3~Following the Stars

"Well, it's about time you got up," Elizabeth said to me as I sat at the little kitchen table for breakfast, yawning.

"Shut yer hole and give me something to eat," I mumbled.

"Good morning to you, too," Elizabeth replied, setting a plate of pancakes and sausage in front of me. "What's wrong? You're usually in a good mood when you get up."

"Nothin's wrong," I answered. "I was just kidding around."

"Uh huh. Look, I don't care what you say; we're going to decorate this place starting today. I've been sitting in this house for three weeks, staring at the bare walls."

"Where's your stuff? Didn't you want to hang up your own pictures?"

"No, I wanted to wait for you before I did anything." Elizabeth filled two glasses with orange juice and handed one to me.

"Well, I don't want to get too fancy," I said, pushing my forked pancake through the syrup. "It's not the money, but it's just that I want a home, not a mansion."

Elizabeth nodded and said, "So you don't want to replace this little table, then?"

I shook my head. "No, actually, I don't. I kinda like it. Needs a tablecloth and flowers, though….this'll be the kitchen table and we'll get one to put in the living room and we'll eat dinner there."

"I don't care where we eat," Elizabeth said.

"Neither do I," I replied. "But if we have friends over—those reporters will come—it'd be nice to seat them at a proper table."

She smiled and took my plate when I finished. We put away what little there was to put away and got ready and then went outside to the car.

I looked around at the things I couldn't see the night before because of the darkness.

"Elizabeth!" I exclaimed, happiness flowing through me and dancing across my youthful features, "It's lovely!"

She smiled and patted my shoulder. "I had your imagination in mind when I got it. I bought it, Lynne."

I turned to her, surprised.

"You didn't have to! I said rent, but oh well, this place is worth it! I'll pay you back—we can have joint-ownership of the house."

Green, rolling hills were in the background of the house and pink-flowered trees lined the left side of the house. It was an orchard of different trees—blossoms waved back at me from their perches on their separate branches. But there was a smooth, grassy spot under one beautiful tree—a cottonwood, my favourite.

"That's your spot," Elizabeth said softly. "I knew you'd like it."

A short, white picket fence fenced in the house and had a few gates: one opening out into the orchard on a path of worn red stepping-stones, the other into the driveway, and I knew the last one opened into the backyard. Under the large window in the front was a garden of a wide variety of flowers—I could tell that Elizabeth had just planted some. The house itself was white—not a bright white, but a softer shade of white and the roof was a nice red. The shutters around the windows were light blue and everything about the house was quaint and lovely. It was like one of my dreams. My stories would come freely to me now—sometimes, a writer's environment can enhance or restrain a story. I hugged Elizabeth and we both just stood for a moment, beaming at the house that we owned. I would have a large part of it, though, because Elizabeth was the Elizabeth Ruby, not just the famous Lynne Lewis' best friend, but a well-known fashion designer and she would be out a lot. Right now, she was vacationing, but in a few weeks, she was taking some training classes, just as I was going to do at the Liverpool Institute, for some extra practice and all that. She was also working with an American-British fashion company and she was working to present her fifth collection in a few months. But we would both be at home a lot even though my career and college were going to have me some of the time.

Elizabeth absentmindedly pulled her car keys out of her pocket and walked to unlock it. It dawned on us suddenly that the car was still at the restaurant.

"Oh no, Lynne!" she exclaimed. "We're a few miles out from London; we're in the country; there aren't that many neighbours!"

"It's okay, Elizabeth," I returned. "Paul said he'd bring it by today."

"Go call him. He might have forgotten," she said.

I nodded and went back into the house and tried to think of how I could reach him. I did not have his number. But I did not have to worry long because a car horn honked and, "Lynne, Lynne!" came from outside.

I got into the car with Elizabeth.

"So where's Paul?" I tried to sound casual, though my voice was just a teeny bit squeaky.

"He didn't drop off the car. It was some people from his office. He had to do something today. He says hi."

"Hi," I answered automatically and didn't think anymore on the subject. I shoved in a Beatles CD in the CD player and we were off.

"Lynne, these are my fellow designers, Amber Kate and Renny Mi'chel."

I held out a hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Renny replied.

