Where the Forest Meets the Stars(34)

“Good. Did Gabe tell you he came out with me one day? He even found a nest.”

“Really!” she said, looking at Gabe.

Gabe made an evasive move when Jo reached for him, but she captured him around the waist before he got away.

Katherine’s bright-blue eyes sharpened.

“Can I borrow your son this evening?” Jo asked. “I’ve invited him over for dinner.”

“Oh . . . yes . . . that would be all right,” she said.

Jo kissed Gabe’s bearded cheek. “Can you be there around six?”

“Sure,” he said tensely, very aware that his mother was scrutinizing Jo’s intimate gestures. When Jo let him go, he bolted to the stove and busied himself with a simmering pot.

“I have another request,” Jo said, “and I hope it doesn’t sound too pushy.”

Gabe turned around, his expression panicked.

“Gabe told me you write poetry . . .”

“Now, why would you go and do that?” she said to Gabe.

“I’d love to read it,” Jo said. “Do you have copies of your two books I could borrow?”

The tremble in Katherine’s hands worsened, as if by her agitation. “I think he’s made it sound better than it is.”

“As a biologist, I’ll be completely nonjudgmental. I just like the idea of reading poetry that has its roots in this place. Did you ever write about the nature of Southern Illinois?”

“I did,” she said. “There are even a few birds in my poems. One is about a nest I found.”

“What kind?”

“It was a yellow-breasted chat.”

“I love chats. I found a nest last month.”

“Well, that’s something, isn’t it?” She said to Gabe, “You know where the extras are. Get her one of each.”

After he left the room, Katherine asked, “Whatever happened to that little girl who used to come around?”

“She still comes and goes,” Jo said.

Gabe returned and handed Jo two softcover books, one titled Creature Hush, the other Hope’s Ghost. He watched Jo to see how she reacted to the second title. “Thanks,” she said.

“You can keep them,” Katherine said. “No one wants them, least of all me.”

“Well, we’re always our own worst critic, I guess. I’d better let you get back to dinner before something burns. Have a nice night, Katherine.”

“You too,” she said.

Gabe walked her to the door. “I know what you’re doing, you sneak,” he said once they got outside.

“What?”

“You’re bringing her to your corner.”

“If it’s a boxing ring, who are the two fighters?”

He pondered. “You know, I’m not sure—because you’re as devious as she is.”

“Why do men often call smart women devious?”

“Okay, you’re as smart as her.”

She kissed him. “Save that sexy talk for later.”





23



Gabe brought leftover cauliflower in cheese sauce for dinner.

“Not yuckyflower!” Ursa said. “Jo made me eat it last night!”

“This has gooey cheese on it,” he said, “and gooey cheese makes anything, even dirt, taste delicious.”

“Can I eat dirt instead?”

“I love women with razor-sharp wit,” he said. “Though I’m badly outnumbered by them lately.” He put the bowl of cauliflower on the kitchen table. “How can I help?”

“You’ve already cooked a whole dinner,” Jo said. “You’ll go outside into the roaring heat—greatly increased by the fire—and enjoy a cold beer and hors d’oeuvre with Ursa. Except Ursa can’t have a beer.” She handed a plate of crackers topped with cheddar cheese to Ursa.

“I made these,” Ursa said.

“They look great,” he said.

Jo took a beer out of the refrigerator, opened it, and placed it in his hand. “Go outside. I’ll start grilling in a few minutes.”

“Jo is making me eat something called mahi-mahi,” Ursa said as they went out the back door.

“I’ve heard of that—I think it’s giant caterpillars,” he said, closing the door behind them.

Jo seasoned melted butter and brought it outside with the fish and vegetable skewers. She laid the skewers over the fire first. When they were nearly done cooking, she put on the mahi fillets, basting them with butter as they grilled. Despite the heat, they ate outside, sitting in the frayed lawn chairs that probably dated back to the Kinneys’ occupation of the house.

