Steering the Stars (38 page)

Magic_Miles: Are you there?

CareBear16: I am but I’m getting ready to take my dog out. What’s up?

Magic_Miles: I was just wondering how Mr. Vaughn was?

CareBear16: Henry texted a little while ago. He’s doing well, just still in recovery.

Magic_Miles: That’s great! Hey, I know it’s last minute but are you doing anything tonight?

CareBear16: Sorry but I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, OK?

I felt bad for blowing Miles off like that, but I couldn’t deal with him right this minute. He was a good guy, a great one even, and I wanted to be his friend. But I knew that I could never like him. Not in the way he was hoping. We had fun together, we got along well, but there were no fireworks.

       And even if what I had with Henry disintegrated into nothing, it had taught me an important lesson. I didn’t want to settle for anything less than fireworks. They were crucial.

       Aspen’s wet nose rubbed against my skin.

       “I’m coming! I’m coming!” I told her as I reached to the hook beside the front door for her leash.

       I hadn’t been lying to Miles when I texted that I was taking my dog out. Between the play and everything with Hannah and the hospital, I hadn’t been home very much and my poor husky had been badly ignored.

       I could tell she was taking my absence hard because she had gone back to eating my socks, which she had only done when she was a puppy and really mad at me.

       I hooked her leash onto her collar and opened the front door. The outside air hit and I immediately shivered. Winter had hit Libby Park early this year and there were a few good inches of fresh snow on the ground.

       I looked down at Aspen. “You do know that I am at serious risk for slipping on some ice and breaking an ankle, don’t you?”

       She responded by wagging her tail.

       “Gah!” I moaned as I scanned the glistening white ground. “I guess you’re worth it.”

       As I took the front steps and followed the sidewalk to the driveway, a faint, scratchy sound turned my head and I saw my father on the side of the house. He was on a short ladder and he had his measuring tape out.

       “Dad?”

       He looked my way. “Oh, hi. Taking Aspen out?”

       I nodded. “What are you—” I pointed to where he was using the measuring tape along the base of the living room window. “What are you doing with that?”

       Dad stared at the house for a minute. His shoulders lifted. “Well, I thought it was about to time to replace the trim here. It’s being eaten away by rot and it will only get worse.”

       I was stunned. He’d not taken an interest in the house in years. Not since my mother died.

       “Then,” he went on, “maybe when it warms up again we can work on sanding and painting the place.”

       “The house?” I asked just to clarify. I was still floored by this turn of events.

       Dad nodded. “I was thinking a light yellow. Your mother always said she wanted a yellow house.” He turned to me. “What do you think?”

       A lump was blocking my throat. In a creaky voice, I said, “I think that would be really nice.”

       “Well,” Dad said, tucking the measuring tape in his back pocket, “I’m going to head out to the lumberyard and see what I can find for a good deal.”

       It was like the earth was tilting on it’s axis. I had no clue how to handle it so I just said, “Okay...”

       “Oh, and I meant to ask you how Alan Vaughn is doing?” he asked, wiping his rough hands on the thighs of his jeans.

       “Um, I think he’s doing a lot better. That’s the last I heard.”

       Dad nodded. “That’s good to hear,” he said. “I think I’ll give him a call this week once things settle down, and I’ll see if there’s anything those folks need.”

       “That would be… really great, Dad. I’m sure they would appreciate it.”

       He looked away. “Well, I’ll be heading out then. I’ll see you later?”

       “Uh… sure?”

       I stood there and watched him get into his truck and back out of the driveway. Aspen, who didn’t understand the enormity of what had just happened, nosed the back of my hand impatiently.

       “Did you see that?” I asked her.

       She didn’t answer, but she did start to pull on her leash. Regardless of what had just happened with my dad, she’d obviously had it with waiting around for me.

       “Fine! Fine!” I shook my head to clear it and we took off. Aspen was so pleased to be moving that she practically yanked my arm out of the socket to get to the sidewalk.

       The cool air stung my face and it felt like my lungs weren’t filling with enough oxygen, but running beside me, Aspen was obviously in her happy place. She loved the snow and running outdoors so much that I pushed on.

       Thirty minutes later, we’d completed the circle back to the house. The two of us collapsed on the porch bench—well I did anyway. I could hardly catch my breath. For her part, Aspen looked as though she’d be able to run three more miles and
then
do the Iditarod.

       I sat there, breathing the cold air in and out until my fingers started to go numb.

       “C’mon, Aspen.” I stood up, pulling slightly on her leash to get her to follow me inside.

