by L. Duarte
“What do you mean?”
“Nola tried to do the oldest trick there is and got pregnant to trap Tarry. According to Tarry, she realized her modeling career was over. Since she knows about Tarry’s fortune, she figured she would have his heir.” She wipes Livia’s face, then picks her up from the high chair.
I do the same with Antoine. “Hey, I’m Auntie Mel,” I croon to Antoine. His small fingers tangle in my hair. He rubs his eyes.
“Let’s change their diapers. They’re both exhausted.”
“Mom, I’m going to watch TV with Uncle Will and Dominique,” Ella says.
“Sure, honey. I’ll help Auntie Portia with the babies.”
“What Nola didn’t anticipate was that Tarry would sober up.” Portia shakes her head. “She thought Tarry, like Monique, would overdose soon. And she would be the mother of his only heir.”
“Oh, my God.” I follow Portia to the nursery. We change the babies and put them in their cribs. Whoa, it’s starting to sink in. Portia has a crib for Antoine.
“Tarry’s sobriety and the reality of having a baby worked against her plans,” Portia says. “As soon as Antoine was born, Nola got restless. At first, Tarry thought it was just postpartum depression. Also, he realized he was not the best partner—his mind was always drifting to you. According to Tarry, Nola refused to hold the baby, she complained about stretch marks ruining her career. She chose not to breast-feed, which was a relief for Tarry, since she smokes, drinks, and shoots up cocaine. She was bored and resentful with them. She blamed Antoine for Tarry not touching her.”
“What happened to her?”
“Have you been living under a rock?” Portia asks. “After relinquishing her maternal rights of Antoine to Tarry, Nola eloped with one of the richest men of Monte Carlo.”
“What?”
“Yep, as of now, poor Antoine is up for maternal adoption.” She flashes me a meaningful smile.
“Whoa, I can’t believe she left them.”
“I can. Nola never loved Tarry. In fact, Tarry supported her through the pregnancy and the birth of the baby, but he only interacted with her for the sake of Antoine.”
“Why is Antoine here with you?”
“Because Tarry and Antoine are moving here, Mel.”
“Oh.”
“By the way, Tarry left you something. I think it’s for your birthday. It’s on the counter.” She points to the counter.
“Thank you.”
I walk to the counter and spot a bouquet of chamomile. My heart beat increases. With trembling fingers, I retrieve the small card attached to the flowers. I open the envelope and read the note.
My sweet Melody,
Please meet me at Times Square at midnight.
Love,
T.
I wonder how he knew I would come back for him.
I sit on a stool and reread the note. It’s only eight o’clock, so I have plenty of time to get to him.
“THE HEART OF the world, the center of our galaxy—that’s what it is,” Portia said once as we looked up at the bright digital screens.
I stand at Times square, the center of the world and the center of our galaxy. My heart reaches to a record high. My cell phone rings. Wondering if it’s Tarry, I answer without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello.”
“Hello, lady.” A cheerful male voice greets me. It can’t be. Too many emotions, my poor heart won’t take it.
“This is Elvis Duran from The Elvis Duran Show. I heard that at midnight you will start celebrating your birthday, so I called you to wish you a marvelous birthday.”
I need to produce an answer, but my wits vanish and my voice falters. Finally, I mumble, “Thanks.” I can’t believe I’m talking to Elvis Duran.
“You must be wondering why I’m calling you.” I look around and don’t see Tarry.
“Well, here at the station, we are big fans of Tarry Francis, so when he called us and ask us to introduce his new single, we were only too happy to do it.”
I’m confused. My mind is sluggish from the nerves of talking to Elvis.
“So, with no further delay I want to introduce, ‘Sweet Life Melody.’”
I look at a billboard directly above me and a countdown in black-and-white numbers begins.
“But before I go, I heard you lost a bet to Tarry, Melody. So pay up.”
Like an idiot, I mumble a good-bye and hang up. God, I had the chance to talk to Elvis Duran, but I became mute, and I made a fool of myself. Before I can beat myself up about it, the huge digital screen displays my painting with the quote “Follow your dreams, because one day you will die.” It’s the quote I used to have on my windowsill flashing on the digital screen. The image smears and a valley of chamomiles spread before the camera.
