Catch a Fallen Star

by Amy Vastine

  “Are you two extortionists done? Can I start now?”

  They set their phones down and gave him their full attention. “Yes.”

  “I wrote a song for each of the three of you. Let’s see if you can figure out which one is yours.”

  The music started, and Boone pulled Ruby close while they listened. He was so proud of it that she knew it was going to be phenomenal. There was no doubt. When Boone Williams put his heart and soul into something, it was magic.

  Ruby guessed the song “Don’t Call Me Red” was about Violet. It had a million color references and was about the sassiest girl in Nashville. It was upbeat and fun. Ruby would have called it a toe-tapper, but Violet would have made fun of her. The girls laughed all the way through. Violet loved it for sure.

  Everyone was quiet during “Too Late for Sorry.” That was Emmy’s song and got Ruby choked up. She could feel Boone’s heart beating a little faster. This was his favorite song on the record and the one he needed Emmy to love. This was his way of asking for redemption. Emmy got up and kissed his cheek when it was over. “It’s never too late, Daddy.”

  Ruby’s song was last. It was called “No Misunderstandings” and was a fun ditty with the catchiest hook. It was all about him being very clear about the reasons he loved her. It was the song Dean wanted to put out as the first single and was sure to be a hit.

  “I think country music is going to welcome you home with open arms,” Ruby said, giving him a kiss. “As a non-country-music listener, I loved it.”

  Emmy and Violet gave him a standing ovation. He stood and hugged them both at the same time.

  “You owe me fifteen dollars,” Violet informed him. “I’m a little disappointed there wasn’t a song about a waitress in Daisy Dukes who got her heart broken because she didn’t like your truck.”

  “That’s one of the B-sides,” Boone said with a wink.

  Violet tipped her chin down. “I have no idea what that means, which means that’s a word from 1940. So, to bring you back to the present, I think you should know I liked my song the best because it’s about me. I also love that you snuck in the blue horse for Willow and mom’s green eyes and our old yellow house. It’s like every good memory from Grass Lake in one song.”

  “We’re going to my room now. Proud of you, Daddy.” Emmy gave him another kiss and took off with Violet in tow.

  “I feel like we are way too lucky that those two are thicker than thieves,” Ruby said as Boone sat back down next to her.

  “It was meant to be. This is my family.”

  Ruby’s butterflies went crazy when he talked like that. They had been dating for six months, and everything was going too well. She was afraid to acknowledge how perfect it was for fear that would provoke a reversal of fortune.

  She kissed him instead. Kissing Boone was always the best way to kill the time. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Holly it was like seeing fireworks or stars, but better. With Boone, everything was bigger, brighter, stronger.

  “How come only the girls get to have sleepovers?” he asked when he came up for air.

  “Because we are teaching our girls that it pays to do things the right way.”

  “Sometimes being bad isn’t so bad.” He flashed her that grin and gave her those eyes that could convince her of just about anything.

  “Stop trying to Boone me.” She covered her own eyes with her hand. “I won’t give in until you marry me.”

  “That could be arranged.”

  Ruby dropped her hand and waited for him to start laughing. Only, he didn’t. He looked dead serious.

  Boone and Ruby had talked about marriage once before, only to express their fear about doing something like that a second time. Neither one of them wanted to be divorced twice. If they were going to get married, they both had to be one hundred percent sure that they were in it for life.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I love you, Miss Ruby Wynn, and there is no one in this world I want to grow old with other than you.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “One hundred ten percent.”

  Ruby was caught off guard. Something that Boone was good at doing. He always left her feeling a tiny bit off balance. Enough so things never got too comfortable. She loved that about him.

  “I love you, too,” she said.

  “So what are you saying?”

  “Are you asking me?”

  He slid off the couch and got down on one knee. He took Ruby by the hand and stared back at her with the most sincere look in his eyes.

  “I don’t have a ring because I wasn’t planning this, but I have known for a long time that this was what I wanted. Marry me, Ruby. Let’s make this family the real deal.”

  She believed him when he said this wasn’t some impulsive decision. They had both felt the shift. The fear had lifted some time ago. Ruby knew without a doubt that he was the only man for her.

  “Let me be clear so there’s no misunderstanding,” she said, taking his face in her hands and pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. “Yes. I will marry you.”

  He jumped back on the couch, peppering her with kisses. “Let’s not tell the girls. Let’s surprise them with a destination wedding,” he said.

  “Someone really has been thinking about this.”

  “Only since I kissed you in your kitchen back in Grass Lake.”

  “Only since then?” Her heart fluttered at the memory.

