Rewrite the Stars

by Julieann Dove

  During the summers Claire spent there, Frieda would say very little as she bustled around the house, washing wet bathing suits before mildew settled in and cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the entire family. Her tired hazel eyes made Claire think there was something more to her than just being a housekeeper. Where was her own family and why would someone choose to live alone at the beach house, as she did all year round, even in the bitter, winter months?

  Claire could still imagine running up that same hill to the house. Frieda would call lunch and the three would take off. With sand sticking to every inch of their bodies, they’d fall into the screen door of the side porch. Their mothers waited at the white metal table across from the sofas with the large palm leaves printed on the cushions. Sandwiches were piled on the bone china platters: cucumber, tomato, and if she was lucky, some type of sandwich meat.

  Mallory and she would quickly be sent back outside to spray off with the hose. Claire could still imagine the cold water as Mallory aimed the nozzle in her direction, soaking the front of her ladybug bathing suit. That year it pinched at her crotch, making it uncomfortable to wear. It was two years old and not able to stretch as fast as Claire was outgrowing it.

  The water made her shiver, being in the shade of the tall magnolia tree with the breeze lifting off the water, crossing the backyard of the house. Colin came around the side of the house, dressed in swim trunks with shark’s teeth printed on them, begging to hold the hose. No doubt he’d just climbed out of a tree, still with dead spiders or worms in his grubby little hands. Claire felt as if he aimed the frigid water more in her direction than his sister’s.

  Frieda would throw out towels for all three of them to wrap their bodies and stop from dripping on the floors she had cleaned on her hands and knees. They would all follow her inside like ducks and sit on the wicker chairs and pig out on sandwiches and chips. She could see her mother’s smile now in her memory. Her fair complexion face, those amber-green eyes, and thin nose. They knew what each of them were feeling—pure joy for having the chance of being in paradise for another summer.

  Claire cleared the memory from her mind, and continued walking up the lonely hill to the empty house. The incline seemed less high than when she was smaller. She turned to look at the water once more, hoping to continue that realm of peace again before she left. There that beacon in the water swayed. That infamous buoy. The last year before Colin left for school, he dared Claire to swim out to it. It didn’t look that far away, but when boats circled it, she knew it was farther than it seemed. She knew she could do it, though. She’d been swimming like a fish since the age of three, but she never had enough nerve. She’d regretted not doing it ever since. Why did she still think about it? He’d most likely have forgotten all about it.

  Chapter Three

  The Return of Colin Prescott

  Claire threw her dress in the corner of the bathroom and stepped into the warm shower. Unlike her New York apartment, she didn’t have to wait for the hot water; it came on command. Even the showerhead had multiple selections for massage. She tried out a few for the sake of it, settling on the most basic one it offered. The steam soon filled the glass enclosure and frosted even the sconces on the wall. Most of the tension she was feeling that day seemed to be streaming down toward the shiny, silver drain. She wanted this to be a nice getaway. The last one, she was sure, for a long while. With a job and responsibilities, she knew she’d never be able to afford a vacation. And, she didn’t imagine she would be returning to Kelly’s Cove ever again.

  She finished rinsing off, turned the lever to the far right and grabbed for her towel on the hook outside the shower door. With one foot firmly placed on the white plush bathroom rug, she leaned her head back over the tub, squeezing the water from her hair. Without warning, the door flung open and a cold gust of air rushed in, settling on her wet body. The figure of someone rushed inside. She’d only time to scream, “I’m in here! What are you doing?”

  His eyes slowly expanded before fixating on the floor tiles. With his chin tucked firmly into his chest, and his arms raising in surrender, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was home. There’s no—”

  By this time, she’d managed to stretch the towel open to cover up her damp body, and saw it was Colin. “I’m here. What are you doing here?”

  He looked up. “I—”

  “Don’t look at me,” she shrieked and held out her dripping arm. “I’m naked. Just go out. Please.” She waved for him to leave.

  With head still buried, he quickly shot another quick look at her and went out the door.

  Claire started to count her breaths, a calming mechanism she found useful when her mother was in pain, waiting until the medicine kicked in. She rolled her hair up into another fluffy towel she’d found by the sink and looked around for her clothes. To her dismay, she’d left them in the bedroom. After hesitating, she turned the knob of the door and began to creep out to her suitcase she’d left on the bed. To her surprise, he was still there. His black duffel bag and suitcase was on the floor next to where he stood.

  “What are you doing?” Her shoulders shrugged forward and she clinched the front of her towel.

  “This is my room. What are you doing?”

  “Oh, that is true.” She straightened her posture, realizing he was right. “Your mother moved me in here about two years ago to be closer to Mallory’s room.” She felt silly for implying he was the trespasser. “But, what are you doing here? Your family just left to pick you up.”

  “I caught an earlier flight and found a ride home.”

  Claire noticed him looking more at her towel than her eyes when he gave his answer. She hoped it wasn’t the see-through kind and pulled at its top, raising it a little higher in hopes to touch her chin.

