The Star Beyond the Water

By Jaycee Anderson

How far will Robin go to have the love she always wanted?

Dangling on the edge of a failing marriage, Robin Morgan had always hoped to forge a stronger connection with her husband. The birth of their daughter, Lyndsey, was supposed to pull Robin and Chirs closer together. Still, Chris fell deeper into the toxic

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaycee Anderson
• Release date: May 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9780578906232

Jaycee Anderson

Jaycee Anderson is a proud Angeleno, event photographer, and debut author of The Crystal Unity Series. A burgeoning creative and hopeless romantic, Anderson harbors a growing passion for the written word and can't help but love a good happily ever after. Whenever she's not too busy conjuring romantic fantasy adventures, she enjoys nerding out by watching YouTube videos on science, art, language, and other cultures. She loves to travel, though she's not the biggest fan of flying. She also loves sushi and chocolate - separately, of course. Twenty-Five years married with three adult children, two dogs, and three cats, Anderson has more than enough answers for why she often gets lost in her own head and can be a bit quirky at times. Games like Scrabble, Heads Up, and Scattergories are her absolute favorites, and like most other Cancerians, her zodiacal zest for nature and her love for being around water compels her to one day leave the big city for any of the enchanted forests the west coast has to offer.

Book preview

1

And They Lived Happily Ever After

Summer 1983

Chris Morgan had made up his mind to propose. It had only taken months of his mother prodding him—and a long night of Marlboro Reds and Jim Beam—to reach his decision. His resentment over his parents playing him like a sucker was at odds with his feelings for Robin Lewis—the girl just past the prickly bushes and shrubs that lay between him and her window. Over time, his slight ill feelings toward his parents had grown less slight. It was as if a small seed of contempt lay dormant atop his psyche. Over time, the seed had embedded itself, deepening its roots, choking any sense of control he’d ever believed he had.

The evening commentary from the crickets and frogs seemed louder, and the full moon brighter, than any other night. He wasn’t sure if they were cheering him on or mocking him. Anxiety-ridden, he swept his hand through his shoulder-length hair to feather it back into place. What to do? He stood with one hand on his hip and the other rubbing over his mouth, numb from too much alcohol, as he studied the window of Robin Lewis’s darkened bedroom. Her ruffly white curtains were so feminine, he couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute she was. I’m going to have a cute wife. He bit his lip wondering how he would get to her window, which was above a deep thicket of gnarly shrub hedges that served more to fortify than to beautify.

He patted the breast pocket of his blazer to confirm how prepared he was. Relief came over him when he found that the ring was still secure. A hiccup billowed and he grimaced as stomach acid mixed with Jim Beam burned its way up his throat, then pounded his chest to free another burp. He picked up a twig that had fallen from the massive magnolia tree outside her window. Fortunately for him, the house was a split level, so even though the window was higher than the bottom floor, it wasn’t out of reach of the twig he had in his hand. Just as he was about to start tapping, he halted. Wait a minute. What if I’m standing under the wrong window? What if it’s the window of one of the maids? I can’t remember if Robin had those damn curtains. He squinted his eyes to remedy his alcohol-induced double vision. He pointed at the impressive house as he counted the windows one by one, starting from all the way to the left and moving all the way to the right, twice. Yep. That’s her room. He used his forearm to wipe the perspiration off his face. Why am I sweating? It’s like fifty degrees out here.

Chris stepped into the shrubs, climbed up onto a couple of branches, and gave a tap-tap on Robin’s window with the twig. Teetering, he looked down at his watch and recalled what his mother, Elizabeth, had said to him. Robin has a lot to offer. She is the best girl you will get because our families are cut from the same social and economic fabric, and if you don’t propose to her soon, you will lose her to someone, well, better. He began to hyperventilate at the thought and impatiently banged on the glass pane. She finally moved the curtains aside, unlocked the latch, and swung the window open.

Whoa, he said—briefly losing his balance at the sight of her. If Cyclops and Medusa had a baby, it would look like her. Only one mascara-smeared eye was open, and her bed hair defied gravity. She’s so damn cute even when she’s not perfect.

