:: Stars Falling All Around Her Head ::

Jim lay on the bed, his arms crossed tightly on top of the blankets.  His feet barely made a wrinkle in the bedspread, which was impeccably folded at the foot of the queen sized bed.  His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling as an index finger scratched nervously at a spot on his arm.  His thoughts swirled darkly as he sighed into the empty room. 

Life had been going so well for him again.  He had almost forgotten what it was like to be afraid, confused, and unsure.  He briefly wondered if he had done something to make someone Up There hate him.  His thoughts turned to the girl who had arrived just that morning, causing all the turmoil he felt. 

“Are you just going to stand there lookin’ stupid or are you going to give your sister a hug?” 

Jim started, his eyes blinking rapidly.  Did he just hear the word “sister”?  No, he couldn’t have. 

“I’m sorry.  I think I must have misunderstood you.  Did you say ‘sister’?” 

“No,” Leah said sarcastically.  “I said hyena.  I’m your hyena.  Look, have a seat, and I’ll explain everything.” 

Hyena?  Jim was more confused than ever.  He slowly moved to the booth, folding his long legs under the table.  Leah moved back into the seat she had just vacated.  She glanced nervously at him before speaking. 

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to shock you into having a heart attack or anything.”  She held out her hand.  “I’m Leah.  You must be Jim.” 

Jim hesitatingly moved his hand towards hers.  She grinned at his indecision.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll only bite if you do first.”  Jim’s hand finally connected with hers.  He noticed the dark freckles, which stood out so plainly on his hand, were the same shade as the splotches on Leah’s smaller hand. 

Jim chuckled briefly as he thought about the memory.  To an outsider, the scene must have been awfully funny.  And a hyena?  Where had that comment come from?  It was just one more thing that convinced Jim that Leah was insane. 

“Hey, I’m sorry if I freaked you out.  I have a tendency to just blurt whatever comes to mind first whenever I’m nervous.  It’s a really bad habit.” 

Jim smiled, thinking of Trixie’s foot-in-mouth syndrome. “I understand.  My gi—er, one of my friends does that a lot.”  There was an awkward silence as they both tried to figure out how to bring the sibling subject back up. 

“So I . . .”  “So you . . .”  they both began.  Leah glanced down at the imaginary dirt spot on the table.  Her finger scratched at it agitatedly. 

“You go first,” Jim finally said. 

“Well,” she began, keeping her head down.  “I’d better start at the beginning.  I’ve grown up my whole life as Leah Raybourne.  Daughter of Sophia and Andrew, blah blah blah.”  She made a face to express her disgust at whatever the ‘blah blah blah’ might be.  “When I was eight years old, Mother and Daddy died in a plane wreck.  I was raised by my grandmamma, and things were wonderful, until recently,” Leah’s voice cracked on the last few words.  She blinked her eyes rapidly as she lowered her head to stare at the dirt spot again. 

She took a moment, then glanced back up into Jim’s eyes.  Her own dark green ones were filled with tears.   As he gazed into hers, the eerie feeling that he was looking into a mirror startled him.  “Grandmamma had a brain tumor, and the doctor’s couldn’t help her.  In February, she passed away.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jim managed to murmur before she ran on with the story. 

“At the will reading, I was presented with a letter.”  She fished around in her purse until she pulled out a wrinkled envelope.  She slid it across the table to Jim, and indicated with a wave of her slim hand that he should open it. 

He quickly scanned the document, which was tattered from obvious reading and re-reading.  As he read, he learned the story of a young girl, adopted into a wealthy family, and the grandmother that grew to love the girl as her own. 

Jim looked up from the letter at Leah.  “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me.”  His voice sounded tired and confused. 

“I should think it would be apparent to you.  I was given up for adoption, as you were.  You are my brother.” 

Jim stared in shocked silence across the table.  “I think you’re mistaken.  I was adopted when I was fifteen years old.” 

She nodded.  “Yes, you were adopted at 15.  But you were also adopted when you were barely a year old.  By the Fraynes.” 