  “I’ll get my things and move them to the room down the hall.” She began throwing a few pieces of clothing on the bed into her suitcase.

  “No, don’t. I’ll stay down there. You’re obviously settled in here. It’s fine. No big deal.” He bent down and grabbed his duffel.

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

  He already had his bags and was walking toward the door. She noticed how grown up and changed he looked. His voice had even grown deeper. Maybe it had something to do with that Adam’s apple that she watched rise and fall when he talked just now. And, he was wearing his hair shorter these days—a little spiky in the front, and darker than she remembered. His face seemed to have sprouted hair in an all-over fashion; not patchy like it was in high school. She imagined it to be a few day’s growth at the least. She loved scruff on a guy’s cheeks. It made them look rugged and sexy.

  The scrawny little boy she knew now had a toned torso, too. She noticed the muscles in his arms flex as he picked up the bag. But there was something about him that remained the same—his intense blue eyes. Even as a small boy, she’d seemed always to be captivated by them. They held power behind them. The navy-blue shirt he wore that day seemed to deepen them as he looked at her. Her body felt drawn to his stare, as if wings could have sprouted from her back and flown her into the vortex of his pupils. Yes, London and four years away had truly been good for him.

  Was what she was feeling what friends had told her was butterflies? Or was it horror of what she thought he might’ve seen? There was a sudden swirl in the pit of her stomach. Pam claimed if any guy gave you butterflies, run in the other direction. It would only end up in disaster. Claire wouldn’t know; she’d only slept with one guy and he gave her nausea. Especially when he failed to call the day after. Or the day after that. Figures. Her mother had told her he only wanted one thing. And the fact Claire perpetually felt ugly—she thought giving herself to that jerk would make her feel special. How wrong she was.

  “It’s no big deal, Claire. It’s just a room.”

  “Colin?” She peered around the corner one more time to see whether he’d answer.

  “Yeah?” He backed up and waited for he
r response.

  “You didn’t see anything, right? It was foggy and I was barely out of the shower. I mean, the towel was practically hiding everything, right?”

  A sly smile crept to his mouth. Something that put her in mind of the Grinch, right after he told Cindy Lou Who he was Santa Claus, there to repair the Christmas tree. “Nah, I didn’t see a thing.”

  He pulled the door shut and she went back in and fell on the bed, pressing her eyes so tightly together, little floaters swam in each of them.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  That was Claire Ashton? That little tomboy girl who used to run around with his sister, and share a room with her mother in the upstairs of his parents’ beach house every summer? The awkwardly tall, flat-chested girl with pale skin now had breasts and an hourglass figure?

  He opened the door to the room at the end of the hall, shaking his head at what he’d just seen. Albeit, it was a quick flash, but he noticed all her parts were present and accounted for. Luckily, she chased him out of the room, giving him a moment to collect himself.

  He looked around at his new haunt for the next couple weeks. It used to be Mallory’s room before she complained that the air conditioner pumped too much air inside it, giving her a cold to last throughout the summer. Its walls were still painted a dusty rose and pictures of antique dolls in wagons and baskets of daisies were hung against it. Colin rolled his eyes. So not the swimsuit models that adorned the walls of his dorm the past four years.

  Apart from being a place where his father dwelled, he had missed the beach house. It was the only part of his childhood he could recount with fond memories. A place of refuge where school work wasn’t scrutinized and his future wasn’t shoved down his throat. He loved just lying in the sun, watching out the small cracks of his eyes, his sister and her friend, Claire. He always envied how at the end of the stay she could escape his family.

  The water looked inviting outside of the window in his room, as he stood at the dresser, unpacking a few things from his bags. He placed the box with the necklace inside it in the top drawer. It was a gift to his mother for talking his dad into letting him leave America to attend college in London. He owed her more than a necklace, but hopefully that would please her, nonetheless. He’d picked up a pendant for Mallory, too. It was a gold M. He knew how she was weird about finding things with her name on it. She was mostly disappointed in her futile searches. If only her mother would’ve named her Abby or Jessica, she could’ve found anything preprinted on them.

  He looked back toward the water. It looked vast and endless, sparkling as far as the eye could see, from the sun’s rays. Maybe even chilly, which sounded even better. The guy he’d gotten a ride from drove a beat-up Honda with no a/c and the window control only let down the window a quarter of the way. He could still feel the sweat on his back. He slipped off his shoes and remembered his swimming trunks were in his dresser, in the room where Claire now stayed. Taking off his shirt, he tossed it on the bedspread with tiny rosebuds on it, and headed out to the beach.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Claire was finishing up dressing and pinning her hair on the side when she saw Colin from her window. He stood on the pier, removing his pants. She walked closer to examine what she was seeing. After he kicked them off his feet, he jumped into the water. She went and grabbed a towel from the bathroom shelf, slipped on her sandals, and headed toward the dock.