Chris? What the heck? Her voice was a swirling mix of smoke and annoyance, with a hint of concern. It’s really late. Are you okay?

Hey, my songbird, Chris greeted, drawing out the words.

His smoke- and alcohol-saturated breath hit her so hard that she recoiled, fearing her one closed eye would forever be fused shut, never able to see the light of day again.

You’re beautiful. I mean, look at you. Even with your bad habit of not taking off your makeup before bed and your long, brown hair all fucked up like that, you’re still hot—like a hot songbird. Chris chuckled.

He attempted to move closer within the bush under her window. He winced as he wrestled with the branches that tugged at his clothes and scratched his hands and wrists. Son of a bitch, he said as if arguing with the bushes. He leaned forward to close the distance and grab Robin’s hand.

Chris, babe, what are you doing? Are you okay? Robin asked again with increased concern. Poor guy. This is probably the hardest thing he has ever done. I have to give him kudos for that.

He patted her hand, then let go as he leaned back and threw his head back to re-feather his hair, a move Robin had always thought was hot. His large, chocolate brown eyes found hers as he tried to reach for the inside of his coat, but a branch caught onto the fabric.

Hey! Give it back, he scoffed in resignation. Give it back! he yelled again, as he yanked at the branch that snared him in place before finally raising his hands in surrender. Mercy. Then he immediately started tugging again, as if trying to catch the branch off guard.

Yes, I’m fine. I’m trying to get the damn ring out of my pocket, Chris slurred and rocked on the balls of his feet.

She chuckled to herself. The ring. Although not surprising, not exactly the proposal I was hoping for, but he’s trying so hard that it makes me want to cry—more so than him asking for my hand.

Finally, he steadied himself, drew an exhausted sigh, and grabbed the ring box. He flipped the velvet lid open and took out the ring. He reached out as if inviting her to give him her hand.

She hesitated as she considered the gravity of this moment. She felt pressured—after all, they were barely finishing college. At the same time, she believed this was the direction the relationship was going, so why hesitate? She slipped her hand into his.

His smile lit up his face. He listed as he sloppily crammed the ring onto her finger. Um, yeah, so what da ya say? Chris asked, and then hiccuped and burped at the same time. Oh, excuse me. He hit his chest and then let out more air. Sorry, go ahead.

Wow! Chris! Uhhh… Robin paused, both eyes wide open now. She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry.

You’re pretty and rich like me, so we can relate. We are of the same rich cloth or something like that. His eyes looked up and to the right as if trying to remember a conversation, then he shrugged and looked back at her. Close enough.

That’s your mom talking, isn’t it?

It was as if he sobered up for a split second as he looked deeply into her eyes. I love you, Robin. That’s me talking.

Whoa. Okay. Um, I love you, too, Chris, Robin replied. Her eyebrows furled. Are you sure you’re fine?

Yes, Robin. I know it’s late. I know I’ve had a few drinks. And maybe you expected, like, a white stallion kind of proposal, although I doubt that. But I just got to drinking, a single nervous laugh escaped him, I…I mean thinking, screw my parents and their plans. I want to do this my way, Chris explained, pointing at himself, then following up with his signature smile that could get him anything he wanted, including instant forgiveness.

They were planning a white stallion proposal? she asked, lifting her hand to stifle a laugh at the absurdity of it.

Yes. It was obnoxious, and I know you, Robin. I know that’s not your kind of thing. Let’s do this.

Robin took a deep breath. The white stallion for sure was not her thing, but this was not the proposal she had been picturing since she was seven, either. She knew this was the direction the relationship was going and, as she watched him, pity came over her.

You’re right. You do know me. And I know you, too, Chris. I know it is very hard to put yourself out there, she said, justifying his need for liquid courage. His irresistible smile was still there, but there was fear in his glassy dark brown eyes that reflected the streetlights even more than when he was sober. Yes, Chris, I’ll marry you, Robin said.

The fear left his eyes, and he began to laugh in delight. She joined in.

He leaned in to give her the she said yes kiss. The newly fractured branch his feet were tangled in splintered further, causing him to fall backward, never landing that traditional kiss. She shook her head as a pang twisted in her belly. Her gut told her this was a red flag. Her brain told her not to take it so seriously. She laughed but didn’t know if it was because of his faux pas, or because she didn’t know how else to dismiss her unsettling intuition.

