Wide Open Spaces (Shooting Stars 2)

“What are you doing here?”

“Ben,” Rhonda hisses, coming to hold onto my arm.

“No, you know the way she left Wolf,” he says, looking at Rhonda. Then looks at me and snarls, “Why are you here?”

I know I deserve this, but I won’t lie and say it doesn’t burn just a little that someone I had once considered a friend was looking at me like I was the scum of the earth. I was hurt, too. Yes, I left, but he never came after me; he never even asked my mom where I was, if I was okay…nothing.

“You know why she’s here, Ben,” Rhonda says softly, moving to stand at his side, resting her hands on his chest. His eyes leave me and go to her. His face goes soft as he wraps his hand around the back of her neck, dropping his forehead to hers and speaking gently. I take two steps back then pull in a deep breath.

“Stay away from him,” Ben says, standing upright and turning his head my way.

“He won’t even know I’m in town,” I tell him, taking a step back then turning on my heels and heading to my car, where I sit for the rest of the ferry ride.

“Mom,” I call as I walk into the house. The smell hits me, and it’s exactly the same as when I was little. It’s so familiar that I almost choke on it as it saturates my lungs.

“Honey,” Mom whispers from the couch, where she is lying covered by one of the many blankets she knitted.

“Are you okay?” I ask, going to her side, getting down on my knees.

She still looks the same as the last time I saw her a month ago. Her hair is long and grey, her face tan from hours in the sun, planting flowers, and her eyes are a brown similar to mine. It’s hard to believe she is so sick, that she only has months to live. The doctors caught the cancer too late, and it has already spread from her uterus to her stomach. They said she could try chemo, but she refused, saying that if she was going to die, she would do it on her terms, and not while having poisons pumped into her body.

I can’t say I agree with her. The idea of her leaving me behind kills me every time I think about it. I want her to fight, but it’s not my battle.

“I’m fine; I just wanted to lie down. Now tell me, how was your trip?”

“Mom, I spoke to you every few hours,” I remind her while helping her sit up.

“I know, but this is a small town. You never know who you may run into.”

She was right about that. “I saw Rhonda. You never mentioned her being pregnant,” I mutter, leaving out Austin’s best friend, thinking that maybe if I ignore anyone having anything to do with him, I can ignore the fact this is Cordova and chances are I will see him at some point.

“Was Ben with her?” So much for that plane.

“Yes, they seem…happy,” I whisper out the last word. Happiness seems like such a foreign concept to me. I don’t even remember the last time I was really happy.

“What’s wrong?” my mom asks, touching the side of my face.

“Just tired.”

“Your room is all set up, so why don’t you go take a nap? Then we will go to The Picnic Basket for dinner.”

“That place is still here?” I ask in disbelief. The Picnic Basket is a small metal trailer that was turned into a restaurant that serves mainly hamburgers and fries, and it’s only open during the summer months. To the kids in Cordova, it’s like McDonald’s. Normally, I would have immediately agreed to eat there, because the burgers are amazing, but the idea of running into anyone else I used to know doesn’t sound appealing.

“Of course it is. Go lie down and we will leave in two hours.”

“Mom, I really don’t think I’m up to going out,” I tell her, watching as she folds up the blanket that was covering her laying it over the back of the couch.

“You loved eating there before you left home,” she says, turning to face me.

“Sorry, you’re right. It sounds great,” I say, putting a smile on my face that doesn’t reach my eyes. I don’t want my last memories with her to be tainted by my fears or my past; she deserves so much more.

“Perfect, now go lie down.” She pushes me towards my old bedroom, which thankfully isn’t the way I left it years ago. The pictures that used to be on my walls are now gone, and the walls are painted a beige color that goes well with the dark blue bedspread and the painting of the ocean at night that is hung above the bed.

The only thing in the room that remained the same is a picture of my dad and me. We had gone four-wheeling right after a rainstorm. The ground was muddy, and my dad had driven through every puddle on the trail. I was sitting in front of him, so I was covered in mud from head to toe, but we were both smiling. I remember that moment and thinking that my stomach hurt from laughing so much.

How am I going to make it through this, Daddy? I think, running a finger over the top of the frame, then I go over to the bed and lie down, pulling the quilt from the footboard up over me and closing my eyes.

“Can we stop by the liquor store on the way to dinner?” Mom asks from the passenger seat of my car.

“Should you be drinking?” I frown then turn onto the main road—well, really the only road in town.

“What’s it going to do, kill me?” she jokes, making me inhale a sharp breath. “Honey,” she says quietly, and I look at her briefly, wondering how the hell she can be so casual about this. “I’m dying. When it will happen, only the good Lord knows, but it is happening, and there is nothing you or I can do about it. I have made my peace with it, and I want you to do the same.” She reaches over to pat my thigh.

“Make peace with it?” I repeat, shaking my head.

“Yes, make peace with it. If you think about it, I’m lucky. I know I’m going to die. I know that sooner rather than later God is going to come take me home, and when he does, I will be ready. I will have had a chance to say goodbye to the people I care about and right any wrongs I’ve caused. I’m lucky, honey.”

“What about me?” I wring my hands on the steering wheel, feeling my chest get tight as I fight back tears.

“I love you, honey. I loved you before you were even a sparkle in my eye, and I will always be with you. I know this isn’t easy for you. I know there are going to be a lot of tears shed, but we’re lucky, honey.”

I press my lips together to keep from saying something I might regret. I’m not lucky; in fact, I’m unlucky to the tenth power.

“Oh look! Sheryl!” She yells, pulling me from my thoughts then reaches over, pressing the horn on my steering wheel while reaching across me and waving franticly out my window. Looking to where she’s waving and feel my heart begin to beat wildly against my ribcage when I see not Sheryl, but Austin walking into one of the many bars that litter Main Street, only it’s not just Austin—it’s him and a woman with her arm wrapped around the back of his waist as he holds the door open for her.

Even from the distance separating us, my lungs compress at the beauty that is him. The years have been good to him. His hair is still shaggy, only now a little lighter, and his face is tan and covered in a beard that makes his crystal blue eyes stand out even more. My eyes travel from his face to his torso, which is covered in a dark green thermal that shows off the muscles of his arms, chest, and tapered waist, then down to his denim-covered thighs. When my gaze sweeps back up, his eyes are on me, and I see them crinkle in confusion then realization that soon turns into anger.

“You missed the liquor store,” my mom complains as I speed up.

“We can stop on the way back through town,” I assure her, willing my heartbeat to calm down.

“Or we can go to the bar on the way home.”

I know I said I would do anything to make my mom happy until I have to let her go, but there is no way in hell I’m going to a bar, not in this town. “I promise I’ll get you alcohol before we go home,” I mutter, pulling up in front of the small, metal trailer with four large picnic tables out front, all painted a checkered red and white. As soon as I put the car in park, I get out and inhale a deep breath. This town is too small, and I was fooli

ng myself thinking I wouldn’t see Austin while I was here. I’m sure the rumor mill has already started. That’s the thing about small towns: everyone knows everyone’s business, and me coming home after so many years is sure to be big news.

“Are you okay, honey?”

I look across the roof of my car at my mom and plaster a fake smile on my face, one I’m hoping I’ve somehow perfected over the last few hours and say, “Just hungry,” before slamming my door and walking around the hood taking her arm and leading her up to the window, where we order hamburgers then sit outside at one of the picnic tables to eat, and just like I remembered, it’s the best hamburger I’ve ever had.