How a Star Falls (4 page)

He led the way to the lighthouse, but instead of stopping at a bench, he headed down the stairs to the beach. When he finally reached the shore, he scuffed through the sand until he found a promising spot that didn’t look like it would get wet anytime soon. At the moment, they had the little piece of beach to themselves.

“This is really nice,” Brielle said as she clutched the paper bag to her stomach and gazed out at the boats bobbing in the choppy water. “A little cold, but nice.”

He glanced up from where he was smoothing out the towel. “Too cold?”

She offered him a cheeky grin. “Everything’s too cold for a star.”

That drew out a laugh from him as he sat on the towel and patted the other side. “I thought outer space was supposed to be freezing. Space suits and all that, right?”

She plopped down next to him and set the bag between them, turning her head at the screech of a seagull above them. As he brought out the food, she responded, “You’re thinking like a human. It’s not cold for the stars. They’re always shining, always warm. That frozen darkness could never touch them.”

Her words stilled his hand as he clutched an apple. Hadn’t he once told his dad the same thing, that stars would be warm to the touch?

Something ice-cold settled over his hand and he flinched away, startled back to the present. Brielle laughed. “Sorry.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “You know what they say, though. ‘Cold hands, warm heart.’”

He snatched up the apple again and handed it to her. “Now, where would you hear a thing like that?” His eyebrows rose with the question.

She just smiled, then bit into the apple. “Mmm. This is so good!”

“My mom always buys this kind. You can’t beat Honeycrisp. It’s pretty cool they had some in January.” He went straight for the chicken, and they munched on the rest of the meal in silence, save for the friendly roar of the sea.

Eventually Derrick polished off his own apple and got to his knees. “I guess we should probably head back now, if we’re going to make it to this dance-thing.” He stuffed their trash into the bag, reluctant for the picnic dinner to end, even if it was getting a little too cold for comfort. Plus, the gray of the sky had turned nearly black, intensifying by the minute, it seemed.

“Derrick, what would you do, if you could do anything?”

Brielle sat, unmoving—eyes drawn to the foam being pushed ashore. When he didn’t respond right away, she turned and looked at him, her cheeks pink from the wind.

He stood, holding their makeshift trash bag. “If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be here.”

She wrinkled her nose and aimed a side-smile his way. “You wouldn’t be on earth if you knew what you wanted to do with your life?”

“A funny star, are you?”

She laughed as she stood and folded the towel. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you know...the whole middle-school saying.”

She tucked the towel beneath her arms as she crossed them over her chest. “Which is...?”

“Guys go to Mars to eat candy bars, and girls go to Jupiter to get more stupider.”

The next laugh sputtered from her lips. “Seriously? You sure it’s not the other way around?”

He led the way back up the steps, grinning. “Oh, yes. I’m absolutely, positutely positive.”

A sassy “uh-huh” floated from somewhere behind him. And he just kept on grinning.

The veterans hall was a lot more crowded than Derrick had expected for this sort of function. Groups stood around outside in the cool night air, and inside a folksy sort of band was warming up on the little platform at the end of the hall. Derrick paid the entrance fee for both of them, and the smile that lit up Brielle’s face more than made up for the fact that some dance he wasn’t keen on cost practically two hours’ worth of wages.

He followed Brielle to seats on the right side of the main room. She shed her sweater and watched the band, her knee bouncing in excitement. When he set his hand on her knee, her gaze jumped to his. “Hey, I don’t even think my prom date was this excited, and that’s the biggest dance of a girl’s life, right?”

She returned her attention to the front of the room. “How do you know she just wasn’t thrilled with the company?”

“Ouch.”

He held his hand to his heart until she cast a glance at him from the corner of her eye and laughed. “Fine, fine,” she conceded. “Maybe the prom dancing was nowhere near as fun as square dancing is.”

More people milled into the room, and a bizarre nervousness caused his own knees to turn jittery. Seriously, why was he acting like he was in high school again? Then again, he really had no idea what the protocol was for a twenty-four-year-old guy at a square dance. Weren’t these just for little kids and old people?

Yet most of the people who were making their way to the other seats were actually college-aged. Interesting.

A caller stepped away from the mini stage and spoke into her headset. “Okay, everyone, let’s start with a circle dance.”

Oh gosh, this was going to be way worse than he thought.

Before he could fight his way to the door, Brielle grabbed his hand and led him out to stand in a circle with all the other dancers. He suddenly understood why they were serving beer out in the foyer.

“Derrick, relax. It gets better.”

After a few drinks, maybe.

The caller led them in a few steps they were supposed to do with their partner, then instructed them all to grab hands and come together into the center of the circle with a cheer, then walk back out. And then in again, and back out.

Seemed simple enough, if somewhat humiliating.

Then the caller instructed the musicians to begin.

And they had to switch partners after every set, or whatever it was called. He panicked when he had to hand Brielle off to someone else and accept the hand of some high-schooler wearing a dress that was way too revealing for either her comfort or his. Crap.

Brielle had never said anything about having to dance with other people.

A stream of people came and went, both guys and girls. Then Brielle came back to him, and her flushed face and bright smile drew him like the first star sighted on a chilly winter night. He held her close as he performed the steps that didn’t feel quite so foreign now. And when they all gathered into the middle with “a hoot and a holler,” he found himself cheering along with all the other dancers.

Brielle left him again, and he caught glimpses of her as she gracefully moved along with each new partner. Derrick’s shoulders dropped more and more as the song went on and on. He felt relaxed in this strange sort of community, especially knowing that no matter how far Brielle went in her orbit around the room, she’d make her way back to him.