Their engagement was only a few months long. It was incredibly stressful because Chris’s mom, Elizabeth, wanted to control everything. Her manipulations were limitless. She was contrary to even the finest details.

Chris did nothing to advocate for Robin. He had always been wishy-washy with regards to his mother, and that always irritated Robin. It was these moments that made Robin question if this was all a big mistake. She loved Chris and believed their marriage could be a lasting one, but she hated that he chose his mother's side in most disagreements.

In the end – with no help from Chris – Robin got most of what she wanted, minus the venue. She had always dreamt of having the ceremony at Stinson Beach at sunset, but Elizabeth insisted on the St. Francis Yacht Club, because it was always about appearances.

The summer of ’83 had came and went, and it was fall before they knew it. Now just a couple weeks before Thanksgiving, the wedding day had finally arrived. The bridal party got ready at The Marina Grand Hotel, located across the street from St. Francis Yacht Club. Chris sat on the edge of the hotel room bed, awaiting direction from Piper Marks, the photographer. That seemed to be his default mode—wait and obey, just as his parents had expected of him his entire life.

Chris, let's get you tying your shoe, Piper suggested, pulling up her black pants and kneeling onto her lanky legs.

His best man and friend since elementary school, Davis Chase, took the bottle of Budweiser beer out of Chris’s hand and stepped aside.

Chris leaned over. His brown, feathered hair fell forward, covering his face. He reached for his forehead to flip his hair back, which proved as not the best position to be in when he had already thrown back a few. He waited for the dizziness to pass before reaching for his shoelace.

Dude, you okay? Maybe you should slow down, Davis advised, placing the bottle on the vanity. He looked in the mirror and straightened his own tie, followed by lightly sweeping his surfer blond waves over his ears.

Chris grunted in surrender. Yeah, you’re right. Robin is going to be pissed, Chris said, shaking his head to halt the guilt that had started creeping in. Guilt over needing to be filled in on details of his own proposal that night, and guilt over the tears that had slid down Robin’s cheeks when she realized how little he remembered. I can’t believe I yelled at that damn bush and burped in her face. Shit! He drew his hand down his face, hoping to erase his guilt, but it was only when Piper called his name that his dark spiral ceased.

Oh right, sorry, Chris said, beginning to tie his shoe methodically.

Click.

Great, Chris. Now let's get you, Davis, she pointed, to help with Chris’s tie. Piper directed them in front of the window where sunlight was streaming in.

Chris met Davis’s sad eyes. What’s with the look? Chris asked, but then turned away. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Click.

You, man. Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, dude, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll help you out of it. Davis was nothing if not loyal.

I’m fine. I’m just nervous, Chris said, still averting his gaze. It’s just that—I just don’t know.

What, Chris?

No talking while I’m shooting, please, Piper insisted.

He obeyed as he hit her with his infamous and captivating smile that had gotten him through so many precarious situations.

Gorgeous! Click.

Like when Robin had called him out for being drunk the night he’d proposed. His smile dropped as he began to spiral again.

Click. Oh, I like that too. Looking out the window with that serious look and the way the sunlight enhances the yellow flecks in your brown eyes. Love it!

Click, Click.

Piper lowered her camera. Do you have the ring? I would like to shoot it with Robin’s ring.

Chris patted his breast pocket. His eyes grew big, and he began to perspire. Um, he said, checking each of his pant pockets, then back up to his inside pocket, but all he could feel was his pack of Marlboro Reds. Um, he repeated.

Davis came to the rescue again. He placed his hand on Chris’s shoulder and presented the ring box. I’m here to help, man, Davis reassured, looking at Chris with sincerity in his eyes.

He handed the photographer the box and walked her to the door. Even after she was gone, Davis remained facing the now-closed door with his hands on his hips.

Chris took a deep, nervous breath. Okay, fine. I’m not going to jilt her at the altar. I do have cold feet, okay? I’ll get over it. We’ll get through the day, and then we will start a new life together.