       Her ears perked up but she wasn’t listening to me. I wrapped the handle of her leash tighter around my hand just in case she decided to chase a squirrel and pull me along for the ride.

       “C’mon.” I tried a second time, this time tugging a little harder on the leash.

       Now her ears were at full attention. I followed her eyes and saw Hannah walking up the sidewalk. She must have parked somewhere on the other side of the Nathan’s hedges because I didn’t see a car.

       “Hi,” I said, taking one of the steps.

       Hannah looked up and I saw an expression on her face that I knew well. It was determination.

       “I hate that we’re fighting,” she said.

       I took another step in her direction. “We're not.”

       “We're not?

       “Not any more.” I sat down. The porch steps were freezing, and I could feel the ice through my leggings but I didn’t much care.

       “I was stupid,” she said, looking down at me.

       “Not as stupid as me,” I told her.

       Hannah’s brow furrowed. “We’re seriously okay?”

       “We’re seriously okay,” I said, patting the spot on the steps beside me. “I was going to head up to the hospital later. How’s your dad?”

       “Good,” she sighed and dramatically collapsed next to me. “They think he’ll get to go home tomorrow.”

       “Wow, that’s sooner than I thought,” I said.

       “Yeah, I’m so relieved. I can’t imagine losing him like that. It would have been so…” She realized what she was saying and snapped her jaw together. “Crap, I can’t believe I almost said that to
you
of all people.”

       I shook my head. “No, you’re right. Losing a parent is the worst feeling in the world. You end up walking around for the rest of your life with this emptiness where you know they’re supposed to be. I don’t ever want that for you.”

       “I’m sorry, Care.” She leaned her head against my shoulder.

       I sighed. Aspen curled up behind me and poked her head between our bodies. We both laughed and patted her snout.

       When our eyes met, I said, “So I guess you’ll probably head back to London soon, huh?”

       Hannah made a shrugging gesture. “I’m not sure yet. Actually, I’m thinking about staying.”

       “What?”

       She looked down at her lap. “You know, because of my dad.”

       I studied her. I’d known her almost all of my life and I knew that there was something she wasn’t saying. “Is that really the reason?

       “Yes,” she said but she was shaking her head. “Or… no. I don’t know.”

       “What’s wrong?”

       “It’s just that everything is so much easier here. I took that for granted before I left because I thought this place was so boring.”

       “But?”

       “But now… It’s weird but I kinda miss it,” she admitted.

       I looked at her for a long time. “I missed
you
.”

       She smiled. “I know. Me too, Care. The last couple of weeks have sucked.”

       “That’s the understatement of the century,” I said, grabbing her hand.

       “I don’t think I can lose you again. You’re my best friend and I don’t just need you to know all of my stories, I need you to help me write them.”

       “And I need you to laugh at all my bad jokes.” We both smiled and I continued, “Hannah, I'm sorry I got so mad at you. I know you were just trying to help.”

       “No,
I'm
the one who’s sorry,” she said, squeezing my fingers. “I butted in when I should have stayed out of it. I never meant to embarrass you and I should have just kept everything you told me to myself.”

       “Well, I should have told you the truth.”

       Hannah rubbed our hands together. “Care, we could probably go back and forth like this all day. I’m freezing. Can we take this party inside?”

       I laughed some more. “Yeah, c’mon.”

       We headed inside and this time Aspen followed. I walked into the kitchen and put some water in the kettle so I could make us hot chocolates while Hannah wandered around the downstairs.

       “It looks the same,” she said, walking into the kitchen.

       “Were you expecting something different?”

       “I don’t know,” she said, sitting at the kitchen table. “I guess everything feels so different lately. It’s comforting to know that some things stay the same.”

       I emptied two hot chocolate packets into coffee mugs and poured the steaming water over them both. I topped our cups with four tiny marshmallows each.

       “So...?” She lifted her eyebrows as I handed her one of the mugs.

       I blew over the top of my cup, creating small ripples in the hot chocolate. “So what?”

       She gave me a look as she fished out a marshmallow and sucked it between her teeth. “So… are you in love with my brother or what?”

       I leaned my back against the kitchen counter. “No, I’m not in love with him.”

       She dropped her chin. “Care…”

       “That would be crazy, wouldn’t it?”

       Hannah flapped her hand. “Who cares. Love is supposed to be a little crazy.”

       I let go of a long breath and let my eyes go to the ceiling. “I don't know what I’m feeling,” I said. “It's just… it's just that…”

       “It’s just
what
?” she prodded.

       I looked right at her. “I forget to breathe when I'm around him.”