“There’s a spot in the backyard where you can see millions of stars on a night like this one. We can grab some burgers or chicken on the way.”
“Are you suggesting a picnic?”
“Yeah. I reckon I am.”
Harper slowed the Merc as a stoplight turned red. She turned to him and smiled. “That sounds like fun.”
After picking up some fast food, they headed to his house. “Sorry everything is in shambles,” he said as he opened the front door for her. “I’ll get this place together some day.”
“Like I said, I’ve seen worse. No need to apologize.”
The light in the living room was on, but Senior wasn’t in sight. “Bet he turned in early. Don’t forget about the hole.”
She stepped over it. “It’s only eight o’clock.”
“He’s had a busy week.”
They went to the kitchen, and he set the food on the table. “I’ll be right back,” he said. He ran upstairs to the spare bedroom and straight to G’ma’s cedar hope chest. He grabbed an old patchwork quilt her mother had made back in the forties, then another newer, smaller blanket for good measure. Tucking both under his arm, he hurried back to the kitchen in time to see Harper nibble on a french fry.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m starving, and these smell so good.”
“Ain’t no skin off my nose. I wish you’d told me you were so hungry, though. We can eat in here if you want.”
“I’d rather eat outside.”
“Me too. Just one thing.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and put it on the table, and she grinned, then pulled hers out of her purse and set it next to his.
He flipped on the outside light and unlocked the back door. Carrying the bag of food, they crossed the crooked flagstone patio to the center of the yard. The grass wasn’t too high right now. If this was June, it would be up to their ankles, but it was just long enough that after he spread out the quilt and they sat down, it made for a soft, comfortable spot.
They dug into their supper—a double hamburger for him and chicken fingers for her, along with french fries and soft drinks. She glanced up at the sky. “You’re right. This is a nice open space,” she said. “I can already see lots of stars.”
“You’ll see more once I turn off the light. With all the surroundin’ trees it can get pretty dark out here. I figured it would be easier to eat with the light on.”
“Thanks.” She was sitting cross-legged and facing him. Her high-heeled black boots were set to the side on the quilt. She picked up her drink and took a sip. “I didn’t realize it was so peaceful back here. I’ve shown one house at the end of this street. Otherwise I’m not familiar with the neighborhood.”
“It’s quiet. Lots of older folks. Amber used to joke that we lived on Retirement Boulevard.”
“She’s your sister, right?”
He set the last bite of his hamburger back in the paper wrapping. “Yep. Do you have any siblings?”
“No.” She leaned back on her hands. “When I was younger, I used to wish I did, but now I see that God knew what He was doing when it came to my parents. I don’t think they could have dealt with another child.”
“I can’t see you bein’ a handful.”
Harper shook her head. “I wasn’t.” She sighed. “It’s complicated.”
They were nearly done eating, and he could tell she didn’t want to talk about her parents. He knew more than anyone that family could be a touchy subject. “I’m gonna turn off the light,” he said, getting up from the quilt.
“Sure,” she said, her tone uncharacteristically somber.
He dashed to the house, opened the back door, then stuck his arm in between the door and the jamb and turned off the light. When Rusty sat back down on the quilt, he said, “The best way to watch is lying down. But close your eyes,” he added. “I want you to be surprised.”
She stretched out on the blanket, and he lay beside her, making sure to put a polite chunk of space between them. Things were going well right now, and he didn’t want to make it weird between them again. “Ready to be dazzled?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Open your eyes.”