Davis turned toward Chris. I’m in no way trying to convince you to leave her, man. But, dude, you’ve never come across as someone who was head over heels in love.

But you’ve never been in love, right? Chris pointed out.

No. You got me there. I have never been in love, Davis admitted.

Well, the reality is that love is not like it is in the movies. It’s more like you have someone that you can share time with, and you’re not bored. And from time to time, you have sex with them, Chris explained.

I don’t think that’s love, Chris, Davis said, moving across the room and helping Chris into the jacket of his tux. That kinda sounds like a blow-up doll.

A knock on the door ended their conversation. A low, booming voice called out through the cracked open door. How’s my son? Dr. Alastair Morgan asked with pride in his voice.

Come on in, Dad, Chris invited.

Alastair slid through the opening and closed the door behind him.

Looking sharp, Dad, Chris said as he studied how his dad’s fresh haircut accentuated the emerging silver along the sides of his coarse, brown hair. He hoped that one day when he becomes his dad’s age, he would look just as distinguished.

His dad walked up to him and placed his hands on Chris’s arms. Well, let’s get a look at you.

Chris looked up at his dad’s hazel eyes to gauge his sincerity.

His finely wrinkled face turned grim. You look handsome, son. Drunk. But handsome.

I don’t want to do this now, Dad, Chris warned.

Fine, he said, then turned to the best man. Davis, work your magic and find a way to mask this. He waved his hand up and down at Chris. I’m going to make an excuse to start thirty minutes later. No wedding ever starts on time.

Yours did. At least that’s what Mom claimed, over and over during the planning of this thing, Chris challenged.

You know better than to underestimate your mother’s power, Alastair said frankly. Everything goes without a hitch where she is concerned.

They don’t call her ‘Merciless’ for nothing, Chris surrendered.

Alastair looked to Davis. Maybe more than thirty minutes?

Davis couldn’t tell if he was being serious but felt he could get a handle on everything. I’ve got this, Dr. Morgan, Davis assured as he walked Alastair to the door.

I sure as hell hope you do, Alastair bit.

Davis paused at the door, watching Alastair walk down the hall. Anxiety hit him, as he feared he’d overpromised. He closed the door and turned to his friend. His mouth dropped when he caught Chris downing a shot of Jim Beam.

For fuck’s sake. What the fuck are you doing? You fuck wad. Davis grabbed Chris by the back of the neck and dragged him to the bathroom. He stripped him out of his tux and threw him into a cold shower.

Davis stood at the threshold door to the bathroom with his hands on his hips, his breathing uneven as he tried to contain his anger. Dude, maybe I’m talking to the wrong person about whether or not the wedding is a good idea. I really should be talking to Robin, Davis said, more to himself, but indifferent to whether Chris heard him or not.

The distinctive sound of a weeping, broken man bounced off the shower walls and channeled its way to Davis’s ears. Fuck! He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door frame, allowing his head to drop back. He closed his eyes and shook his head over the fact that this day was just getting started.

Click. Beautiful, Robin! Love it! the photographer gushed. Your dress is stunning. It’s like Diana’s.

Thank you! Robin said, moving her hands symmetrically over her bodice, which had pearl-embellished gardenia appliqués and ivory vintage lace. Are you sure about the dress? She needed reassurance as she moved from the bodice to the sheer, billowy fabric that covered her shoulders.

Okay, I’m going to shoot your headpiece, the photographer said as she began to bring Robin’s thick, nut-colored brown hair over her shoulder. Perfect. Click. Beautiful. Now turn your head a bit.

Robin complied robotically. Her mind started to drift. Diana was barely twenty when she got married, so being that we’re twenty-one and getting married isn’t so bad, right? She’s happy. And she was probably nervous too. That’s what this is—nerves. While she waited for the photographer’s next command, she admired her French-tipped acrylics. I can’t help but feel alone. Is that normal?

Helen Lewis, Robin’s mom, took out a tissue and reached under her glasses to dab tears welling in her blue eyes. Stunning, Robin! she wept.

