Chapter Twenty-Eight

Stephanie sighed quietly as her father turned the minivan into the driveway.  The snow on the front yard was pristine white and glistened in the evening light.  The Maple and Mountain Ash trees were bare now, but in the spring and summer would keep the front of the house shaded and cool.  You could sit on the wide front porch with a glass of lemonade and watch the birds flit from tree to tree and not even break a sweat.  The porch was now decorated with a large wooden cut-out of Santa and his sleigh.  She couldn’t help the smile.  It was the same decoration that had been put out every year for the last 25 at least.

She looked up at the white, two-story colonial with its blue shutters and front door.  This was the house she had grown up in, the place of a million family get togethers, the place she had sought refuge in those first painful, awful days after losing Mark and Ben.

Lugging her suitcase up on the porch, she shook her head.  The dual wreaths hanging on the double front door had to be as old as she was, if not older.  Some things would never change.  Her smile widened when her mother opened the door.  She barely had a chance to get in the door and set her suitcase down when she was engulfed in her mother’s welcoming embrace.  “Hi mom.”  The slight wisp of her mother’s musk perfume mixed with the lingering scent of lemon pledge were as much of a comfort as her mother’s hug.  This was home.  Her emotions nearly got the better of her.  

Her mother stepped back, her own eyes wet, and looked her daughter up and down.  “How are you?  How was your flight?”

She shrugged out of her coat and toed off her boots, trying not to let her tears fall.  “It was long and uneventful.  Except for the extended layover in Chicago.  Darn snow.”

Her mother took her coat and her father tried to wrestle her suitcase up the stairs.  “Dad, leave it.  I can get it.”  Her father seemed to have aged a decade in the few months since she had seen him last and was in the beginning stages of Parkinsons.  He didn’t need to be hauling her suitcase up a flight of stairs.  He set the suitcase down.  “All right.  Come on and have something to eat at least.”

Her mother led her away from the door and into the kitchen.  “I saved some dinner for you.”  She put a plate of food in the microwave and set it to heating.  “Everyone will be here tomorrow.  Your sister wanted to come tonight but she had some last minute shopping to finish.”  

That was just like Jess.  Saving everything to the last minute.  She’d probably be up half the night wrapping everything too.

The microwave beeped and her mother set the plate on the table in front of her.  “Eat honey, you look so thin.”  

Stephanie picked up her fork, “I’m fine mom.  Been working out some, just to keep in shape.”  She took a bite of chicken.  She should probably weigh herself one of these days.  She had lost weight, she just didn’t know how much.

“Did the boxes I sent come?”

Her mother sat down at the table next to her.  “Everything is in the living room.  We didn’t open anything.  Your father figured you’d want to.  That and we had no idea if everything was wrapped or not.”

Stephanie got up and took her plate to the sink, rinsing it and putting it in the dishwasher.  “Everything is wrapped.  Let’s go see if any it will fit under the tree.”

After getting everything arranged in the living room dragged her suitcase up the stairs and closed herself in her old room.  

Stephanie sank down on the edge of the bed and looked around.  Her parents had changed her old bedroom into a guest room. Gone were the pale yellow wallpaper with the tiny white flowers and the two twin beds.  Now the room sported champagne colored walls and a bold burgundy and gold comforter on the new queen size bed.  Her old night table was still in the corner.  And it still held every volume of her collection of Sweet Valley High books she had read as a teen.  She was glad some things hadn’t changed.

Setting her suitcase on the stand at the end of the bed she dug out her old flannel pants and a sleep tank.  Crawling under the covers she curled up on her side and stared out the window at the dark, inky night.  The sadness nearly overwhelmed her at times.  Her heart had been heavy with it all day and now she couldn’t hold it in any longer.  

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she lay there.  Mark and Ben had been so much a part of her memories here.  She had lived in this house from the time she was 8, she met Mark at 16 and spent many afternoons and evenings in the family room, the kitchen, the living room.  There were even some stolen moments in this room.  Would she ever not miss them quite so much?

Her phone vibrated as she was reaching for a tissue.  She wiped her face and picked up the phone, a watery smile playing along her lips.

“Hey you.”

“Hey yourself sweetheart.  How are you?  How was your flight?”  He heard her quiet sniffle and the rustle of the blankets.  He hadn’t been sure he should call while she was home with her family, but after listening to her message a second time and hearing her now, he was glad he had followed his instincts.

“Sweetheart?”  She had yet to answer him.

She sniffed once more.  “My flight was fine.  Got held up in Chicago, but it’s
winter, I half expected it.”

As glad as he was that she got home safely, he was more worried now about how she was.  “Sweetheart, I can hear you’ve been crying.  Talk to me.  Tell Richie what has you all upset.”

She sucked in a ragged breath.  “It’s just hard being here, a difficult time of year for me.  The memories just...” she trailed off.  “Don’t worry, Rich.  I’ll be okay.”  She would too she determined.  She wasn’t going to spend her week home in misery.  She sucked in another breath.  “How are you?  How was your trip?  How’s the jet lag?”

They talked for a while.  He told her of all the places he had been, the few sights he had been able to see, the amazing shows they had had the privilege of playing for the greatest fans in the world.  He made her forget for just a little while that she was alone.

“Rich?”  She got out of bed and stood by the windows.  The moon was shining high in the night sky.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Can you see the moon from where you are?”

He got up off the couch and stepped out onto his patio.  “I can now.”

“Me too.”

Standing out on his patio the words to a song came to mind and he sang them quietly to her while they were staring up at the same moon together.

And even though I know how very far apart we are
It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star

She smiled.  He hand known exactly what she had been thinking.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome sweetheart.  You get some sleep and I’ll call you again.”

She crawled back into bed and set her phone on the night table wondering if he really knew just how much it meant that he had known exactly what she had needed tonight.