Unforgotten (24 page)
Star doubled over with laughter. “You can’t resist the fates. ‘There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads to fortune; omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.’ ”
“I’m only here to—”
“Stop.” Star put a hand to her lips. “Tempt not capricious gods. The tide is here at flood.”
Rese sighed. “Well, I have news for you. There’s only one capricious God.” Who might not merely allow her to follow her mother’s path, but, in fact, ordain it.
Star grew still except for the slight chronic palsy that made her seem ephemeral. “That’s one too many.”
Rese sighed. “I didn’t like the idea either. But I’ve found it inescapable.” “You’re not serious.”
“Star, do you remember the night I went to the hospital?”
Star stalked to the other side of the room.
“I should have died that night. Dad wasn’t home in time.”
“He carried you free; you didn’t die. And here you are.”
Rese sat down on the edge of the bed. “You know how you saw fairies when things were bad?”
“I cannot believe you saw them too.” She clutched herself in her arms. “Rese Barrett does not see fairies.”
“I saw nothing.” Why was she telling it now, when she’d gone all these years with Star never asking how she got through that awful night? “But there was something there.”
“ ‘A walking shadow, a poor player that struts upon the stage and then is heard no more.’ ”
“I think it was God.”
The energy seemed to leach from Star. Her hand went to her throat. “God was in your bedroom?”
“Not in a bad way, Star. It was a presence that—”
“Don’t say it.” Star’s voice hardened. “Personally, I’ve had too much of old almighty men in my bedroom.”
————
Lance tapped the door to tell Rese and Star good night. It had been a roller-coaster day, but hopefully the morning would bring some resolution. The door flew open, and Star stared at him with a haunted look, then kissed him square on the mouth. “ ’Tis an affliction not without cure. One must merely learn to bleed.” Then she swept past and out into the night.
Slack-jawed, he turned to Rese. “Did I …”
“You didn’t do anything.” Rese passed into the living room, then stopped, arms crossed, with her back to him. “I tried to tell her about that night, about the presence in my room.”
Something so personal would not have passed easily from Rese to Star. He joined her and began rubbing the ropes of her neck and shoulders. “She didn’t believe you?”
“She wouldn’t even hear it.”
“Why?”
“She’d have to admit I’ve had bad things in my life.”
“She knows you have.”
“No, Lance. She thinks that night was my deliverance.” Rese bent her head down as he rubbed. “All my adversity is sweet and useful, and only her bad stuff counts.”
Star had hurt her, though she cloaked it with frustration. He worked his thumbs into the knots. “Not very equitable.”
Rese snorted. “Now she’s off again, who knows where or for how long. But she’ll come back and expect me to pick up my life where she left it.”
He used the heels of his palms along her shoulders.
She groaned a little under the pressure. “I just wanted her to see there could be order in things. That she didn’t have to be at the mercy of whatever wind blew her way.” Rese sagged. “I shouldn’t have mentioned God.”
Lance worked the tendons up under her skull. “You should be able to talk about your experience. I’d think Star would want to know.” Was Star threatened by the revelation, or by imagining Rese vulnerable? She wanted Rese to play the role she gave her. But why did people keep trying to box Rese in? He slid his fingers into her hair, wishing he could let her out completely.
“It’s like talking to a cloud. Poof. She’s gone.”
And there was Rese, as present as a Sequoia redwood. “You never know what gets through.”
“It appalled her that I might believe in God.”
“Maybe she’s afraid you’ll change.”
She turned. “People change. Can’t I learn from adversity, grow in character? God forbid—have faith?”
“Of course you can.”
“That’s all I was trying to say. That maybe there was something, someone Star could trust too.”
“You’ve come a long way.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know the half of it. Obviously.”
But she’d put her trust where it mattered, and fear of the Lord was the beginning of wisdom. “Chaz’ll help.”
She frowned. “Why won’t you?”
Because he didn’t translate well from what he knew to what he did. “I don’t think I’m the best example.”
“You’re the reason I believe at all.”
Wouldn’t Evvy like that? She’d scolded and nagged him to “speak the truth.” And he had, but his actions hadn’t matched.
Rese clenched her hands at her sides, exasperation sparking. “You made sense of it for me. You made it real.”
“I lied to you.” And it stood between them like a guard dog, keeping him out. Even if she was letting it go, how could he explain his fear of spoiling her faith by some faulty action, some missed cue? He might claim her heart, but Chaz was the one to safeguard her mind and spirit.
“Lance.” She searched his face. “Can’t we just … start over?”
His breath stopped. A do-over? He’d been hoping to make up for the hurt, to prove he could do better. But to start over with no regrets, no blame? That was more than he’d expected, more than he deserved. Yet …
He read her expression, hopeful and sincere. Rese meant what she said. He took her into his arms, pressing her head to his shoulder, breathing the clean scent of her. Or was it the fragrance of grace? Relief rushed in, and gratitude so deep it touched his soul.
T
he door opened and Rico came in. “Where’s Star?”
Rese pulled out of Lance’s arms as Rico tossed two DVDs on the table, then took a bottle of sparkling artesian water and organic cheese puffs from the paper bag he carried. They’d obviously planned another movie night, and while Rico was off getting their contraband, Star was running out on them all.
Lance said, “She got upset and left.”
“Left for where?”
Rese shrugged. “She didn’t say.” She never did. It was part of the punishment to make them wonder, worry and wait.
Rico looked from her to Lance as it dawned that she hadn’t simply stalked off to sulk.
“She does this, Rico.” Lance hooked his thumbs in his jeans.
“What do you mean, does it? She hasn’t done it at all.”
Rese walked to the window and looked out. “She goes along fine for a while, then takes off.”
“She didn’t say where she was going?”
