14. Knox
KNOX
Stargazing at Crescent Moon Ranch
Clear Skies
Supper: Caspian’s Famous Lasagna · Caesar Salad with Garlic Croutons
The cocktail making lesson night came and went, with Elliot teaching us how to make something with bourbon and orange peel.
I sat in the corner nursing a drink and watched Madeleine and Ivy working together to make one.
I could see from my vantage point that they put twice the bourbon in than was needed.
Madeleine took a sip, made a terrible face, and then started coughing.
Ivy laughed so hard she nearly fell over.
Stargazing was on the calendar for the next night but Finley had said it would be contingent on the sky being clear. Again, because apparently nature didn’t want to cross Finley, the night was the clearest one we’d had since we’d arrived.
I’d figured it’d be ten minutes of squinting up at the sky going yep, that’s a star, and then everyone would get cold and hurry inside for cocoa or cocktails.
However, the Moons had brought in a fella from the observatory over near Bozeman, and he meant business.
He was a lean, bright-eyed man named Dr. Williams who had devoted himself to the stars the way the boys and I had chosen music as our obsession of choice.
They’d set up out in the far meadow, away from every light on the property, with a couple of big telescopes on tripods.
I’m not sure how, but they’d packed the snow and put hay bales out, covered in quilts, along with a whole mess of blankets and propane heaters glowing orange in the dark.
Montana sure earned the right to its nickname, Big Sky Country. It was clear as glass and packed with tens of thousands of stars like somebody’d spilled a bag of tiny diamonds across purple velvet.
“Well, hello sky,” I said, tipping my head back.
“Isn’t she something?” Dr. Williams asked, clearly pleased by my reaction.
Everybody had found a place to watch. Jack and Ivy were sharing a hay bale with her on his lap, a thick blanket covering them.
Luci was at a telescope peppering the doctor with questions, with Grant quietly watching her, sipping a beer.
Rhett and Holly were wrapped together in one blanket, sharing something from a thermos.
Beck was flat on his back on a hay bale just looking up at the sky.
Blake lay only inches apart from him doing the same thing, without her phone for once.
Nick lurked somewhere filming, but the guy was like a vampire, quietly invisible.
Ivy’s brothers had arrived that afternoon and were standing in a family knot with their parents, loud and delighted.
Madeleine and I, like we did lately, had somehow found ourselves together on a hay bale under a shared blanket, her hand in mine.
Dr. Williams gave a tour across the sky like a man showing us around his hometown.
“That bright one there, low and steady, that’s Jupiter.
Get on the telescope and you’ll see her moons, four little points in a row, the same four Galileo saw and got himself in trouble over.
” He swung a green laser up—an actual beam of light that seemed to touch the stars themselves—and traced out Orion coming up over the eastern peaks.
“Do you see the three stars of his belt, and the fuzzy patch hanging off it? That’s not a star.
That’s a nursery. Stars are being born, right now, fifteen hundred light-years off.
The light hitting your eye tonight left there about the time the Roman Empire was falling apart. ”
“Extraordinary,” Beck said.
“Truly,” Blake murmured.
Dr. Williams showed us Pleiades, the little smudge folks called the Seven Sisters, telling us to look at it sideways instead of straight on. “Some things you can only see if you don’t look right at them.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
He showed us Cassiopeia, the big W, and the Milky Way itself, that river of haze pouring right down the middle of everything, and told us we were looking edge-on into our own galaxy, into the flat of the plate with us sitting out near the rim.
He showed us a smudge he said was another galaxy entirely—Andromeda—two and a half million years of light, the farthest thing a human eye can see unassisted.
“You ready to watch the sky fall?” Dr. Williams asked.
“This week’s the Geminids. Best meteor shower of the year.
Fortunately, the weather cooperated tonight.
They peaked a few days ago, but we couldn’t see them because of the cloud cover.
But tonight, my friends, we are in for a show.
Give it a minute. Don’t hunt for them, just keep your gaze loose. ”
We gave it a minute. And the sky did indeed begin to fall.
Not all at once. The first was a quick bright scratch across the dark over the mountains, there and gone.
Luci gasped, which made us all laugh. Another blaze ripped across the sky, disappearing as quickly as it had come.
Next, two long slow ones drew a sparkly line across half the sky.
A few short, sharp ones flared and died.
Every time one showed off for us, the whole meadow made sounds of pure delight.
Suddenly, we were just wide-eyed kids in a field.
“Make a wish,” Madeleine said, under her breath. Almost to herself.
“You believe a wish can come true?” I asked.
“Maybe it’s time I do.”
Just then, a meteor tore across the dark.
I made a wish. I sure did.
Don’t let this disappear when we go home.
“Did you make one?” Madeleine asked me.
“I did. You?”
“Yep.”
“Can you tell each other your wish or does that take away the power?” I asked.
“No, we can’t share. That’s a rule.”
I chuckled. “Who makes these rules?”
“It’s not for mere mortals to know.” She turned toward the doctor and asked, “Where’s the moon?”
I swallowed. I knew why she was asking. At least I hoped I knew.
“Not up yet,” Dr. Williams said. “Our girl rises late this week. She’s waxing. Just like a woman, saving herself for a grand entrance. But as I told Ivy earlier, she’ll be full on the night of the wedding.”
There were murmurs of delight.
“Isn’t it romantic?” Ivy asked. “Just like this whole month here.”
“Amen,” Grant said.
“You did good, Ivy,” Luci said. “I had no idea there would be this much magic in Montana.”
“Christmas magic,” Blake said, sounding dreamy.
“What is it you always say, Knox? About kissing a girl on a full moon?” Jack asked.
“Don’t do it unless you mean it,” said Grant, Rhett, and Beck in perfect harmony.
“Or do it because you mean it. Isn’t that right?” Ivy asked.
“Subtle difference, but yeah,” I said.
“I sure hope everyone remembers that on December twenty-fourth,” Ivy said, a teasing lilt in her voice. However, I knew she wasn’t just joking. Ivy James had gone to considerable trouble in her matchmaking scheme. Looking around, it seemed like it was working.
Under the blanket, Madeleine let go of my hand. I glanced over at her, but she was still gazing up at the sky, an expression on her face I could only describe one way—she was sad.
She didn’t believe I would kiss her under the full moon? Or did she think I would? And which one did she hope for?
I found her hand again, drawing it close to my chest. “Say the word,” I whispered in her ear. “And I’ll take you to see the moon.”
“You will?” Madeleine whispered back.
“I’ve been waiting for the full moon to appear at just the right time,” I said, voice still low enough for only her to hear. “Most of my life.”
She didn’t say anything, but she pressed more firmly against me and kept her hand in mine. I would have to take that as her answer for now. The moon and Gramps might have to do the rest.
We sat for some time like that, gazing up at the sky as more stars danced across the purple horizon with no idea how long it would be before someone saw them. If only they knew we were here, finally ready to see them in all their glory.