  “What can I say? You Rubied me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  MARY ELLEN FINISHED proofreading this month’s Parenting Advice column and emailed it to Holly. She liked to get them one week in advance, but Mary Ellen always sent it two weeks ahead just to be safe.

  This month’s article was on the importance of having a fire safety plan. She shared with the good readers of the Gazette how her family ran fire drills four times a year. Her children might be small, but they could be taught to army crawl to the door, to check for heat with the backs of their little hands and to get outside as quickly as possible. They knew to meet by the oak tree in the front yard. The last time they practiced, everyone made it out safely in less than three and a half minutes.

  The twins were napping peacefully, so she decided to go grab the mail. Keith was watching some hockey on the TV. He was allowed to watch only when the kids were sleeping. Monitoring their screen time was very important. They were not going to have children who were addicted to electronic devices.

  The new neighbors were out watering the landscaping they had put in for spring. Sandy and Eugene were ideal neighbors. Their two boys were in elementary school and so polite. They had a dog, but they seemed to be good about keeping it leashed at all times. Her girls were allergic; she couldn’t have some mutt charging at them if they happened to be outside at the same time.

  They had bought the house from the Davises about a month after Ruby and her troubled daughter moved out. It was quite a change from living next door to renters, who were always a little shady.

  She opened the mailbox and pulled out the small stack of envelopes. Bill, junk mail, junk mail, junk mail. On the bottom was a square envelope addressed to her and Keith in beautiful calligraphy. No return address, though. That was odd. She didn’t have any family members celebrating anything important anytime soon. She couldn’t imagine who it was from.

  The envelope was thick and sturdy. It was obviously very expensive stationery. She didn’t want to tear it, so she waited until she got inside and could use her letter opener.

  It slid across the top like a hot knife through butter. Inside was a beautiful invitation on luxury card stock. This was no generic paper. This was custom. Whoever sent this
was trying very hard to show off.

  Mary Ellen sat down on one of the stools at her spotless kitchen island. All the lunch dishes were washed and dried, and the ingredients for stuffed peppers were set out to make things easier on her when it was time to start dinner. Mary Ellen was proud of her cleanliness and organizational strengths. Who wouldn’t be?

  She read the whole invitation. Twice.

  They met.

  They fell in love.

  They’re getting married.

  You’re invited.

  Please join Ruby and Boone

  as they become Mr. and Mrs.

  The plane leaves BNA

  June 2 at 3:00 p.m. sharp

  for Turks and Caicos.

  Bring your passport.

  And a bathing suit.

  You’re welcome.

  Mary Ellen felt faint. Today, according to the date circled on the calendar hanging on the wall of her kitchen command center, was June 1.

  Leave it to Ruby to wait to the last minute to send out an invitation. Clearly she was still having trouble keeping her life in order. But she was marrying a music icon. Boone was back on the radio and his first single had been sitting at the top of the charts for weeks. That made Ruby someone Mary Ellen needed to be nice to.

  “Keith!” she screamed loud enough to wake not only her children but also all the sleeping children in Grass Lake. “Grab the suitcases! I’ll get the passports! We’re going to a wedding!”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from CHRISTMAS IN THE COVE by Carol Ross.

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  Christmas in the Cove

  by Carol Ross

  CHAPTER ONE

  AUBREY TAPPED A rhythm with her foot as the song “Respect” played inside her head. The words sounded as clear and pure as if Aretha herself was strapped in the helicopter’s seat beside her.

  The copilot, Lieutenant Jensen, interrupted her mid-verse. “Three minutes.”

  Signaling that she heard, she resumed her internal checklist. Not the equipment list every Coast Guard Rescue Swimmer is always prepared with—mask, fins, knife, radio, beacon and assorted supplies. She’d already done that one about fifty times. No, Aubrey was executing her “mental prep.” Breathing deeply, she imagined blood flowing to the furthest reaches of her body from her heart to her liver and all the way to the tips of her toes, while she silently sang Aretha Franklin’s classic tune over and over again. Was this weird? Maybe. She had no idea. But she knew other rescue swimmers who had their rituals, too. So, in that regard, she assumed it was normal. She didn’t really care one way or the other. It was her normal.

  “Almost there.” Jensen spoke into her ear again.

  She had noted the change in airspeed as they’d approached the coordinates. They were now moving slowly, searching. She embraced the surge of adrenaline that kicked in as she prepared for the task at hand. There could be literally anywhere, she mused as she looked out at the vast grayness beyond the rain-splattered windshield of the Jayhawk helicopter.

  The emergency call had reported that the Respite, a forty-foot fishing boat with a crew of three, was in immediate distress. The captain of the vessel had relayed that the engine was dead, they were taking on water in the high seas and the bilge pumps could not keep up. The latest communication had confirmed they were abandoning ship. Time was of the essence. She shot an impatient glance at Oliver.

