Tattered Stars

by Catherine Cowles

  It didn’t take long for me to pass through downtown. No more than twenty of those brave breaths I’d come to rely on. I’d need them now more than ever.

  I thought about stopping at the hardware and grocery stores but knew I needed to get the lay of the land first. I’d called the water and power companies and had them check the lines to our old property, making sure things were still in working order. After a few repairs, they assured me that all was good on their end.

  That meant the rest was up to me. The letter from my mother burned a hole in my pocket, but I hadn’t been able to simply keep it in my purse. It was as if the words inside could give me the final kick I needed to finish my task.

  I hadn’t been crazy enough to think that Jacey would help. She had two children and a husband who had a solid job in Seattle. They’d given me more than I’d ever expected. A safe and stable home. One where I was free to go to school and didn’t have to fear being woken up in the middle of the night to practice for a raid. They’d made sure I knew that I was loved and cared for. But I wasn’t theirs.

  As soon as Jacey became pregnant, I’d started to feel like an interloper. They were building their family, but they were still stuck caring for me. I’d tried to be helpful. Cooking and cleaning. Babysitting when they needed a break. But I always felt like a guest. Like I never truly fit. It was as if I didn’t quite belong anywhere. It was part of the reason I was back. To see if I could finally lay it all to rest and find my place in the world again.

  The main road turned into a two-lane highway, and within a few minutes, I was looking for my turnoff. Street signs on these kinds of roads weren’t exactly common, and I was sure the landmarks I’d known as a child had changed. I almost missed the large boulder, the young pine tree in front of it having grown wider and taller over the years.

  I braked and made a hard turn. Gravel flew as I hit my mark, but it wasn’t the hairpin turn that had my hands dampening on the wheel—it was all the memories. The countless times we’d taken this road to venture into town or to The Trading Post. The afternoons my father had made us run its steep inclines to prepare.

  My SUV jostled along, exposing new potholes and old, familiar ones. The pines towered alongside the road, almost creating a tunnel. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the mountain herself. The blue planes and snow-capped peaks welcomed me with a reassurance that there was good here. I only had to look for it. The only real grounding point I’d ever known.

  As I veered off my gravel path onto an even narrower road, I was glad that I’d thought to go ahead and get all-terrain tires before I left Seattle. The winters here could be vicious. There were times we hadn’t been able to get off the mountain for weeks at a time.

  When I took in the final climb my SUV needed to make, I wondered if getting a snowmobile might be a good plan. I’d managed to get a job at the local vet’s office with my same vet tech title and only a slight pay dip. I imagined they’d frown on me not showing up due to snow.

  I pressed on the accelerator to make it past the final rise, and as I did, the property came into view. My heart seemed to take up acrobatics in my chest, flipping and tumbling, expanding and contracting. My hands gripped the wheel harder as my foot eased off the gas.

  The house itself was in worse shape than I’d expected. One of the walls had a gaping hole in it. But the small guest cabin didn’t look too worse for wear. The cottage had been in my mom’s family for generations, but the house had been my father’s construction after they married. She hadn’t stayed long after he went to prison, choosing to move us down to the flats to live on some land my uncle owned.

  While the generations-old construction of the cabin had held steady, the barn and paddocks hadn’t fared nearly as well. The entire structure seemed to lean to one side, and a storm had taken down more than half of the fencing. My back hurt just looking at all the work that needed to be done.

  I sighed and pulled to a stop in front of the cabin, releasing my hold on the wheel. My phone dinged, and I sent up a mental thank you to the gods of technology that it seemed I had service up here.

  Shay: Are you there yet? Text me the second you arrive.

  I smiled down at my phone, feeling a little less alone, knowing that I had someone who would drop anything to have my back.

  Me: Just pulled up outside. Cabin looks okay. The house and barn are a disaster.

  Shay: Are you sure you don’t want Brody and me to come help you get settled? We can be there in two days.

