Catch a Falling Star (2 page)

“I’m fine. I’ve got it.” She scrambled out of the way of the escalator and heaved herself back onto two feet.

But the cowboy didn’t reach to help her up. “You gonna live?”

She had to tilt her head back just a shade to meet his eyes. “That’s the general idea.”

Rain pounded the windshield as Billy strained his eyes to see more than a few feet in front of the truck. He felt one of the tires catch a puddle on the road. He clenched the steering wheel more tightly. Justine gasped.

“I’ll get us home in one piece.” He glanced at her seated next to him. Headlights from an oncoming car lit up the fear on her face. “I promise.”

“Thanks. I’m glad I didn’t have to call a cab. If Azalea sent you, I can trust you.” She shifted on the seat and winced.

“It always hurts worse before it rains.” Billy braked cautiously as the traffic light ahead of them turned yellow. He didn’t think driving home in a regular Texas thunderstorm would freak anyone out. It was the water on the road you needed to watch out for.

“Yes, it does.” She fumbled in the bag on her lap, pulled out her cell phone. “Excuse me. I need to call my manager.”

“Not a problem.” Billy shoved his attention back to the road. Under the intersection lights, the storm didn’t seem so bad. Straight ahead of him, through two more lights, lay the Clear Creek gate to Fort Hood.

“Neil, it’s me,” Justine said. “I’m here. I had a decent flight. I’m heading to Starlight now. Call me when you know more about the house.”

Billy didn’t feel like small talk at the moment. Talking to her manager. Ha. He didn’t
dislike
the woman sitting next to him. His brain couldn’t process the idea that he was driving Justine Campbell, Golden Globe nominee, home from the airport.

Okay, so she didn’t look
exactly
like she did in the pictures. In fact, she looked better. She’d taken off the baseball cap and undid her pony tail, then fluffed her fingers through her blond hair. She glanced at him, looking much younger than twenty-six. Or however old she was. Justine Campbell. In his truck. Nope, he wasn’t becoming star struck. Not in the least. Headlights from a passing vehicle lit up Justine's face, accentuating the scar under her chin that made a trail up toward her jaw.

Highway 190 was clear as he headed the truck west, and the storm cell beat down on Central Texas. Billy had driven through worse.

“So, back in Starlight, huh?” Billy couldn’t resist asking.

“Yes, for a while. Just until I get a few things figured out.”

“I can understand that. I’ve been in that position myself.”

She snorted. “I bet.”

“So when did you graduate from Starlight High? I don’t remember going to school with you.”

“I only went through tenth grade. Got my GED and headed for California to be with my dad and try for the big time.”

“Oh. I was class of 2005,” Billy said. “But we didn’t move there until 1999.”

“I would’ve been class of 2008. So we probably attended at the same time.”

“I was the new kid. Billy Tucker.”

“Back then, I was probably more interested in getting out of here than making friends.” She gave a sigh at her own words. “Well, it’s nice to meet you finally. Justine Campbell. But you already know that.”

“Ha. Yes, I would hope so.” He glanced over at her and smiled. “It would be a pity to pick up the wrong lady at the airport. I’d have a lot of explaining to do.”

She blinked at him playfully. “Did you volunteer for the job of chauffeur?”

“Nope. Aunt Zalea sorta drafted me. And don’t worry, I used the utmost discretion.” Billy couldn’t believe it. She probably assumed he’d volunteered to meet her flight. What living, breathing male wouldn’t?

“Did she get you to come kicking and screaming?”

“No, I don’t mind helping her out. She’s a special lady.”

“I knew she was the one person I could call who’d come through for me.”

“What about your family? Do they still live around here?”

His questions were met with the squeak of the wiper blades gliding across the windshield. He darted a glance in her direction.

She regarded him as if he were a strange dog she wasn’t sure was safe to pet. “Are you sure you’re not a reporter?” she asked.

“Just makin’ conversation.” See if he tried to make small talk again.

“Sorry. It’s been a long trip, and I’m tired.”

