Chapter 41 The Magic of the Stars
The Magic of the Stars
SARAH
Igripped my empty tea mug in my hand, tears running down my face.
I hadn’t spent the past three days mooning over Jamie.
Not really. But that’s only because I’d forcefully pushed him from my mind.
But the day before heading back to Quince Valley, where I’d have to see him again—at least to pick up my things from the office—I’d finally pulled up Jamie’s conference keynote on my computer.
It had been a terrible mistake.
“Thanks for the time, folks,” Jamie’s tinny voice said onscreen. By some miracle, the internet at the B&B hadn’t been affected by the storm. The conference’s webcast wasn’t the best quality. Still, I hadn’t missed a single word. Especially not after my third time watching his talk.
“It’s been my honor.”
I sucked in a shaking breath. That part. That was my favorite. He was saying goodbye to them. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought it was the last talk he’d give for Reilly Contracting.
And I might have thought he’d been talking directly to me. Except Jamie wasn’t here. He’d left.
I got up and tossed another log onto the fire.
Then I checked the time and picked up the phone.
It was time. I’d emailed Natasha shortly after Jamie left, knowing she was on an airplane.
I told her I’d like to talk, to explain what had happened, when she had a moment and was back on the ground.
To my surprise, she’d said she was traveling, but could be available on Thursday.
Ahead of the call, I had a long bath, a nap, an extended video chat with Winona, and finally, out of excuses, I’d worked up the nerve to watch Jamie’s speech.
Finally, it was time to talk.
My nerves jangled when she picked up. “Hello, Sarah.” She didn’t sound angry or terribly cold. Just wary.
That was a good thing, I reminded myself.
“Well, first, thanks for taking my call.” Not perfect, but okay. I began to pace. Right away, I tripped on my own feet, nearly stumbling. “Um…” Shit. For a brief moment, I considered how bad it would be to tell her never mind, I just wanted to apologize and then say goodbye.
But my eyes went to my laptop screen on the table, where Jamie stood at the podium. The paused video was grainy, but I could still see his eyes, looking like they were peering right at mine.
You can do this, baby. Breathe.
“Have you ever made a mistake,” I asked, “that turned into the best change of plans?”
Natasha and I talked for over two hours.
I spoke from the heart, believing in every word I said.
No small part of that was because of Jamie, and not just the keynote I’d just watched.
I used, specifically, the things he’d pushed me to work on when prepping for my presentation in his hotel room.
At least until I found my footing. Then, like picking up speed on a bike, it suddenly became easy.
By the end, it felt like I’d been talking to an old friend.
Natasha even told me about her divorce, how she’d split up with her ex years ago because he’d wanted kids and she didn’t.
“It was amicable,” she said, “but that ‘mistake’ was the best I ever made. It led me to falling in love with someone new. Someone who happened to work at Empire.”
Natasha, too, had mixed her career with pleasure, and it had worked out for her. It hadn’t for me, but I’d just have to be okay with that.
The best part, besides speaking honestly and freely, was when I finally felt comfortable enough to tell her I wasn’t sure I was up to moving to a major city center.
I still had the dream of waking up to birdsong.
“Oh, plenty of our directors work from home. If you could make yourself available to travel when required—and you’re welcome to combine this work with your Heartbreaker endeavors—we can make any remote location work.”
She sweetened the deal with a massive vacation package, and a four day work week, which would leave plenty of time for me to get into a shop.
If I were to find myself a place with a workshop.
The offer was in my inbox before I hung up the phone.
I felt happy. Exhilarated, actually, with not only not losing out on the job opportunity, but the idea that maybe I wouldn’t have to leave Quince Valley after all.
If I wanted to stay. I was still no closer to a decision on that end, but this meeting with Natasha had made the idea a lot more possible.
Outside it was dark, and I could still hear the wind whipping around. But as I hung up the phone with Natasha, promising I’d get back to her soon, I realized the view out the window was clear. The blizzard had wound down yesterday, but the clouds had stuck around all day today.
Feeling a strange tingling at the back of my neck, I pulled on my coat, zipping it up tight and yanking the hood over my head. I put my boots on next, and then stepped outside.
It was freezing out here—bone-chillingly cold. But directly overhead, partially obscured by trees, I could see stars.
A gazillion of them.