  The breeze from earlier had almost completely died, leaving a warm, sticky heat in its place. Claire pulled at her dress, creating a breeze for the sake of her thighs. Colin had swum out quite a distance, almost to the first beacon. She sat on the edge of the dock and dangled her long legs, waiting for his return.

  “I thought you might need this.” She held up the towel to show him as he swam closer to her.

  “Thanks, but I thought I’d just bake on the beach until I dried.” He wiped the water from his eyes and bobbed up and down. “I suppose the towel will keep me from getting tattooed with sand, though.”

  He shielded his eyes to see her better. The sun had begun falling in the sky behind her. The glowing red fireball failed to compete with her beauty. The burnt-orange-colored dress she wore blended with it precisely. He noticed how soft her hair looked, as wisps of it kept getting caught in her mouth when she spoke.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come this year. Mom told me—”

  Claire stood to get out of his way as he climbed the ladder attached to the end of the dock. “I probably shouldn’t have come.”

  He remembered he was in his Jockeys and looked down to make sure they were on okay. He noticed when he looked back up, Claire’s eyes were in the same region. “Sorry, you have my swim trunks in your…I mean, my room.”

  “Oh, Lord. I’m sorry.” She shielded her eyes with her hand.

  He took the towel she handed him and tied it around his waist. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the funeral.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I would’ve preferred not going myself.”

  He sat down, motioning her to join him. Water drained from his hair, crawling down the sides of his face, until he wiped it off the edges of his jawline. “I know how close you all were. I’m really sorry about it.”

  She took a seat, making sure to first pull her dress underneath her. There was a healthy twelve inches between them. “It’s okay. I’m trying to get on with my life now. Whatever that is. She’s all I had.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked toward the cove.

  He studied her like something unfamiliar to him. How could she really have no one else? Where was her father? No one had ever mentioned him in all the years she came to the beach house with her mother. Or aunts or uncles? Didn’t she have any cousins? Who has no one but a mother on their family tree?

  “You graduated college, right?” He wiped some water from his lips. He didn’t want to get caught staring at her for too long.

  “Yeah, I managed, in between taking care of Mom and attending classes, to graduate with a decent GPA. I’ve got a job awaiting me in July at the department for genetic testing. It’s an affiliate to Regent Memorial.”

  “That’s great, Claire. I didn’t realize that’s what you wanted to do. I always thought you’d end up being a librarian or something.”

  She laughed. “Why on earth would you think that?”

  “All those books you used to read. I remember finding you in window seats, under trees…you name it.”

  “Yeah, well, I do like to read. However, I decided on the genetic career path ever since I understood what was wrong with Mom. I’m determined to find a cure.” She leaned back on her hands. He noticed the flatness of her stomach. “How about you? What did you go to school for?” She smiled. “Certainly as much as you caught snakes, frogs, and fish, don’t tell me you’re some sort of mad scientist? With a hundred jars of these poor reptiles in them. You were merciless at chasing me with leaping frogs. I told Mom there was something wrong with you. She assured me that’s what boys did.”

  He burst out laughing. “I just wanted to get your attention.”

  “Um, you could’ve just said my name. I’m pretty sure that would’ve gotten more of a civilized response than screaming.”

  He grabbed his side. “Yeah, remember when Frieda came out with a meat cleaver that time? She thought someone was being killed?”

  “I do. She was so angry.” She hid her mouth and laughed.

  His levity disappeared as he stared into the water. “I guess you could say I went to school for my dad.” It came out with the swiftness of a crooked dagger.

  “I see. So he wanted you to go to London?”

  “No, that was a gift to me. I figured if I wasn’t able to go to school for what I wanted to do with my life, I’d at least go somewhere far enough away that I didn’t have him down my throat for four years.” He leaned back on his elbows. His body was almost dry.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Fly planes.
” It excited him just to say it. To admit it to someone, other than his college roommate. He’d stopped dropping hints to his family freshman year in high school. It was pretty much falling on deaf ears, anyway. He didn’t want to take over the family business, like his dad was forcing him to do since the age of five. He only wanted to become a pilot. He thought once about joining the army, just to get away and learn his passion. But he knew his dad would find a way to get him out and force him to take over the business anyway. That, and he knew how it killed his mother every time he and his dad fought about things. He had bit so much of his tongue in the past, out of respect of her, he was surprised he still had one in his mouth.

  “Sounds dangerous. And why can’t you?”

  “Oh, I see you haven’t figured it out yet—my dad is God. You don’t mess with him about silly things like your own dreams and passions. He’s got a desk and a door with my name on it waiting for me at the company. I bet you didn’t know you were sitting next to the new President of Operations for Prescott Distributors.” He puffed out his chest and straightened his posture while mockingly making the formal announcement.

  “I’m sorry you feel trapped into doing what your father wants you to do.” She looked into his eyes.

  Her gentleness and compassion stole away his resentment. He found himself unable to look away.

  Claire smoothed out her dress and stood. “Come on. They’ll be home shortly looking for you.”

  “I called Mom and told her I caught a ride. They’re picking up something for dinner and coming home after that.”