Page 34 of The Light Year (Stardust Beach #6)

jo

. . .

The backyard is full of people, and the paper streamers run along the house and the back fence from every direction, twisted and crisscrossing as the balloons that the children have blown up sway in the breeze along with the streamers.

It looks like a joyous madman decorated their yard, and Jo wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s early April, and Bill is throwing a party for Jo to celebrate the sale of her first book, Love In Time , to a major publisher.

It had all happened so quickly: she’d sent the first draft to Martin Snell, her literary agent, right before leaving for the cruise with Bill, and within six weeks, Mr. Snell had called to tell her that HarperCollins wanted to buy the book for a sum of money that would have made Jo’s parents faint, had she summoned up the nerve to tell them the actual amount.

Jo is standing near the table that’s serving as a makeshift bar, watching as all her friends and neighbors circulate, cups and beer bottles in hand.

The children are running around, and some are in the pool, and Bill has dragged the turntable and a giant speaker into the yard so that he can play records.

Right now, “Cherry Cherry” by Neal Diamond fills in the gaps between the laughter and the conversation all around Jo, and she stays as still as she can, taking it all in.

Florida , she thinks. Who would have ever dreamed up this life—these people ?

Leaving Minnesota in 1963, Jo had been distraught, convinced that she’d never make another friend, never have a holiday that felt right.

She couldn’t picture herself truly living in the sun, being a “beach person,” or fitting the mold of what she thought a good “astronaut wife” should be.

This makes her laugh now; who knew what the wife of anyone should be like?

Okay, maybe the wife of the president had some expectations on her, but other than being supportive and taking care of the house and the kids, her job as the wife of a NASA man was to just…

be herself. And that woman has turned out to be far more of a Florida girl than Jo had ever imagined.

“Quite the shindig,” Barbie says, stopping at the drinks table and giving Jo a huge grin.

“We’re so proud of you, Jo. You have no idea,” Barbie gushes, turning to keep an eye on Huck as he races after the big kids.

“I can’t imagine how you find the time to write, work at the hospital, and do everything else. ”

Jo smiles at her friend. “Well, none of it would have happened when my kids were as young as yours. I can tell you that.” Without being asked, Jo pours a cocktail for Barbie—heavy on the mixer, light on the tequila.

She hands the cup over and Barbie takes a sip.

“Just focus on them for now,” Jo says sagely. “It’ll go faster than you think.”

With that, Jo’s eyes search the yard for her own kids: Nancy is sitting in a chair on one side of the yard, holding a book up in the waning light so she can read the last chapter.

This makes Jo smile. Kate is sitting on a chair next to the pool, legs crossed at the ankles like a society lady, talking to the eleven-year-old son of one of the other families.

This makes Jo’s smile dim slightly with worry, as she knows in her heart that Kate will be her cheerleader, her boy crazy high school girl, her child who tries to filch cigarettes, sneak out of the house, and push the boundaries.

And, in the grass, shoving one of the other teenage boys playfully as they talk, is Jimmy.

He’s grown so tall and muscular in the four years they’ve been in Stardust Beach that she hardly recognizes him sometimes.

After Bill mentioned Jimmy’s interest in the military while they were on their cruise, Jo started to pay more attention.

She wants to see him—to know him. Jo has always been a hands-on mother, and the idea that Jimmy might suddenly prefer to go to Bill instead of to her chills her.

She can’t let herself get so wrapped up in the hospital and in her writing that she forgets who she truly is—what her most important job is: motherhood.

“Hey, Jim,” a boy whose voice has just deepened an octave shouts out from over where Nancy sits.

He pretends to lift up Nancy’s chair from behind, mimicking a run for the pool as though he might drop Jimmy’s bespectacled sister and her book right into the water.

Jimmy laughs and slaps his thigh, then shouts back: “Hey, leave my sister alone, man. She doesn’t like boys. ”

Nancy, for her part, rolls her eyes and pretends to go back to her book, though Jo knows her well enough to understand that she’s fully alert to her brother and his friends, if only so she can stay on guard and not get chucked into the swimming pool.

“She’s about to cross over, isn't she?” Frankie says, appearing at the table with Lucas in the crook of her arm. He’s nearly six months old and a bubbly, cheerful little guy who kicks his bare feet and gives Jo a gummy smile.

