All The Stars In Heaven (19 page)

“No. Not the horses,” he moaned.

“Yes, Daddy. Horses,” James said as he jumped over his dad. Barely making it, he fell backward.

“Umph,” Kirk said. “Careful. Unless you don’t want any younger brothers or sisters.”

Sarah continued to play, the notes resonating around the room.

Christa came in, drying her hands on a dishtowel as she observed the chaos. Jay swooped in close to Sarah and sat beside her on the bench.

“This,” he said, with a smile that reached his eyes, “is what the holidays should be like.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Carl pulled a burger from the fast-food bag on the coffee table. “Nope. I still ain’t figured out where she lives.”

“It shouldn’t be that difficult,” Grant said. His nose wrinkled in distaste as he opened the bag Carl had set in front of him. “You know when and where her classes are. Follow her.”

“It’s not that easy anymore. She goes all these different places on campus—places I can’t get into—and disappears from there.” Carl opened a ketchup packet and squirted it on the paper next to his fries. “It’s not like I’ve had a lot of time.” He nodded toward a package on the counter. “You want syringes, I get ’em. You want that guy’s wallet, I steal it. You don’t want her to have a place to stay no more, I even took care of that.”

“I never told you to set her house on fire,” Grant said. “If they trace it back to you, you’re looking at arson and manslaughter.”

“They won’t be able to trace nothing. The building’s gone. What’re they gonna do?”

“Plenty,” Grant said. He left his sandwich untouched and went to the kitchen for a drink.

“I found out where her boyfriend works,” Carl said. “Little hole-in-the-wall nightclub near campus. Plays there nights.”

“That’s useful,” Grant said, his tone sarcastic.

“It is,” Carl insisted. “He and Sarah are getting tight. You don’t think she’s gonna show up there to watch him some night?”

“
Which
night?” Grant asked. “Are
you
going to hang out there every time he works?”

“Nope.” Carl finished his burger and leaned back on the sofa, one leg propped on his knee, a smug look on his face. “But
Diedre
works most every night at the bar. And she’d be more ’n happy to get Jay’s girlfriend out of her way. I left her my number. She’s gonna give me a ring as soon as Sarah comes by.”

“That might work,” Grant admitted grudgingly. Though the thought of Sarah out at night caused him no small amount of panic. If Carl could get to her, so could anyone else.

“No appreciation.” Carl shook his head. “No matter what I do, I don’t get no thanks. No wonder she took off,” he mumbled.

“What’d you say?” Grant asked.

Carl matched his threatening tone. “You heard right. I said it’s no wonder Sarah left.”

“I do what I have to to keep her alive,” Grant said. “And you’d better remember that it keeps you alive too.”

* * *

“I can’t figure it out.” Kirk looked at the reports spread across the kitchen table. “Why would the chief have someone with a criminal record acting as a bodyguard for his daughter?”

“In my mind the bigger question is why he thinks she
needs
a bodyguard,” Jay said.

Kirk nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but look at this guy’s rap sheet.” His fingers roamed the pages faxed to him from a friend in another precinct. “Armed robbery, grand theft auto, assault. He’s no prince. What’s to keep him from using his unsavory talents on Sarah?”

“He got off all those times, didn’t he?” Jay asked. “That can’t be a coincidence. Maybe Sarah’s dad is holding that over his head. Maybe he’s told Carl that he’ll do time if he doesn’t behave himself—at least around Sarah.”

“Maybe,” Kirk said. “But I think it’s got to be more than that. This guy’s greedy. He wasn’t stealing to put bread on the table. His type wants the high life—without working for it.”

“I doubt he has that now,” Jay said. “You saw that beater truck he drove.”

“You’re right,” Kirk agreed. “And the car he drives now isn’t much nicer. But I’d still bet Chief Morgan is paying Carl to keep an eye on Sarah—and now you.”

“I haven’t seen him at all this week,” Jay said. “And I’ve been watching my back.”

“He’s been busy,” Kirk said. “Since Sarah left, he’s developed a sudden drug habit.”

Jay stiffened, and Kirk sent him an apologetic look. He was one of the few who knew a little about Jay’s less-than-perfect past.

“He’s been seen at ‘the office’ in O’Brian park twice, buying some pretty hefty quantities of cocaine and meth. Too much for one guy, so he’s sharing or something.”