“Didn’t mean to pry. I can just as well ride home the rest of the way quietly. We’ll be there in about ten more minutes, give or take.” Already he could see the lights of the town miles ahead on the rolling highway that led to Starlight.

“At least the rain’s letting up some.”

“Just a small storm cell going through tonight. We’ll pay for it tomorrow morning with humidity.” Weather talk was just fine with him. He needed to think about how soggy things would be at the cottage site. They got the new porch framed laid for the first building. Hopefully they could get a lot cleared for the second cottage of Hopeful Acres before Jake started drills for the football team in early August. Then Billy would depend on the kindness of whoever could help him. The first settlers in Starlight, the ranchers that came before the railroad, built things on their own. He’d do the same if that’s how things unfolded.

They drove into another band of pounding rain, and he sensed Justine tensing beside him.

“So, were you in the Army?” Her voice quavered.

“Used to be.” Billy flexed his fingers on the steering wheel then rubbed his right palm on his jeans. “I did over eight years, joined up right after high school.”

“Why’d you get out?”

“Some idiot in Iraq blew up our Humvee with an RPG.” He could say the words now without it sounding like they belonged to someone else. But here he was, Starlight looming ahead of him, and he finally realized he wanted to be here instead of back there with his other brothers in arms.

Tuckers never backed down from a fight, even when they were getting whipped. He wanted to send a message back to the psycho militants that he was going home only when Uncle Sam told him his job was finished. Not because of nearly getting one leg and arm blown off, and going deaf in one ear. At least he still had both his eyes. And his limbs had healed up, pieced back together with plates and screws and skin grafts, followed by physical therapy that even now brought memories of pain. He'd twisted his knee and was now in the midst of more physical therapy treatments.

“I’m sorry.” Justine shifted in her seat. “How long ago did that happen?”

“A little less than two years ago. Right now, I’m just glad to be anywhere.”

At last, the city limits sign:
Starlight, Texas
.
Pop. 10,435
. Billy didn’t want to talk about his injuries anymore, not when they so keenly screamed at him tonight. Or the scars. His right leg throbbed from pushing the accelerator.

He slowed the truck as they headed under the streetlights of town. Like many Texas towns, a Super Wal-Mart lay at its edge, flanked by a strip mall.

“Need anything at the store? I can stop if you need me to.”

“No. Just take me to 1405 Skyline Drive. It’s in Cedar Grove Estates.”

“You got it.” He wouldn’t ask her any more questions. He knew exactly where Skyline was. Not a newer neighborhood, but a good one, sort of on the upscale side for Starlight. The houses were elegant and had lots of character. Too close together for his taste, though.

Billy zigzagged them down some side streets and then between the limestone walls emblazoned with Cedar Grove Estates. Skyline was two streets in, as best he recalled from his brief stint delivering pizza years ago.

Finally he stopped the truck in front of a two-story brick home with a gabled roof. An arched glass window over the mahogany front door revealed a chandelier that gleamed in the foyer. A well-built place, but sort of over-the-t
op for his taste.

“Front door service, Ms. Campbell.” He set the parking brake and hopped outside in the light rain. Yanking open the rear door of the extended cab, he pulled out Justine’s bags.

She said nothing as they headed up the front walk. Shadows under her eyes spoke of her long trip. The luggage wheels clicked on the wet pavement, accompanied by the thump of her cane tip. Billy had tossed his cane aside as soon as he could. If he were a betting man, he’d wager that using the cane stung her pride, she who used to walk the red carpet without anyone’s help, her only accessories rented diamonds and handbags that probably cost more than his truck.

“Thanks,” she said as they stopped at her door. “I appreciate you taking the time to come to the airport for me.”

“You’re welcome.” He nodded and turned on his boot heel to leave.

