The Sun and Moon and Stars

Chapter XIII

"Stories."

France's smile slipped from her face. She knew how connected the children felt to their father's tales. "Would you like me to tell one tonight?"

Winnie glanced at her out of the corner of her eyes. She smirked as well as a six year old could. "About a girl and her toys? That's not a story. That's something mama makes up to make us be better."

Frances sighed but couldn't help but agree. Ever since she had come to the Fellowes homestead, she had become acutely aware of how flat her childhood had been. It had been an empty cobblestone street compared to Winnie's and Jem's mountains and valleys.

"Would you like me to find your father? Maybe he has another story to tell you."

Winnie nodded, her eyes still staring blankly at the lantern hanging on the wall above her bed.

Frances nodded and quietly slipped out. She had seen Julian near his workshop after supper. Hopefully he was still there.

The evening had faded into night and a crisp wind darted over her skin. Wrapping her arms around her shoulders, Frances briskly walked across the yard, sliding behind the workshop wall to break the wind. She tried the heavy double doors and they creaked open. There was no candle lit or lantern hanging.

"Julian?" she called out. The room replied with banging as the wind shook the window shutters.

She shut the door and sighed. She'd hate to go back to the children's room without their father. But what could she do? If he was in the barn, it was clear that he didn't want to be disturbed. And if he was anywhere else, she wouldn't be able to find him. Rubbing her shoulders, Frances headed back to the porch where a lantern beckoned her with a warmth that pushed back the dark.

Half way across the yard, a dark shadow caught Frances' eye. She turned towards the pond at the back of the house. The tree at the edge of the water had an unusually large branch. She slowly made her way towards it, keeping her footsteps smooth and quiet in order not to frighten him.

"I thought you'd be in your workshop," she said upon nearing the tree.

Julian didn't turn her way, his head comfortably resting on his arms and his back somehow balancing on the wide but round branch. His eyes glimmered, reflecting the stars. "Have you ever heard the story of the stars?"

Frances leaned against the trunk and shook her head even though he couldn't see her. Words didn't seem appropriate coming from her; she had stepped into Julian's world. After a moment, he continued. "Well, it's really quite simple actually. Each star represents a person who has died. And although they travel across the sky, they are tied to those close to them and never move to far away. You can always see them."

He turned to look down at her. She could feel his gaze on her and a warmth settled on her shoulders. But she kept her eyes up. She pointed to a soft golden star, its light barely pulsating. "That is my grandmother. She passed away the day after my ninth birthday. I remember being so angry that God had given me such a horrible gift."

"How do you know its her?"

"You mean other than the fact that I just feel it? I guess it's the way that it's a gentle star, but not small or insignificant. It's warm, just like her hugs, and inviting, just like her smile." Frances smiled at the memory.

Julian pushed himself up onto his feet and looked down on Frances. She barely managed to meet his gaze. He held out his hand.

Frances looked at it. Callouses marked his fingers up and down and spread across his palm. They were strong hands, used to bending wood to their will, but delicate, knowing how to coax etchings and carvings out of the driest of logs. She took it.