She hadn’t noticed
the danger. It was Shawn who had taught Katie that nature carried messages inside
every plant, feather, and animal. Anne’s bite wasn’t an accident. It was more than
the snake and less than the snake. It was what the slithering, biting reptile was
telling Katie: something is wrong.
* * *
Jack had written to her about the new house he’d bought, a Tudor style home built
in the 1920s. He’d told her he loved the way it sat on top of Red Mountain and overlooked
downtown Birmingham like a guardian. He bought it for a steal, as it needed a total renovation. He spent his limited free time polishing the hardwood
floors, painting the trim with a small brush, replacing windows, and chipping away
at the rot.
It didn’t bother Katie that Jack hadn’t consulted her about the house. She believed
it showed that he respected her work and her autonomy by seizing the opportunity for
both of them, while he could. She’d taken this fact—that he bought a house—as a hint
that he was building a life for them, a life that included a house and settling in.
And that’s where she found him after the long flight to Birmingham.
Jack was expecting her. He stood waiting on the front porch, then hugged her as if
she might float away. Inside, he showed her through the partially renovated house.
They stood in the living room where his windows, grimy and paint-edged, looked over
the city. “Look at that view. Who could resist, right?”
She gazed at the night sky, which dominated the view. Resting underneath the moon,
the Birmingham lights faded like a world below opaque glass. “Beautiful,” she said.
“The city can look that way from up here, but…”
“No, I’m talking about the moon.” She pointed to the sliver of light that settled
into the night sky like a lopsided, but radiant smile.
“Not much of one tonight,” Jack said.
“There will be even less tomorrow night,” Katie said and then turned to him. “But
then it starts all over again, growing.”
“You’ve become an astronaut in your spare time?”
“Absolutely. Actually, you think I’m in the middle of nowhere Arizona, but I’m working
for NASA.” She snuggled closer to him, but his subtle move away from her was obvious.
He took a deep breath. “Katie, you can’t just walk into my home and pretend you haven’t
been gone for over a year.”
“I’m not pretending anything,” she said, taking his hand. “I needed to see you. I
only want another few months and I’ll be ready to leave.”
“You said that eight months ago, and then six months ago, and then again last month.”
She cringed again. “I know. But doing what I do, loving what I do, well, that doesn’t
mean I don’t love you, Jack. I know you know that.”
“I don’t doubt your love, but I doubt your ability to ever stop long enough for us.”
“For us to what?”
“To be us. To build a life. For God’s sake. We’ve been together for over eight years
and now five of those have been in separate states. One day we’ll have to be in the
same place to have a life.”
She pointed out the window. “You know the first thing I was ever scared of was the
moon not being in the sky.” She looked at him. “And the second is that you won’t be
in my life.”
“I’m not in your life, Katie.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling herself closer, body on body. “Yes,
you are. You’re with me every single day. Every second. I want you next to me seeing
what I see. Everything. All of it. When a hawk feather floats to the ground, or the
moon springs from behind cloud cover, or when I hear—far away—a coyote call. All of
it, I think of you. Always.”
“Thinking about me doesn’t matter if you won’t leave.”
“Not yet,” she said and buried her head into his shoulder. “I’m not ready.”
“You’ve been gone for over a year, and the truth is that you won’t leave to be
the danger. It was Shawn who had taught Katie that nature carried messages inside
every plant, feather, and animal. Anne’s bite wasn’t an accident. It was more than
the snake and less than the snake. It was what the slithering, biting reptile was
telling Katie: something is wrong.
* * *
Jack had written to her about the new house he’d bought, a Tudor style home built
in the 1920s. He’d told her he loved the way it sat on top of Red Mountain and overlooked
downtown Birmingham like a guardian. He bought it for a steal, as it needed a total renovation. He spent his limited free time polishing the hardwood
floors, painting the trim with a small brush, replacing windows, and chipping away
at the rot.
It didn’t bother Katie that Jack hadn’t consulted her about the house. She believed
it showed that he respected her work and her autonomy by seizing the opportunity for
both of them, while he could. She’d taken this fact—that he bought a house—as a hint
that he was building a life for them, a life that included a house and settling in.
And that’s where she found him after the long flight to Birmingham.
Jack was expecting her. He stood waiting on the front porch, then hugged her as if
she might float away. Inside, he showed her through the partially renovated house.
They stood in the living room where his windows, grimy and paint-edged, looked over
the city. “Look at that view. Who could resist, right?”
She gazed at the night sky, which dominated the view. Resting underneath the moon,
the Birmingham lights faded like a world below opaque glass. “Beautiful,” she said.
“The city can look that way from up here, but…”
“No, I’m talking about the moon.” She pointed to the sliver of light that settled
into the night sky like a lopsided, but radiant smile.
“Not much of one tonight,” Jack said.
“There will be even less tomorrow night,” Katie said and then turned to him. “But
then it starts all over again, growing.”
“You’ve become an astronaut in your spare time?”
“Absolutely. Actually, you think I’m in the middle of nowhere Arizona, but I’m working
for NASA.” She snuggled closer to him, but his subtle move away from her was obvious.
He took a deep breath. “Katie, you can’t just walk into my home and pretend you haven’t
been gone for over a year.”
“I’m not pretending anything,” she said, taking his hand. “I needed to see you. I
only want another few months and I’ll be ready to leave.”
“You said that eight months ago, and then six months ago, and then again last month.”
She cringed again. “I know. But doing what I do, loving what I do, well, that doesn’t
mean I don’t love you, Jack. I know you know that.”
“I don’t doubt your love, but I doubt your ability to ever stop long enough for us.”
“For us to what?”
“To be us. To build a life. For God’s sake. We’ve been together for over eight years
and now five of those have been in separate states. One day we’ll have to be in the
same place to have a life.”
She pointed out the window. “You know the first thing I was ever scared of was the
moon not being in the sky.” She looked at him. “And the second is that you won’t be
in my life.”
“I’m not in your life, Katie.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling herself closer, body on body. “Yes,
you are. You’re with me every single day. Every second. I want you next to me seeing
what I see. Everything. All of it. When a hawk feather floats to the ground, or the
moon springs from behind cloud cover, or when I hear—far away—a coyote call. All of
it, I think of you. Always.”
“Thinking about me doesn’t matter if you won’t leave.”
“Not yet,” she said and buried her head into his shoulder. “I’m not ready.”
“You’ve been gone for over a year, and the truth is that you won’t leave to be
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