Stars Collide

by Janice Thompson

Grandma’s tears eventually slowed. Outside, thunder shook the little boat and we rocked back and forth. I gripped the railing next to the seat, and Rex pulled Grandma closer.

  “What is it, Lenora?” he asked. “What has you so troubled? The storm?”

  She looked at him and shook her head. “I . . . I’m sorry, Rex, but I have to talk to my granddaughter alone. Would you . . . would you mind?”

  I could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn’t like the idea—and probably all the more as another round of thunder shook the boat. He glanced up the stairs, then directed his attention to the little bedroom. “Why don’t you two go in there and I’ll be out here if you need me.”

  “Good idea.” I rose, feeling nauseous all over again as the boat swayed this way and that. I reached for my grandmother’s hand, helped her to a standing position, and led the way into the little bedroom.

  She sat and reached for a tissue from a box on the bedside table. After a few moments of silence, she finally spoke in a tremulous whisper. “Kat, I need to tell you something, but I’m so scared you’re going to hate me.”

  “I could never hate you.” And since when did she call me Kat?

  She leaned over, her head in her hands. Through her tears, I heard the words, “I’m a foolish old woman. And I’ve hurt so many people.”

  I gripped myself, the storm inside my belly now far exceeding the one causing flashes of lightning outside the porthole to my right.

  “Grandma, just start from the beginning. Tell me everything. We promised . . . no secrets.”

  For a moment she didn’t say anything. Then finally the dam broke.

  “Your mama was born in 1957.” Grandma dabbed at her eyes. “She was the prettiest little thing. Such a doll. The spitting image of her daddy. How could I not love her? She represented everything I loved.” Her jaw tightened and anger flashed in her eyes. “Why couldn’t people just leave us alone and let us be? I know I had a bright career ahead of me, but to tell me that I had to give up the person I loved because of a foolish mistake? Lots of people make mistakes.” She began to cry in earnest now. “Oh, honey, not that I think she was a mistake. Not at all. I’ve never loved anyone like I loved that baby.”

  My heart began to race and suddenly I felt nauseous again. Only, this time it had little to do with the boat. “Wait, Grandma. What are you saying?”

  She looked at me with a tearstained face. “I didn’t know the Lord at the time. If I’d understood his grace back then, all of this would have been so much easier. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s hard to say. I just know that I did what they told me . . . and it ruined my life.”

  “You did what who told you? Let’s go back to that part.”

  “Harvey Klink, my agent. He told me the baby would ruin my career, that studios would blackball me for having a baby before getting married. I was so scared, so young and foolish back then. And vulnerable. So I believed what they said. And I went along with their plan.” A look of anger took over now, and I could read the pain in her eyes. “I always went along with what they said. I was such a scared little thing.”

  “Grandma, none of this is making sense. Were you . . .” I hated to ask but couldn’t avoid it. “Were you pregnant with my mom before you and Grandpa got married or something?”

  She nodded and my heart flew to my throat. Suddenly it all made sense. I could see the shame written all over her face. It was mixed with several other emotions, none of which I could clearly make out.

  “So you married him because you felt you had to? Is that it?”

  She shook her head. “No, Kat. You don’t understand. I never married your grandpa . . . at all. And I’ve regretted it every day of my life since 1957.” She completely dissolved in tears, throwing her body across the bed. Her combs came loose and that gorgeous silver hair tumbled down, burying her in its wake.

  Okay, none of this made sense. Of course she was married to my grandfather. He’d died in South Korea. I’d seen the article in the paper. His name was Jonathan Billings. He was a military hero. My mother had shared countless stories of his valor.

  I placed my hand on Grandma’s back. The sobs intensified. After a few minutes, she took some gasping breaths and seemed to calm a bit. I took the opportunity to ask the inevitable question.

  “Grandma, are you saying that you got pregnant but your agent made you marry someone else?”

  “No.” She looked up at me, her black mascara creating ribbons across the soft wrinkles in her face. “I mean yes.”

