Craving Constellations (2 page)

I parked the car close to the store entrance and waited for the buyer. He’d said he’d be driving a late model green SUV, and I clocked him the minute he turned into the parking lot. When he and a woman pulled up and parked across from us, I felt a sense of relief. Meeting with a strange man, hours from home, made me a little nervous. Watching his lady grab a screaming infant from behind her seat calmed my nerves even more.

I quickly climbed out from the car and walked to stand in front of my girl’s door. While I was comforted to know the man had brought his family along, I wasn’t taking any chances.

“Hey! You Kate?” He walked toward me with his hand lifted in order to shake mine.

“That’s me,” I said with what I hoped was an easygoing smile.

“Man, she’s a beauty. Is your asking price the same as when we emailed?” he asked.

He seemed perplexed as he looked at my car that he’d probably expected to be trashed. It was far from trashed. Back in my old life, my car could have been called
cherry
. No crumbs marred the seats, no fingerprints were on the windows, and the rims sparkled in the late morning sunshine. I didn’t blame him for being confused. If I were buying a car far below Blue Book from someone I didn’t know, I would have been waiting for the other shoe to drop, too.

“Yep. That’s it. I’d just like to sell it. I’m not comfortable doing a test drive with you, so if you want it, you’re going to have to just, you know, buy it without driving it.” I tried to sound confident, but I wasn’t sure if this was going to work. “I’m sure you understand. I’ve got my girl in the car. I’m not driving around with a stranger.”

While I spoke, he nodded his head.

“Yep, no problem. With the amount you’re selling it for, and since you already drove it here, anything that could be wrong with it, I could easily fix, and I would still be getting a deal.”

His face reddened, and I was sure he was wishing back those last few words. Who in the world told someone they were selling something too cheap? Eh. It didn’t matter. I just wanted it gone.

“Okay then. Did you bring the cash?” I asked him impatiently. I wanted to get this transaction over with.

“Yep, it’s in the car with my wife. Give me just a second.”

He walked over to his wife’s window, and I watched them banter for a minute before I reached in my purse for the title. I wondered if they were genuinely that happy with each other or if this was a show put on for the outside world. I knew all too well the difference between what was shown in public and what went on behind closed doors. I knew how quickly a charming smile could turn to a scowl the second no one was looking. I repressed a shudder before walking back to meet him to exchange the title for cash. I breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t notice the name on the title.

Once we were done, I grabbed a grocery cart and piled our bags and my girl’s car seat inside. We watched him drive away with satisfaction. Well, I felt satisfaction anyway; the girl in my arms, sleeping on my shoulder, hadn’t woken up during the whole transaction.

We waited only fifteen minutes before I saw my new car pull into the parking lot. By this time, my girl was awake and begging to get down, so I sat her in the cart and ran my hand through her hair, hoping she’d be patient just a little longer. This transaction was the trickier of the two. I knew my car would be easy to sell without a test drive, but I was also going to have to buy this new car without testing it out first, which meant I was relying on the honesty of someone I hadn’t met. This car had to get us to where we were going, or we’d be screwed.

The woman who jumped out of my new Toyota was in her mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair in long dreadlocks down her back. She was wearing some type of multi-colored gypsy skirt, and as she walked toward me, she jingled as if she were wearing a hundred little bells.

I slowly stepped toward her as I watched her take in our appearance. I knew we looked weird. I was sure she’d never seen someone show up to buy a car with only a grocery cart filled with duffel bags and a toddler. However, she didn’t say a word. If I was judging her correctly, she had an almost knowing look on her face.

“Hi, are you Stargazer?” I asked hesitantly.

I had assumed that, for whatever reason, the name she used in her ad was an alias; however, looking at her now, it was probably her actual name. I could feel the corners of my eyes getting tight, and I was hoping that we could get this over with quickly. Between the stress of exchanging cars and the physical exertion of moving around our bags, my body was beginning to revolt. At this point, I wanted to buy the car, so I could just get in and sit down.

“Hello, there!” she called back. “You must be Lacey! Want to come take a look at my baby?”

“Yep, that’s me! I’ll be right there,” I answered her, nodding my head, as I struggled to push our bulging cart across the pavement, my movements stiff and awkward.

“Ooh, your little girl sure is a cutie!” she said with a smile on her face. “Hello, sweetheart!”

I inspected the car while she chattered away about how long she had owned it, what the mileage was, and how she had just come from vacuuming it out and putting in a vanilla-scented air freshener that she’d made herself—detailing the whole process with words like
infusion
and
scented oils
. She was super nice, but she was driving me crazy as she prattled on and on. The longer we stayed in one place, the antsier I became to get on the road. When she finally got around to handing me the title, my girl was fidgeting with impatience, but she sat silently, waiting for me to put her in the car. She was used to staying quiet while around any other adults, except for me. She knew the punishment that could come from speaking up at the wrong time.

We got on the road about twenty minutes later, driving away in a car that smelled strongly of patchouli oil and vanilla. I didn’t mind the smell though. All that mattered was the car worked like a dream. I just hoped it continued to do so.

After a quick stop to get us fast food for a late lunch, we got back on the interstate and headed south. There were no more errands to run and no other stops to make. I was almost home, and I was worried that once we got there, life would become even more complicated.