Her mom’s statement pulled Robin out of her moment of insecurity. She turned in time to see her mom lower her jaw as if it would allow for greater tear-catching accuracy without smearing her professional makeup job. Which was followed by not-so-discreet nose blowing. She’s so proud of me. She has always had my best interests at heart, so I can trust that I’m doing the right thing. I just need to focus on all the fun times Chris and I have had.

You look like a fairytale princess, added Terry Abrams, her blunt-cut black haired, leggy maid of honor. She and Robin had met in sewing class when they were freshmen in high school. Robin had been particularly impressed with Terry’s high-fashion designs and was saddened by the fact that their friendship might not withstand the test of time. Terry was headed for the New York fashion design circuit. Marriage wasn’t even on the radar for her.

Click.

Great. And now look directly at me, the photographer instructed. Piper had been the family photographer since Robin was a child, but they hadn’t seen each other since before Robin left for boarding school six years prior. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve grown. The last time I saw you, I think you were just getting your braces on, and now look at you. You’re like that model with the bushy eyebrows and blue eyes. I can’t remember her name, but she’s been in a couple of movies.

The wonder of a makeup artist, Robin quipped.

The photographer shook her head. That’s not like you to be so modest.

Robin’s face grew serious. Oh, well, you know, things change.

Oh, well, sure, Piper said like she was uncomfortable with Robin’s statement. So, how did you and Chris meet? she asked, a clear attempt to change the subject.

Our fathers were fraternity brothers at Stanford and have been best friends ever since. Even when his dad went to med school and mine went into real estate, they remained close. We weren’t exactly betrothed at birth, but our parents kind of went out of their way to encourage us, because who wouldn’t want a union of two power families? So we would travel together, go to parties together. Over time, their contrived machinations worked, she said with a chuckle and looked at her mom.

Helen swatted her hand dismissively through the air. I wouldn’t quite put it like that, but Chris isn’t the most social guy. He just needed us to guide him in the right direction. You know, lead him by the hand, Helen asserted.

"Now that is a statement that should not be repeated to him," Robin advocated.

"Well, he’s not social, Helen repeated. Isn’t it why you only have a maid of honor and not any bridesmaids? Because he doesn’t have enough close friends to match? I’m not judging, but I’m just saying that his quiet nature would probably be the reason why he wouldn’t be getting married at twenty-one if it weren’t for us. He would be thirty, at the rate he was going."

You know that people these days don’t get married as young as you both were when you got married. I’m the first of my friends.

Robin drew in a deep breath and turned back to Piper.

"Ultimately, we did start to love being around one another. Chris and I genuinely like each other. She stopped herself from making that sound worse. What I mean by that is we’re good friends that turned into something more."

Oh, that’s nice. So different. I normally hear stories like meeting at a single’s club, video dating, or even personal ads, the photographer said, then chuckled. Which is how I met Larry.

Oh, wow, Robin said. A personal ad leading to a successful marriage was unheard of to her. They always said being friends first was key to a successful marriage—like me and Chris, she thought, as she tried to convince herself that that one ingredient was all that was needed to have a lasting marriage.

She fanned herself to wave off the heat that had crept into the room, thinking what the day was going to be like. She hadn’t even memorized her vows. Mom, can you go in my room and grab that white piece of paper in my garment bag?

Helen agreed, walked out and closing the door behind her.

I didn’t want to say this in front of my mom because she would deny it, but I think the reason they sent me to boarding school was so that Chris wouldn’t see my awkward teenage years with the acne and braces. Robin gestured vaguely in her mother’s direction and crinkled her nose. But when I came back, his parents were hosting a benefit gala that seemed to double as my society party. And that’s where Chris and I were reacquainted.

Oh, I love that! Piper said as she held her camera low, sighing as if trying to picture it in her mind, inducing a smile. So, were you like, ‘Wow, he’s a fox!’?

Terry put her hand on Robin’s shoulder. After that party, she wouldn’t stop talking about how much he’d matured and how much of a babe he had become, Terry added.

Robin blushed. Yeah, I guess you can say that. His hair was feathered back, and his shirt was slightly opened, showing off his tan and gold chain with that Italian horn charm that guys wear to ward off bad luck and promote virility. She smiled as she recalled that night. Funny, that was three years ago, she paused. Seems more. She saw Piper’s perplexed look. I’m sorry. None of that came out the way I meant it to. I’m very nervous.