  “Which is it?” The lump in my throat made asking anything else impossible. My thoughts reeled at the possibilities here. If she was saying what I thought she was saying, my entire world was about to be rocked . . . more than this crazy yacht I was on.

  “They wouldn’t let me marry your grandfather, Kat. They thought he was out to ruin my career.” She gazed into my eyes, and my heart suddenly felt like it had been invited to play a game of Twister. “Oh, but he wasn’t, honey. It wasn’t like that. He was my one true love. I adored him. And I went on adoring him for the rest of my life.”

  My heart broke. Okay, so that answered my question. She’d definitely been torn from the love of her life and forced to marry someone else.

  “What about your husband?” I asked. “Did you learn to love him too?”

  She gripped my hand. “You’re not understanding, Kat. I never married at all.”

  “W-what?” I lost my grip on her hand, completely overwhelmed by this news. “Of course you did.”

  “No.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Harvey and some stupid publicist made up the story about Jonathan Billings. It was several years after the Korean War, but the US still had a military presence there, so no one was the wiser. All the public ever knew was that I had married and was expecting a child, and my husband was killed while protecting other soldiers overseas. A hero. All of this contrived to salvage my career. As if I ever cared more about my career than I did about your grandpa.” Her tears came with such abandon that they broke my heart.

  I wanted to respond, but the lump in my throat wouldn’t allow it. As my grandmother continued grieving the loss of the man she had loved, her heartbreak became my own. No wonder she wanted to see me happily married to Scott. She had hit the nail on the head that day in the studio when she’d said she wanted for me what she’d never had for herself. A wedding.

  My mind reeled, thoughts now tumbling madly. A missing page from my life’s script had just been uncovered. Rex Henderson . . . was my grandfather.

  “Grandma,” I whispered, stroking her back. “Grandma, sit up. I have to ask you a question.”

  It took her a moment, but she finally rose and gazed into my eyes, her expression reflecting her complete and utter exhaustion.

  “Grandma, have you told him? Does he know?”

  She shook her head and dissolved into tears again. “No, KK. He’s never known. I mean, of course he knows I broke his heart. I left him high and dry. But he never knew why. And he really thought I married someone else. They wouldn’t let me tell him, even after . . . well, even after everything. So I never said a word. Not a word . . . and it’s been ripping me to shreds for fifty years.”

  The sobbing that followed caused my heart to ache. Rising from the bed, I began to pace the tiny room, rolling back and forth as the waves sent the boat this way and that. Moments later, a plan began to formulate. There would be no turning back. Swinging wide the bedroom door, I called Rex’s name.

  Turning back to my grandmother, I whispered, “It’s high time we told my real grandfather that he has a family. And if my guess is right, this is one storm he won’t mind weathering.”

  For a moment she looked at me with sheer terror in her eyes. Then, just as quickly, a peaceful look settled over her, and she nodded. By the time Rex entered the room, I knew God was on the move.

  Come to think of it, he’d been on the move all along.

  20

  Shower of Stars

  For the next hour, dark
clouds swirled above us, and the ensuing winds caused the waves to toss the Little Star to and fro. From the hull of the ship, I dealt with not just one but two storms. Thankfully the one inside appeared to be dissipating. I listened with my heart breaking as my grandmother came clean with her story.

  “Rex, I . . . I don’t know how to tell you this.” Tears poured as she choked out the words. “I . . . I’ve been living a lie.”

  “Living a lie?” He reached for her hand and gave it a tender squeeze. “Impossible. You’ve played many roles but never lived a lie.”

  “No, it’s true.” She shook her head, her cheeks still damp. “And I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me. How could you, after what I’ve done to you?” She dissolved into tears once more.

  He wrapped her in his arms. “Sweetheart, what is it? Tell me.”

  And so she did. Every gut-wrenching word spilled out, one on top of the other. Emotion got the best of her at several points along the way, but she forged ahead, telling him every last detail. He sat in what had to be shocked silence, not uttering a sound.