Jim swallowed a large lump in his throat.  She had shown him paper after paper proving irrefutably that he was definitely not a Frayne by birth. At first he had not believed it, but a quick phone call to social services in Rochester had confirmed everything.  The woman had not been able to actually tell him the story, but she responded with a “yes” or a “no” to his questions.  He shut his eyes, trying to block out the pain and anger. 

Why hadn’t anyone told him before?  Why hadn’t it come out when the Wheelers adopted him?  Why was life deciding to beat him down again? Why . . . 

He punched the covers swiftly with a balled up fist.  She couldn’t be his sister.  They were nothing alike.  She was—she was crazy! 

* * *

Leah lay in a tight little ball on the bed, the sheets twisted and crumpled between her legs.  Her hand groped in the darkness for a blanket, but there was none.  She groaned as she crawled to the edge of the bed and peered over, searching for the elusive blanket.  She finally spotted it on the floor and grabbed it, pulling it around her cold body. 

“Sleep!”  She called softly into the room.  “Where are you?”  She giggled, thankful that nobody was there to hear her.  She knew that often, what she considered humorous, others considered to be a sign of insanity. 

Insane. That was what Jim thought she was.  Completely and utterly insane.  She knew that she hadn’t exactly made a great impression on him. 

“But it wasn’t as if there was a section in that damn etiquette book entitled ‘How to Meet and Greet the Brother You Never Knew You Had,’” she whispered bitterly. 

She heard the loud laughter of Honey and Trixie, just next door.  She considered going to join in the fun, but she knew that the mirth would end the minute she stepped through the door.  She sensed that nobody here trusted her, and she understood why.  But did they seriously expect it to be easy for her to just fly up and meet the family that simply hadn’t existed in her life until a few months earlier? 

All her life, she’d been one of the “Great Raybournes” and had all the privileges that came with the name.  Although she knew now that she had been nothing more than a trophy to her mother, she remembered the love and affection that her father and grandmother had bestowed on her.  They had given her everything she had ever wanted and needed, and had provided well for her after they were gone.  She remembered the day she had gone to the will reading, just a few days after her grandmother’s funeral. 

Leah sat stiffly in the chair next to her brother Nathan.  Her eyes were red with unshed tears; tears she refused to let fall in public.  She felt uncomfortable in the stylish black dress.  She had dressed carefully because her grandmother would have wanted her to.  It would be a while before she could put on her favorite pair of patched blue jeans without thinking painfully of her. 

Nathan reached over and squeezed her hand as Mr. Cordray, the lawyer, entered.  Leah gave her brother a watery smile as she shifted in the chair to direct her gaze onto the elderly man behind the desk.  Although she outwardly smiled at the lawyer, inwardly she was seething with anger.  She unconsciously sat up straighter in the chair, leaning closer to the desk.  The pressure Nat placed on her hand calmed her somewhat, reminding her of the importance of not letting her anger show. 

Mr. Cordray read the will slowly, and Leah sat listening carefully to the entire document.  The directions were normal enough, and much to be expected.  Leah tapped her toes impatiently in her black pumps.  She wanted so much for the whole thing to be over so she could go back to the house, crawl into bed, and pull the blankets over her head. As she daydreamed about the warm comfort that could be surrounding her, her heard her name read. 

“To Leah, I leave 50% of my stock in Ray Corporations.  From this day forward, she will reign as co-chairman of the board, in conjunction with Nathan.” 

Leah’s head jerked up in surprise.  She wanted to ask him to repeat himself, but he had already moved on.  She looked in confusion at Nathan, who smiled at her.  Apparently, he had been expecting this.  She stared at her knees, wondering why in the world her grandmother would give this honor to her.  She stood blindly at the end of the reading, and let Nathan lead her towards the door.  She jumped when she felt a damp hand on her arm.  She whirled around to face Mr. Cordray.  The small man held a manila envelope in his other hand. 

“This is for you, Leah.  Your grandmother left me instructions to give it to you upon her death.” 

“Thank you, sir.”  She gingerly took the envelope from him, being careful not to let her fingers touch his. 

“I’m very sorry for your loss, dear,” he said gently, his southern drawl piercing Leah’s ears with its irony.  “Your grandmamma was a great friend of mine.  If there’s anythin’ I can do for you . . .” 