I grew up outside of a town called Eugene. Its biggest claim to fame was the state university and, more specifically, the university’s football team. It was where I’d met my husband although I never brought him home to meet my father. I’d been trying to distance myself from that life, so I’d pretty much just pretended it didn’t exist during my four years of college.

My husband strangely never asked to meet my pop. For a while, I’d wondered why he chose to completely ignore that part of my life. It seemed to me that someone would want to know his or her future spouse’s family. Eventually though, I’d chalked it up to total self-absorption. He didn’t care about my previous life because it didn’t directly impact him. That had worked in my favor, so I’d been happy with the status quo.

I’d gone home only a few times during college, and the last weekend home during my senior year had changed the course of my life forever. After that, I’d refused to look back.

We got to Eugene at about three in the afternoon, and I’d left the city, taking back road after back road on my way to where I’d find my father. I wasn’t sure where he was living, but I knew exactly where he’d be at three o’clock on a Tuesday. It was the same place he’d been every Tuesday my entire life and where he’d be every Tuesday until he died.

As we pulled up outside the gate, I was filled with a jumble of emotions I didn’t even bother to sort through. It had been a very long day, and my body was so weary that I wasn’t sure how I’d even make it out of the car. Maybe I should have waited, grabbed us a hotel room, and returned bright and early the next morning, but as soon as I brought the car to a stop, the guard at the gate was walking toward me. There was no time to back out, so I sighed quietly and rolled down my window.

“Whatcha need, beautiful? You lost?” he asked me with a smile pulling up the corner of his mouth.

“Nope. Looking for my pop. Can you let us in?” I muttered distractedly, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my fingertips. A headache was building in between my eyes, and I didn’t have the energy to care how annoyed he looked that I was neither nervous nor trying to flirt my way in.

This guard was new. He hadn’t been here five years before, and it looked like he was a recruit. No patch yet.

“Well, who’s your pop? Is he expecting you? This is private property.” He was smirking with a cocky look in his eyes that hadn’t been there seconds before.

Five years ago, I would have put him in his place, but I was too tired to fight. I just wanted to get to my pop, so I could finally rest.

“Poet,” I answered him shortly. “Look, just call him, okay? No, he’s not expecting me, but it won’t matter. You’re new here, so I’ll give you a little heads-up. You don’t want to keep me waiting.”

He looked at me quizzically, and then he stepped away from the car and pulled out his cell phone. Soon after that, his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, and he turned to face me as he disconnected. “Sorry about that. I’ll just get the gate open, and you can go on up.”

It was obvious that whomever he’d spoken with wasn’t happy to hear that I was waiting at the gate.

When I pulled up at the clubhouse, there were a few guys outside, working on motorcycles and sitting at picnic tables, shooting the shit. All of them turned my way as I parked and got out of the car, holding tightly to the doorframe to steady myself. I recognized a few, but I didn’t acknowledge any of them. I was here for Pop, not to socialize. These weren’t my people anymore. I was surprised to find my backbone returning though, the longer I stood in the yard of my childhood. I was the princess here. It may have been long ago, but I knew my status had not changed.

My thoughts went blank as I saw my father walk quickly out of one of the garage bays with two men on his heels. I didn’t even glance at the men; my eyes were eating up my father as he paused for a few moments and then took long strides toward me. He hadn’t changed a bit. His gray long hair was parted down the middle and hanging down his back in a ponytail. His beard, which had always reached his chest, was cut short, but his smile and shining green eyes, which were just like mine, were achingly familiar. He was smiling at me up until we made eye contact, and then his face changed to one of concern. I wasn’t sure what emotion was showing on my face, but he knew that something was wrong.

My body sagged in relief as he reached me. We were safe. He was here, and we were surrounded. Nothing and no one could touch us now.

“Pop,” I whispered as he wrapped his thick arms around me.

“My Brenna girl. Where have you been, lass?” He squeezed my middle in a tight hug.

My relief was unfortunately short-lived because the moment he squeezed, my body tensed in pain. I promptly lost consciousness and felt nothing.

I woke up, bleary-eyed, to someone prodding at my ribs. At first, I wasn’t aware of my surroundings, so I began to panic, frantically pushing those roaming fingers away.

“Brenna! Stop! Let Doc look at you.”

I heard my father’s voice from across the room. The past week came back to me instantly, and panic rushed in for another reason.

“Where’s my girl? She was in the car! Where is she?” I feverishly looked around the room, not spotting my daughter anywhere.

“Ach. I found her. Don’t be worrying about that. I left her outside with the boys, and she was just fine. Now say hello to Doc. Let him finish looking you over, and we can have a bit of a chat, yes?” he admonished me.

I looked to Doc, who hadn’t seemed to age since the last time I saw him—well, except for the fact that he seemed to have lost about thirty pounds. I wasn’t sure he ever had an actual medical degree, but he’d been fixing up members of the club and their families for as long as I could remember. He’d always seemed like such a contradiction to me. He could gently set a five-year-old’s broken arm (mine) and beat the hell out of someone (some huge guy that I had never seen before) all in the space of an hour. He was old as dirt when I was a kid, and I wasn’t sure how he was still alive and kicking.

“Hi, Doc. It’s been a while,” I said with a sheepish smile. “I’m not used to waking up to someone coppin’ a feel. I thought you were just getting handsy. Sorry about that.”