  Still, I saw occasional flickers of joy in his eyes. Several times I caught him looking my way, as if to say, “Is it true, or is this another one of her stories?”

  I knew in my gut this one was true. Every word. And it would change all of our lives . . . forever. In one afternoon, I’d learned that the grandfather I thought I’d lost wasn’t lost at all. He’d been with me all the time. In some ways it felt like Christmas, with Rex being the unexpected gift under the tree. I could hardly imagine what must be going through his mind, but as he gazed at me, one thing was clear. He realized that he now had another granddaughter.

  In that same breath, he had to realize that he’d lost a daughter—my mother. A thousand times, at least, Grandma begged his forgiveness for not telling him that she had given birth to his little girl. His tears were heartfelt, but when all was said and done, whispers of forgiveness ruled the day. If I’d never known the Lord before that conversation, I would have seen him clearly for the first time in how Rex responded to the news.

  When she finished, Grandma glanced his way, a desperate look in her eyes. “I need you to know how sorry I am. There were so many times I wanted to tell you . . . started to tell you. But I couldn’t. Oh, I should have. I know that. But . . . I couldn’t.” Her eyes welled over again.

  “Lenora, look at me.” His words were tender. Sweet.

  “I . . . I can’t.” She kept her gaze downward, tears streaming.

  Rex paused. “You’ve given me a lot to swallow. This is going to take some time to process.”

  Her sobs broke my heart. “H-how can you ever f-forgive me after what I’ve done to you?”

  He lifted her chin with his index finger until they were eye to eye. “Lenora, I’ve loved you since I was a boy. And I love you today as much as I did then.”

  “That’s impossible,” she whispered. “How . . . how could you?”

  “I love you because God loves through me. And I forgive you because he requires no less of me. I’m going to need some time to think this through, but it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. I always will.”

  Rex’s father-heart blew me away. And his love for my grandmother, despite any deception on her part, appeared unconditional. I knew it wasn’t, of course. Only God could love unconditionally. But as I watched Rex sweep her into his arms and kiss away her tears, I knew what it must feel like to be that person in need of grace. How many times had I been there?

  I stepped out of the room, making my way up the stairs. The others looked at me with some degree of curiosity. Surely my red-rimmed eyes tipped them off to the fact that something huge had happened, but I said nothing. Instead I mouthed the words, “Call me later,” to Athena. She nodded. Then I slipped over to Scott’s side and nuzzled up against him.

  “Everything okay?” He gave me a curious look.

  At first I shook my head. Then I nodded. “Yes. I mean no.” I offered up a weak smile. “I mean, it’s going to be okay. But sometimes the storms have to come before the sun breaks through. You know?”

  “Um, yeah.” He pointed to the sky and then gave me a tender look. “You can tell me all about it once we’re safely on shore again. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

  I nodded, then settled into the seat next to him, my mind reeling.

  When we got back to the pier, the paparazzi were waiting for us—at least a dozen. I suppose I couldn’t blame them. They apparently thought Jack and Angie were missing at sea just a week before they tied the knot, after all. I had a feeling network execs would be thanking us for this publicity. And I wondered if the public would think we’d drummed up the idea to garner attention. Crazier things had happened. Not that we controlled the weather, of course.

  Because we’d beaten the storm back to shore—Scott being such an able-bodied captain and all—the folks on land were all high and dry. However, hovering clouds threatened to ruin their opportunity for a story.

  My mind was focused not on the storm overhead but on the chaos we’d just braved below. No one else on board had any idea what had transpired, not even Scott. Our crew had to wonder why my grandmother’s mascara had dried in rivers down her cheeks and why Rex’s eyes were so red. But if they did, no one said a word. I had a feeling Athena would call me as soon as we got off the boat.

  If we could just avoid these goofy reporters.

  “Kat!” I turned as I heard a familiar voice and saw a fellow—maybe in his forties—with a camera. “James Stevens from The Scoop.”

  Of course.

  He took one look at Grandma and pointed to his photographer, who started snapping photos.

