Star pulled back, looking stunned. “Not just luck,” she said, clearing her throat. “That charm may have a little luck to it, but it carries far more than that.” She met Georgia’s eyes. “Grandma Emma gave it to me when I turned twelve years old. It was the only thing I had from her after she died. My mama passed away three years later. I was fifteen at that point, and things kind of fell apart for me after that.” She said it matter-of-factly, but her mouth twisted slightly as she spoke, like the memory still hurt her. “When I left home in my teens, that charm was the only thing I took with me, that and my guitar, and two hundred dollars I stole from my stepfather.” She frowned. “At the time, it seemed a small repayment for what he’d already taken from me. Years later, after I... left the ranch in Texas, I stopped at a very dodgy roadside tattoo parlor in Santa Fe and got this.” She turned and pulled down the shoulder of her sage green smock. Georgia caught a whiff of Star’s familiar scent, the faintest hint of anise and mint and the dusty underlay of thyme. On the lightly freckled skin of her shoulder was a small, emerald green four-leaf clover tattoo.
“It matches the charm,” Georgia murmured in surprise.
Star nodded and slipped the smock back up over her shoulder. “Georgia May, I gave you that charm to remind you of who you are,” she said firmly, “so that even if you didn’t know it, you were holding all of us close to your heart, all the women in your family. I gave it to you so that you would always carry a part of me and a part of Grandma Emma and my mother, Helen, with you no matter where you went. I wanted it to remind you to have faith, to never give up hope. I wanted you to always feel my love, even when I wasn’t with you. And yes, I guess I hoped it might bring you a little bit of luck as well.” She looked at Georgia intently, her pale gaze steady.
Georgia twisted the charm on its chain. It meant the world that Star had given it to her as a way to connect them, and yet it made her wonder even more. Why had Star left in the first place? The question sat there, lodged in her throat where it had been waiting for almost thirty years. She had wanted to ask it for so very long. Suddenly she didn’t want to wait any longer.
“Star.” Georgia screwed up her courage.
Star glanced up. She saw something in Georgia’s face. “Oh,” she said, then, “Yes?” She looked as though she were bracing herself, as though she knew and feared what was coming.
“Why did you leave us?” Georgia asked softly. As soon as the words were out of her throat, it felt like she could breathe again.
Star hesitated. She looked down at the ground. Her face constricted. “Because I made a promise,” she said quietly. “Because I had no choice.”
Georgia furrowed her brow, staring at her mother in confusion. “What promise?” she asked. “What choice?”
Star shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Georgia May, but I can’t tell you that.” She met Georgia’s eyes, her own deeply apologetic.
Georgia stared at her mother in disbelief. Here she was, finally asking the question that had defined her life for almost thirty years, and the answer she got was no answer at all?
“I deserve to know the truth,” she said sharply, feeling a flash of anger at her mother’s avoidance.
Star nodded, looking miserable, her shoulders slumped. “You absolutely do,” she agreed. “and I wish more than anything that I could tell you, but I’ve kept my end of the bargain for thirty years. I can’t break my promise now. I’m so sorry, Georgia.” She gently tucked the four-leaf clover into the pocket of her smock.
Georgia stared at her mother in astonishment and indignation. What in the world was Star talking about? What promise had Star made, and to whom?
Star shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll tell you anything else I can,” she said humbly. “Anything you want to know, but I can’t tell you the reason why I left. I know that’s probably small comfort, but please believe me, I don’t have a choice.” She glanced at Georgia, her own gaze pleading for understanding.
Stymied, Georgia didn’t know what to say. In all the years she’d imagined having this conversation, she had never dreamed it would go this way. So many times she’d imagined what Star might say, the reasons or explanations she might give Georgia for her long absence. Some were terrible, some heartbreaking. But never had Georgia considered that she might get no answer at all. Obviously, there was far more to the story, but Star seemed determined to stay silent. So where did that leave her? Still wondering. More than a little frustrated.
“I need a minute,” Georgia said tightly. She stalked away, putting some distance between her and Star, heading down toward the apple trees. She needed a little space to think. Under the spreading bower of blossoms, she stopped, mind whirring,feeling almost dizzy with anger. She crossed her arms and stared out at the rippling water. Her heart was beating fast, and her jaw was clenched. She felt so betrayed. She had no idea where to go from here. She had asked the question, but had received no answer. So now what? Where did that leave her? She glanced at Star then whirled to face the bay. She was too angry to go back to Star. She stood there for a long time as the light faded into evening, feeling again those many years of hope and heartbreak, all the questions and unknowns, the sense of abandonment and confusion. Everything leading to this moment, to her facing Star and asking the question and again getting no answers. She felt powerless once more. It was infuriating. She clenched her fists as angry tears fell. Long minutes later, as darkness slipped softly over the bay, she wiped her eyes and took a shuddering breath. Her anger cooled slightly and a sense of calm slipped over her like a breath of fresh air. She glanced back again. Star was still in the garden bed, working under the glow of a back porch light. Watching her mother’s small figure, Georgia felt her anger lessen a little more. It was not Star’s choice to keep silent, Georgia sensed. Something or someone was holding her back from telling the truth.