Jo pours Frankie the same drink she’d just made for Barbie and hands it over. “How so?” Jo wipes her hands on a towel and picks up her drink, taking a dainty sip so that she won’t overdo it and get tipsy at her own party.

“Oh, you know,” Frankie says, eyeing Nancy as she crosses her legs and her dress hikes up, revealing her young, tanned knees and thighs. “She’s still a girl, but she’s on the cusp of opening up like a flower. The boys have started to notice her, even though she hasn’t paid them much attention yet.”

“That’s true,” Jo says, feeling a rush of relief at that. “She doesn’t seem to care about them at all.”

“Give it time,” Frankie says as she bounces Lucas without even realizing she’s doing it.

Watching her take to motherhood has been incredibly rewarding for Jo, who loves to see Frankie fuss over the baby and devote herself to his happiness.

She even takes him to the dance studio several times a week, letting the mothers who are there to watch their kids take classes pass him down the line and make faces at him.

“Oh, Frank,” Jo says on a sigh as she refills the cup of a woman who pauses at the table and then moves on, fresh drink in hand. “Life changes so quickly. It’s just amazing. And melancholy.”

Frankie stops bouncing the baby. “Are you being a dramatic writer right now, or are you just warning me about how fast babies grow up?”

“Both,” Jo decides. Her eyes skim the yard again as she glances at each of her three children. “They grow up in the blink of an eye. But the rest of it really is a little melancholy.”

“Hmm,” Frankie says. She keeps her eyes on Jo’s face as Lucas puts his arms out straight and tries to bend forward over his mother’s arm to grab his own bare toes. “You’re a little young to be going through the change of life, but…”

“It’s not that,” Jo assures her. “And I am a bit young, yes. I’ve got years between me and forty.

” She says this, but then pauses and bites her lower lip; with the way time is passing her by, she’ll be celebrating that milestone sooner rather than later.

“But I think I’m just looking back at all that’s happened since we moved here, and it’s kind of overwhelming. ”

“Oh, sure,” Frankie agrees, taking a sip of her drink and passing Lucas off to Ed as he passes by. “Here you go,” she says to her husband. “He wants some time with Daddy and the guys.”

Ed wanders off proudly, holding the baby outwards like Frankie has been doing, and smiling as he approaches his coworkers with his son in his arms.

“Come on,” Frankie says, taking Jo by the hand. She pulls her over to the patio door and slides it open, leading Jo inside.

“I can’t leave my party, Frankie,” Jo protests, though it’s not very fervent.

“Just give me five minutes.” Frankie is still holding her hand, and she leads her down the hallway to the main bedroom, pointing at the foot of the perfectly made bed as she closes the door. “Okay, now talk.”

Jo sits on the edge of the bed, hands resting sloppily in her lap, shoulders hunched. “Talk about what?”

Frankie sits next to her gingerly. “Anything. Everything. I’ve been busy keeping that chunky baby fed and entertained since Thanksgiving, and now we’re into a whole new season, and I want to know what’s going on with you.”

Jo exhales like she’s letting go of a heavy weight she’s been holding.

“Oh, gosh.” She looks up at the ceiling, trying to decide whether she should burden Frankie with any of the things that have been going on in her life.

Ever since Lucas was born, they’ve put their late evening walks on pause, which Jo totally understands.

They talk, sure, and they see one another, but most of their chatter is about diapers and feedings and sleep schedules, and Jo has purposely taken a backseat to talking about the important details of motherhood.

“How was the cruise?” Frankie asks.

Jo can feel her eyes on the side of her face as she waits for an answer. Outside the bedroom window, the party rages on, and Jo isn’t even sure whether anyone misses her. Right now, she doesn’t much care.

“The cruise was, overall, quite good,” Jo admits. “We talked about the kids and our marriage, and… I confronted him about Jeanie Florence.”

Frankie’s jaw drops and she shakes her head. “Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that. Did it ruin the trip?”

Jo looks up towards the window, which is framed by a pair of heavy, gold brocade drapes. The carpet is cream-colored, and the mirror over the dresser in front of them reflects the image of two pretty women in their thirties, sitting in a shaft of sunlight together.

“Strangely,” Jo says. “No, it didn’t. I got all my feelings on the table as we were leaving the port.”

Frankie snorts. “You mean you sat there while the horn was blowing, reaming him about some girl in the office?”

“Okay, when you put it that way… yes,” Jo says, a slow smile spreading over her face. “That’s almost exactly how it happened.”