  “That’s enough of that.” Rex reached out, and for a moment I thought he might knock the camera to the ground.

  “You’ll get your story,” I said. “But you will leave her alone. Understood?” I flashed a warning look. A couple more cameras clicked, and Grandma disappeared with Rex to the parking lot. I stepped into place and Scott joined me.

  “Over here, Kat,” one of the female reporters hollered. “Jenny Collins from Tinsel Talk. What was it like to face death and live to tell about it?”

  “Face death?” Should I tell her that facing the paparazzi was scarier than any storm we could possibly face at sea? Maybe not.

  “I knew we would make it all along,” Scott said. “We had Kat with Nine Lives aboard, after all.”

  They all chuckled at that one.

  “Hey, you two didn’t elope out there, did you?” James asked. He scribbled down something before either of us could even respond.

  “Of course not. If anyone deserves a real wedding, Kat does.” Scott pulled me close and planted a tender kiss on my forehead. All around me, I heard the clicking of cameras but for once didn’t care. I enjoyed the comfort of his embrace, not worrying a lick about the reporters. Let them have a field day with this. The truth would come out in the wash.

  Scott shared the story of what had happened to us out on the water, and the reporters seemed happy with it. Athena stepped up and shared the funny bit about Gilligan’s Island, and one of the reporters quipped, “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be on strike?” which caused her to slink away from the cameras in search of her car. Bob and Paul followed her, doing their best to avoid being filmed.

  A few minutes into the interview, the storm came ashore. Thankfully it chased the paparazzi away. I’d never seen so many people scramble so fast. With that much equipment to protect, they scooted to their vehicles in a hurry.

  As they sprinted toward the parking lot, James and a couple of the other reporters looked back at Scott and me. We gave them a little wave, then ducked under his umbrella and headed back on board the yacht to secure her and do some cleaning downstairs.

  Safely away from the rain, Scott turned to me. “What in the world happened with Lenora and Rex? She looked . . . awful. And you looked pretty teary-eyed yourself. What kind of storm were you talking about?”

 
; Shaking my head, I said, “You’re never going to believe it. In a thousand years, you won’t believe it.”

  “Try me.”

  “I’m telling you, Scott, if the writers worked for weeks, they couldn’t come up with a story like this. Only, this one’s true. Every word.”

  “You’re killing me, Kat. Out with it.”

  I faced him head-on and whispered the words, still not quite believing them myself. “Rex Henderson . . . is my grandfather.”

  I wish the paparazzi had hung around just long enough to capture the look on Scott’s face. If a picture could paint a thousand words, his face at that very moment would have filled the pages of a book.

  “What?” He shook his head. “Kat, are you sure?”

  “Oh yes. Very sure. Grandma told me everything. She was never married to Jonathan Billings. There never was a Jonathan Billings. Her agent and some publicity guy made him up.”

  “Because . . . ?”

  “Because she was pregnant with my mom.”

  “Ah.” He dropped down onto the seat, shaking his head. “Well, I can honestly say I never saw this one coming. I’d pegged Lenora and Rex as a couple, but not this.” After a brief pause, he asked the obvious question. “Rex . . . didn’t know she was pregnant?”

  “No, he was told that she fell in love with someone else and got married. By the time my mom came along—and who knows, they probably fudged the date of her birth—he had backed away. Until he got the news that Jonathan died. You saw the letters, so you know he still had feelings for her after that.”

  “Man.” Scott shook his head. “I think I saw something like this once on a soap opera, but I’m pretty sure one of the characters had amnesia or something.”

  “Yes, it’s definitely not your usual story,” I said. “Only, it’s true. And Rex Henderson is my grandfather.”

  Scott pulled me close. “Kat, I know this is shocking, but in some strange way I see it as an answer to prayer. You’ve struggled with father issues for years, and God has just dropped the best possible father figure in your lap. Whatever issues Rex has had are clearly in the past. When I look at him, I see an amazing man of God.”