teacher’s voice as she tried not to notice Logan sitting down just a few feet away.
“The Phoenicids,” both girls replied.
“Good. So why are we up this early in the morning to watch them?”
“Because the moon is gone now,” Bethany said, stifling a yawn. “And the sky is as dark as it is going to be.”
“And what is the moon called?”
Silence greeted that question.
“The moon,” Brittany said, puzzled.
“A gibbous moon. Another word for the shape of the moon.” Sandra pulled out her book of star charts as she spoke. “And what’s another reason we’re up at this ridiculous time?”
Silence again.
Sandra was disappointed that they hadn’t remembered what she had shown them this afternoon. It didn’t speak well for her training, and some perverse part of her was trying to show Logan what a good teacher she was.
Then Brittany rescued her. “I think I remember. Is it because we’re facing the same way the earth is traveling in the orbit?” Sandra could hear the question in her voice. “You said something about snow and snowflakes and driving.”
“Very good.” Sandra felt a surge of relief. “If we’re facing in any other direction, it’s like looking out of the back window of a van during a snowstorm. You’ll see some meteors, but not as much as if you’re in the front of the van. Right now we’re heading into the meteor shower, like a van into a snowstorm.” She went on to show the girls where in the sky was the best place to look. Flashlights came out, and they bent over the book.
“Uncle Logan, come and see, too,” Brittany ordered. And Uncle Logan obediently got up from his side of the blanket and looked over Sandra’s shoulder.
She tried to concentrate on what she was showing the girls, but all her senses were alert to his presence behind her.
Luckily it was dark, and the girls were bent over the book, pointing out the constellations.
“Okay, get out your pens and paper and be sure to notice where you see meteors, how long you see them and keep a note of the time between them.”
The flashlights were shut off, and the little group was plunged into darkness.
Slowly, as Sandra’s night vision righted itself, she could better make out the figures of the girls lying down on the blanket beside her and Logan, who sat behind them.
She hugged her knees, looking at the sky. She knew she was going to get a sore neck if she stayed in this position, but she was certainly not going to lie down. Not with Logan so close behind her.
“There’s one,” Brittany said, pointing up.
“Mark it down,” Sandra prompted. “But try to write without the flashlight so your eyes don’t have to get used to the dark again.”
She heard their pens scratching on the paper.
“So how did you know when the shower was coming?” Logan asked from behind her.
“Earth intersects these meteoroid swarms at about the same relative time and place each year,” Sandra said confidently, clutching her knees. She was on familiar territory here.
“And where does the name come from?”
“When we cross one of these swarms, the meteors seem to come from a common point of origin, known as a radiant. This regular shower is named after the constellation from which it seems to originate.”
He was quiet again. Then he got up and stretched out on the other side of Brittany. Sandra ruthlessly suppressed a twinge of disappointment. Crazy. That’s what it was.
Or maybe just plain loneliness, another voice said.
Sandra pressed her chin against her knees, staring at the stars that went directly to the horizon, meeting the faint outline of the hills that sloped away from them. Sitting outside under the stars always made her feel vulnerable and philosophical.
The lines of her life had, of late, not fallen in pleasant places. She thought that her hard-won freedom would have given her a sense of satisfaction. Instead it was as if each move was a move away from something rather than a move toward something.
She glanced past the girls at Logan, who lay on the blanket, his hand under his head. He seemed to know what he wanted and how to go about getting it. In spite of his interference, or maybe because of it, she realized that he was a concerned uncle. She wondered how many of the men she had met in her life would willingly take in two young girls, thereby risking their own freedom.
She sighed lightly, her gaze falling on the girls who were watching her watching Logan.
She looked away.
“How many have you seen, Bethany?” she asked, disconcerted that they had caught her staring at their uncle.
“Four already.”
“Good for you.” She lay back, watching the sky, reminding herself of the reason she was here. The girls first and foremost.
“The stars sure are peaceful,” Logan said quietly. “Unchanging. Always the same. Amazing.”
A few moments before, Sandra might have agreed with him, but her reactions to him left her feeling edgy.
“Actually they aren’t,” she contradicted. “Out there are colliding neutron stars, gamma ray bursts, black holes. All kinds of noise and confusion.”
“What’s a gamma ray?” Bethany asked.
“A powerful form of light. More energetic than a microwave or X-ray. Like the difference between humming and screaming.” She stopped herself, knowing she was spouting off. Knowing that if she kept talking she would end up talking above the girls’ heads.
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