<< Go Back

Star Rising

By Janet Ferguson

Order Now!

Chapter 1


One year of sobriety, already. Star Youngblood fished the chip that marked the milestone from her jacket pocket. Her steps slowed on the sidewalk leading to the art studio attached to the back of the gallery. In the late afternoon light filtering through the ancient moss-covered trees, she stared at the coin. The piece of bronze she’d received the night before in the AA meeting wasn’t much to look at, but the small token represented twelve months of surviving an emotional roller coaster in St. Simons, Georgia. Twelve months of craving. Twelve months of meetings. Twelve months of resurrected memories.

Having a clear head unleashed her anxiety, reawakened her nightmares. A year of sobriety had given free rein to hideous memories that tore loose like flood waters breaking through a dam. Buried pieces of her childhood resurfaced. Fragments of horror she’d just as soon have kept locked up.

How did she forgive a mother who failed to protect her children? Much less the man who’d terrorized them?

Still, the counselors kept advising her to wrestle with her past so she could move forward.

The door to the art gallery studio flung open, and her friend Davis stomped through, wearing his usual black athletic pants and a Re-Claimed T-shirt. His dark blond hair ruffled in the cool Atlantic breeze. Lately, he’d grown a short beard. It spread with his larger-than-life grin when he spotted her.

“Hey, hey, Star.” He squinted to study her face in the low light, and his wide grin faltered. “You look like the wheel is turning, but the hamster’s dead.”

“Thanks.” Always the blunt truth with Davis. Yes, she was a little frazzled.

“Remember, you can’t. God can. How about you let Him?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Trying.”

Somehow Davis always seemed to know exactly what to say to lift her spirits. He held the door for her, and she stepped into the large room connected to the back of the gallery. Canvases covered the wall, some waiting to go up front to sell, others drying from art therapy classes the night before. A faint smell of paint still lingered.

Davis had been sober a year longer than she had, and now he took online classes to become a minister while serving at the sober living houses. Everyone at the Re-Claimed ministry looked to Davis for spiritual encouragement and truth.

And humor.

Okay, he was really goofy, but something about him was cute, too.

The thought smacked her like a fist to the stomach. She’d been wrong about men before. She knew all too well how people could pretend to be normal—nice even. But when they got you behind closed doors, the real monster inside would surface.

Like her ex-fiancé, Vince.

And her stepfather.

“I cleared the room of the easels and set up the pottery wheel for you and Mrs. Kelly over by the back wall for after exercise class.” Davis’s voice broke into her dark thoughts. “I left two chairs beside it and brought in the clay plus the other supplies.” He flexed his bicep and waggled his brows. “That stuff’s heavy. Lucky I’ve been going to your workouts.”

The bulge of bicep did look nice and firm. Not that she wanted to notice. “Coming tonight?” Star slipped off her windbreaker and threw it on the counter.

“I don’t know.” He clicked his tongue. “Got a lot on my plate—besides food.”

“If you’re scared, say you’re scared.” She shot him a challenging look.

“Hey, Miss I’ll-kill-you-with-a-hundred-squats, I have a paper to write.”

“Oh, right.” She lost the teasing tone in her voice and patted his shoulder. Which happened to be rock-solid as well. “Your homework is important.”

“Hmm.” His gaze held hers for a long moment, sending a bit of heat to her cheeks. “I heard the brain works better after exercise, so watch me bust a move.” He broke into a hip-hop two-step and smiled, his teeth white and straight. “Plus, I wouldn’t want to hurt Mrs. Kelly’s feelings if I didn’t stay for her presentation.”

“Oh, now I see the real reason you’ll put off your homework. You can’t say no to the well-off older ladies.” Star teased, but tension squirmed inside her. She had to admit she liked Davis—a lot—but she didn’t want him to think she was flirting.

Unless that would be okay with him…

Shoot, what a head-case she was. One minute anxious, the next indulging in a silly attraction. When would she ever learn? The men in her life had always been bad news, and that would probably never change.

“We’re here,” a low female voice sang, and Gabby marched through the door. “Primed up for exercise and Mrs. Kelly’s devotional.” The stately sober living director stood at least six feet tall. Her light brown eyes shone below short black hair and above a sunny smile. The two-dozen or so Re-Claimed residents followed behind her.

“I’m ready,” Star chimed back. Perfect timing. Now she could forget everything—including men, past and present—and let strength training and cardio claim her focus.

The residents had been willing to let her practice on them. Once she got back in the groove of leading classes, she hoped to teach at a local fitness club. Her certification didn’t run out for a few more months.

