Until the Stars Fall From the Sky (4 page)

By the time I send the last text, my hands are shaking from adrenaline. Wow! I can’t believe she actually said “yes”. I slide my phone into my pocket and run out to my truck. It’s a pigsty. There are used water bottles, candy bar wrappers and fast food napkins everywhere. I snatch a garbage bag from the garage and begin filling it as fast as I can. I get the shop vacuum and begin cleaning Lucky’s hair off of the bench seats. Lucky is a golden retriever, but he is better known as “The Shedding Machine.”

After I finish cleaning my truck, I race toward the shower, throwing off my clothes as I go. I quickly shave and brush my teeth. I grab some Levi 501’s and light blue chambray shirt and put them on. I program Kiera’s address into my phone and climb into my truck. I can’t believe that I’m this nervous. I’ve been dating for half my life. What is so different about Kiera? Once I reach her house, I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and eat a couple of Tic-Tacs, just to be safe. I take a deep breath and exhale as I knock on her door.

Kiera opens the door, and I am rendered speechless. I thought she was stunning when I saw her at the lake. Nothing prepared me for the shock of seeing her again.

The first thing I notice is that she is wearing my jacket. It is so large on her that it is hanging off of her shoulder. It gives me an odd sense of pride to see her in it. Before now, I never really understood the appeal of letterman’s jackets. It is much clearer to me now because I would like to announce to the world that she is mine.

She is even more beautiful than I remember. Instead of pigtails, her hair is in an up do, and she is wearing a sundress with spaghetti straps that highlight her figure beautifully. She is wearing some cool shoes that look like they have been hand-painted. When I finally regain my power of speech, I manage to stammer out “Kiera, you look amazing!” I have learned some things from my mom and my sister, so I hasten to add, “I really like your shoes.” Instantly, I wish that I had a delete button for my so-called conversational skills.

At first, she seems puzzled by my admittedly odd greeting. She looked down at her feet and then back up at me. She gives me a dazzling smile. “Thank you. I love them too. They are from a company called Alegria. I have a bunch of different styles because it’s one of the only brands that I can wear.” She backs her wheelchair out of the way so that I can get through the doorway. “You can come in if you’d like, I just need to pick up my purse.” I step just inside the entryway as she grabs a leather backpack and hangs it on the back of her chair. “I’m ready to go, if you are.”

I motion for her to go first as I respond, “Sounds good to me. Is there anything you need me to do?

“It would be helpful if you can shut off the lights and shut the door behind me,” Kiera asks easily. “Is the blue truck yours?”

For the first time, I consider my truck from her vantage point. Not only is it ugly as sin, my truck sits very far off the ground. I’m really embarrassed that I didn’t think about this ahead of time. I grimace as I answer, “Yes, it’s my truck.”

She ponders the situation and offers a solution, “The way I see it, we have two choices. We can take my van, or you can lift me into your truck, and we can stick my chair in the back.

“Do you have a preference?” I ask carefully, not wanting to offend her.

I think she senses my discomfort, because she gives me an encouraging smile as she replies, “Nope, whatever works for you is fine with me. Now, if it were raining, I might give you a different answer because it is a pain to sit in a wet chair.”

I return her smile and reply, “In that case, I vote we take my truck. You’ve given me a socially acceptable reason to hold you in my arms, and I’m sure as hell not going to turn that down.” Kiera blushes bright red and I wonder if I have pushed the boundary too far.

Suddenly, Kiera looks up at me and winks, “I was hoping you’d say that. It was pretty comfortable in your arms the last time I was there.” I watch as she flushes even more.

Her comment seems to take both of us by surprise. I chuckle softly and respond, “Well, I guess your chariot awaits.” I lift her up as gently as I can. Her arm slips around my neck for support. I notice that she inhales sharply, and I wonder if I am causing her pain. “Am I hurting you?” I ask with concern as I place her on the bench seat and reach across her to buckle her in.

Kiera laughs as she blushes again and admits quietly, “I’m embarrassed to admit this. I was taking a moment to sniff you. You smell great.”
She blushes and looks down.