My breathing halts. My heart feels like it’s somersaulting. My eyes are fixed on the screen and I see Tarry appearing alone in the middle of the vast field. He holds an acoustic guitar. He begins singing; the melody is pure, but bold. The camera zooms back and shows the band playing with him. A new flash of the same quotation appears, transitioning the band to a different field of chamomiles. Tears brim in my eyes. Another billboard lights up and displays another field of chamomiles, then a third screen shows yet another one, then a fourth. Dozens of digital screens flash fields of chamomiles. The sight is a wonder. Each billboard has a different field, but all show a flash of the music video containing Tarry with his band.
Tears are rolling down my face when the song ends. I close my eyes and wipe my tears.
“Melody!”
I can recognize the low raspy voice anywhere. My insides melt at the sound of my name. There is only one person who has the ability to make my name sound like a note.
I open my eyes, and turn toward the voice. Tarry stands in front of me, sporting a full beard. He holds a bottle of shaving cream and a small bouquet of chamomiles. His eyes are the deep shade of a stormy sky. The same eyes I’ve missed so much.
“I need shaving. Badly,” he says and his eyebrows knit together.
For a moment, I forget we are in a public place. I jump inside his embrace. He drops the shaving cream and the flowers. His arms form a vise around my waist. Tears escape. His scent overwhelms my senses. My body trembles. I’m torn by the overpowering desire to consume Tarry and the reality of where I realize we are.
“Tarry!” Tears continue to roll down my face. “God, Tarry, I’ve missed you. I love you—”
His lips crush mine. We are at the heart of the world and center of our galaxy, but everything disappears around us. There is just Tarry and me. For a moment, all stars have aligned into perfection. Without touching one another they burst into a perfect display of shooting stars. They blaze so beautifully that they are blinding. This is one of those perfect moments. I inhale his pure scent. I surrender and melt into his smoldering embrace. I know I’ve caught one of the falling stars. I know I’ll never let it go.
After a long kiss, Tarry surfaces for air. “Mel, please take me back, I can’t go on without you.” I have never heard Tarry’s voice so pained.
“How did you know I was going to come here?” I ask.
“An old friend said you would. And I decided to have a little faith.”
“God, Tarry, is this really happening? I feared you were over me, over us,” I say between sobs.
“I couldn’t take my mind off of you. I couldn’t stop my heart from loving you. I couldn’t stop you from coming to my dreams. You have to understand that being with Nola is not the right thing. You’re the only right thing for me. I love you, Mel. We were meant to be together.”
“Shhh,” I say. “You’re mine and I’m yours. We can’t change that,” I whisper against his lips.
“Mel, you mean it?”
My heart accelerates. “We’re soul mates, Tarry. Just like your grandpa said once.”
“God, Mel, I was so afraid you would tell me to leave.”
“I’ll never again tell you to leave, Tarry. I’m bu
t an empty shell in your absence.”
Tarry hugs me and whispers on my ear, “You mean it, Mel?”
“Yes, Tarry. I mean it. No more doubts, no more regrets. I have to confess what I have not even accepted myself. I used Nola’s pregnancy as an excuse to send you away. I just realized I was using the pain of having lost Tim to shield me from having a new relationship. That’s me, Tarry, selfish and a coward. It was not only about you doing the right thing. I don’t think I could have lived with myself knowing that you left your son behind because of me, but it was beyond that. Deep down I was too afraid of losing you, so I decided to cut you from my life. Please forgive me, Tarry. I’m a coward.”
“No, Mel, you’re the bravest and most selfless person I’ve met. We were both lost. We both needed time to find our inner selves so we could find each other.”
“And for as long as you want me, Tarry, you can have me. Mind, body, and soul.”
“God, Mel. I want you for life.”
“I love you, Tarry.”
“I love you too, Mel. Let’s go home, baby, I need shaving. Badly.”
I know in my heart of hearts that, until the end of our days, the duty of shaving his beautiful face is mine alone. So I glance at his beautiful face and my fingers slide over his hairy cheeks. “Yes, baby, take me home.”
SOME SAY WE only have one soul mate during our lifetimes. Fortunately, that’s not my case. Tim was my first soul mate. When he died, my zing vanished. My life shattered. Then Tarry came along and restored my heart and my faith. He returned to me the thrill of living.