Well, you knew each other for so long before that, Piper pointed out, followed by an awkward silence. Hold on. I need to change the film, she explained as she walked to the large window with a beautiful view of the hotel’s Japanese garden. She hunched over her camera bag and sealed the used roll in an envelope, then loaded the next roll.

Standing up tall, she turned back to Robin. You really do look like a princess, she said sincerely. She sheepishly readjusted her tortoiseshell headband to keep her long, grayish-blonde bangs in place, as if she was really in the room with royalty. Smiling, she resumed her craft. Okay, do you have your bouquet? Or your shoes? So, I can shoot those?

Found it, Helen called from the bedroom suite and hustled back into the room, the huge curls of her short, mousy-brown hair remaining unnaturally in place despite her quick movements.

Robin looked around to find something to wipe the sweat off her hands and found the box of tissues the makeup artist had left for her. Taking the sheet from her mom, she glanced down at the page. Nerves flared. A tightness in her chest emerged, and she rubbed along the disconcerting sensation as she read lines like, With everything I am, I will love you more each day, regardless of the obstacles. Do I really feel that way? She reached for another tissue to wipe her forehead.

Are you okay? Terry asked.

I feel sick. Robin dabbed behind her neck.

You’re going to be fine. Let me get you some wine.

Robin began to chew the skin on the side of her thumb as she continued to reread her vows to remind her what the day—and Chris—meant to her. She acknowledged her nausea wasn’t such a great sign, but she had passed the point of no return. So he’s not my soulmate. Do soulmates actually exist? Or is it that only a few lucky souls ever really find each other? I guess I can live with that. It wasn’t like she didn’t love him, but the marriage was not starting on the steadiest of foundations.

The remainder of the afternoon passed by in a blur. By the time Robin was standing with her handsome, fine salt-and-pepper-haired father, Arthur, she surrendered to the fact that she made her choice.

You look dashing in your tux, Daddy, Robin commented.

He looked her in the eye. You, sweetie, are so beautiful. I’m speechless over how proud of you I am, he expressed, tearing up and making his blue eyes glisten. Ready?

Exhaling, she nodded, feeling much better about her decision to marry the man that she loved. But as she and her father approached the altar, she could see that her faith in Chris might have been a little premature. He had that all-too-familiar look in his eyes that said, yes, I’m drunk, but I love you.

You’re drunk, she quietly accused as they stepped up to the altar together. Will you even remember this?

I only had a couple of drinks, he said out the side of his mouth, then turned to her. He took her hand and kissed it. I love you, and I’m so glad we’re getting married, and yes, I will forever remember this moment, he charmed, reminding Robin why she was there.

Okay. I love you too. Don’t pass out tonight, or I’ll kick your ass. She giggled.

Never, my little songbird, he promised with a wink. 

Her heart skipped a beat—a reaction she’d never experienced with him, and it gave her hope that things just might work out...eventually.

Across town, just as the I Do’s were exchanged, Mozelle Reeves, the owner of a coffee house and bookstore called Java and Book, dropped a pan of croissants that scattered all over the floor.

Shit! she blurted, her hands flying to her temples. She could feel that there had been a shift—a dreadful shift.

Wiping her forehead to clear her mind, she drew in a deep breath and picked up the croissants to throw them in the nearby trash. She called for one of her employees to man the register before heading off to gain further insight into her premonition.

She entered her reading room, just off the side of the main counter. It was in this room that she provided spiritual guidance to anyone who needed it. She reached inside the drawer of an antique console and grabbed her tarot cards. She paced as she shuffled the deck.

She closed her eyes so she could sense when the cards were ready. Taking a deep breath, she sat down at her table and centered herself. One by one, she laid four cards out face down in a row, with the fourth card turned sideways and underneath the third card. This was a trusted layout she used to help decipher the spirit guides’ message. Even before she flipped the first card over, her three main spirit guides, Anna, Helen, and Betty Sue, appeared before her like a hologram, frantically moving in unison, trying to convey information to her.

R, they spelled out with their hands. This was followed by an hourglass gesture to imply it was a