffic.

  “What?” Jay asked after a minute.

  “I never visit my mother’s grave.” She faced him again. “I don’t even know where she’s buried.”

  “It wouldn’t be too hard to find out,” Jay suggested. “Counties have records, and—”

  “No.” Sarah shook her head. “I think it’s easier this way. Sometimes I feel bad, but my mother—there are things you don’t know.”

  “Now who has the deep, dark, mysterious past?” Jay asked.

  “Apparently both of us.” Sarah opened her menu. “But let’s not think about that right now. I’m hungry, and I can’t wait to see what you feed me this time. I still haven’t forgotten that delicious lunch in Boston.”

  “This is completely different fare,” Jay said. “But also a necessary part of your cultural rounding.” He tilted his head toward the speakers on the wall, listening as the song changed. “Classic Journey. 1983 Frontier album, ‘Separa
te Ways.’” Hopefully not a bad omen. “They also play great music here.”

  “Another necessary part of my cultural rounding,” Sarah said.

  “Absolutely.” Jay grinned. “Though I think you’ll appreciate this music a little more. Turning in his chair, he reached inside his coat pocket and removed one of two packages. He held a flat, simply wrapped gift out to her. “Happy late birthday.”

  “Thank you.” She took it from him, untied the string, and folded back the brown paper, revealing a packet of yellowed pages.

  “I figured it was highly unlikely you’d get any of your sheet music from your dad, and since what little you did have burned in the fire . . .” He shrugged, suddenly uncertain whether his inexpensive gift was acceptable. Her continued silence as she turned the pages seemed to confirm his fears. “I got them at an antique shop. There’s a waltz, some ragtime, and a Christmas collection.”

  Sarah’s slender fingers traced the notes in front of her, pausing once in a while to play them on an imaginary keyboard. She turned each page slowly until she reached the end. At last she looked up at Jay. “This is the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received. It’s even better than the Gilbert Stuart prints.” Behind her new, stylish frames, her eyes glistened. She picked up the papers and clutched them to her chest. “I can’t wait to play them all.”

  Jay leaned back in his chair and sighed with relief. “Let me know a couple of minutes sooner next time, okay? I’ve been having a heart attack over here, thinking I did something awful.” He gave her a wry smile. “A lot of fingers have probably touched those. Germs, you know.”

  “I don’t care.” She continued holding the papers as she looked around the crowded room.

  Jay followed her gaze as she took in the brick walls, cluttered bar, and low lights hanging over the tables.

  “I like this place,” she announced. “It’s cozy.”

  “And kind of slow with the service,” Jay said, noting their waiter still hadn’t come. He flipped open the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’m going to get an order of fried pickles to go with my burger. Get whatever you like, but I’m telling you, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried those pickles.”