Page 74 of When the Stars Rise
There’s a photo of my dad leading a horse around the paddock with Hayley on its back. I’m also in the shot, riding my first pony, which I named Spider-Man. Shiloh is leaning against the fence with a big smile on her face.
Another photo with just Shiloh and Hayley in the kitchen at the ranch. Hayley is standing on a stepstool, stirring something in the pot on the stove while Shiloh looks on.
A photo of Hayley a bit older, thirteen or fourteen, in Shiloh’s home recording studio. Hayley’s wearing headphones, her eyes closed, singing into the mic, and Shiloh is smiling like a proud mother.
A proud mother.Not gonna lie. It’s still a bit weird.
Knowing what we do now changes how I look at those photos. Hayley was adopted as a newborn and until we were sixteen, we had no idea that Shiloh was Hayley’s birth mom.
Hayley’s parentsdiedwithout ever knowing. I think that was for the best, though. They would have felt just as betrayed as Hayley and I did. Perhaps even more so. They never came out and said it, but I got the feeling that the Petersons weren’t big fans of Shiloh.
They loved me, always welcomed me into their home, and they were friendly with my mom and Jude. But my dad and Shiloh? That was a different story. They thought my dad was too volatile, mostly because a video was leaked of him punching Shiloh’s brother. He was trying to defend Shiloh but of course, the media had dug up all the dirt on my dad and it was plastered all over the tabloids when Hales and I were seven.
And they thought that Shiloh… I don’t know what their problem was with her, to be honest.
I guess it was because she was a rock star and according to the stories on the internet, her past was not exactly squeaky clean. But whose past ever is?
Hayley flips to the next page and pores over the photos.
Hayley holding baby Gracie. Hayley at Sunday dinner at my grandparents’ house with the whole family. Hayley and I in the treehouse. Trick-or-treating. Performing in the middle school talent show.
Another page filled with photos of Hayley and Shiloh.Real subtle, Mom.
When Hayley flips the page again, she inhales sharply.
My gaze snaps to the group photo—Hayley’s parents, Jude, and my mom in front of the Christmas tree with all of us kids sitting cross-legged on the floor.
I remember that day. Hayley and I were twelve. I’d just gotten a new camera and a tripod and wanted to try it out, so I set the timer and dove into the photo.
And then… we waited and waited and waited.
Jude made a joke right before the flash finally went off, and everyone laughed.
Nobody is laughing now though. Even Gracie is uncharacteristically silent, her legs tucked underneath her, leaning against Hayley’s shoulder.
Hayley’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as she traces her finger over the photo as if doing so will bring her parents back.
“What are you doing, Mom?” I ask quietly.
She grabs my hand and squeezes it without responding. I don’t even know why I asked. I know exactly what she’s doing. This photo album is a reminder that Hayley still has a family who loves her, and no matter how far she roams, Texas will always be her home.
I love my mother, but subtlety has never been her forte.
Might as well just whack Hayley over the head with a sledgehammer.
After Hayley has studied every single photo, she closes the book with a smile and hugs my mom. “Thank you so much. This is the best gift ever.”
I can’t tell if she means it or is putting up a brave front for my mom, but I catch up to my mom when she’s leaving and pull her aside in the hallway. “I just need to talk to Mom for a minute,” I tell Gracie, who looks unsure but then nods and heads to the elevator.
When she’s out of earshot, I turn to my mom.
“We’re trying to move forward, Mom. I can’t see how it’s going to help Hayley to dwell on the past.”
My mom studies my face. “So what are you saying? Would you prefer to erase all your beautiful memories?”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying.” I push my hands through my hair. “But all those photos are just another reminder of everything she’s lost.”
She tilts her head and furrows her brow like she doesn’t understand what I’m saying. “Are they?”