“My mother still lives in Starlight,” she said as he was halfway back to his truck. He turned to face her. The front porch light shone on her hair, making it glow. “She works at Wal-Mart and does hair part-time at a salon. I didn’t tell her I was coming. I don’t know what she’ll say when she finds out I’m here. Guess I’ll know before too long. My dad died in a car accident when I was eighteen, right after I got my first movie role.” She looked young and vulnerable, standing on her doorstep.

“Thanks for answering my question.”

“What about your family? Do you have family here still?” Justine asked.

“My parents had to move to Colorado. Dad has heart trouble and other health issues. . . .” The memory of almost losing Dad made Billy pause. “The doctor said the climate and altitude were better for him. But my brother and sister are here. Jake’s the oldest. He’s an assistant coach for the Starlight Yellowjackets football team. Madelynn’s fifteen, the youngest of course. She’s a big fan of yours too.”

A half smile appeared on her face. “You and your brother are brave, watching over your teenage sister.”

“She begged Mom and Dad to let her stay here and finish school. Starlight is all she’s ever known. And she promised to behave. We’re trying it this school year, seeing how it goes.”

“I’d love to meet her.”

“I’m sure that’ll happen, eventually.” A grin pulled on the corners of his mouth. “I’ll remind her to stay calm.” The raindrops intensified from a sprinkle and started a staccato beat on his shoulders, but Billy was already soaked through.

A phone chimed, and Justine looked at her purse. “I should get this. I need to make a few phone calls too. Thanks again.”

He waved at her dismissal. “Not a problem. See you around.” Then he hurried back to the truck, trying not to limp.

Justine grabbed the cell phone from her purse and huddled under the narrow roof overhang.
Wait.
She could call them back after getting her luggage and waterlogged self inside. It might be June in Texas, but her body craved a hot soak in the tub after a long flight and getting caught in the deluge on the way home.

She didn’t know Billy Tucker, didn’t know how much she could trust the man. Of course Azalea Bush thought highly enough of him to send him to the airport. That said something right there. His clean-cut cowboy look made her want to trust him, even if Azalea hadn’t sent him.

Plus, the man was in pain. She could tell it from the way he pulled her luggage on wheels, by the way he angled himself behind the steering wheel, and his swagger just now as he’d ambled back to his truck. What he’d been through in Iraq. . . Justine knew there was more behind his simple statement.

Justine tugged her bags into the entryway then closed the door on the rainy night outside. After she reset the password on the security system, she armed it. Starlight might be a smidge on this side of Hicksville, USA, but just reading the news told her that even small towns had dark sides.

Like the thoughtful Christian woman she was, Azalea had turned on the lights and set the thermostat for Justine’s welcome home. The place smelled like pine cleaner. Not Justine’s favorite, but it definitely smelled better than closed-up house did.

She kicked off her shoes and headed barefoot to the sprawling kitchen that looked over a family room, complete with fireplace and a pair of bay windows facing the backyard. The media might cast her boyfriend Tyler Drake in the public role of an empty-headed thespian with the motivation of a beach bum, but he owned more than a dozen properties in the US and Europe.

“Justine, your career may come and go, but real estate always hangs around,” he’d told her at the end of a blissful week in the Caribbean. So she’d listened to his advice. Besides purchasing her sleek home in the Hollywood hills, she’d plunked down cash for this home in Starlight. Mom would never move into the house, even when Justine offered to give it to her.

“I’m not going to live in a place bought with the devil’s money,”
Mom had said. Only one of several reasons why Justine hadn’t tried to call the woman yet.

Justine went to the stainless refrigerator. She should have taken up Billy Tucker’s offer to stop at the store. She’d have paid him to round up some food for her. She tugged on the door, expecting to see a box of baking soda.

Instead she saw a plastic-covered container labeled “chicken salad—lite,” a large bottle of Dr Pepper, and all the ingredients for a tossed salad. Plus a few other things. Azalea’s sweet gestures touched her. Justine swallowed the lump in her throat. She would call the florist in the morning and send Azalea a bouquet. Or maybe a spa in town would send Azalea a gift certificate, if the woman would use it.