“Thank you, sir.  You’ve done so much already.”  She struggled to keep sarcasm out of her voice. 

“Nothin’s too good for the Raybournes,” he intoned as he led her out of the room.  Leah felt the dampness of his hand on the small of her back.  She involuntarily shuddered. 

“My, it sure is chilly, isn’t it Mr. Cordray?”  She asked as her heels clicked on the hardwood floor.  Just a few more steps, and she would be free of him, his office . . . 

Nathan appeared at her side, her coat in his arms.  “Thank you, Mr. Cordray.  You and your father have served our family well.”  He turned to Leah, holding open her coat.  “Emma and Laura are already in the car.  I thought we could go to the Bowery.  I know you love that pecan chicken there.” 

“Honey pecan chicken,” she corrected automatically as she slipped her arms into the coat.  The comforting smell of cedar tickled her nose as Nathan playfully flipped the collar up around her ears. 

Leah sighed, remembering how she had read the letter while they waited for their food.  She had almost lost her cool, a single tear running out of her eye as she read it again in disbelief. 

Nathan had discouraged her from finding her true parents, but he had promised her any help he could give her.  When social services refused to open her file, she had run to the library downstairs.  She flipped frantically through the Rolodex her grandmother had kept, until she found the number she was looking for. 

“Senator Mitchell’s office.” 

“My name is Leah Raybourne.  I’d like to speak with the senator, please.” 

“One moment, I’ll see if he’s in.”  Leah smiled as the strains of classical music reached her ears.   She knew David Mitchell would talk to her.  He had owed her father big time for that episode in college. 

“Leah!  I was so sorry to hear about you grandmother’s passing.  If there’s anything. . .” 

“Can it, David.  You know the only reason you took my call is because my daddy kept you out of trouble when Maria almost caught you in bed with another woman.  This is me you’re talking to, not some disgruntled voter.” 

David chuckled.  “You’re too much like your father, young lady.  Well, what can I do for you?” 

Leah swallowed.  The problem was that she wasn’t like her father.  Not the father that the senator meant anyway.  “I need you to open a social services file for me—in Rochester, New York” 

“Well—Leah, you know I have no...” 

“Yes, I know that’s technically out of your jurisdiction,” she interrupted, “but I also know that you have even more connections than I do.” 

He sighed.  “Yes, too much like your father.  What’s the name?” 

“The name on the file should be Cathy or Catherine Appleton.” 

“With a C or a K?” 

“A C.” 

“Can I ask who this is for, or is that none of my business?”  His tone indicated he thought it was yet another of Leah’s childish impulses. 

“It’s—um, for a friend of mine.  I owed her a favor and, well, you know how these things go!”  She forced cheerfulness into her voice. 

“Yes.  Yes I do.  I’ll send the documents over as soon as I receive them.” 

“Thanks, David.” 

“You’re welcome.  Take care, Leah.” 

He had delivered the file personally a few days later.  The bear hug he had given her was an awkward embrace, but he had promised to keep the contents of the file secret.  That was when she discovered she had a long-lost brother.  She smiled at the cliché, soap opera term. 

So now she was here, sleeping in the house where that long-lost brother lived.  She had expected this wonderful reunion scene where he hugs her and she hugs him and they both accept each other and started talking to each other as if they hadn’t been separated for 17 years.  Silly dreams.  Instead, she had entered a den of mother bears, their suspicions all aimed at her.  She wasn’t welcomed, wasn’t needed in his tight circle of friends. 

She rolled over to the other side of the bed, taking all the covers with her as she turned. She thought about the red haired boy who she now knew to be her brother.  She didn’t think it was possible, that they were related.  She wanted so much for him to like her.  She just didn’t know how to go about the task.  She felt as if he was a million miles away from her, a distant goal she could never reach.  If only--if only she could stop being herself, and conform to his personality.  But she couldn’t.  She was herself, completely and totally Leah. 

* * *

Jim sighed loudly into the darkness.  He felt bad for Leah: he knew that she was getting the short end of the stick from his friends.  But it wasn’t like he could blame them.  He didn’t particularly like, or even trust her.  He knew that her story was the truth, but some little hope of doubt existed in his head.  He’d loved Katje and Winthrop Frayne for so long, loved them in a way that he reserved as parental, and to find out they weren’t his parents broke him up inside. 

