Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (books for 8th graders .txt) 📕

Just humor me, Lena. Tell me I’m not crazy. And yes, just meet me there, if you would.

You’re not crazy. See you in ten minutes.

On the walk to the beach, I glanced in the windows of the coffee shop but didn’t see Andrew. Trick of the mind? Stranger things had happened to me before. But the thought of him stuck with me until the sight of the kids and Lena—beach towels tucked under their arms, wide smiles on their faces—broke my concentration. And for the next forty minutes, nothing but beach, laughter, and cold water occupied my thoughts. We all waded in—if you called it that—up to our ankles, standing there until our teeth chattered and our lips turned blue. And then we brushed off the cold sand, dried our feet, and put our socks and shoes back on before ambling over to the general store for hot cocoa. I’d been so busy having fun with the kids and Lena I didn’t think about Andrew until our walk back to the cottage, when Charlie brought up his project.

“Dad, I have this project.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Charlie had always had trouble walking and talking at the same time. I expected him to tell me to wait until we got back to the house, but he surprised me. “Well, I don’t want to tell you the details, but it involves Dads.”

“Huh.” Lexie’s movement next to me drew my attention, and I grabbed her by the waist, hauling her onto my shoulders. Her position above would amuse her to great lengths, and she’d be safer up there—the lake was directly to our left. She stuck her fingers into my hair and kissed the top of my head.

“Dads? That’s it? How vague. Do you need help with the project?”

“Well not really. But I wanted to ask you a question. Did you always want to be a dad?”

Talk about a question only Charlie would come up with. Delia would have asked me what I liked about being a dad.

“That’s a complicated question, Charlie. But the short answer is no. When I was young, I didn’t even consider it.”

“At all?”

I turned toward him, catching his gaze. “Do you think about it?”

“I guess not. But then, what changed?”

“Well, I met your mom, and who knows? But when she took the pregnancy tests, I was happy. Surprised but excited. Why? What’s this all about?”

Charlie didn’t answer right away. He bent to pick up a pebble and threw it into the lake, then turned to me with a smile on his face.

“Did you see how far I threw that?”

“I did! That’s quite an arm. But let’s go back to what you said. Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s just that I have a friend who asked his Dad the same question, and he said he’d always wanted kids. I’m not sure if it matters but...”

I stopped in my tracks and put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, urging him to look at me all while holding onto Lexie. “Want to hear what I think?”

“Yes.”

“If you asked a dozen people, you’d get a different response from each dad. I bet there are dads who always wanted kids but don’t have them. I bet there are dads who always wanted kids and now, they’re not so sure. I didn’t imagine having kids when I was young, but from the moment I thought about you—when your mom stood in front of me, tears of happiness in her eyes and a pregnancy test in her hand—my world changed. For the better. And when you were born? I cried. Did you know that?”

Charlie’s eyes grew wide. “You did?”

“I did. And, I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

Charlie scuffed his shoe against the street, dipped his head, and then looked back at me again. “Do your military buddies know about you crying?”

A glint of amusement shimmered in Charlie’s eyes, and then he took off, running ahead on the gravel road with his arms spread out, hair flopping in the breeze, a complete picture of happiness. Left in his wake, I deflated and clutched Lexie against my shoulders, grounding myself in the present. A present that included ushering the kids home safely. My gaze darted from Charlie to Delia to Lena and to the road ahead as a cloud passed over the sun, which sent a chill down my spine. Something was off. With me. Maybe even with Charlie, who had so nicely deflected any of my questions about the project.

Chapter 22: Sadie

After a phone call with Jackie that was interrupted twice by the neighbor’s dog next door—something about the backyard called to him and his digging—I gathered up my laptop, phone, and water bottle and rushed out the front door. Five minutes later, I stood on the wide, wooden porch spanning the front of the Crooked Tree Library, waiting for someone to unlock the door. It was already three minutes past the hour, and while I considered knocking on the sidelight of the library, I chose instead to adjust the strap of my shoulder bag and check for messages one more time. The morning breeze caressed my ears and reminded me Walloon time was different than Kettering time, and relaxation and family were supposed to be the focus of our week. So far, that plan wasn’t—

A click sounded, and the door opened.

To my surprise, the little, gray-haired lady I’d seen walking her dog the evening before peered at me from behind round glasses that did nothing to disguise the deep blue of her eyes. In the daylight, the gray streaks in her hair fought for control over the fading blond highlights, and she had affixed, once again, a flower clip to her side-swept bangs.

“Well I guess you’d be waiting for me to open now, wouldn’t you?” The lady pushed the door toward me with one arm and ushered me forward with a wave of her other hand. “Sorry for the wait,” she continued. “I’m getting up there these days. It takes a little longer