Beneath a Billion Stars

by Julie Carobini

  Priscilla began to trudge through sand toward the sea. The farther she moved from lighted buildings, the more she was ushered under a canopy of dark night lit by a haze of stars. She paused and tilted her gaze upward. Though not overly bright, the expanse of dark, star-punctuated night made her feel tiny as she stood beneath it. Like one of God’s uncountable forever family members. And bonus: the tinier she felt, the more her worries shrank.

  She closed her eyes, allowing the sound of the sea to center her, the scent of ocean spray to wash away her worries. She swung a look northward, and if she were to squint real hard, she could see the tip of Sea Glass Inn staring back at her, a stalwart on a precipice by the sea. A sense of thankfulness for her new second home fluttered through her.

  She turned around at the sound of a familiar laugh flowing in on the breeze. A couple approached, light from their phones leading the way.

  “Meg,” Priscilla said, as they approached.

  “Hey there!” Meg shined her light at her and laughed again. “Sorry about that. Yes, it’s us. What’re you doing out here tonight?”

  Jackson cut in. “Same thing as us. Obviously.”

  Priscilla looked closer. “Is that Jax you’re wearing?”

  Meg laughed. “Best babysitter ever.” She patted Jaxson’s bum through the baby papoose that hung over her shoulders. “Cheap and he falls asleep every time.”

  A familiar pang of desire tugged at her, made more pronounced by the events of the past two days. But she painted on a smile. “Looks like a perfect setup.”

  “Beautiful night,” Jackson said.

  She gave the sky an obligatory sweeping glance before returning her gaze to the lovebirds. “It is. I couldn’t resist coming out here. It’s cool, but not cold, you know?”

  “Oh but that breeze.” Instinctively, it seemed, Meg pulled the blanket draped over her shoulders more tightly around herself and Jax.

  Priscilla sensed their conversation dying. “Well,” she said, “you two enjoy your night. I’ll see you at the inn.”

  Meg reached out and touched her upper arm. “Yes, we will.”

  “Or maybe at the pool,” Jackson said.

  Priscilla smiled and waved as she walked away, realizing something. For the first time since she had moved across the country, she had begun to feel her singleness. Despite the problems she and Leo had in their marriage, they had been a couple. For those years, she always had another person to go home to at the end of the day, for better or worse. Worse, mostly.

  Maybe knowing that something appeared to be happening between her and Wade had raised her hopes. And now that things with him had sputtered so spectacularly, she had gained a heightened awareness of what she had lost. Even though it never actually existed.

  Her cell phone in her pocket rang, and she jumped at the sound of it. Amber’s number. “Hello?”

  “Hey.” The teen’s simple greeting, delivered in that voice she had come to love, was a balm to her soul. Especially right now.

  “Hey, yourself. What are you up to tonight?”

  “Nothin’.”

  Priscilla could almost hear the shrug in Amber’s voice. She was bored and decided to call her—all she needed to know.

  “I was thinking you should come out here again on Thursday. Mari wants a donut bun in her hair.”

  “Of course. Like a ballerina bun. I think we could do that.”

  “I don’t want one. Lame.”

  “Why not? I thought you liked the waterfall braid I gave you once.”

  “Yeah, that was cool, but not the same as a bun in my hair.”

  “It would show off those gorgeous high cheekbones of yours.”

  “Yeah, okay. Save that for the girly girls.” She paused and Priscilla could hear gum snapping. “I was thinking we could go to the beach or something.”

  Priscilla laughed, the first real one in days. Amber often seemed to skip from thought to thought.

  Amber continued. “Hey, so, some of us were wondering if you, you know, were thinking of dating Wade.”

  Case in point.

  Priscilla paused, her mind searching for anything she might have said about Wade to the girls. “Why would they wonder that?”

  Amber was quiet. Priscilla pictured that shrug again. Maybe a scowl too. “I don’t know,” Amber finally said. “Staci said she was watching you for a super long time last time you guys were here.”