Cocaine. My old enemy.
Jay still remembered the taste, the deceptive feelings of euphoria after shooting up. It would haunt him the rest of his life. “Why don’t you bring Carl in?”

“Can’t,” Kirk said. “Since half the park is in Cambridge, Chief feels like it’s their problem. And you know how lax this city is about drugs.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “Let’s not dare bust any of the rich and privileged youth.”

“Especially if they’ve got parents who contribute to the university coffers,” Kirk added. “It annoys the heck out of the chief. But we’re supposed to concentrate on the areas closer to the city center. Problem is, half the stuff that’s coming from that park eventually makes its way to the city center—the neighborhoods, the schools.”

“You’re watching off the clock?” Jay guessed.

“Sort of. I get over there during my shift as much as possible, and I’m starting to put names and faces together. It’s become kind of an obsession with me—stopping it, I mean.” Kirk looked at Jay. “You know what drugs do to people—families. I’ve seen firsthand that meth is the worst. I keep hoping that if I come to the chief with enough evidence, he’ll take some action.”

“Except now it’s his pet nephew who’s buying.”

“Yeah.” Kirk looked at the papers again. “And I wish I knew why.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“
Now
will you tell me where we’re going?” Sarah asked, hurrying to keep up with Jay as he towed her across campus.

“Nope. Top secret.”

“So secret Archer wrote about it in the school paper?” she guessed as they neared the Science Center.

Jay frowned. “You’re taking all the fun out of it. I wanted to surprise you.”

“I think it’s going to be the other way around tonight,” she said. “That is, if you’re planning to take me to the grand opening of the Putnam Gallery.”

“I was.” Jay sounded disappointed.

Sarah tried to hide a guilty smile. “I came this afternoon, between classes.” She shrugged. “But that’s okay. Isn’t it about time
you
had a first with
me
for a change?”

“It opened
today.
And already—” He shook his head. “What’s a guy have to do to surprise you anymore?”

“You surprise me every day,” Sarah said. “You’re still hanging out with me.”

They went in the Science Center’s east entrance, and Sarah led the way to the newly completed first-floor gallery.

“Mind if I show you my favorite things?” she asked, excited to have switched roles for the evening. She loved all the new experiences Jay had shared with her, but sometimes their relationship felt unbalanced, as if she had nothing to contribute. There were so many things she felt naive about, so many jokes told at the lunch table she missed, so many references to pop culture she didn’t understand.

But tonight would be different.
This
she understood. The sun, the moon, the stars had always been there for her, reminding her of something much bigger than the narrow world she’d been confined to.

Her music teacher Miss Amelia had once told her to “reach for the stars,” encouraging her to use her talents to get everything she wanted from life. Sarah had never forgotten that sentiment. There had been times of discouragement certainly, but a glimpse of the night sky sprinkled with stars or of the full moon was all it took to remind her to stay on course. After all, if man could walk on the moon, so far away, she could someday walk away from the life she hated.

But she had never expected to have someone to walk with, someone who encouraged her instead of holding her back. This new combination of freedom and friendship became more exhilarating each day—much more than she’d ever hoped for or dreamt of.

Sarah stopped in front of an exhibit about Galileo, pointing to a geometrical compass. “There are only three of these in existence.”

Jay gave a low whistle. “And Harvard has one.”

“They have a lot of great things,” Sarah said. “Wait until you see the astrolabe. It dates back to 1400.”

She took Jay’s hand, guiding him through the exhibit, showing him vintage telescopes from the 1700s up through the more modern and complex equipment used to study the stars today.

“How do you know about all this?” he asked when they were about three-fourths of the way through the displays. “You’d have to have a photographic memory to have learned all this in a few hours this afternoon.”

“I’ve been fascinated by the stars, the sky, forever,” Sarah said. “It’s so immense, and it’s always seemed so full of promise.”

“How so?” Jay asked.

“Well . . .” She considered, trying to put into words the feelings she had when standing beneath a starry sky or looking up at a crescent moon. “For one thing, it’s always there. Dependable. Constant. The moon cycle is exact; its timing precise. The constellations are the same. Always there. Always accessible if you can get somewhere dark enough to see them. When I was younger, my dad took me to the country a couple of times. And out there where you
can
see them . . . Well, there are so many. They represent so much possibility.”