  God, I was lucky to have her as a friend, but I wasn’t ready to open all the doors I’d need to if they came to stay. There were too many skeletons I didn’t want to let out into the light.

  Me: Thank you, but I’ve got this. Let me get settled, and then you can come for a visit.

  Shay: I don’t like that you’re there all alone.

  Me: I won’t be alone for long.

  Soon, I would have this place crawling with animals. It had always been my dream to build a home for neglected or abused animals of any kind. A sanctuary. It was simply coming more quickly than expected.

  I turned off my SUV, rolled down the windows, and the pine air swept in. It was different than any other type, the Ponderosa pines. And as it filled me, tears sprang to my eyes. I’d missed this, more than I’d realized.

  I leaned back in my seat and pulled out my letter.

  Dearest Everly,

  I know much of this will come a day late and more than a dollar short, but better that than not at all. Even once the doctors told me the cancer had a hold, I couldn’t bring myself to call you, to tell you these things face-to-face as I should’ve. So, I’ll take the coward’s way out. That won’t be anything new. There were so many times I should’ve stood up but didn’t.

  But that’s not you. You’ve always been the bravest person I’ve ever known. Even before that night. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t—I’m so proud of you, beautiful girl. You made yourself into this amazing warrior all on your own, without any help from your dad or me.

  I wish I had a chance to truly see you shine now. That’s the price for my sins. To miss all of your beauty and light shining on this world.

  This should’ve come so long ago, but I’m sorry. For not being there for you. For not getting your father the help he needed. For not taking you and your siblings away when things went sideways. I’m so very sorry that I wasn’t stronger. That I wasn’t more like you.

  I don’t have much I can give you, but the land’s still mine. I know a lot of pain’s been poured into the dirt there, but there was good once, too. When I spent summers there with your grandparents. As your father and I made it our home. The babies that grew there. The animals we raised.

  Maybe you can find your good there, too.

  I understand if you can’t. Or don’t want to. But I know if one person is strong enough to do it…it’s you.

  I love you forever and always, my little warrior.

  Mom

  A single tear splashed onto the page. She’d been gone before I even knew she was sick. Buried before I even knew she was gone. My family hadn’t wanted me there. Not my brother—who I was sure still blamed me for everything—my uncle, or any other vast network of relatives still rooted in the area.

  To them, I was the enemy, the outsider. And now, I’d returned. The only one who might be happy to see me was my cousin, Addie, but I wasn’t even sure about that. We hadn’t spoken since I’d left. All of my letters came back, marked as Return to Sender in her father’s handwriting.

  My mother thought I was a warrior, and I hoped she was right. I would need all my armor if I was going to face them again. Because no one would be happy that I was here. And they’d be downright livid when they learned I was staying.

  2

  Hayes

  “I’m taking lunch,” I called to one of our newer deputies.

  Young nodded, her ink-black hair not moving from its tight bun with the motion. “Calls forwarded to your cell or no?”

&n
bsp; “Only if it’s truly urgent.” I paused when I reached the door. “That does not include one of Ms. Pat’s cats going missing.”

  Young’s cheeks pinked beneath her tanned skin. “Sorry about that. She was really insistent that you would want to know.”

  “She always is. Don’t worry about it. You’ll learn the frequent flyers from the true emergencies with time.”

  Her shoulders eased a fraction. “I hope so. I just don’t want to make a mistake.”

  I turned to face Young fully. “You’re going to make one, so just let that go right now. It’s how you recover from it that counts. The best officers are the ones who own their mistakes and learn from them.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff. I’ll try to remember that.”

  “And if you have questions, you only need to ask.”

  She nodded, and I headed out the door. I could’ve gone for my SUV, but I needed the walk. I always got itchy this time of year, my skin a little too tight, and muscles aching for a long run. That was on the agenda for tonight, just Koda, me, and the trails for at least ten miles.

  I pulled out my phone and typed a text.