“She never does.” Rese turned. Not where or why or with whom, but it was certain she’d find someone to commiserate with her. The first few times Star had disappeared, Rese had tried to find out where she’d been, tried to tell her it wasn’t safe to go off alone. Star wouldn’t hear it. Maybe it was danger she craved, or the worry it created for those who cared. There were never apologies or excuses. She neither explained nor acknowledged, only expected to be accepted back without question.
Rese had learned the pattern, but Rico hadn’t. Looking at him, she regretted her part in it, but there was never any telling what would set Star off. “She might be back tonight.” But not likely. Kissing Lance had been a parting shot. Star would let it sink in.
Anger stirred. What had she done? What had Rico done? Yet Star was off in New York City somewhere, had probably already picked someone up. She might say she’d had enough of old almighty men, but she sought the situation again and again.
Rico turned and headed for the door, pausing just long enough to tell Lance, “Call if she gets back.”
Lance had to know Star wasn’t likely to walk in any time soon. If she hadn’t found a lift out of the neighborhood, Rico might cross her path, but not if she didn’t want him to. Star was elusive in more ways than one. Even so, he handed over his cell phone. “Rico’s keyed in.”
She nodded as he went after his friend. Lance would share the exercise in futility. He had to. It was Rico.
She sat down and flipped open his phone, scrolling through hundreds of names to Rico’s. Did Lance know everyone? She closed the phone and dropped her head back. What were the chances they’d go back to Sonoma if Star didn’t turn up? In the next few days? Slim. After that? Possible. Depending on Rico’s frame of mind.
Maybe he would realize she was too high maintenance. Sure she was dazzling, fearless, and fun. And she’d plugged right into his musical aspirations. Maybe they were even good together. But Star was … Star. Rico just hadn’t seen it yet.
Rese flipped around on the TV channels. After about an hour the guys came back. No Star. They had combed the neighborhood, but there were not that many places to look at night.
“Where would she go?” Rico said, almost to himself.
“Is there somewhere you hung out that she might have gone?” Lance asked.
Rico spread his hands. “We’ve been all over, man.”
Rese looked up. “The theater district?” She wasn’t sure why it came to her, but Times Square was the kind of place Star would lose herself. She’d been there to sing with Rico at the Java Cabana. And she would recognize its potential for companions and camouflage.
Rico focused on her. “You think she went into the city?”
She could be halfway to Canada, but Rico didn’t think in Star terms. He thought the magical nymph she played was the real thing. “She could have.”
Rico swore. Manhattan was, after all, a big place, lots of people. There wasn’t much chance he’d see Star if she didn’t want him to, but he obviously wouldn’t quit looking.
Lance pulled his leather jacket back on. “Let’s go.” There was only concern for Rico in his voice.
Why didn’t she feel it for Star? “I’ll come too.” It was better than sitting there alone, and the guys must realize it was unnecessary to have someone stay home. Lance waved her out, then led the way down to his parents’ apartment.
She waited in the living room with Rico as Lance borrowed his mother’s Fiat. Rico’s eyes darted everywhere, as if he might find Star sitting on a shelf like a figurine. Seeing his anxiety, she wished there was some way to change the reality, but he was probably far from Star’s thoughts. She was making a point and didn’t care who fell along the way. “Star won’t realize she’s hurt you, Rico.”
He turned onyx eyes on her and grew perfectly still. “She will know, chiquita.” Something cold passed through her. Had Star tapped the part of Rico that knew violence, the part Lance had tamed by sharing the blows? But then she realized it was bare hope she saw, Rico’s heart uncloaked.
She looked away. It was hard to fathom Star’s utter lack of conscience or compassion or whatever the hole inside her was. Maybe her mother’s drugs had destroyed that capacity in utero; or abuse had driven it so deep she could no longer access those feelings. She was utterly self-absorbed. Rico hoped in vain.
Following Lance in, his mother came to Rico and caught his face in her hands. “You be careful.” She must see the tension gripping him.
“S
, Mamacita.”
“No trouble.” Doria’s concern was probably based on history, and it could get ugly if Rico found Star in any of the situations Rese imagined. He might even believe it the other guy’s fault. Rese knew better. They responded to what was offered.
“We’ll be okay, Momma.” Lance patted her arm and she released Rico, then gave Rese a look as though she alone might avert disaster. Rese drew herself up. She had no intention of doing something stupid. Lance maneuvered the Fiat through the traffic in much the same way he handled Rico’s bike or his Harley. It was now evident he drove like a New Yorker. Rese sat back to endure it. She had given Rico the passenger seat so that he and Lance could plan their strategy, and they discussed likely hot spots and possible low spots to look for Star. Though he had to realize how useless it was, Lance was there for Rico, engaged and determined.
Belmont had been dark and closed up, but the city that never sleeps was wide awake. Times Square dazzled the eye; white and multicolored lights everywhere, massive electronic billboards flashing females and fashion, teeming sidewalks, restaurants, theaters, stores. Rese shook her head, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.
But it was definitely Star’s kind of place. She stared out the window. Star could absorb this block alone for weeks, sucking energy from unsuspecting strangers instead of her friends for a change. Rese frowned. She was angrier than she’d realized.
The kiss hadn’t mattered to Lance. It was what it said to her that counted.
You have nothing I can’t spoil
. Or take, maybe. Or desecrate. Lance being the bearer of faith. Maybe it was Lance whom Star wanted to defile. But ultimately it was all to hurt her. She was the only person Star lashed out at, the only one she came back to again and again.
Relationships like the one she had with Maury followed the pattern to a point, but once she’d severed the tie, it stayed severed. Rese had learned long ago that Star lived life on her terms, but for some reason those terms included the one friend she could walk on again and again and again. Her rock.