By Proxy by Katy Regnery

under his perusal. “It’s nice to hear someone really laugh.”
    “Oh, I love a good laugh. Your friends don’t laugh?”
    He considered this. Yes, they laughed: at a well-constructed barb at someone else’s expense, the shared delight in someone else’s misfortune, or a droll observation with a sophisticated, witty delivery. They laughed. But it was different. It was night and day from Jenny’s good-natured giggling.
    He shrugged noncommittally, turning his attention back to the pizza.
    “It’s good, right?” She smiled at him shyly, biting into her third piece.
    “Yeah,” he agreed, smiling at her, wondering what she’d be like if she let herself loosen up even more. “It sure is.”
    ***
    It only took fifteen minutes to walk home from the restaurant, but Jenny pointed out various Gardiner points of interest on the way: the restaurant where one of her brothers worked, the road that led across the river to the Roosevelt Arch and the high school where she worked. They walked over to the bridge and she paused, holding on to the railing, looking up at the sky.
    “I love Montana,” he whispered.
    “You do ?”
    “You never see this many stars in Chicago. Never see this many stars anywhere.”
    “When I see a sky like tonight, I always think of early ship navigators, you know? Looking at the sky, trying to figure out where they were headed.” She leaned her elbows on the railing, putting her hood up, grateful for the thick down between her arms and the icy, cold iron. “It must have taken such courage, such faith to set sail, relying only on the stars to see them home.” She smiled at him and turned her glance back up to the sky, pointing. “There’s the North Star. Polaris. See it? The brightest one that way. If you can find that, you can always find your way.”
    “Always find my way, huh? Even in snowy mountain passes, stuck behind a pokey plow?”
    “Ah, so that’s what happened today.” She glanced at him and grinned, then turned her attention back to the sky. “Uh-huh. It’s a fixed point. If you prefer Shakespeare, it’s an ‘ever-fixed mark.’ It doesn’t move. It doesn’t change. If you can find north, you can find your way.”
    “Shakespeare?”
    “It’s from one of his sonnets.”
    “Go ahead…” His smile encouraged her.
    She chuckled nervously and shook her head, but spoke the words quietly, staring out at the black river before her. “Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. O, no. It is an ever-fixed mark.”
    He joined her at the railing, leaning beside her. “So I’m guessing you teach English.”
    “No.” She shook her head. “Science.”
    When he chuckled she gave him a quizzical look. “What?”
    “Suits you.”
    “Are you laughing at me? Teasing me?”
    “No! Not at all! Just…stars, navigation… You threw me with the Shakespeare. I had figured science, but then…” He looked back up at the sky. “Sure is pretty.”
    “The sky or the Shakespeare?”
    “Both. Either.” He shrugged and smiled at her. “I can’t remember the last time someone quoted Shakespeare to me. ‘An ever-fixed mark…’”
    “Well, maybe there’s a frustrated English teacher in here after all.” She touched her heart with her hand and grinned at him. “Or maybe just cold winters. Lots of time for reading.”
    “Reading. Hmm. I can think of better—” He cleared his throat. If she didn’t know better, she might wonder if he covered a chuckle by clearing his throat. She could hear the controlled humor in his voice when he asked, “And science?”
    “Always loved it. I spent a lot of time in the park growing up, and my Pappa was always teaching us something about the hot springs, the geography, the animals. Natural fit, I guess, being from here.”
    He looked back up at the sky. “There’s nowhere like here.”
    She turned to him, cocking her head to the side and searching his face. “I didn’t realize you had such