Now it is my turn to blush, although my complexion does
a much better job of hiding it. “Umm, thanks. It’s just Polo. My mom gets it for me every Christmas because it’s her favorite men’s cologne. She told me once that my dad used to wear it.”

“Do you remember that?” Kiera’s expression is a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Sometimes I get a wisp of memory, but it’s gone before I can confirm whether it’s my imagination. I was only five when he was killed in a Jet Ski accident,” I explain.

A look of sadness
crosses her face. “I’m sorry. I know that it is rough to lose a parent. My mom died when I was four. She had a brain tumor,” she explains.

“Of all the things we could have had in common; I’m sorry that it’s the loss of a parent, Kiera,” I say as I squeeze her hand.

“It’s okay,” Kiera remarks sagely, “I’ve come to terms with the fact that it was probably for the best.”

I sense there is a story there. In the interest of keeping the mood upbeat on our coffee date, I change the subject. Her family tragedy isn’t really my business. At least it’s not yet. I hope that someday we will feel comfortable enough that we can provide support for each other. I’m astonished that my thoughts about Kiera are so focused on the long term, given my chaotic life.

Kiera shakes her head and gives my hand a slight reassuring squeeze as she states, “Besides, I’m sure we have more than that, and after all we have Nantucket Nectar.” Kiera gives me a quirky grin and flashes her dimple.

I had forgotten how much her mere touch affects me. I will my heart rate to slow down. “
That’s true. I can’t wait to see what else we have in common,” I retort, winking. As we pull up at the Starbucks, my truck backfires like a cannon. Kiera flinches and grabs my arm for support. “Sorry ‘bout that. This thing has a mind of its own. I’m lucky it runs at all. Are you ready for a bite to eat?” Kiera nods and starts to take off my jacket. “Here, let me help you.” I offer, slipping the coat from her shoulders and placing it behind my seat.

“Thank you. You’re such a gentleman; I’m impressed,” Kiera compliments with a smile.

I run around the truck and get her wheelchair out of the back. I hope that I reassemble it correctly. When I open her door, she looks down at it and remarks, “You’re very close. The cushion is in backward. It’s an easy fix; just flip it around.”

“I
can’t believe I’m such an idiot.” I mumble, as I hurry to turn it around and brush off any dirt that may have gotten on it from my truck.

“It’s okay,” Kiera rushes to reassure me,
“
it’s not like you encounter these on a daily basis. You’ll know better next time.”

“Next time? I like the sound of that!”
I reply. She must think I’m a total goof, but I am just thrilled that she hasn’t ruled out seeing me again.

I reach out to pick Kiera up. She places her hand on my chest and blushes slightly “You don’t get it do you? I like you and I want to see where this goes.”

“That works for me.” I respond as I give myself a mental high-five. I gather her to my chest. Her warm spicy perfume floats up and fills my nose with an intoxicating scent. Without warning, my body begins to respond to her. I try to set her down in her chair before my dilemma becomes blatantly obvious. I step behind her chair and start to push it. It occurs to me that I might be being rude. “Is this okay?” I ask bashfully, “Please let me know if I cross any boundaries.”

Kiera laughs as she remark
s, “Nah, you are fine. My arms can use a break. My shoulder is still sore from yesterday. I’ll let you know if it’s ever a problem.”

Getting through the door is a bigger challenge than I anticipated. I wonder how she handles this when she is alone. It must be a pain
. I’ve just never thought about it before.

“What would you like to drink, Pip?” I ask her as we stand in front of the ordering counter.

Kiera looks at me with a puzzled expression on her face. “Kiera, I asked you if you would like to order something,” I inquire again. This seems to rouse her out of her thoughts.

She finally answers.
“Yes, I’ll have a medium Chai Tea and a vanilla scone please,” Kiera orders politely.

I notice the barista is not looking directly at her. I find it very annoying. I am offended on her behalf. “I’d like a Grande Breakfast Blend coffee and a cinnamon scone,” I add, completing our order
. I swipe my bankcard and wait for our order.