“I’ve never thought of it like that,” Jay said. He leaned over a large globe, his finger hovering over the West Coast.

“Are you thinking about home?” Sarah asked, suddenly seeing less promise in her world than she had a moment before. She knew Jay planned to return to Seattle after he graduated next spring.
What will happen when we’re separated by 3000 miles?
She was surprised at how much pain accompanied that thought.

“I don’t think about home as much as I used to,” he said, turning away from the globe. “Seattle’s a great place, and I do miss it.” He bent his head close to hers. “But all the years I spent there can’t compare to the past few weeks with you.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

“Joe Sent Me”? Sarah shot Jay a quizzical look as she read the sign hanging outside the redbrick building. “Sent me what? Kind of a strange name for a restaurant, isn’t it?”

“It’s from the 1920s,” he explained. “Back then ‘Joe sent me’ was often the password to get into a speakeasy.”

Sarah walked ahead of him into the pub-style establishment. “I should have known you’d choose a place that has something to do with history.” She looked curiously at the bottle cap art on the wall.

“Not history. Pickles,” Jay said. “Deep-fried ones, to be exact. That’s why we’re here. One taste and you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”

A college-aged woman wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a black apron met them inside the door.

“Two, please,” Jay said. “And preferably away from the bar and the darts.”

“No problem.” She led them to a table near the front windows. “This okay?”

“Great,” Jay said.

She placed two menus on the table. “Your waitress will be here shortly.”

“Thanks.” Jay held Sarah’s chair out for her, then shrugged out of his jacket before sitting down himself.

“Are you sure we should sit right here in plain sight of the street?” she asked. “What if Carl—”

“Kirk’s following him tonight.” Jay leaned forward over the table. “And I really don’t want to talk about Carl while we’re here.”

“Agreed,” Sarah said. “This evening is all about you. You’re finally going to reveal your deep, dark, mysterious past.”

She has no idea.
The dread he’d felt all week as this evening grew closer settled in his chest.

“I’m glad we’re here,” Sarah said. “I miss seeing you all the time, miss living downstairs with Mrs. Larson.”

“Her funeral was nice,” Jay said. “Bringing flowers was thoughtful.”

“I’d like to keep it up—her grave I mean. She doesn’t have anyone else to do it for her, and . . .” Sarah’s voice trailed off as she looked outside at the passing traffic.

“What?” Jay asked after a minute.

“I never visit my mother’s grave.” She faced him again. “I don’t even know where she’s buried.”

“It wouldn’t be too hard to find out,” Jay suggested. “Counties have records, and—”

“No.” Sarah shook her head. “I think it’s easier this way. Sometimes I feel bad, but my mother—there are things you don’t know.”

“Now who has the deep, dark, mysterious past?” Jay asked.

“Apparently both of us.” Sarah opened her menu. “But let’s not think about that right now. I’m hungry, and I can’t wait to see what you feed me this time. I still haven’t forgotten that delicious lunch in Boston.”

“This is completely different fare,” Jay said. “But also a necessary part of your cultural rounding.” He tilted his head toward the speakers on the wall, listening as the song changed. “Classic Journey. 1983
Frontier
album, ‘Separate Ways.’”
Hopefully not a bad omen.
“They also play great music here.”

“Another necessary part of my
cultural rounding,
” Sarah said.

“Absolutely.” Jay grinned. “Though I think you’ll appreciate
this
music a little more. Turning in his chair, he reached inside his coat pocket and removed one of two packages. He held a flat, simply wrapped gift out to her. “Happy late birthday.”

“Thank you.” She took it from him, untied the string, and folded back the brown paper, revealing a packet of yellowed pages.

“I figured it was highly unlikely you’d get any of your sheet music from your dad, and since what little you did have burned in the fire . . .” He shrugged, suddenly uncertain whether his inexpensive gift was acceptable. Her continued silence as she turned the pages seemed to confirm his fears. “I got them at an antique shop. There’s a waltz, some ragtime, and a Christmas collection.”

Sarah’s slender fingers traced the notes in front of her, pausing once in a while to play them on an imaginary keyboard. She turned each page slowly until she reached the end. At last she looked up at Jay. “This is the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received. It’s even better than the Gilbert Stuart prints.” Behind her new, stylish frames, her eyes glistened. She picked up the papers and clutched them to her chest. “I can’t wait to play them all.”

