He reclined against the cushions like he was about to hear a time-share sales pitch. Two of the poems were about Gabe when he was little. Katherine’s references to the child of her lover were metaphorical but easy to interpret now that Jo knew the story. They revealed an intensity to Katherine’s maternal love that made Jo cry. The third poem referenced George and how deeply she loved him. The book’s title poem, “Hope’s Ghost,” expressed some of Katherine’s regrets about her divided family.
Gabe had dropped his aloof front by the time Jo finished the fourth poem. He was barely able to keep himself from crying.
“I think she wrote that one after you found out about her and George,” Jo said. “She knew she’d screwed things up and driven you away from your father.”
“He’s not my father.”
“He’s your biological father, and you’re his son. They all loved you, Gabe. From everything you’ve told me about your childhood, I’m positive Arthur, Katherine, and George all loved you. Each of them encouraged your interests and talents to the greatest extent possible, and only very good parents do that.”
“They did encourage me,” he said. “But then I turned into a little shit when I was twelve—after I found out. They thought it was puberty, and none of them had any idea what to do with me.”
Jo put down the book and rubbed his arm.
“Of course, later, they decided my problem was mental illness.”
“You say that like you don’t believe it anymore.”
“I feel so much better with you. Is that temporary, do you think?”
“I can’t say.”
“Lacey called today.”
“Why?”
“She was worried because she hadn’t heard from my mother. I think my mother didn’t want her to know what’s been going on with us. She’s afraid Lacey will come and ruin it. My mom nearly pushes me out the door to come over here every night.”
“I knew a woman who made love in a graveyard had to be an incredible romantic.”
He aimed a piercing stare at her.
“Love isn’t a crime, Gabe.”
“She said vows to Arthur Nash. She should have let him out instead of turning him into a cuckold—with his best friend, no less.”
“What about that? His best friend. Have you ever considered that Arthur was okay with it?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Polygamy is common in the animal world and more common among humans than we realize.”
“So are things like infanticide and rape. Do you want to glorify those, too?”
Jo looked down at the book of poems in her hands. Hope’s Ghost. Hope Lovett, dead at age eighteen on a cold winter night in 1899. Had she ever been in love? Made love? In those days, if she was unmarried, probably not. Unlike many male poets of the past, Jo found nothing romantic in the death of a virginal young woman. Or man.
She put the book aside and picked up the two candles. “Come on,” she said.
“Where are we going?”
She led him into the house. They passed Ursa and entered Jo’s bedroom. Jo set one candle on the floor, the other on the bed stand. She locked the door behind Gabe.
He stayed near the door. “What are we doing? I don’t know if I’m—”
“Relax,” she said. “We’re only going to lie down.” She slid off her shorts and sat cross-legged in pink panties and a white camisole, looking up at him. He’d never seen her in her underpants before. But he just stood there.
She stretched out on her side. “Come on, I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”
He smiled, taking in the length of her body. She patted her hand on the mattress where she wanted him.
He slid off his shoes.
“Pants too,” she said.
“I’m pretty sure I’m being seduced,” he said.
“You know how tired I am after a day in the field. I may fall asleep.”
“Oh no you don’t.” The jeans came off in a hurry. As he reclined on his back, she wrapped around him. “Still mad at me?”
“I never was.”
She leaned over him. “Prove it.”
He tenderly kissed her lips, then her neck. Jo loved his way of loving. His inexperience made him curious, attendant to little details. A pattern of freckles on her shoulder intrigued him. He looked at them closely in the candlelight, connecting the marks with his finger. “These look like the stars of the Big Dipper.”
She had never wanted a man more. The surgeries hadn’t changed anything. Except in one way. She was deeply mindful of the passion she felt for him, a miracle of body and mind she used to take for granted.
She slid off his T-shirt and briefs and lay over the length of his warm body.
He wrapped his arms around her. “I know what you’re doing.”
She kissed his cheek. “What am I doing?”
“You think showing me how great sex is will make me forgive my mother and George.”
She sat up, straddled across his belly, and looked down at him. “Any chance we can continue without your mother and George in the room?” Before he could answer, she stood up, removed her panties, and sat down again. “What do you think?”
“They’re gone . . . totally gone.” He sat up and nestled her in his lap. “Any chance you’ll take off that shirt?”
“I’m sure you’d rather I leave it on.”
He held her face in his hands. “I want you exactly the way you are. Do you understand?”
She let him raise the camisole over her head.
“There’s nothing wanting,” he said. “You’re the most whole person I’ve ever known.” He tenderly placed his hands, warm and rough, on the scars on her chest. “Is it too sensitive here? Should I not touch them?”
“I don’t mind, if you don’t.”
He lifted his hands and traced his index finger over the scar near her heart. She saw no signs of pity or grief in his eyes. He drew the line as he had connected the stars on her shoulder, with loving wonder. As if he wanted to know and explore every secret of her body.
He moved his hand to the right scar, skimming his warm fingers over it.
“In a way, those scars brought us together,” she said.
He looked in her eyes. “Mine did, too. And what could be more beautiful than that?”
“Nothing.” She gently pressed him down to the mattress. “Except maybe this . . .”
25
As the first week of July passed, Jo fully entered the fantasy. She gave in to Ursa’s vortex, the timeless whirl of stars Gabe had named the Infinite Nest. Nothing could touch the three of them in that boundless spin of love. Not their pasts. Not their futures. Jo stopped checking the missing children’s websites, and she suspected Gabe did as well.
But even galaxies don’t last forever. The first wobble in their universe started with a phone call from Tabby. A friend of hers was dating a British man, and he’d come over to the States to be with her. The couple wanted to crash at Jo and Tabby’s apartment, and they were willing to pay the last month of rent. That was great news, but Jo’s belongings were still in the apartment. Tabby had started living in the rental house a few weeks earlier. Jo had planned to move after her field season was over, but now she’d have to take a day off.
She quit work early to catch Gabe at his Monday evening egg sale. He smiled from beneath his blue canopy when she pulled in behind his pickup. “You’re done early,” he said. “Sudden urge for an omelet?”
“Sudden urge for you,” she said, leaning over the egg cartons to kiss him.
“Guess what?” Ursa said. “We’re going to Champaign-Urbana tomorrow, and you’re coming with us!”
“Slow down,” Jo said. “I said we would ask him.”
The spark in his eyes dimmed. “Why are you going up there?”
“I have to get my stuff out of the old apartment. We found renters for it.”
“They’re moving in right away?”
“They’re already in, and I’m not keen on them messing with my belongings.”
“How can you miss fieldwork?”
“One day can’t hurt. I don’t have as many active nests as I did a few weeks ago.”
“But going all the way up there to move a few things? Can’t Tabby do it for you?”
“I can’t ask her to do that. It’s more than a few things. Any chance you’d like to help?”
He rubbed his cheek as if the beard were still there.
“I’d love to show you around up there.”
“You can meet Tabby and see the pretty house,” Ursa said, bouncing on her toes.
Jo couldn’t interpret what she saw in his eyes, but it wasn’t good.
“Can we talk about this later?” he said.
“Sure. When will you come over?”
“Maybe around eight.”
Jo wasn’t surprised when he didn’t arrive at eight. He didn’t show up until nine. While Ursa fell asleep, they sat on the porch couch to talk as usual. “Have you thought about coming with us tomorrow?” Jo said.
“I have,” he said.
“Is that a yes?”
“I can’t leave my mother all day.”
“That was why I tried to talk about it earlier in the day—so you’d have time to call Lacey.”