Kiera looked at me with a curious look on her face, “This is the second time you’ve called me Pip. Why do you call me that?” She tilts her head and looks up at me, waiting for my reply.

I honestly had not realized I actually said that out loud once, let alone twice. I was thoroughly busted and completely embarrassed. “If I tell you, I’m going to completely reveal my inner nerd–” I hesitantly utter as I feel myself begin to flush hotly.

“Oh, please do!” Kiera’s eyes s
parkle with mischief as she cajoles. “It would make me feel so much better to know that I am dealing with a kindred spirit. I’m a complete and total doofus.”

Mercifully, our food and drinks arrive, so I usher us to a table and lay out our food. I fix my coffee with two sugars and a generous dollop of cream. I discover that Kiera likes her drinks with a lot of sugar and cream too.

After I finish prepping everything, Kiera looks at me expectantly. “Well,” I continue, somewhat uncomfortably, “as a child, I had a major crush on Pippi Longstocking and you’re like my grown up, fantasy version of her.” I shrug vulnerably as I watch carefully for her response to my peculiar pronouncement. I watch as a look of befuddled astonishment crosses her face.

“Really?” Kiera
exclaims as she laughs, “That’s sweet, and a tad twisted.”

Her husky laugh packs a punch. The sound envelopes me like a sexy embrace and I feel myself growing hard. “I’m afraid you’ll find that’s a pretty accurate all around description of me,” I reply with a grin.

Kiera raises a curious eyebrow, “Do tell?” she prompts.

“No way!” I answer, shaking my head vehemently, “I’m not spilling all of my secrets up front. You’ll just have to hang around me some more to find out what I’m talking about.”

“From my point of view that doesn’t seem like such a hardship,” she quips. “What exactly is the downside here? Your interpretation of Pip isn’t as disastrous as I expected. My dad used to call me Pip as in ‘Pipsqueak’. Truth be known, he probably still does.”

“Well, it’s a relief to know I’m not the only one that inappropriately nicknames you.” I chuckle and blush. “What does your dad do for a living? Does he live close? Am I going to have to deal with a shotgun?” I ask, curious about her family.

“My dad is a long haul truck driver. I spent a lot of my time growing up on the road with him. I actually live in Geravis now. He has a mobile home outside of Brooks. He can be home as often as he chooses as long as he makes enough to pay the bills. I can’t really answer the shotgun question, because I’ve never dated anyone seriously enough to risk that confrontation,” Kiera replies, sipping her tea and taking small delicate bites of her scone.

My curiosity gets the best of me, and I decide just to be forthright with my question. I figure
that if she doesn’t want to answer me, she’ll change the subject. “Did you get in a trucking accident with your dad? Is that how you ended up in a wheelchair?” I ask, hesitantly.

“No! My dad would never hurt me. My dad was the hero in this situation. My mom did this to me. When I was 18 months old, she threw me down a flight of stairs. No one could understand
why she did it. What no one knew at the time was that she had a brain tumor in her frontal lobe the size of a golf ball and she wasn’t capable of making rational decisions. The fall almost completely severed my spinal cord,” Kiera explains gravely.

I reach out to hold her hands. Her hands
are ice cold in spite of the fact that she is drinking hot tea. I brought her fingertips to my lips and gently brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Pip, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine. How devastating for your family.” I respond gently.

To my relief, she does
not pull her hands away. Instead, she answers, “No, you can’t imagine. Lifelong friends of my parents were suddenly whispering about our ‘house of horrors’ and dad had to juggle visits with me in the hospital and my mom in jail until she became so sick that she was declared unfit to stand trial. Despite the fact that the world hated my mom with a passion, my dad loved her until the day she took her last breath. My dad set the bar pretty high. When I find love, I want that kind of love and devotion.” Kiera blushes and looks away.

Her hair is falling out of her b
un. I reach up and tuck a falling lock of hair behind her ear, encouraging her to look at me “Hey now, what’s wrong?” I ask gently.