And then, to have everything he’d ever known about himself dissolve, and to have to accept a perfect stranger as his sister, well—it was just about unthinkable for him.  He shouldn’t dislike her; he knew he should go accept her with open arms.  But she was so different and alien to anything he’d experienced before.  She was headstrong, belligerent, stubborn, and hot-tempered. 

Jim caught his breath as he described her in his head.  “Hot-tempered” triggered something in his brain.  Maybe—maybe they weren’t so different after all.  He leaped out of bed, determined to give her a second chance. 

* * *

They didn’t like her.  They didn’t want her here.  It was just like when she was younger, how she always felt around her mother.  A single, disobedient tear trickled down her face.  She roughly shoved it away as she jumped out of the bed.  She would go tell Jim she was leaving in the morning. 

“If they don’t want me here, I’m sure as hell not staying!”  She said to herself as she jerked the door open. 

* * *

He ran through the dark hall, being careful not to trip over anything in his path.  Just as he turned the corner, he ran into something, something running towards him at full-force.  The thing he ran into crumpled at his feet, as he took a step back to keep from falling.  He looked down, at a mass of tangled legs and red hair.  Sharp, angry green eyes looked up accusingly at him. 

“Watch where you’re going!”  She hissed as she struggled to stand up.  He reached his hand down to help, a hand that she shoved roughly away. 

“I could say the same thing of you, you know,” he chuckled as she straightened the t-shirt she wore.  It was at least 2 sizes too big for her, and proclaimed in large letters “Aquinas Class of 92”.  It had old grease stains and a big rip in one side. 

“So? I’m not some big, bumbling oaf who runs around dark, unlit halls in the middle of the night.” 

“You don’t?  So what exactly were you doing if you weren’t running around in dark, unlit halls?” 

“I was running, but I’m not a big oaf!”  She stomped her foot on the ground at her exclamation. 

“And I am?” He could feel his anger building up inside of him.  Something about her irritated him, made him completely forget his resolution to like her. 

“No.  You’re not an oaf.  That’s an insult to oafs.  You’re nothin’ but a caveman who just happened to find a razor blade.”  Her voice rose as she spoke, and her hands clutched in fists beside her. 

Once again, some small part of Jim’s mind registered the hilarity of the situation, but by then his temper had taken over. 

“If I’m a caveman, and you’re my sister, then that means you’re no better than I am!” Jim shouted, his face coloring to match his hair. 

“Yeah!  Well what if I don’t wanna be your sister?  ‘Cause it sure is obvious you don’t want me to be!  So that’s why I’m leavin’!”  She yelled back at him.  Her hair stung his eyes as she whirled around and tried to run away.  He grabbed her wrist, just before she bolted down the hall.  She tried to jerk away, but the effort was futile, as it only succeeded in dragging Jim a few steps closer to her. 

“You can’t leave . . .” Jim began.  He had finally realized what he had come into the hall to do in the first place. 

“Oh I can’t, can I?”  She growled as she turned back around to face him.  He was shocked as her free hand swung around and punched him squarely in the jaw. 

“Ow!” He yelped as she finally twisted free.  She began to sprint back down the hall towards the room she was occupying.  She managed to slam the door and lock it before he could get to it. 

He pounded on the door, but to no avail.  He could hear mumbling in the room, and the sound of clothes being flung around.  He leaned his forehead against the cool wood paneling on the wall.  A slim hand squeezed his shoulder gently. 

“You all right, Jim?  We heard the yelling.  Do you maybe want to talk about it?”  Jim turned to look into the concerned eyes of Madeline Wheeler.  He noticed for the first time that Honey, Trixie, and Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler were all standing there.  They had seen the whole thing, probably. 

“You know, she may act tough, but she’s probably hurting very much inside.  You of all people should understand how hard it is to have to start a new life after you’ve lost someone you care for.  It took a lot of guts for her to come all this way to meet you, without knowing anything about you before.”  She smiled as Jim’s head drooped lower and lower with shame.  “I know that you probably want to make things right, but I don’t think now’s the time.  She’s one very angry redhead right now, and believe me, I know redheads.”  She smiled as she hugged Jim.  “How about we go to the kitchen and get some ice for your jaw.” 