Life is full of unseen miracles, full of unsolved mysteries. At times, we catch a glimpse of them and it is enough to mesmerize us. The sight of a miracle or the insight of a mystery is a wonder to behold. It will take our stagnated breath away and return a fresher breath of air to our lungs.
I caught sight of many miracles along my meager years on this earth. My Tim is one of them. Together we had lived a fairy tale. After losing him, I wondered if happiness was elusive and love destructive. Life became bitter and living became torture. As consequence, I became blind to the trail of small miracles Tim left behind.
Tarry arrived like a landslide into my life and, though he was more broken than I ever was, he redirected me to the basics of loving and cleansed me of the poison that had seared through my blood. He rid me of the bitterness that grew in my heart, like pulling a weed growing between cracks in the pavement of a vacant parking lot.
Because of Tarry, if I focus enough, I can clearly see Tim’s dimpled smile. It’s a beautiful sight that has me astonished.
Today is the day I marry Tarry. As I stand at the door of the chapel Tarry had built by the lake shack I think of Tim. I think of the rare and pure beauty of our days together. My heart aches. I inhale deeply and tighten my hold of the chamomile bouquet. Dad approaches me.
“It’s time, Melody,” Dad says with moist eyes and a grin on his face.
“Dad, is it okay for me to wish Tim was here, even though if he was here I would not be marrying another man?”
“God, Melody, I wish I had an answer, but I think I would have a better shot at unraveling the mysteries of The Book of Revelation.”
I grin back at Dad and accept it’s okay not to have all the answers.
A realization dawns on me. Our fairy tale is what we write on the blank pages of our lives as we go through the unique journey allotted to us. We write our ordinary stories of our average lives with the choice of believing it to be a fairy tale.
I place my hand on the crook of Dad’s arm and the red door opens. “Sweet Life Melody” croons from the speakers. The intoxicating scent of chamomile overtakes my senses.
Before I step inside the sanctuary, fluttering wings catch my attention. I look to my side, where the sun is setting, flowers are huddling, and the lake is resting. I see the image of an eagle hovering over the placid water. The image is ethereal.
I look inside the dim-lit church to see Tarry. He is tall, sober, shaved… and waiting for me. His hand sweeps over his shaggy hair and a small smile dances on his lips.
I inhale deeply and I smile. Peace and closure wash over me. Then, I walk inside the church toward the man I deeply love.
After shaking Dad’s hand, Tarry takes my hand inside his calloused fingers. He kisses my lips softly. I look deep into his eyes.
I silently vow never to take for granted the beauty of my past, the joy of my present, nor the promises of my future. For everything under the sun has a season. And life is magnificently designed in such a marvelous way that it will allow us to enjoy or endure each and every moment during its due season.
The End
I WANT TO thank you all the wonderful people I met on this journey. Though I never seen you face to face, our exchange of emails is the best support I could ever ask for.
Renee, you’re a ninja blogger. You held my heart in your hands when you wrote that first review for Chasing Stars. I’m eternally grateful that our paths have crossed.
Chelsea, Wendy, and Kelli. Thank you for helping me tame this beast called manuscript. I appreciate every comment, every suggestion, and all the support.
Elizabeth and Kathie, thank you for granting me your rich knowledge, and sharp skills for all things grammar.
Lucy and Tina, you are the best friends a writer could have.
Dad, thank you for showing me the stars. You’re always in my heart and thoughts.
I HAVE FOUND that there is only one thing better than reading, and that is writing. I am always torn between the two. I am also frequently torn between chocolate and coffee. However, I emphatically do not like the month of February, lies, and flies. For me, bravery is defined by the courage to do what we fear the most. This conviction is reflected in my debut work of romantic fiction, Chasing Stars.
One of my all-time favorite quote is from Albert Einstein. “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” I live according to the latter, so is fair to say my writing will always include miracles. And by that I mean, lots of love, hope, and faith. These are some of the greatest miracles of life. I live in Connecticut with my husband and two children. Drop a few lines. I would love to hear from you.
CONNECTIONS:
EMAIL
[email protected]
TWITTER
@LDuarte77
FACEBOOK
https://www.facebook.com/luciana.duarte.7509836
https://www.facebook.com/pages/LDuarte/265326050277001?hc_location=timeline
WEBSITE
https://profiles.google.com/u/0/101051622201699883412
GOODREADS
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18188895-chasing-stars
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
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