People like Azalea made Justine want to believe that not everyone had ulterior motives. An odd thought, considering her line of work, where some people sacrificed friendship for the sake of networking. “Everyone’s got an angle, kid,” like Bob Wallace said in the movie
White Christmas
.

Even Tyler Drake. Who
still
hadn’t returned her call.

She tried calling his cell phone again and got his voice mail. Again. “Ty, it’s me. I’m here. I. . .I miss you already. I know you’re living it up on the set. New Zealand. Imagine that. Let me know how shooting’s going when you get a chance.” She ended the call and set the phone down on the granite island that divided the kitchen from the living area. She rubbed her sore hands together. The wrist braces were stuffed in her luggage somewhere.

But she knew right where her bottle of painkillers was and popped one of those with a long drink of Dr Pepper. The brain fog would settle in, and then she could sleep.

The memory of Azalea’s Sunday School came back and their talk about the children’s prayer,
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep
. . . .

She fished out the verse that the flight attendant had scribbled on a napkin. Azalea had left a Bible on the kitchen counter. The loud hint made Justine smile. She paged through it to find the verse on the napkin. Psalm 34:18 “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” No, she wasn’t brokenhearted.

“Aunt Azalea’s Lord, if You’re listening. . .” Justine felt kind of silly for speaking aloud in an empty house. “. . .keep watch over me tonight. . . .I feel. . .alone. Not crushed in spirit. Just alone.”

She rubbed her arms, still wearing her damp clothes, and shuddered. She’d returned to Starlight beaten up by life, but they hadn’t seen the last of her. Not yet. Just like she hadn’t fallen on her face in front of the handsome soldier-turned-cowboy Billy Tucker, she wouldn’t fall in front of the rest of the world. Not again.

#             

“So, what’s she like?” Tamarind Brown asked Billy on Saturday. She stood behind the register at The Pit, Starlight’s landmark barbecue diner and one of the oldest businesses in town.

Billy waited on the other side of the counter, paying for two tubs of barbecued beef brisket. The diner was one of his favorites. The Tucker pantry had slim pickings, it was too hot to cook, and he was too busy to bother with their own barbecue grill this weekend. This way they could all make sandwiches when they wanted to.

“What’s who like?” He fished out a pair of tens from his wallet. Man, the food smelled good today. He should have grabbed a booth and taken an hour break. But then he would lose an hour’s work on the cottage, plus he’d have to sit there and eat, trying to ignore Tamarind.

Her green eyes stood out in exotic contrast to her tawny skin and dark chestnut hair. She grinned and took the money. “Justine Campbell, that’s who.”

“It’s hard to say. She was nice, and very tired.” He reached for the paper sack on the counter and felt a nudge.

“People’s pretty much the same, famous or no.” John Caraway, the source of the nudge, nodded his gray head. “I oughta know. I served in the Army with Elvis when it was called Camp Hood around here. Talented guy, nice as anything. He’d play guitar for us. Sure got those officers’ wives in a tizzy. They’d beg him to come play for them, but nope, he wouldn’t do it.” The veteran leaned on the counter, his tattoos faded and blurry on his leathery arms, tan from working acreage purchased during retirement.

Billy had heard John’s story before, but like the ancient jukebox in the corner, the retired Army sergeant was a fixture at The Pit. “You’re right, Sarge. She’s probably just like any other woman.”

Tamarind laughed. “I wonder if that means she has bad hair days.”

“I dunno. I didn’t get to ask.” Billy didn’t want to admit that even with Justine’s hair all jumbled around her shoulders, it had still looked pretty good, even during a thunderstorm.

The bell over the door clanged and in came Aunt Azalea and Maddie. They stopped at the counter.

“If that’s all you’re eating, I’ve got a strong inclination to give your mother a phone call.” Azalea shook her head.

“Um, Aunt Zalea, I’m a little old for you to worry about my eatin’.” Billy took his change from Tamarind. Her fingers brushed his, and he wondered if that was entirely accidental.