Jim rubbed his face ruefully.  “Yeah, that’d be nice.  She hits almost as hard as Dapper Dick.” 

Mrs. Wheeler kept her arm around Jim as they walked towards the stairs.  A door slowly squeaked behind them, and Leah stepped carefully into the hall.  “Umm.. Hey, everybody.  Didn’t know ya’ll were there.”  She mumbled slowly, her hands playing nervously with the frayed edges of her ripped shirt.  “Um.  Hello Mr. Wheeler.”  She stared mournfully at her toes, wriggling them back and forth on the plush carpet. 

“Jim?”  She called softly. 

“Yes?”  He looked up hopefully. 

“I’m sorry I punched you.  It was wrong of me.  I just..”  She turned to Mr. Wheeler, begging for sympathy.  “I lost  my temper, and then something inside of me just snapped.”  She drew cicles in the carpet with her toe as she spoke. 

“It’s ok, Leah.  I’ll forgive you on one condition.” Jim smiled, hoping that she would forgive him. 

She looked sorrowfully at him.  “It’s ok, you don’t have to ask.  I’ll go back home.  I can understand that you don’t really want me here.  I’ll be leaving in the morning.”  She moved slowly back towards the open door. 

“No!  Leah!  That’s not it!”  Jim sprang forward and grabbed her wrist again.  She stared at his strong fingers, gripping her small arm.  He quickly dropped it again.  “Sorry.  What I mean is—please stay.  It was wrong of me to push you out so completely.  It’s just—you shocked me is all.  I really should be asking you for forgiveness.” 

Trixie and Honey exchanged glances, shaking their heads with disbelief.  “I can’t believe he’s accepting her just like that!”  Trixie whispered. 

“I know.  As if we didn’t have enough experience with Julianna . . . and Laura . . . and that couple on the boat in Mississippi . . . and” 

Trixie giggled.  “Yeah.  But at least Leah’s got one thing going for her that the other fakes didn’t.” 

Honey looked at Trixie, confused.  “What do you mean?” 

“Well, what I mean is, she punched Jim, right?” 

Honey nodded slowly.  “We just saw her do it!” 

“Yeah, I know.  So she punched him, and I was on her side.”  She grinned.  “Do you know how many times in the past couple years I’ve liked to punch James Frayne?  Maybe, if I ask her, she’ll do it again for me!” 

Honey and Trixie exchanged looks, then burst into giggles, leaning against each other for support. 

* * *

Jim was sitting quietly at the breakfast table, his eyes half closed with fatigue.  He hadn’t been able to sleep well last night.  Somehow, he had the feeling that Honey and Trixie had been laughing at him the night before.  And he didn’t like the idea of Trixie laughing at him.  He had been up almost all night, wondering if she could possibly still like him.  She had seemed so distant lately, so cruel to him.  He snuck glances at her across the table when she wasn’t looking.  He was so engrossed in his Trixie-watching that he didn’t realize the doorbell had rung, or that someone new had entered the room, until he heard Leah’s muttered curse as she leapt out of her chair, knocking it to the ground. 

“Allie!  What are you doing here?”  She glared accusingly at the tall, brown-haired young man who stood in the doorway. 

He moved uncomfortably towards Mr. Wheeler at the head of the table.  He held out a tanned hand.  “Allow me to introduce myself,” he intoned with a long drawl, much like Leah’s.  “I’m Alex Williams, a friend of Leah’s family.  You must be Mr. Wheeler.” 

Mr. Wheeler wiped his mouth with a starched linen napkin, then shook hands with Alex.  “Pleased to meet you, young man.” 

“The pleasure’s all mine, sir.”  He moved to Mrs. Wheeler, and bowed stately to her.  “Mrs. Wheeler.” 

She sighed as she looked over at Leah.  “Do you know this boy, and can I keep him?” She laughed. 

Leah looked less than pleased.  “Answer my question, Alex.  What are you doin’ here?” 

He stared intently at her, as if trying to convey some hidden meaning behind his words. 

“Nat sent me.  He has a message for you.” 
 
 

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