One girl in her late twenties caught Star’s attention. Thin and pale, she took a spot near the back of the group. Just standing there seemed to require colossal effort. She was newly sober, and Star remembered that feeling. If only she could encourage the girl with hope that things would get better.

She’d love to have a job serving God, giving back to the One who’d given her so much. A job like Davis was doing, becoming an outreach minister. But she didn’t have any real skills to offer. She’d never even finished high school.

Of course, she wanted to keep her job as an aid for Mrs. Kelly. She loved serving God by serving the sweet lady. They’d talked, and Mrs. Kelly felt like they’d manage with a flexible schedule. Working for her had been such a blessing this past year. For the first time in…well, for the first time ever, Star had found a place to belong. Sort of like having a friend and a mother for a boss.

Star tisked. Not that she knew much about having a normal mother. She walked to the counter and turned on the stereo. The music started, and she blocked out the negativity begging to blast to the surface.

“Okay, people.” She focused on the music’s beat. “Let’s move those feet. March.”

One of the ladies groaned. “I’m still sore from the planks yesterday.”

“Don’t worry.” Davis smirked and flopped down into a pushup stance. “She’ll probably have us do burpees or downward dog, and then something else will ache worse tomorrow.”

Star tried to keep a straight face. “It’s okay to be a little sore, but don’t hurt yourself. And we’re marching now. Not doing burpees, Davis.” She gave him a stern look.

“Yes, ma’am.” He stood and saluted.

She kept them busy for a good forty minutes, then sent them to get a sip of water and retrieve the yoga mats from the corner of the room. Her body felt great, her muscles alive. This had to be was what she was made for. She’d set up interviews. One of the gyms in town should hire her. The extra money would cover rent and utilities when she moved out of Re-Claimed. She’d always paid her own way, and she didn’t want to leech off the ministry or Mrs. Kelly.

The cool-down song began, and she led the group in balance and stretching positions. “Okay, lie on your mat and let your eyes close.” She lowered her voice and talked them through relaxation exercises.

“Oooh.” Davis’s voice broke into her meditation. “Can I get a massage now?”

“Shut up,” Gabby squawked. “This is my favorite part.”

Star couldn’t stop a laugh. These goofballs had become good friends. One part of her couldn’t imagine leaving the Re-Claimed house, but another part of her wanted a steady place to call her own. A home. Something she’d never known in her twenty-plus years. If only she could afford a decent rental.

As the class came to a close, she savored the stretch and meditation. The quiet had become her favorite part too, now that she’d come to know God. When her mind calmed, she tried to connect with Him. She focused on Bible verses she’d learned and prayed.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you.

Then the music ended. Time to move, even if she’d rather stay put. She pushed herself to a sitting position and clapped. “Great job! You did it. Drink plenty of water to stay hydrated.”

The studio door swung open, and Mrs. Kelly hobbled in, on her cane. A sweet smile lit up her pretty face, as usual. Even though rheumatoid arthritis had twisted her body much too early, the sixty-five-year-old never let her pain steal her joy. “Looks like y’all had a wonderful workout.”

“She’s brutal.” Davis gave an exaggerated groan.

Laughing, Mrs. Kelly shook her head. “Poor baby. You can recover while we demonstrate the pottery wheel.”

“No rest for the weary.” He hopped his feet, proving she’d hardly worked him enough. “Gotta set up chairs.”

Star glanced around the room. “What if y’all just keep the mats out to watch? No sense doing all that work.”

“I like how you think, lady.” Davis made a megaphone with his hands to his mouth. “People, slide your mats toward that contraption over there and get comfortable.”

While everyone complied, butterflies banged around Star’s stomach. She’d agreed to help Mrs. Kelly with the clay, but now anxiety flared up. Leading exercise was something she knew. This special devotional of Mrs. Kelly’s zoomed out of her comfort zone. The talk might come off as preachy, and the topic couldn’t be more awkward. How did Davis lead talks like this all the time?

Unfazed, Mrs. Kelly took a seat beside the wheel and waited. Her eyes locked on Star. You can do this, she mouthed.

Reluctantly, Star took her place. Arthritis had robbed Mrs. Kelly of her ability to create, so she’d been teaching Star. The idea was sweet, and Star wanted to share her faith, but this lesson…

“Start the wheel, and let’s begin.” Mrs. Kelly gave the instructions, then turned toward their little audience. “In order to make something, the clay must be centered.”

That was Star’s cue to throw the clay on the wheel and get it smooth under her hands. Some days the process came easier than others. Today was one of the easy days—the wobbly clay smoothed under her guidance. But that wasn't what Mrs. Kelly wanted, so Star pushed the mound a little off center.