  The flight mechanic and hoist operator, Petty Officer Terrence “Osprey” Oliver, opened the helicopter door. Looking out, she assessed the situation as well as the conditions permitted. She could make out the floundering vessel and the spreading debris field, but couldn’t see anything in the water that looked remotely like a human. As they circled the scene, her eyes scanned, the fog thinned...and there! Splashes of orange. Survivors in life jackets waving their arms. She looked at Oliver. She could tell he’d seen them, too, which was no surprise as Osprey had earned his nickname for a reason. She’d seen him spot survivors at distances that would make a real bird jealous.

  She was anxious to get into the water now.

  He signaled for her to get ready.

  She quickly unbuckled from her flight seat and began to add the rest of her water deployment ensemble. Already outfitted in her dry suit, she removed the onboard communications, or ICS, and adjusted her swim helmet. For the duration of the rescue she would rely mostly on hand signals to communicate with her crew.

  She waited some more. It was only a minute, but still, slower than usual and she felt a surge of anxiety as the seconds ticked by. This delay was not typical. What was going on?

  Oliver signaled for her to slip her ICS back on.

  Lieutenant Jensen spoke. “We’re experiencing mechanical difficulties. Returning to base.”

  “Wait, no!”

  “We don’t have any choice, Wynn.”

  “Yes, we do. Let me drop.”

  “Negative. We’re not leaving you without an exit.”

  “The forty-seven is at least thirty minutes out.” Aubrey was referring to the forty-seven-foot motorboat that would have to be deployed from Station Cape Disappointment and the time it would take for it to arrive on scene. She didn’t have to add that the survivors might not last that long.

  “Another helo will have to—Hold on.”

  A delay could mean the difference between life or death. The least she could do is get them into a life raft and provide some comfort during the wait.

  She knew the pilot, Lieutenant Commander Vincent, was going to give her an order. She needed to make a last-ditch argument in an effort to save three lives. She could get to the survivors, at least, do what she could to give them comfort and keep them alive until help arrived. She would risk the censure. So Others May Live was the Coast Guard’s Rescue Swimmers’ motto, and that’s what she did. That’s what she would do. Always.

  “Sir, I can—”

  “Stop talking, Wynn. We’ve got another chopper en route. It’s on a recon mission and is only minutes out. If you’re willing, you’ve got the go-ahead to deploy. They will execute the recovery.”

  “Yes, of course I’m willing.”

  “Lieutenant Commander Holmes is piloting the aircraft. Petty Officer Johnston is the flight mechanic,” Oliver added. “The tw
o new guys are also on board. You’re all set. Go save some lives.”

  She hadn’t met the new guys yet, but she had a ton of respect for Lt. Cdr. Holmes. And Jay Johnston was a friend, someone she flew with regularly and trusted. He was also an excellent hoist operator and Aubrey was glad to hear he was part of the crew.

  She secured her equipment bag, put the mask and snorkel on her forehead, and pulled on her fins. Still wearing the requisite gunner’s belt, she moved forward and seated herself in the doorway of the chopper, gripping the handholds situated on either side. From this vantage point she could now see that the boat was lying very low and listing heavily to starboard. Swamped. She could hear nothing but the scream of the helicopter combined with the roar of the wind and the ocean. The sound fueled her determination. Ready, she signaled. Oliver gave her a firm tap on the chest to indicate she could proceed.

  The helo moved right and dipped as Lieutenant Vincent lowered it into position. She released the gunner’s belt, positioned the mask on her face and, after one last equipment check, gave him a thumbs-up. Three more taps to her shoulder indicated she was good to go on his end.

  She could never deploy without thoughts of her childhood “Coastie friends” Eli and Alex flashing through her mind. Their dads had served together and were the best of friends. That connection had brought their kids together, too, but a mutual love of adventure, the beach and water in any form had sealed the bond into their own solid, unwavering friendship.

  The three of them would practice rescue jumping for hours on end: slight bend in the knees, fins pointing up, one hand on the mask and the other across the chest. Just like she did now. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath, timed her free fall to catch the top of a big swell, and dropped into the ocean.

  She surfaced, her mind now fully in rescue mode. Raising her arm high into the air, she positioned her palm up and out in the “I am all right” signal, and swam to the first survivor.

  * * *

  LIEUTENANT COMMANDER, COAST GUARD pilot and rescue swimmer, Eli Pelletier wasn’t technically doing either of those jobs today. Rather, he was enjoying his ride as a passenger touring the Pacific Northwest’s coastline. His friend and fellow pilot, Lieutenant Commander Gale Kohen, was in the helicopter seat beside him, also taking in the view.