Earlier in the day, when there’d been a break in the weather, I’d trekked out behind the cabin, where a wide trail led to the lake. It was only a short walk, and from there, the unobstructed view of the sky would be unparalleled.
As I rounded the side of the cabin and down the short path to the lake, I reached into my pockets for my mittens.
I cursed as I remembered I’d left them to dry by the fire.
But the fingers on my right hand touched something else, something much smaller than mittens.
I pulled out the object, knowing exactly what it was:
My wedding band.
The bright starlight peeking through the trees glinted off the gold ring in my hand.
For the longest time, I didn’t know why I’d held onto this thing.
It definitely wasn’t because of Ted. Even though I could acknowledge now that he’d had some redeeming qualities, he was never going to be the kind of man one pined over.
At least not for me. When I first started working at Reilly, I’d held onto it to remind myself of how far I’d come.
How my fresh start was a big fuck you to Ted, and how I deserved so much more.
I’d nearly thrown it out after learning about Ted’s reengagement. But for whatever reason, I’d tucked it away. And God knew why I brought it with me on my trip.
But I did know why now.
As I stared at the gold circle from this juncture in my life—with the future wide open and my life irrevocably changed thanks to a man I could absolutely pine over, if I let myself. Even if I’d be okay this time.
I’d been waiting, I knew now, for the perfect moment to throw the old pain away. To welcome something magical in its place, like that corn cob back when I’d been a kid.
I laughed out loud, picking up the pace.
I slipped and skidded my way down the path, trying my best to use my boot-prints from earlier.
It wasn’t easy in the dark, but when I got down to the shore of the lake, I got that same feeling I’d had when Ellie and I crossed over the bridge into Quince Valley.
Like this is exactly where I was supposed to be—at least in this moment.
The snow on the frozen lake was crisscrossed with old snowmobile tracks, so I knew it was safe to walk on.
The snow was also surprisingly thin: the blizzard had been more wind over here than heavy snow.
It made walking out to the middle of the small lake—in the whip of icy wind but brilliant light of stars—feel almost like a spiritual pilgrimage.
I avoided the sky as I walked, keeping my eyes trained down. I didn’t want to spoil the experience. When I reached what felt like the middle, I looked up, and gasped out loud, so glad I had.
The sky was an inverted bowl of diamonds.
There was no sign of the moon, only stars.
And from here, it looked like I could see every single one in the sky.
The Milky Way a paintbrush of white spread wide, disappearing into the horizon.
I made out all the easiest constellations, even spotting some I rarely saw.
It was time.
I opened my hand, looking one last time at the band I’d worn for so long, thinking my life was as set as the gold representing it.
Now I knew though, that the band hadn’t represented me. It was a tether to a life that held me back, that kept me following someone else’s plan.
It was long past time to say goodbye.
I reached up, remembering how Dad told me how to use my whole body to throw. “The power’s in you, bug, not just that one little limb.”
Then I threw, releasing the ring into the night sky. It flew far off into the stars, glinting for one quick moment in the light as it spun, before vanishing into the field of white below.
I pictured it deep within the snow, and later, when the snow and ice melted, I saw it drop into the water, sinking into the dark before disappearing back into the silty earth.
A satisfaction came over me then, as full and warm and gentle as a summer breeze.
That satisfaction was still rippling through me when I saw the arc of headlights through the trees.
A car had left the highway and turned down the drive to the B&B. I couldn’t believe someone was driving in this. While the snow was no longer blowing, the roads, the proprietor told me, were pure black ice.
They had to be out of their mind. Or desperately needing to get somewhere—
I froze mid-thought as I heard, on the wind, the slam of a truck door.
I couldn’t see anything else. Maybe just a visitor, or a new guest.
In these conditions?
But then I heard it. The tiniest bellow, from what felt like miles away.
“Sarah!”
My heart slammed against my upper rib cage. It got stuck in my throat. But I wouldn’t let myself believe it until I saw the dark figure, invisible in the trees, now racing across the stark white of the snow.
I ran too, nearly slipping a hundred times. But nothing could stop me, nothing except Jamie, catching me in his arms, swinging me around, praying—no, crying? Into my neck.
It felt like a dream. And when he crushed his lips to mine?
I knew this was the magic the stars had given me.