Amber and Renny were dressed in matching red and purple velvet suits with frilly white shirts—very Austin Powers-style. Elizabeth glanced at her watch.

"I've got to run, Lynne," she said. "Renny has to show me some new designs and I have to check up on a few things. Amber'll drive you wherever you want to go. She's a big fan of yours," she added.

Amber blushed.

(Most of the house furnishings had been bought in the week we took to get them and after we finished one day, Renny had paged Elizabeth.)

I nodded to Elizabeth. "See you at the house." Amber quietly took me to her car and I started to talk to her. I couldn't help noticing that she had a thick Liverpudlian accent and it was a pleasure to hear her talk.

"And so what are you doing in England, Miss Lewis?" she asked me.

"Call me Lynne," I laughed. "I'm going to college here."

"Where're you going?"

"Oxford."

"Wow."

"Where did you go to school? You look like you've just graduated."

Amber grinned. "I just did. I went to the Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts and then I went to a designers' school."

"The Liverpool Institute? I'm heading up there in a few weeks."

"What for?" She reddened at her nosiness, but I reassured her with a friendly smile.

"They're offering drama and music classes. I'm going to take some."

"Uh…Lynne? If you don't mind my asking, why are you going to take more classes? You're very talented."

"Thank you," I said. "Well, I am because I just want to. I'm not a dork or anything—I didn't like school that much except for being with my friends and the electives I took. Actually, though, it is best to get all the experience you can. That's why Elizabeth's going to take some more classes though she's already proven to the world that she's fantastic."

Amber nodded and said, "Lynne, the Institute is actually offering the classes beginning in two days. I was in Liverpool a couple days ago and dropped by to see an old teacher."

I straightened in surprise. "I guess I'm going up there a little earlier than I planned!"

We approached the house and as I got out, Amber fumbled around in her purse and said, "Wait!"

I turned and took the pen and paper she held out to me. I dashed off a nice note and told her, "Thanks, Amber. God bless you and I hope that all goes well with your designs."

She smiled in gratitude, her eyes brimming with tears and then she drove off.

I let myself in the house, had some dinner, cleaned up and sat in bed, typing on my old-fashioned typewriter. I could use the laptop I had, but it was still packed away and my typewriter's friendly clicks kept me company.

The room was furnished now and very cozy. I couldn't help but think that the typewriter didn't click in my room as his steps had.

I grabbed my suitcase and knotted my scarf around my neck. I was flying out to Liverpool. I had thought about driving, but decided that since I didn't know England very well, I had better just fly. It was a short flight and Amber was there at the airport for me, having flown out herself to pick up some designs.

It was very early in the morning and since I had screwed up my schedule to get extra sleep, I was not tired. Amber told me she'd get me a hotel room and come back for me when the classes were over. I grinned in thanks and took my writing bag, leaving her my suitcase. I was only going to stay for five days. Two days for the drama classes and two days for the music classes I wanted to take. And one extra day for me to explore Liverpool (the Beatles' home!).

The drama classes were fun. Everyone there was surprised that this model-actress-writer had shown up and I was asked to demonstrate a few scenes for the class. I did not mind in the least because everyone was so friendly to me and tried hard not to pester me with questions and requests for autographs. The people in the music classes were great, too. On my last day of class, we were all on the stage, having class. I was in a deep conversation with some students and the teacher. The topic changed when the teacher said,

"It's quite a coincidence for you to be here. Another famous person is here as well."

"Who?" I asked.

"Well, who's the stage named after? Look there." He pointed to a gold plaque on the wall.

I went over to it and the name "SIR JAMES PAUL McCARTNEY" reflected back at me.

"He's—here?" I gasped out.

The teacher nodded. "Right out there."

I tried to calmly walk out the door to look and Paul suddenly stood right in front of me.

"Hello, Paul," I greeted him warmly. "How are you?"

He whirled around at the sound of my voice and what had passed between us in the restaurant was in his face for the briefest moment. Then the handsome features were marked with frostiness. I was taken aback. Had I done something wrong?

"Hello, Lynne." He politely shook my hand. "I didn't think I'd see you here."

"I've been here for a few days," I replied, hearing the coolness in his manner. I shrank instinctively.