But what did that mean for Georgia? Was she willing to live without an answer to that most important of questions? Could she move forward without knowing the why? It was such a huge question mark in her life. She blew out a sharp breath, considering. Could she still have a relationship with Star if this question were not answered? She reached up and touched the four-leaf clover charm. Faith, hope, love, and luck. She needed more than a little of each right now. She wavered for a moment. She thought of the tattoo on Star’s shoulder, of her mother’s desire to keep them connected across time and distance.There was a tangled mystery at the heart of their relationship, one that Star could not explain to her for some reason. And yet, and yet... Georgia believed Star loved her, had always loved her. Something had driven her away and kept them apart for all these years. Something was keeping her silent now.
Georgia hesitated, considering. She had just found Star. She did not want to lose her mother again. She had so many questions still, so much curiosity to know the woman Star had become. Maybe for now it was enough to just reconnect, to get to know each other as adults. She had waited for so long. Perhaps she could wait a little longer for answers to Star’s long-ago disappearance. Decision made, Georgia slowly made her way back to Star. When she reached the garden beds, Star glanced up, looking worried.
“Okay.” Georgia cleared her throat. “I’ll wait, but can you promise me that someday I’ll know the whole truth?”
Star nodded slowly. “Yes,” she agreed. “Someday.” She looked at Georgia, her expression hovering between heartbreak and hope.
Georgia took a deep breath. She could live with someday. She’d been living with it for a long time already. To her surprise, she realized that the unanswered question did not weigh quite as heavily on her heart as it had before. Star was here, standing before her, offering love and acceptance. Whatever terrible thing had happened all those years ago, it did not erase the reality of the good thing that was happening now. Being with Star felt redemptive. Georgia stepped into the garden bed and leaned over the patch of tissue paper–thin baby lettuce.
“Tell me about what happened after you left Texas,” Georgia said. “How did you meet Justine?”
Star smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners in relief. “We met in Phoenix, Arizona, in an AA meeting of all things.” Shepicked a handful of lettuce. “It was a couple of years after I headed out of Texas. I spent a while bumming around out West, making a mess of things—petty theft and always either drunk or high, anything to keep myself from feeling the pain of all my bad choices. I ended up in Phoenix. Justine had been sober for a few years by then, on the back of a marriage gone bad. She was living with her sister and nephew, Cole, in Phoenix, working at a golf course. She loved Cole but hated Arizona. She was always dreaming of the rain and having her own place one day. And one afternoon, I came into her AA meeting. I was just passing through, but I hit a wall in Phoenix, and I knew I needed help.” She straightened up with a little groan and stretched out her back for a moment, her hands full of lettuce. “The AA meeting was all bad coffee in disposable cups, industrial carpet, and fluorescent lights at the local Methodist church. And in I waltzed. I was what people kindly called a free spirit and more accurately called a loose cannon.” She gave a dry chuckle, stepping out of the garden box and carefully piling the lettuce on the steps. “Justine told me later she thought I was high, but I wasn’t. I was stone-cold sober. I sat down next to her. I still remember I was wearing patterned vintage bell-bottoms I’d made out of an old patchwork quilt. My hands were trembling so bad I spilled my coffee. I was going through the early stages of withdrawal. And Justine looked straight at me and asked me if I needed help. And I said, ‘I’ve been running for a long time, but I can’t run any longer. Either I get clean starting today or I’m going to die trying.’ God love her, Justine opened her mouth, I think without even meaning to, and said, ‘I’ll help you.’ And that was that.”
“That was what?” Georgia held handfuls of lettuce out to Star, who took it from her and put it on the pile.
“I got clean,” Star said simply, stepping back into the gardenbox and bending over a row of lettuce again. “Justine helped me. I’ve always been stubborn. We both were. I put my mind to it and I did it. Together we did it. It was hell for the first few weeks, but I got clean and then we left Phoenix soon after. Worked our way up the California coast till we hit the Pacific Northwest and then poked around until we found the islands. We were looking for a haven, a place we could live quietly, make our own way. The moment we set foot on this island, we knew this was it. We scrimped and saved, working whatever jobs we could find around here just to get by. When Justine’s mom died, she left her a little money and we were able to get this place. We settled here almost twenty-five years ago. I have a lot of regrets in my life, but a lot I’m grateful for too.” Star straightened and looked around, at the gardens and orchard and bees, down across the bay. “This place saved me, gave me a second chance. It helped heal me when I thought I’d be broken forever. I think of all those years I wasted numbing my pain, and I think of my life now, and even though I have regrets, I’m truly grateful. It could have ended up so differently.”
“Why did you decide to get clean when you did?” Georgia asked curiously. “In Phoenix. What prompted you to do it?” She met Star’s eyes, questioning.
Star smiled and then said simply, “Every decision I made—getting clean, finding the island, building this life—all of this”—she swept her hand over the yard and pointed to herself—“wasn’t just for me. It was for you, Georgia May.” She looked at her daughter steadily, her gaze soft and vulnerable. “I did all of it hoping that someday there would be a day like today, where we would be together again. I did all of it for you.”
21
Later that nightin the upstairs bathroom, Georgia scrubbed the dirt from under her fingernails and brushed her teeth, letting the events of the day settle in her mind. There had been so much, her head was still spinning. She thought of Cole, picturing his face when she’d told him about her gift. It was still such a novel thought that perhaps what she carried as a Stevens woman was a gift and not a curse. She’d grown up believing that the Stevens half of her was lesser, shameful, and wrong somehow. This lie was the unspoken narrative her family had instilled in her young heart, that the Stevens side was a defect she had to overcome to be a good citizen, worthy of the Jackson name. But now what she had learned about Star and the Stevens women turned that belief on its head. She was a Stevens through and through, and that, she was beginning to see, was a good and beautiful thing.
