He walked off the porch and out into the yard, then looked up. The sky was black, the stars brilliant points of light so very far away. Rationally he knew what he was looking at was little more than an echo of what had been, that the brilliance he was seeing was no longer a living fire, but tonight he accepted the heavenly light in simpler terms.
He remembered another night like this when he and his brothers were all little. They’d begged and begged to sleep out under the stars, until finally their mother relented. Then they spent hours making their camp, carrying quilts and pillows, dragging food, flashlights and finally a weapon apiece to fight off wild animals. He’d chosen a baseball bat, and then Jesse had cried because he didn’t have a weapon. Their mother had soothed the tears and given her baby the pick of anything from her drawer of spoons and spatulas. He’d chosen a little spatula she often used to fry eggs and come out ready for battle. They’d played until dark, eaten all their food, made countless trips back in the house to tell Mama and Daddy good-night and then, when all was said and done, had been too afraid to stay outside to sleep.
Looking back, he was certain his parents had been keeping a close eye on all five of them, because when Jesse and Aidan ran inside crying that a bear was going to eat them, their dad had been ready with his own sleeping bag and a gun.
He’d taken the two little ones back outside, moved all five bedrolls into a circle so that their heads would be touching in the middle, and tucked them all in. Then he’d unrolled his own sleeping bag, positioning it so that the boys were between him and the house. They slept then, confident that nothing could hurt them with Daddy on guard.
By daybreak they were up and running wild, filled with the elation of having slept the whole night outside. He remembered the fried ham and biscuits their mama made for breakfast that morning, giving them one last camp meal to end their adventure. They ate sitting in a circle, listening to Daddy spinning tales about the wild animals he’d fought off while they slept.
His heart hurt. He was struggling to find a new level in the family without his father’s presence, and he knew his mother’s pain was so much worse.
And yet, in all that loss and pain, knowing Talia was sleeping in his bed felt like a gift from God. He kept remembering something his Grandma Youngblood used to say about the Lord giving and the Lord taking away. It was the Universal search for balance, always in motion as it attempted to reach equilibrium.
The back door opened. He turned toward the house and saw all his brothers coming toward him.
“We didn’t know where you’d gone,” Samuel said.
“We didn’t want you out here by yourself,” Michael added.
“They made me come with them,” Aidan said, which made everyone laugh.
Jesse laughed, too, filled with the joy of still being one of the boys.
A group hug ensued, and then the night wrapped them up in silence as they stood together beneath the stars.
*
It had taken a while for Bowie to get Jesse calmed down after everyone had gone home, so he’d pulled out the Daniel Boone book and read another chapter, giving Leigh time to shower.
He was sitting on the bed with Jesse when he heard the water come on in the bathroom across the hall, and when he heard his mother crying he read louder.
It was just shy of midnight when Bowie finally got to take his own shower. A few minutes later he eased into bed beside Talia and settled the covers over both of them, taking care not to wake her. He thought it would be hard to fall asleep, and yet he was asleep within minutes.
He was dreaming that they were dancing, and that Talia was standing on his feet as they moved across the floor. She had locked her hands behind his neck. His hands were at her waist, and she was laughing and laughing, when all of a sudden the laugh morphed into a scream.
He woke with his heart pounding, only to realize it wasn’t a dream and Talia was screaming in her sleep.
He jumped up and turned on the light. “Talia! Sweetheart! Wake up!”
She gasped, then choked, and was trying to catch her breath when Leigh burst into the room.
“Bad dream?” she asked.
“Yes,” Bowie said.
“Bless her heart,” Leigh said. “I’ll make her a cup of hot chocolate to wash it away.”
Talia was crying and struggling to sit up when Bowie lifted her into his arms, then walked over to a big easy chair by the window and sat down with her close against his chest. With all the bruises on her knees and legs, and the broken ribs, he let her lean on him, rather than holding her too tight.
“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” he kept saying. “It was a dream, just a dream.”
Talia knew it, but the shock and the sensation of falling was still fresh in her mind. In the dream she’d even felt the rush of air against her skin as she was tumbling.
“I wasn’t in a car. It was just me. I fell off the mountain, and I kept falling and falling and falling, and then you woke me. Oh my God, it was so real.”
“It was a dream, and it’s over. Mama is making you some hot chocolate—to wash away the dream, she said.”