Jay leaned back in his chair and sighed with relief. “Let me know a couple of minutes sooner next time, okay? I’ve been having a heart attack over here, thinking I did something awful.” He gave her a wry smile. “A lot of fingers have probably touched those. Germs, you know.”

“I don’t care.” She continued holding the papers as she looked around the crowded room.

Jay followed her gaze as she took in the brick walls, cluttered bar, and low lights hanging over the tables.

“I like this place,” she announced. “It’s cozy.”

“And kind of slow with the service,” Jay said, noting their waiter still hadn’t come. He flipped open the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’m going to get an order of fried pickles to go with my burger. Get whatever you like, but I’m telling you, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried those pickles.”

Sarah wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I like fried pickles.”

“Your loss.” He shrugged. “More for me.”

“Oh, I’ll try them. After the meal you fed me in Boston, I’ll try anything you recommend.” She studied her own menu. “Do they have hot chocolate?”

“We do,” a woman said as she came to their table. “I’m Katrina, and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I start you with some drinks?”

“Appetizers,” Jay said as his stomach grumbled. “We’ll take a couple baskets of fried pickles, and she’ll have a large hot chocolate.”

“Is it okay if we share the pickles?” Sarah asked. “In case I don’t like them. I wouldn’t want to waste a whole order.”

“They wouldn’t be wasted,” Jay said. “But we can start with one.”

As Sarah questioned the waitress about the different types of burgers, Jay internalized what she’d just said to him.
Is it okay if we share? It’s more than okay,
he thought, watching her.
Anytime. Anything. Just ask. I’ve waited a lot of years to find a woman who wanted to share with me.
He hoped, after tonight, that he wouldn’t have to wait several more. He wished he hadn’t let things go so long before telling Sarah about his past. He should have told her everything during the day they spent in Boston, but it had been their first real date, and he hadn’t wanted to ruin it. And at the time, he’d had no idea of the events that would complicate life in the following weeks.

They both ordered, then handed the menus to Katrina as she left. Sarah dug in her purse for her bottle of hand sanitizer.

“Want some?” she asked Jay.

“No. I’ve used that stuff so much lately I hardly have any skin left. I’ll take my chances that I won’t get salmonella from the menu.”

“More pickles for me if you do,” she teased as she rubbed her hands together.

“Funny,” Jay said. His eyebrows rose. “Do you realize you just had a voluntary conversation with a stranger?”

“I did?” Sarah wore an astonished expression as she dropped the bottle into her purse. “You’re right. I didn’t even think about it—wow.”

“To normalcy,” Jay said, raising his water glass.

“To normal
me,
” Sarah said, clinking hers against his. She inspected the rim before taking a drink.

Getting closer anyway,
Jay thought. “Speaking of which—me and abnormal, I mean—we might as well get started.”
Might as well get it over with.
He held his hands out. “Ask away. Anything you want to know.” He preferred putting it off indefinitely, or at least until they’d eaten, but Sarah had been more than patient, accepting his explanation that he’d tell her later, waiting to learn about his past—especially after he’d dropped the bomb about having a criminal record.

“Oh, I intend to.” Sarah re-wrapped the music and set it on the windowsill. She picked up her purse, took out a small notepad, and laid it on the table.

She’s taking notes?

“All right.” Flipping it open she read, “I know you’re twenty-eight, and you’re birthday is September fifth, but I don’t know anything about your parents.”

“You made a
list?
” Jay leaned forward, trying to see how long it was.

She snatched it off the table. “Yes, I made a list. There’s a lot I want to know. And I don’t want to get sidetracked.”

“Women,” Jay muttered, though part of him was secretly pleased that this particular woman was so interested in knowing who he was. The other part felt like he was about to collide head-on with a train. One glance at Sarah’s paper, and he knew it was going to be a long evening.

“My mom and dad weren’t married,” he began. “Dad was a professor, my mom a protestor. How they ever got together is beyond me.”

“So did you live together as a family for a while?” Sarah asked. “Did they try to make it work—for your sake?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Jay realized he sounded casual and matter-of-fact about the whole business.
What other way is there to be? You can’t change the past—even if it hurts.
“I lived with my dad. He was a good guy.”

“
Was?
” Sarah asked. “At the museum you told me your mom had passed away, but you never mentioned you’d lost your father, too.”