  “Hm. Well, tell her thank you for watching out for me, but I don’t see that happening.”

  “How come?”

  Maybe it was the crystal night air or the stirring up of oxygen in her blood, but for whatever reason, a moment of transparency came over her. “Wade isn’t interested in me, Amber. At least, not in that way.”

  “So he told you that to your face? Rude.”

  A smile burgeoned, though it was short-lived. “Darling, this is one of those complicated adult things that you will have to learn about soon enough. Don’t trouble yourself another minute. Promise?”

  “I guess.”

  “Now, about that ballerina bun, I’ll have a look at my schedule, but I think Thursday could work. Will you girls be there then?”

  “Yeah. Nothing else to do around this town.”

  “Your town’s loss is my gain!”

  “Huh?”

  Priscilla laughed lightly, thankful for levity. A cool breeze stirred, she said goodnight to Amber, and hung up.

  Haze rolled across the sky, leaving the stars to fight for air. Priscilla crossed her arms and tucked her hands into her sleeves to keep them warm. The beach was empty. Her mind was not. If the sun had not set and taken all its heat with it, she could have walked deep into the night. Instead, she made her way back home, her quads and calves complaining with each step through deep sand.

  Once she reached her complex, Priscilla unlocked the gate and began down the path to her condo. She had almost reached her front door when a scrape against the concrete caught her attention. She looked up. Meg?

  “Hey,” Meg said.

  “What are you doing here? I mean ... is everything all right?”

  Meg watched her curiously through the light of a nearby lamppost. “That’s what I came to find out.”

  “Oh. I’m confused. What about your family?”

  “They are completely fine. Jackson was tired, so he put Jax to bed and he’ll probably watch TV until he falls asleep.”

  Priscilla wasn’t sure what all of that meant. Did Meg want to talk to her about something? Or was she out here, wandering around because family life was harder than it looked?

  “Priscilla,” Meg broached, “you seemed melancholy out there tonight.” She swung her gaze toward the west briefly. “Want to talk about it?”

  Priscilla put a smile on her face. She shook her head. “Is that what’s on your mind tonight? I’m sorry if I worried you. I was only thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Oh, you know—life.” She forced a laugh. “My to-do list.”

  Meg did not return her smile. “I think it was more than that.”

  “How would you know that?”

  Meg leaned her head to one side. She narrowed her eyes at Priscilla. “You’re kidding. Right?”

  Priscilla frowned. She’d met Meg at a turning point in her life—or very near one. Though she didn’t know all that troubled her friend then, she knew that Meg understood heartbreak. If what she was experiencing right now truly was heartbreak ...

  “Listen, my friend”—Meg leaned close and linked her arm with Priscilla’s—“you were there for me in Italy and I want to be here for you now. It’s no secret that your ex showed up at the hotel unannounced—at least from what Trace said it was unannounced.”

  Priscilla gasped a little, her mouth hovering open as she thought of words to fill it.

  Meg patted her arm. “Trace has a good heart. You know that. But nothing gets past her.”

  “It’s true. Leo showed up with his daughter, Mia. I, of course, had no idea they were coming
.”

  Meg’s eyebrows pulled closer together. “That must have been very hard for you. What did he want?”

  Her gaze focused on the neatly kept path. “He wanted me.”

  “Of course he did.”

  “I mean, he wanted me to come back home and help him raise Mia.” She lifted her gaze to meet Meg’s. “His new wife left him.”

  “Shew ... girl.”

  “Yes. It was quite a shock.”

  Meg watched her, those brows dipping low, her mouth puckered. “You didn’t consider it.”

  Priscilla hugged herself, thinking. She took a breath and lifted her chin, squaring her eyes on Meg’s. “For about two seconds.”

  “Oh ...”

  “Mia is a darling girl.” She put up a palm, like a stop sign. “No need to scold me—I won’t listen, you know.”

  Meg’s eyes opened wide and she quirked her chin to one side. “Oh, I know.”

