Sea of Stars
Mom and I had decorated the living room with bright balloons and colorful streamers, and I had stacked the Girl Scout cookie boxes in the shape of a castle. I also made a big sign that read, Welcome Home, Mac!
Mac’s face lit up as he speed-crutched his way through the front door with Howard and Tabitha. It had been a month since the accident, so Mac’s right leg and arm were still in casts. Somehow, that had made him faster. No joke. The kid could outrun a rocket.
Even though Mac’s recovery was considered a miracle, Dr. Myles suggested we take it slow during Mac’s first few days home. The party was limited to Mac, Howard, Mom, Tabitha, Cosmo, Leon, and me.
“Wow! Look at all those cookies!” Mac said, hugging Cosmo. His dog jumped up and down so high I thought he might crash through the ceiling.
“Believe it or not, buddy, your dad ponied up for every cookie here,” I said, motioning to the castle. “Three-hundred and eighty-five boxes worth of sugary delights.”
“Three-hundred and eighty-four boxes,” Howard said, patting his belly.
“More like three-eighty-three,” Mom told Mac. “Well, actually, three hundred and eighty-two boxes. Sorry, but I’m a sucker for the S’mores. They’re criminally delicious!”
“You guys are terrible!” Tabitha said. “But since we’re being honest, let’s round it down to three-eighty, even.”
Mac felt good enough to join in the fun. Ripping open a box of Tagalongs, the little guy shouted like a natural-born auctioneer. “Do I hear three-seventy-nine?”
We all rocked with laughter. The dogs barked and wagged their tails. It was only a small welcome home party, but there had never been a happier one.
A short while later, Howard and Mom joined hands and announced they were moving their wedding to Thanksgiving so Mac could complete his physical therapy. Howard asked if that would be okay with us kids.
“We are a family,” he said, “and this is a family decision.”
It was more than okay. I mean, I’m not sure we felt like a family just yet, especially me and Tabitha, but we were stoked for them. A tragedy had pushed Mom and Howard’s relationship to the brink of oblivion, and they had come back even more committed to each other.
Yay for Mom and Howard, right?
The news made Tabitha pensive about something. Taking me aside, she whispered, “Look, Bertie, I know your sunglasses are broken, but I’ve been wondering, have you seen my mom again?” She gave me a crooked but hopeful smile. She wanted me to say “yes.”
“No. I’m sorry, Tabitha,” I said. “I haven’t seen her since the day the glasses broke. The day of Mac’s miracle.”
Her smile faded.
“Yeah, I figured you would have said something if you saw her. It was stupid of me to ask. It’s just that from the moment we brought Mac home, I’ve felt my mom’s presence. I don’t know how, but even now I feel it.”
“Your mom is here,” I said, glancing outside to see the moon and sun sharing the twilight sky. “Meet me on the roof in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes later, we stood on the Mortons’ roof. Twilight had turned into night. The full moon shone bright in the night sky. I was hoping Tabitha would shine, too. She motioned to the backyard, confused.
“You did this today?” she said.
“With help from my mom, when you guys were picking up Mac at the hospital. I asked Howard if would be okay, and he said he thought it would be fine.”
“It’s perfect,” Tabitha said.
We shared a smile.
Earlier, Mom and I had planted dozens of lavender flowers, the same kind of flower Sandra Morton had loved sharing with Tabitha and Mac. The flowers’ soothing scent filled the air. And, in the brilliant moonlight, the purple and blue petals glowed like a sea of stars. It stole our breath in the best of ways.
Standing there in silence, Tabitha and I took in the galaxy of earthbound stars and all they represented. And they represented so much. Neither of us spoke a word for five or six minutes. Then, finally, she turned to me, her voice soft and generous.
“Bertie?” Tabitha said. “The girl you told me you saw before, the girl who went away?”
“You mean Better Bertie?” I said.
She nodded. “I’m not so sure she ever left.”
“What do you mean?”
Tabitha measured her words carefully. “This might sound strange coming from me, but I think … you became her. I think you are Better Bertie, Bertie.”
It did sound strange, coming from Tabitha. I stared at her in shock.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
“No,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “Truth is, that’s got to be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Feeling salty water filling my eyes, I hugged Tabitha close so she wouldn’t see me cry. Patting my shoulder, she said, “Don’t get used to it, Bertie. I’m usually a big meanie.”
I laughed, and remembered what my great-aunt Tillie said about the difference between heaven and hell. Now, I can’t say Pennsylvania was exactly heaven on Earth, but it sure had its heavenly moments. Like there on the roof with Tabitha, the moon shining down on the lavender Mom and I had planted in remembrance of Sandra Morton.
My mom was right. A fresh start was exactly what we needed, but it took me a lot longer to realize it. I needed help from a desperate ghost, a smarty-pants doppelganger, a mangy dog, and the entire universe before I saw the truth.
I was wrong about something else. It was a mistake when I thought that Tabitha and I weren’t family yet. We were a mishmash family, but a family nonetheless.
We were sisters.
Hearing music coming from downstairs, Tabitha and I left the roof so we could rejoin Mac’s party. As I slipped through the attic window, Tabitha said, “Careful. You don’t want to bump your gigantic melon-head.”
For the first time in my life, I had no snarky comeback.
Joining my mom and Howard and Mac in the living room, I wondered if Better Bertie and Ghost Mom were silently keeping watch over us somewhere. Were they looking through a magic mirror, or seeing us by some other supernatural means? Not just that night, but also in the days that would follow.