Eventually, the song ended, and they were told to get into groups of four partners in order to do an actual square dance. He zoned in on where he’d last seen Brielle, then startled when she snuck up beside him and gave him that cheeky grin. “Miss me?”

Oh yeah.

“Maybe.”

Her winter-blue gaze turned serious. “Are you having a good time?”

Feeling rather bold, he grabbed her hand and went off in search of a square in need of a couple. “Surprisingly, yes. Now, do you see a group we can join?”

One group in the back of the room held up two fingers, indicating they were in need of two couples, apparently. He headed in that direction, only to feel Brielle’s hand torn from his grasp. He swung around to find Brielle offering him an apologetic grin. “Sorry. I saw a group missing people over here.”

As she said the words, a couple moved in to close the gap, so he snatched her hand again and led her to the back of the room. “I saw what you were doing there,” he called over his shoulder, “and I’m not dancing at the front of the room.”

Her laughter flowed over him and through him—its own sort of music.

They filled in a square and awaited further instructions from the caller. Brielle bounced on her toes and flashed him a happy smile. He was starting to see what she liked so much about this. It wasn’t so much the music or moves themselves, although Brielle surely seemed to enjoy them, but more the carefree atmosphere that beckoned everyone—no matter their age—to simply be silly. Being away from his sisters, stuck with Scott at home, and then being bored out of his mind with his job, all served to make him forget what real, pure fun felt like.

“Are you paying attention? We’re going to have to do what she’s doing soon.”

“What?” Derrick turned to Brielle, then realized that everyone was looking at the caller, who was showing some moves with a partner at the front of the room. Drat.

“Don’t worry. You have a very good sense of rhythm,” Brielle assured him in a whisper. “You’ll catch on quickly.”

When she met his gaze as he glanced down at her, she added, “I’ll make sure of it.”

He didn’t doubt it.

All too soon, the squares were forced to try and walk through the steps without music. He got turned around several times, but Brielle always dragged him back to where he was supposed to be. The “promenading” business, where they held their hands in some sort of crisscross manner before them as they paraded around the square, was just weird. His favorite part, though, was when they got to swing their partner. Once he got the basic gist of it, he relished the moments when he could pull Brielle into his arms and lead her in more of a one-on-one dance. The rest of the square simply faded away as Brielle dipped her head back while they swung around and around, her blond hair whipping around her.

Then the music began, and suddenly all the steps made sense and his pleasure in the dance kicked up a notch. The down-home, fast-paced music really wasn’t so bad. Still, he’d as soon admit it to the world as he’d admit his secret obsession with country music. It didn’t matter if high-school days were growing smaller and smaller in the rearview. He still preferred to avoid any public association with the camo-wearing, tobacco-chewing redneck crowd.

Too soon, another dance ended. People swarmed to the refreshments counter, and Derrick squeezed through to get some water for him and Brielle. Two cups in hand, he wandered outside and found Brielle sitting on the steps, staring up at the sky. He handed her one of the cups and took a seat beside her. “Having fun?”

“Oh yeah.” Her lips turned up, but she didn’t look at him. After a moment, she said, “It’s okay to not know everything about yourself yet, you know.”

It took him a minute to recognize that she was trying to continue their conversation from the beach, which hadn’t come up again on the car ride over. Strangely enough, her statement came out like a question, making him feel like he ought to reassure her. He stared into his cup, pushing the plastic in and out to make popping noises.

“Ugh, please stop.” Brielle shoved his arm. So he squeezed the plastic even more until she groaned, too pleased with himself. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop trying to be serious. For now.”

He set his cup down and ran his hands through his hair. “No, it’s all right. It’s just... I don’t know what to tell you.” He glanced up at the sky, too, wishing the stars would shine through the clouds that never seemed to leave. “You know how when you’re a kid, they tell you that you can be whatever you want to be? You’ve supposedly got all this potential—the sky’s the limit, that sort of thing. But I’m starting to realize they don’t really mean it. They just have to tell you something to get you through all those years of school, so that you hopefully learn to work and put your rebellious years behind you before you find an eight-to-five job at some stupid store.”

Brielle’s gaze burned through him, but he refused to look at her. The bitterness had returned. If he couldn’t shake it completely in Brielle’s presence, well, there was no hope for him. He was just one of those average guys who needed to grow up and realize that playing a guitar for a living was about as likely as all his other childhood dreams of becoming a race-car driver or an astronaut.

“Who’s ‘they’?” Brielle’s soft voice reached out to him, sounding as far away as the star she claimed to be.

“What do you mean?” He finally glanced down at his hands, threading them together and then scrubbing them back and forth across his jeans.

“You kept mentioning ‘they’—those people who told you that you could do great things as an adult.”

“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “My parents, I guess. Teachers, friends—everyone, really. The whole world lied to me. What’s the point in going to college and getting stuck with student loans if you’re never going to use the stuff you learn?” He breathed out a sigh, then continued, “I went to college to avoid getting stuck in Humboldt County, working at some stupid minimum-wage job. Whatever happened to all those charts, you know? The ones that tell you that people who go to college get higher-paying jobs and get to do what they love.”

Brielle was silent for a moment, and Derrick couldn’t bring himself to look at her. No matter who she really was, she was as bright and optimistic as he’d imagine a star personified to be. He hated bringing her mood down.

“I wouldn’t know,” Brielle finally ventured, her voice sounding clogged. She cleared her throat and went on, “I just... I think you have more choices than you think you have. You don’t have to be at the world’s mercy.”

Before he could ask her what the heck she was talking about, she jumped to her feet and headed up the steps. “I think I hear a waltz playing. Dance with me?”

He slowly got to his feet and nodded. When Brielle grabbed his hand, a sudden warmth shot straight through his arm.