"Oh. That's nice." He didn't sound as though he thought so.

I wondered if that warmth between us in the restaurant and the limo had just been fake. I thought I'd made friends with him!

He coughed, with icy genteel-ism, into his hand and said, "You'll have to excuse me, Miss Lewis."

His tone said it all. He left me, and I stood "rooted to the ground." I was extremely hurt. I was mad at myself for letting him cut me so deep, but I couldn't help it. There really had been friendship between us that night. It wasn't my imagination.

"Lynne?"

Class was over and Amber stood behind me.

"Can you take me to the airport, Amber?" I tried to ask smoothly, but I choked on my words. "I'm going back home."

"Not to California?" she said, aghast.

"No, no—back to Elizabeth's and my house. I have to go now."

Amber looked at me worriedly, but nodded.

I got my things and she drove me to the airport and I exchanged my ticket for the flight back to London.

As I sat waiting for the plane, Paul walked into the airport, a few people around him. He was looking straight at me. My heart hardened in anger and I looked away, my jaw sticking out.

I saw Paul dismiss his people in my peripheral vision and come towards me.

"Flight one-oh-eight ready to board."

I leapt up immediately, grabbing my bag and suitcase and quickly checked in, hoping no one would recognize me. No such luck. I had been lucky enough to get in and wait without problems, but now, young children waylaid me as I handed over my boarding pass. I put my things down and signed, hugging kids (very sincerely) and signing autographs. I felt a hand on my arm.

"Lynne," said Paul's voice in my ear.

"Hello, Paul," I said without looking at him. "Sorry, kids, gotta catch my plane or I'll be stuck here for a while!" I patted a small blond boy on the head and picked up my suitcase and walked a bit stiffly as I tried to hurriedly get on the plane.

"Lynne," came Paul's voice again. Autograph-seekers were coming and his people were coming back.

"Good-bye, Paul," I said coldly and shook off his hand. I walked down the little hall, my hand tightly gripping my suitcase handle.

I tossed my head and caught a brief glimpse of him.

He stood there, staring sadly after me, surrounded by fans.

"You're back early," Elizabeth said, surprised and she crossed the room and hugged me. "How was Liverpool?"

"The classes were fine," I answered, avoiding her eyes. I went into my room and dropped off my things and went back to the kitchen for some water.

She quietly watched me.

"What happened, Lynne?" she asked softly.

"I ran into Paul," I said, my head stuck in the refrigerator.

"So?"

I closed the fridge's door.

"It wasn't pleasant."

She looked at me in sympathy and squeezed my free hand.

I told her and when it was all out, I could laugh at myself, but even though I felt better, I didn't feel like laughing. I just sat, chatting lightly about things that I didn't have to delve into my emotions with. Elizabeth knew and kept everything at surface level.

In a few days, I wasn't angry (well, I was a teeny bit, but I was hurt a little, too) and I could return to my Beatles CDs without a burning resentment towards the man who was singing my favourite songs.

Elizabeth and I sat out in the orchard one night and stared up at the stars.

"Fate," Elizabeth was saying. "I've noticed a lot of things lately that look like they're from that."

"What?" I said, looking for the Big Dipper.

"You and Paul," she said quietly. I felt my muscles tighten and then a soft hand touched my arm.

"Don't be angry, Lynne," she whispered. "Just let me tell you."

I forced myself to relax. "Okay."

"When you flew in, Lynne, and we met Mick and Keith and Paul at the restaurant—don't you think that was a bit more than a coincidence?"

I shrugged.

"Look, Lynne," she said gently, "things have happened between you two. Not enough to prove that there's something going on, but I have a feeling that there is. Some people would just say, "It's written in the stars." You two being together in some way is in the stars, Lynne. Don't run from it."

"I'm not," I replied. "He's the one running from me."

"The airport," Elizabeth returned. "When you were telling me, you mentioned how he looked at the airport. You turned from him then. All's I'm trying to say is that something is going to happen. I don't know what, I don't know how. I just know that whatever it is is in the stars and you have to follow it, whether you like it or not."

A little shiver ran through me.

We returned to watching the stars.

On to Chapter 4

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