  Me: Lunch at the bar and grill? If you can steal away from your precious pole for an hour.

  A second later, my phone dinged.

  Calder: It’s amazing you cops can even walk down the street with your heads as big as they are. See you in ten, just finishing up some paperwork.

  Me: It’s Sheriff. There’s a difference.

  I chuckled and slid my cell back into my pocket. Making my way down the street, I could just make out the lake through the trees. The view never got old, and I couldn’t imagine wanting to live anywhere else. I’d done the college thing a few hours away but couldn’t wait to get back home.

  Not everyone felt that way. My older brother certainly hadn’t. He’d run out of this town like his feet were on fire. Trading ranch life for every adrenaline-fueled adventure he could find. But I’d been more than happy here.

  “Hayes,” a voice called from the florist and gift shop up the street.

  “Afternoon, Ms. Honeyman. How are you?”

  “I’ve told you time and again, call me Charlene. You’re grown now.”

  I gave her a grin. “It’s hard to break old habits.”

  “That’s because your mama raised you right.”

  “She did her best, anyway. What can I do for you?”

  She looked back at her shop and then out towards the streets dotted with tourists and residents alike. “I’m wondering if you have any plans for all of the shoplifters. They’re bad this summer. It’s the tourists, no doubt.”

  I’d call my summer a good one if my worst calls were shoplifting and missing cats. Unfortunately, we got our share of car accidents and near-drownings. But, thankfully, things stayed fairly mellow with a community as tightknit as Wolf Gap. “I’m asking the officers and deputies to make their rounds on foot. They’ll be stopping by the shops and will be a visible presence on the street.”

  “I hope that helps. You know it’s a fine line to stay in the black.”

  Charlene wasn’t wrong. When your town relied on tourists, a rough winter or summer with bad forest fires could mean businesses closing and people hurting. I patted her shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can. And you just call the non-emergency line if you see anything suspicious.”

  “I’ll do that. You’re a good boy. Always were.”

  I waved her off, doing my best to hold in my laughter. It didn’t matter that I’d turned thirty this year. I’d forever be a good boy in her eyes. I picked up my pace, hoping to avoid people stopping me at every shop along the path. I nodded at tourists and waved at familiar locals. By the time I reached the Wolf Gap Bar & Grill, I wished I’d taken my damn SUV.

  Pulling open the door, the air conditioning hit me in a refreshing wave. “Hey, Cam.”

  The hostess’s smile turned up a few notches. “Hey, Hayes. Calder’s already here.” She gave a little pout as she led me towards a table where Calder was already seated. “Ignoring me as usual.”

  I swallowed back a chuckle. “How are your parents?”

  “Everyone’s good. We’re taking the boat out on the lake this weekend…” She shot Calder a grin that spoke of things beyond her years. “Maybe you wanna come with?”

  He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’ve gotta work. But thanks.”

  “You know what they say about all work and no play…”

  “That it makes Calder boring as hell?” I cut in.

  Cammie laughed and waved me off. “He’s not boring. Calder just needs someone to show him how to have a little fun.” And with that, she sauntered off with a sway to her hips.

  I let out a low whistle. “She’s not messing around trying to get your attention.”

  “It’s bizarre. I feel like Hadley was babysitting her just yesterday.”

  “When my little sister has been someone’s babysitter, I feel like it’s an automatic no-go.”

  He gave an exaggerated shiver. “Let’s make that one a rule.”

  “Adding it to the book.” I picked up the menu and set it at the edge of the table. I’d memorized its contents decades ago, and it barely changed. Even the specials on the chalkboard were predictable. Thursdays would always be chicken-fried steak, and Saturdays some sort of pasta. “Everything quiet at the fire station?”

  Calder nodded to his radio on the table. “So far. We had to grab Tommy Bixley off his parents’ roof yesterday. He’d made himself Batman wings that he wanted to try out.”

  “Sounds like something we would’ve done.”