“Ha! As if I was talking about you.” Aunt Zalea glanced at Maddie. “I’m talking about your sister here. You
are
providing vegetables, too, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.” Corn was a vegetable, right? And they had some baked beans in the pantry.

“Aunt Zalea,” Maddie said, tugging on the woman’s arm, “I’m not a baby. Besides, I’ve been working on a garden. We have lettuce already. I can make salad.”

“Good, good. I’m glad to hear that.” Aunt Zalea snapped her attention back to Billy. “So, how’d it go last night?”

“I picked her up, just like you asked. I delivered her to her house. A pretty bad storm last night. But no trouble on the way from the airport.” Billy looked to John for some help as these women ganged up on him.

John was busy counting bills in his wallet. Then he dropped his lunch check on the tiled floor.

“I definitely asked the right person to help her, but I’m surprised she still knew how to reach me after all these years.” The older woman fell silent.

“Mrs. Bush, are you here for lunch or are you picking up an order?” asked Tamarind.

“I’m treating my young helper here to lunch. She’s been helping me clean through a storage unit. I’m fixin’ to get me a booth at Starlight Flea Market days.” Aunt Zalea beamed at Maddie.

“Well, sit wherever you like,” Tamarind said. “Thanks for coming by, Billy.”

He didn’t let the sparkle in her eye hit him directly. “You have a good day, Tam.”

She nodded as John slid his check across the counter in her direction. “See you tomorrow.”

Billy untangled himself from his place at the counter. Was her interest as obvious to everyone else? He supposed if he let himself ponder how pretty she was long enough, he might just ask her to dinner or maybe a movie.

Maddie walked with him to the door as Aunt Zalea settled onto a red cushioned seat in one of the booths. “Billy, Aunt Zalea wants to talk to you for a minute.”

“All right.” Women could sure gang up on a guy with words. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tamarind give John his change then head back to the kitchen.

He stopped at Aunt Zalea’s booth. “Maddie said you needed to talk to me?”

She darted a few glances around the dining room. “Are you still going to the VA clinic for physical therapy appointments?”

“Yes. I have a few next week. I wanted to get them all done in one day, but they couldn’t work it out this time.” Billy had a feeling another one of Aunt Zalea’s favor requests was headed his way.

“Oh, good. Because I talked to Justine this morning, and she has some doctor appointments in Temple next week too with her specialists. Do you think you could take her with you? Scott and White Hospital isn’t too far from the VA Hospital. I just thought it would be easier for her if she had someone to take her, since she's not driving right now.” Aunt Zalea looked up at him.

“Does Ms. Campbell know you’re planning rides for her? She seems like a pretty private person. Not like I blame her.” Someone fired up the jukebox, and an old ’50s song rang through the restaurant.

Aunt Zalea’s face flushed.
Ha.
So he’d figured right. Aunt Zalea, making herself helpful.

“Billy Tucker, so what if I am? She’s proud, too. It’s too easy for her to buy what she wants. And right now she needs people in her life, good people. She needs to know that people will do something for her out of kindness.”

He shifted and placed a hand on the top edge of the booth, then moved in closer. “I know. I’m not trying to fight you on this one.” He tried not to sigh. He knew exactly what Aunt Zalea meant. The idea of people helping him. . . He still remembered crying like a big baby in the hospital in Germany, the first time his mother had to help him get dressed. She hadn’t done that since he was a toddler. He hated it then, and hated the idea now. His parents had flown straight to Europe when they’d heard about the Humvee accident, and the Kuwait hospital had moved him to Germany once he’d been stabilized. The memory of helplessness washed over him now.

Aunt Zalea looked up at him expectantly.

“Billy, just think, you get to spend more time with Justine Campbell,” Maddie said. “Maybe she can come over for dinner one night.”

“Find out when her appointments are,” he said. “Better yet, go ahead and give her my number, and she can call me.” Billy would do the right thing. Much as it had hurt for him to receive help, he knew how important it was for him. Justine probably needed that, too. After all, it was the Christian thing to do.