Catch a Falling Star by Beth K. Vogt

him outside soon. First things first. She crouched in front of the bookshelves lining her bedroom wall, her fingers grazing the books she salvaged from Mina’s belongings after her funeral ten years ago. While others discussed who got the china, who got the antique mantel clock, who got the carnival glass collection, Kendall requested Mina’s collection of fairy tales. Kendall could close her eyes and see each book—from an odd assortment of individual stories and collections—in her grandmother’s hands. Hear her grandmother’s voice begin, “Once upon a time there was a man and a woman who had long, but to no avail, wished for a child . . .”
    She understood those fictional characters—their longtime wishing for an ever-elusive something. And yet, even in thedarkest version of Rapunzel or any other fairy tale, “happily ever after” came. Sometime. And always, always, Mina reminded her that a life grounded in faith had so much more than anything written about in a fairy tale.
    â€œFairy tales . . . all they have is the made-up magic of fairy godmothers and elves and, yes, evil sorceresses. But you, Kendall, you have faith in a real, powerful God. And nothing can stop the happily ever after he has planned for you.”
    Sometimes, though, she felt like Rapunzel, locked away in a tower of unfulfilled dreams. Waiting. Still waiting.

CHAPTER FIVE

    â€œA w, come on!” Griffin slammed his fist on the fender of his Jeep. A sharp pain radiated up his wrist. “That was stupid. Last thing I need is to start making weekly trips to the ER.”
    What a way to start the week. Stranded on the side of I-25 during the tail end of rush hour. Traffic rushed by, car lights reaching through the dusk as commuters focused on getting home—not stopping to offer him assistance. Griffin couldn’t blame them. If his Jeep was working, he would be all about where he was going, too.
    But right now, he was going nowhere. It’s not as if he carried a spare fuel pump in the back of his CJ7. From the way the Jeep sputtered and jerked to a stop, Griffin figured that was the problem. Repeated calls to his buddy Doug went to voice mail, which meant Doug wasn’t available to come tow the Jeep back to his house.
    So, he was walking. But first he needed to call Ian and let him know to sit tight with his friends until Griffin got to Jeff’s house. Exactly how he was going to get to his little brother was a mystery. Jeff lived a couple of miles away. He needed to think. But first, he needed to start walking.
    Griffin wiped his hands together to dust off the grime from sniffing around the engine, keeping an eye on the cars and trucks speeding by him on I-25 as he walked to the driver’s side of his Jeep. In the beams of the headlights, he could just catch a glimpse of a few snowflakes floating to the ground.
    Great, just great. It was snowing and he’d be walking to the next exit.
    Sliding behind the steering wheel, Griffin speed-dialed Ian. At least he’d been smart enough to put the kid on his cell phone plan. It rang several times before switching over to voice mail.
    â€œIan, what’s the good of having a cell phone if you don’t ever answer it?” Griffin checked himself. “Sorry. My Jeep broke down. I’m gonna be late picking you up. Hang tight at Jeff’s. If that’s going to be a problem, call me. Better yet, just call me when you get this.”
    He stared out the windshield, watching a steady line of taillights stream north. Wouldn’t hurt to try again. Maybe the Jeep would surprise him and start. But a quick turn of the key produced nothing more than a pathetic sputter. Yep, he was still walking. He twisted off the cap of the SoBe bottle that lay in the passenger seat, grimacing at the lukewarm liquid as it slid down his parched throat. He’d get something to eat and drink once he got to Ian—whenever that