“I read a few of your mother’s poems after I showered,” Jo said as they finished eating.

“Which book?”

“Creature Hush. I want to read them chronologically.”

“That’s the only one I’ve read,” he said. “It came out two years before I was born.”

“You’ve never read any of the poems in Hope’s Ghost?”

“No. It was published when I was thirteen—just a year after . . .”

“After what?” Ursa said.

“After I discovered the meaning of life,” he said.

Ursa studied him, trying to understand what he’d meant. She was like Gabe had been as a child, highly attuned to every nuance of adult behavior. Trying to keep their budding romance secret would be pointless. Certainly she already sensed the difference between them.

“Wow, a clean plate,” Jo said to her. “Even the cauliflower is gone.”

“The cheese made it okay,” she said. “You should do that when you make yuckyflower.”

“Thanks,” Jo told Gabe. “You’ve set the bar way too high for my simplistic cooking skills.”

“You’re welcome. But I’ll vouch for your simple cooking. The fish was delicious.”

“Can I get the marshmallows?” Ursa asked.

“Let’s wait a little,” Jo said.

Ursa slouched in her chair.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” Jo said to her.

“What?”

“Last night when Gabe and I were looking for you, we checked the tree house and found some of your drawings.”

Ursa remained slumped, her expression impassive.

“In the picture of the grave, who was buried under the dirt?”

“A dead person,” Ursa said.

“Yes, but who?”

She sat up. “It was me.”

“You?” Gabe said.

“This body, I mean. I took a dead girl’s body, remember?” Jo and Gabe waited for further explanation. “I felt bad about taking it. I knew people on this planet are supposed to be buried, so I did that. I drew her and then I buried her and put one of those cross things over her like you see in cemeteries.”

“Why did the picture say ‘I love you’ and ‘I am sorry’?” Jo asked.

“Because I love her. It’s because of her I have a body. And I said I’m sorry because she never got to be buried.”

Gabe looked at Jo and lifted his brows.

“Who did you think it was?” Ursa asked.

“Someone from your past,” Jo said.

“I have no past on this planet.” She climbed off her chair. “Can I have more milk?”

“Sure,” Jo said.

“She gave a plausible answer,” Gabe said when Ursa went inside.

“I thought she looked nervous when I asked.”

“Face it,” he said, “she’s too smart to be tripped up even when she trips up.”

“Well, I need her to talk before I leave.”

“When is that?”

“About a month, early August.”

“Shit,” he said.

“I know. Starting this thing was masochism, right?”

“Speaking of this thing . . .” He leaned over and kissed her. “I’ve been dying to do that. You looked quite fetching while you slaved over the fire.”

“You’re a real cave guy.”

“No doubt.”

They kissed again. “You’ll never get that fish smell out of your beard,” she said.

“As a cave woman, you shouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not a cave woman.”

“You don’t like beards?”

“Truthfully, no. I love a clean-shaven face.”

He rubbed his hand over the beard. “I could trim it.”

“You could shave it.”

“Nope.”

“Sit down,” she said.

“Why?”

“Sit down.”

He sat just as Ursa came out with her milk.

“If you won’t shave it, I will,” Jo said. And before he could get up, she sat sideways in his lap.

“Jo, what are you doing?” Ursa said.

“I’m holding Gabe hostage. Bring me scissors and a razor from the bathroom.”

“Why?”

“You and I are going to shave off his beard.”

“Really?” Ursa said.

“No,” Gabe said.

“Don’t you think he’d look handsome?” Jo said.

“I don’t know . . . ,” Ursa said.

“You see?” he said.

“But I want to!” Ursa said. “It will be fun!”

“Ursa! You’re supposed to be on my side,” he said.

“I’m getting the stuff.” She scooted to the door, milk sloshing over her hand.

“I’ll need that can of shaving cream someone left under the sink,” Jo called to her. “And a bowl of warm water.”