“Life doesn’t go as well as it could if we just do what we have to do to get by. If we aren’t centered.” Mrs. Kelly pointed at the swirling mass. “Open the clay up with your thumbs and then press the bottom.”

Star did as she was told, and knowing the next step, she applied pressure and pulled the clay up. Being off center, the mass folded under her hands.

“See what happens when pressures come from inside and pressures push from the outside. The walls build—at first. But this piece wasn’t centered from the beginning, so the clay collapses. Makes a mess.” Mrs. Kelly looked at the group. “What do I do? Throw it away?”

No one answered. They all stared at Star, upping her anxiety.

“No.” Mrs. Kelly shook her head. “We reclaim the clay. Just like we don’t throw away our lives when we mess up. We start over. We center it right this time.”

Star centered the wet clay as she’d been taught while Mrs. Kelly continued. The woman reached into a box of supplies and held up two vases. “One of these pieces is made from reclaimed clay, and one is from new clay. Can you tell which?”

“Nope.” Davis shook his head.

“Good answer.” Mrs. Kelly smiled his way. “If a vase is made from reclaimed clay, you can’t tell it from the good clay once we centered it correctly. And that’s what I want y’all to learn. We need to center our lives and relationships on God. When you leave this ministry, you’ll face temptations. You’ll meet someone you find attractive, and you may want to become involved with that person.”

Star kept her focus on the clay as her stomach tightened. She hoped the others would show Mrs. Kelly respect like they did for Rivers, their regular art therapist.

“I may be old as the sand on the beach,” Mrs. Kelly said, “but as far as men and women and sex are concerned, the same temptations have been around since creation. If you’ve made a mistake in the past and you gave yourself to someone—the wrong someone—the good thing is you can start over now. Reclaim your life.” She held up the vases again. “When you meet a man or woman you are drawn to, stay centered on God. Not the urges of your flesh. Try to figure out what or who that man or woman is centered around. If they aren’t centered on God, if their focus is only on what they can see or touch, then your relationship will probably end up in a big sloppy mess. Guard your reclaimed purity. Save your affections for a godly man or woman.”

She set the vases on the floor and clasped her hands. “Does that make sense to y’all?”

“It sure does.” Davis was the first to speak. “I don’t need any more disasters. Thank you very much for the great reminder.”

Renee, another resident nodded. “Been there, done that, and bought the T-shirt. Not looking for more man-drama.”

“Yeah.” Davis scrunched his nose. “We cancelled our subscription to your drama a few months ago.”

The group laughed, and a few others made positive comments and thanked Mrs. Kelly for speaking.

Star stopped the wheel and wiped her hands on a damp towel, then began cleaning up some of the mess.

“I hope you have a good evening.” Mrs. Kelly stood and angled toward Star. “I’m glad to still be useful.”

“You’re always useful to me.” Warmth for the sweet woman filled Star’s heart. “I’m glad we’re friends.” And she was. They’d spent days talking and fixing up Mrs. Kelly’s house. Star had worked in the garden, straightened the attic, painted, and cleaned out the garage, but all the tasks had been enjoyable because somehow Mrs. Kelly made them that way. She told stories of the past, sharing her heart while Star became the hands and feet that disease had twisted so.

The group shuffled out the door, and Davis sauntered toward Mrs. Kelly. “What’cha wanna do with that thing?” He pointed at the wheel.

“I talked to Rivers about leaving it here and donating it to the gallery.” Mrs. Kelly glanced Star’s way. “Maybe someday you’ll have a resident potter and sell pieces up front in the gallery.”

“You don’t mean me, do you?” Star let her mouth hang open a second. She’d been having fun learning from Mrs. Kelly, but… “I’m not artistic.”

“Creating takes practice, but you’re a...” Mrs. Kelly swayed, then took a step and wobbled. Her hand lifted to her chest.

Star shot to her side and put a steadying arm around her friend’s waist. “Are you okay?”

Blinking, Mrs. Kelly shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m dizzy like when I had my sinking spell.”

“Oh no.” Icy fingers clutched Star’s throat, squeezing out the air. “It might be her heart again. My cell’s in the car.” Her gaze searched the room. “Where’s a flipping phone around here? We need to call 911!” Panic laced her words. She surveyed the room for Mrs. Kelly’s purse.

“It’s gonna be all right.” His voice calm, Davis moved to the other side of Mrs. Kelly. “Let’s set her back in the chair.” Once they had her steady, Davis jogged to the counter and retrieved his cell, then punched in the emergency call. His words jumbled in Star’s mind as he gave the address. “Possible heart attack.”

Please, God, not her, too. Star sent up the desperate prayer. It seemed she never got to keep anyone she loved for long. 

Order Now!

<< Go Back