“He had a stroke halfway through my senior year of high school.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sarah pushed the notepad aside. “And you don’t have any brothers or sisters or cousins or anything?”

“None that I know of,” Jay said.
None I’d want to know, if they’re related to my mom.

“What did you do after your father died? Who did you live with?”

Jay’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “This is where it gets kind of ugly. You sure you want to hear it so soon? Maybe I should tell you about elementary school and summer camp. And don’t forget junior high.” He raised his hand in the air, pretending to dunk a basketball. “Eighth-grade state champs. It’s my one claim to fame. You really should hear it.”

“Maybe later. Right now I want to know what happened after your father died.” She scooted her chair closer and sat on her hands.

Her nervous habit,
Jay observed. He placed his own hands behind his head, trying to look relaxed for a man who felt he was about to face the guillotine.

“I went to live with my mom. Turns out she’d been in nearby Tacoma my whole life. She’d never come to visit—either because she wasn’t sober enough
to
visit, or maybe because my dad wouldn’t let her. Either way, I didn’t really care.”

“Go on,” Sarah coaxed.

“Her boyfriend at the time was beating her. I found out and beat him up. She told the police I’d started it. I got arrested.”

“She stuck up for
him?
” Sarah said, outraged.

“Yep.” Jay’s head bobbed. “I was lucky, really, since I could’ve been tried as an adult. Instead I spent two months in a detention facility. And all because I’d tried to protect her. I swore when I got out that I’d never see her again.”

“Oh, Jay.” Sarah’s eyes were filled with sympathy. “That’s awful—what she did, I mean. But what you did isn’t so bad, wasn’t even wrong. I wish you would’ve told me sooner. I’m so relieved.”

He closed his eyes briefly and expelled a long, slow breath. “Don’t be. You haven’t heard the worst.”
Haven’t heard any of it, really.

“Oh.” She looked down at the table, but not before Jay caught the disappointment on her face. “Did something else happen while you were in jail?”

“After I got out,” Jay said. “I never wanted to see my mom again, but . . .”

“What else could you do? Where would you go?” Sarah guessed. “I know what it’s like to feel stuck.”

“Yeah.” Jay paused, remembering that time, the precise turning point that started him down the wrong path. “I was eighteen, so I could’ve left, but I didn’t have any money or a job—and I still needed to finish high school. My mom pointed all of that out to me when she came to pick me up.”

“But it sounds like she didn’t want you, so why would she come?” Sarah frowned, a contemplative look on her face as she tried to make sense of his story.

“She didn’t
want
me,” Jay said. “She
needed
me. The bruiser had moved on, and with him her access to crack. She needed someone—preferably male—to get her drugs. I needed a place to live so I could finish school.”

“
Drugs?
That’s what this is about?” Sarah raised her head again, absolute shock etched into her delicate features.

“Yeah. It is.” Jay’s voice was filled with regret. He lowered his arms, placing his elbows on the table. “You want me to stop?”

“Yes. No.” Sarah started to rock back and forth on her hands. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Then I’ll keep talking. Tell me to shut up when you’ve heard enough.” He waited until she gave a slight nod.

“I decided to stay with my mom until I graduated. Then I planned to go to the University of Washington, where I’d already been accepted. I figured I’d apply for financial aid, live at the dorms, and everything would be great.”

“It wasn’t?” Sarah freed one of her hands and reached for her water glass. She raised it to her lips, taking long, gulping swallows.

“It wasn’t,” Jay echoed.

Katrina returned with their drinks and appetizers. When she left again he took a bite of hot, battered pickle and closed his eyes in bliss.
At least the food will be good tonight.
“Maybe we should’ve gotten two orders.”

“I’m not very hungry anymore.” Sarah nibbled the end of a pickle. After a minute she added, “But these are tasty.”

Jay brought his straw to his lips and took a drink of his soda. “I’m glad you like them. Are they good enough that I’m off the hook with at least some of those questions?” He glanced at her notebook, pushed to the far side of the table to make room for their plates.

She stopped with a bite halfway to her mouth. “Do you want to be off the hook?”

He considered. “Yes and no. On the one hand, I hope you’ll still like me by the end of the evening. The more I tell you, the less likely that is. The flip side is that—other than in a therapy session—I’ve never told anyone a lot about my past. If you did know and still wanted to be with me . . .” He let the unfinished sentence hang in the air.