  Priscilla’s gaze found Meg’s. “I said goodbye to him—to them. And I’ve made my peace with that.”

  “Sure you have.”

  A force, small but powerful, attacked one of the underlying supports that held up Priscilla’s carefully constructed facade. Her cheek, near the corner of her mouth, began to tremble. She glanced away from Meg, as if hoping to send her friend’s attention elsewhere.

  “If you say c’est la vie right now, I’ll kill you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine! Priscilla, you’re hurting. I can tell and I want to help you through this.” She put a hand on Priscilla’s shoulder. “Let me, okay?”

  Priscilla nodded. She inhaled, steadying herself, and gave her friend a resigned look. “Want to come in for a glass of wine?”

  “Absolutely I do.”

  Priscilla unlocked the door and tossed her keys into the nearby metal tray. She flipped on the lights, and Meg followed her inside.

  “I’ve said it before, but this place is so ... you.” Meg was looking around, hands on her hip. “It’s joyful—the way you usually are.”

  Priscilla went into the kitchen toward the counter where a sculpted hula dancer statue reigned near a wine rack. She plucked out a bottle, then padded over to the fridge and pulled a second bottle from inside. She spun around, a bottle in each hand.

  “Red or white?”

  “Red. Thanks.”

  She tucked the bottle of white back into the fridge, found a corkscrew, and opened the red, a brand of Chianti that had always reminded her of her travels through Italy. Priscilla placed Meg’s glass in front of her on the square kitchen island.

  “Grazie,” Meg said.

  “Prego.”

  Meg took a sip, then glanced over her shoulder. “Okay if I curl up on your couch and pull that blanket over me?”

  “Of course. Please do.”

  When Meg was settled with a throw over her bare legs, she took another sip. “Do you still have feelings for your ex-husband?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. Then your decision was simple.”

  Priscilla held her glass in the palm of her hand, a rueful curl to her mouth. “Nothing is ever very simple.”

  “True.”

  “Somehow, I knew you would understand.”

  “Honey, what about Wade?”

  Priscilla didn’t meet her eyes. “What about him?”

  “The two of you looked surprisingly cozy at our pool party. I was so, so happy for the both of you—especially after what you’d both been through. Honestly, I thought, well, we all thought that you two were close to, you know, joining forces.”

  “You make us sound like a business arrangement.”

  “Forgive me. I didn’t mean it that way.”

  Priscilla waved away any sort of offense. She slipped off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her in a big, oversized chair. “I know you didn’t.” She began to blink, but forced the tears away. “I thought maybe we had something special starting too,” she whispered. “I haven’t told that to anyone.”

  Meg froze, the expression on her face as fragile as Priscilla felt. “What happened?”

  “He—well—darling, I just don’t think the man is interested.” She said those words for the second time tonight.

  “That,” Meg said, pointing at her. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  Meg frowned. “Whenever you’re about to become serious, you suddenly change directions. You make saying even negative things sound fabulous.”

  “You are making that up.”

  “I’m not and you know it.”

  Priscilla raked her scalp with recently manicured nails and pulled a long swag of hair down one shoulder. She sighed and pulled her phone out of her pocket, set her music app to play some soft jazz in the background, and refused to allow herself the full consumption of her feelings.

  “Well,” Meg said, finally, “I will say that Wade Prince is a bit of a mystery to me, to everyone, really. He can be so crazy animated when he’s talking business. But ask him about himself?”—she settled into the cushions and glanced up at the ceiling—“And a lot of that chattiness disappears.”

  Priscilla took a sip of wine. Her mind pedaled backward to the night they had bumped into each other at the inn, after he had flown back from New York. He had practically ignored her when Sophia came upon them near the hotel’s gallery. Oh, he had turned to her, but only as an afterthought. Why hadn’t she told him how she felt about that when she’d had the chance?

  She shook out her mane of hair again. Maybe she’d imagined the whole thing ...