  His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Maybe, but he could’ve been hurt.”

  My friend of thirty years had lost his desire for mischief when his ex-wife, Jackie, had almost cost him his girls. Now, he saw the world through a much more serious lens, and as much as I tried to get him to let loose, I understood. He had sole custody of the girls now, and that came with a weight I hoped I never had to shoulder. “How are Birdie and Sage?”

  “Giving me a head of gray hair.”

  “Wouldn’t be doing their job if they weren’t. Why don’t you bring them over for dinner on Sunday?”

  “Sounds good to me. Ask your mom if I can bring anything.”

  I grunted. “You know what she’ll say.”

  “Just bring you and those two angels.” Calder grinned. “She doesn’t live with them when they’re about to tear each other’s hair out.”

  “Maybe not, but Hadley and Shiloh could get into it pretty good growing up.” My two sisters had fought like cats and dogs, and they could still dip into it now and again.

  Calder adjusted the silverware at the side of his paper placemat. “That’s true enough.”

  “What?”

  His nervous fidgets were a dead giveaway that Calder was holding something back. His gaze lifted to meet mine. “I heard someone was moving into the old Kemper place up on the mountain.”

  I stilled, my hand tightening around my water glass. “I hope whoever was insane enough to buy it levels the place.” I’d like to be the one to go after it with a sledgehammer. Maybe burn up the pieces.

  It was crazy how a single piece of property could hold so much pain. Five days that had changed my family forever. There was no way it could be any different. I knew from all the cases I’d worked that mere seconds could change everything. But for us, it had been five days.

  We’d gone to the fair as a family, and five days later, we were unrecognizable. For months, my mother had cried every time she had to let one of us out of her sight. My dad had spent his days trying to console her and give us some sense of normalcy. And my siblings had coped—however they could.

  But every time I saw Shiloh take off into the wilderness by herself or leave mid-conversation because something triggered her, that anger in me built. I knew Howard Kemper was sick, but that knowledge didn’t help soften my rage.

  “Hayes. You okay?”

  I cleared my throat and focused
on my friend. “Fine.”

  “Don’t bullshit me. You’ve been with me at my worst.”

  “And you’ve been with me at mine.”

  Calder had kept my head above water when guilt was eating me alive. When all I could see was Shiloh’s hand. The one I was supposed to hold on to but had let go of to play a stupid fair game.

  He jabbed his finger into the table. “Then don’t give me some dumb party-line. Give me the truth.”

  That was the kind of friendship we had—one full of ugly truths instead of pretty deceptions. And I wouldn’t spit on that by lying now. “I hate what having someone there will bring up for my family.”

  “I get that. But they’re strong. So much stronger than they were fifteen years ago.”

  “We’re functioning. There’s a difference. But Shiloh still runs off into the woods. Hadley and Mom can barely talk without one of them storming off. And I’ve lost track of where Beckett even is.”

  “No family is perfect. Everyone has their baggage.”

  Calder was right. The Eastons just had more than our fair share. “I’ll take a drive up there after lunch and see what’s what.”

  He eyed me carefully. “Let me see if I can get someone to cover my afternoon shift, and I’ll come with you.”

  The corners of my mouth tipped up. “I’m not going to start brawling just because someone bought the old place. I’ve got a little more self-restraint these days.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time I had to pull you out of something.”

  “I’m not fourteen anymore.”

  Calder held up both hands. “I just want you to know that someone always has your back.”

  “Appreciate it, man. But I can handle this one.” At least, I thought I could. It had been fourteen years since I’d set foot on that property. I’d gone once when I was sixteen.

  I’d needed to see it. The place that had stolen so much from my family. Calder had driven me up there, and he was the one who’d stopped me from doing something stupid like burning the whole place to the ground. Most of our community completely ignored it. As if by doing so, they could erase what Howard Kemper had done. Erase the knowledge that we were all more vulnerable than maybe we thought.