80

A Star Is Born

A week later, Lottica sat in the parlor of Breima Manor after dinner reading the online edition of Time Magazine. The cover sported a spectacular picture of the Tireima, although it was referred to as Supernova KLK32, with the headline "The Night Reborn."

The main article discussed the surprising detonation of the relatively nearby star, and how astrophysicists were at a loss to explain the intensity of the supernova in relation to the size of stars charted in that sector. Some scientists speculated that this extraordinary phenomenon might send astronomers back to the drawing board to completely rewrite current theories on the birth and death of stars.

Much of the rest of the magazine was devoted to features that ranged from the environmental, to social, to spiritual issues that earth’s bright new companion in the night sky would bring. Some envisioned the new star as a harbinger of doom and some heralded the light as the savior of humanity: that humankind would no longer be faced true darkness at night.

There was even a small story on Lebreeman (Lottica smiled at the magazine’s misspelling) villagers who reported feeling an earthquake and then witnessed the new star shoot into space, launched from Mount Breima, the legendary site of their homeland's birth.

The news accounts in Lebreima, of course, were full of such stories. Where, to most locals, they were taken much more seriously.

Lottica put the magazine onto the table next to the two amazing kites that Heidein had brought by earlier in the day. Lottica wondered if these kites might be his way of letting them know that his brother Beilla's death, though unfortunate, had ultimately served a greater purpose.

On Nick's kite was a rough drawing of a boy and on Lottica's a girl. The drawings mimicked the figures from the missing piece of stained glass. Except with a brightly colored Hawk, his brilliant eyes aflame, drawn in the middle of their chests. Hawks at heart. Breimas to the core.

With a soft sigh, she turned to watch Nick who was building a fire. The weather had turned very cold and snow was predicted for that evening.

"How's the fire coming?"

"Piece of cake," Nick replied.

"So, Nick, where do two formerly orphaned siblings go from here, now that their zombie parents have rejoined the ranks of the everyday living?"

Nick blew into the flickering flames. "I think you go straight to press. You should write about this, Lottie. I mean, I liked your Weirdest Witch idea and all, but this is a dead-parent story that kicks Oz."

She laughed, a big belly laugh, the kind of laugh she hadn't had since before...since before...August.

Once she stopped laughing, she replied, "Only if you'll rewrite those stuffy anatomy books and tell the world how life really works: Lebreiman style!"

Their parents entered the parlor, followed by their grandparents each carrying a small tray of seimei. The smell lured Nick quickly over to them.

"What were you laughing about?" Linda asked.

"Oh, just a ridiculous joke of Nick's," Lottica answered with a smile.

As her grandmother began serving the seimei, Lottica stepped to the window. To her delight, she spotted the first flakes of snow begin to fall. Even with the heavy cloud cover, the light of the Tireima created a soft, inviting luminescence that made the snowflakes dance with light. A zillion newborn crystals falling to earth like stardust.

Lottica thought about Nick's idea. Write about what had happened to them. Tell the truth.

No one would believe it.

It was a great story, though. And tempting to believe she was uniquely privy to an event that ultimately might help humanity come closer together. The Kareima, Fareima and Astreima: life, love and light. Together the lifestones held the purpose, passion, and promise of humanity. She knew where the Tireima had come from and what it meant.

In her heart, which would never beat quite the same way again, was the truth. She had only to look across the room at her family, at her grandparents, at her parents, at Nick, and she knew what held it all together.

But, Lottica decided right then and there that she was going to be selfish with her hard-won knowledge of human need and greed. At least, just long enough to feel twelve years old again. Then, she'd gratefully grow up with the rest of humanity, her sometimes fragmented but ever-hopeful extended family.

With a triumphant laugh that made her whole family look at her strangely, a look any preteen bursting with possibility might elicit, she dashed from the parlor and out the front door into the magically starlit snow. Lottica stretched her arms wide, tilted back her head and delicately embraced the heavens.

THE END