Rewrite the Stars Christina Consolino (classic novels to read TXT) 📖

“Another person that doesn’t mind doing dishes, huh?” Pickles moved to scoot her chair away from the table. “I never liked doing them myself, but my son, oh, he loved the dishes from the time he was a little boy. He’d play with the bubbles and get as much water on himself as he did on the dishes. So many times, I’d sit back with a cup of coffee or tea and watch him scrub those dishes clean. Twice in one day on days the weather was awful. His hands were small but somehow, he’d get those dishes cleaner than our brand-new dishwasher did.” Pickles focused elsewhere and then broke into a huge smile. “Andrew. Such a fine boy. I wish I saw him more often. I really do.”

Dizziness and heat engulfed me, wrapping my entire skin in an uncomfortable sleeve. I looked at Pickles square in the eye.

“Andrew? You said your son’s name is Andrew?” Inside my chest, my heart hurtled, and I placed my teacup, still dirty, into the sink where it would be safe from my agitated body.

“Yes, that’s right.” Pickles nodded her head with a quizzical look on her face.

“Andrew Martin, right? You said your last name is Martin?” If Martin was her son’s last name, I’d be okay. The sink felt cold and sleek against my hands as I gripped the side, trying to stop the shaking that had spread through them.

“Well no, Martin was Henry’s, my second husband’s name. MacKinnon was the last name of my first husband. So Andrew’s last name is MacKinnon. Andrew MacKinnon.”

The last thing I remember was feeling the loss of blood from my face and a tingling in my extremities.

Chapter 23: Sadie

Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, every muscle in my body tense, I questioned if something more sinister than emotion lay at the root of my fainting episode. Was something wrong with my health, and did I have something to worry about? Jackie would be in a meeting, so I called Kate to help talk me down. She might appreciate a phone call anyway, considering the last two times we’d spoken had ended less than favorably.

“Yes, you heard me right, Kate,” I whispered into the phone. “I fainted while having tea and scones at the library with a little old lady named Pickles Martin. I even have a tidy little bump on my head to prove it. At least I didn’t have to go to the ER.”

“Pickles Martin?” Kate scoffed.

“Yes.”

“Pickles?”

“Right? If she’d been a boy, it would have been Dill.”

Kate’s raucous laughter erupted on the other end of the phone. “Wow. Who knew tea and scones held so much danger?”

“Indeed.” I arranged the coverlet around my legs, tucking the ends underneath my thighs in an attempt at some form of control, albeit a weak one.

“Well what happened? Haven’t you been eating? You aren’t pregnant, are you?” Kate asked in a conspiratorial voice.

“Watch your tongue, young lady. No, I most certainly am not. I’m not sure what happened. Am I worried? A little? Who faints like that? And if something is wrong with both me and Theo, the kids will need—”

“Wait. Back up, friend. Nothing is going to happen to you right now. You’re young and healthy. Tell me the details.”

So, I did. The entire story spilled forth, a few details repeated from past conversation, others news to her. From spending time with Andrew at Jackie’s to running into him at the office and all over Kettering to his words about things not being right at this moment to my running away from him, hoping to find myself and figure out my future.

“That’s crazy—a woman you just met is the mother of Andrew, your Grocery Store Man!” Kate said, restating what I’d told her. Did she think she had misheard me?

“Yes, apparently so.”

“How random, right?”

“Yeah, but you know how it is sometimes.” Despite no one being in the room with me, my level of discomfort rose. Most of the incriminating words were now on Kate’s end, but I had no intention of revealing myself to Theo this way, in an overheard, hushed conversation. Theo deserved more, no matter how I felt about him.

“What are you going to do about this?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, I’d like to see where this thing with Andrew might take me, but—”

“But what?”

“Even he admitted things aren’t good right now. I didn’t let him explain, but I’m pretty sure he means I need to get my act together. Choose to let Theo go, so we can move forward. How can I start a relationship with Andrew if I have another man living at my house?”

“A relationship? You’ve already started that with Andrew.”

“True. But you know what I mean.”

“I do. And I can’t say I have any words of wisdom for you right now. If you like him, then you need to talk to Theo, to get past this, this, uncertainty you’re living in. He’s not being fair to you, but have you asked yourself what he’s doing? You might be finished with him, but is he finished with you?”

Kate’s words ricocheted in my ear. I sniffled into the receiver, willing the tears to remain behind my lids. Kate tried to make amends on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry, Sadie, but I’ve been thinking...”

I grabbed a tissue and huffed a few incoherent words before mumbling goodbye and effectively hanging up on my friend. The phone rang—it had to be her—but I let the call go to voicemail. When I was more put together, I’d call her back.

A bone-weary fatigue forced me to lean back against the feather pillow, and the ceiling fan caught my eye again. The rotation of the blades, as always, calmed me, almost like a mobile did to a baby. In seconds, my breathing evened out, and I wiped away the last of the tears with my wrist. But just because the evidence was gone from my face did not mean