  “You really don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

  “I am far more confused than I ought to be right now. And that bothers me.”

  “Bothers you, how?”

  “I should be grateful. Thankful. And I am. Truly.”

  Meg’s gaze assessed her. “You can be both thankful and confused, you know.”

  “Can I?”

  “You know what I think? I think you really like Wade. Maybe even love him.”

  Priscilla directed a poker face at Meg, noticing—but not reacting to—the look of victory on her friend’s face. “I can’t afford to be in love—not again. Not so soon. And not with someone who may never return those feelings.” There. She said it. Did she dare look Meg’s way?

  “But that’s the thing, my friend. You who spends her life living in the moment, you mustn’t run from love, even if there’s a risk of pain.”

  “You did.”

  Meg laughed and pointed her wine glass at Priscilla. “Exactly! And see where it got me?”

  Priscilla gave her a what’s-your-point look. “Running away got you the man of your dreams. And a pretty nice vacation, I might add.”

  “Fine!” Meg set down her glass. “Maybe this isn’t making sense. Or maybe I just want you to realize that love is all about risks.” She huffed an emphatic sigh. “Like when you ran off to Italy all by yourself.”

  “As did you.”

  “We’re not talking about me! I just wanted to point out that doing so was risky for you. So many untold dangers when traveling alone.” Meg stopped and flipped a look at the ceiling. She frowned at Priscilla. “I’m beginning to sound like my mother.”

  “That’s because you are one now.”

  Meg shook her head. “Back to my point: Your risky trip to Italy eventually led you here. And how amazing is that?”

  “What makes you think I am not willing to take a risk?”

  “Well, have you? I mean, since you got here?”

  Something about Meg’s question pricked the tender underside of her heart. She blinked back tears, unable to fully explain why.

  A few moments of silence fell between them, until Meg said, “Tell me about Leo and his little girl.”

  She shrugged. “Leo was, as always, selfish and handsome as all get-out.” She blew out a tiny breath. “But Mia.”

  “Was she darling?”

  Priscilla looked at Meg, eyes wide. “Yes,”
she whispered. “And she took to me like honey on toast.” Priscilla glanced away, those tears beckoning her once more.

  “That must have been hard.”

  Priscilla nodded, still not making eye contact.

  “I’m going to ask you this one more time: Do you love him?”

  “No.” There was no wiggle room in her response.

  Meg leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Have you ever grieved your marriage?” she said, eyes like lasers on Priscilla. “I mean, truly grieved the dream you once had?”

  Pricilla licked her lips, discomfort needling her. “That’s why I went to Italy.”

  Meg sat back, appearing to think deeply. “You’ve always been so positive about things ... c’est la vie and all that. But trying to lessen the pain can increase its power over you.”

  Those tears pressed forward, the pressure like an oncoming headache. A sob slipped out, like a naughty child, and Priscilla caught it and shooed it back inside.

  “It’s okay to cry.” Meg laid her hand on Priscilla’s knee. “You don’t have to be everyone’s light all the time, especially if doing so extinguishes your own. Trying to diminish the pain from your suffering can have the opposite effect, making it more potent. I did that for years with my own father’s memory—maybe I’ll share that with you someday.”

  Tears dripped freely now, down Priscilla’s cheeks and off of her chin. When Leo had left, she’d been shocked. Then stoic. And then she ran away to Italy, a place she had always wanted to go. In some sense, she had been running ever since.

  Conviction hit her heart. She had lectured Wade about his need for control, but had she really thought all this time that she was in complete control of her life?

  She looked at Meg, no longer willing to hide her tears. “When I married Leo, I married for life—but there was nothing I could do to save it. Nothing. I felt like such a failure.” She shook her head, overwhelmed by the searing pain that memory caused. “I had never known rejection like that, and it hurt more than I ever thought it could.”

  “I am so, so sorry,” Meg said. “In the end, I can assure you that joy and suffering are not mutually exclusive. You can have one in the midst of the other. Do you hear what I’m saying?”