“Micky, would you quit worrying? They’ll be fine!” Exasperation made Davy’s voice sound usually harsh.
“How do you know that, Davy? I mean, how do you really know?” His hope that they’d find Mike and Andi alive had faded with the sunlight. He pulled his jacket a little higher up around his neck, shivering with the coolness that the night air was radiating. “They could be dead by n—”
“NO!” Peter shouted, making them jump. “Don’t say that!” Peter shouted, whirling on Micky. “Don’t ever say that! They’re not dead!”
“How do you know, Peter?” Davy asked, touching Peter very gently on the elbow.
Peter sighed. “If they were dead I’d know it. I’d feel it.”
“But Peter, how can you be sure?”
“I can’t. It’s just a feeling I have, okay? And . . . I don’t want to talk about it.” He sank down onto the ground and rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
Micky sighed, stretching his aching neck. “Look, guys. It’s been a long day, and I don’t think it’s such a good idea for us to be wandering around in the dark. So what do you say we find somewhere to spend the night?”
“What? Out ‘ere?”
“Whattsa matter, Dave? Scared you’ll get dirty?” The shrill, almost hysterical sound of Peter’s laughter followed Micky’s wisecrack.
“Yeah, I am, actually,” Davy muttered as he staked out a spot on the ground and curled up, pulling his jacket over his head.
“I guess that means we stay here,” Micky said, plunking himself down next to Peter. “You okay, man?” he said, putting his arm around Peter’s shoulders.
“I wish Mike was here,” he whispered.
“Yeah . . . I do, too.”
~*~
“Well, my lover, if that doesn’t convince you, nothing will.”
Andi watched Mike button his shirt. He didn’t bother to tuck it back in. When he finished she reached forward, plucking some errant grasses from his hair. He waited patiently until she finished, then returned the favor, sifting his long fingers through her hair.
“Okay, I’m convinced,” he chuckled. “If you’d done that with Peter he’d have gone up in flames.”
He continued to stroke her hair, and she leaned against him, closing her eyes. “Oh, you know, I think you do that better than Peter.”
“You let Peter stroke your hair?”
“Occasionally. My mother used to do that when I was little, and Peter definitely has the touch.”
Mike was silent for several long moments.
“You still with me, Mike?”
“Yeah. I was just . . . thinking.”
“I know. And I also know what you’re thinking about.” She twisted around to face him. “Can we just . . . let it go until the morning? I’m tired, and I know you are—we’ve had a really rough day.”
Mike sighed. He didn’t want to let it go, but as she spoke his eyelids began to droop, and he remained resigned to the fact that sleep was approaching—fast.
“Okay. Where we goin’ to sleep?”
She patted the packed-down grass beneath them. “Why not right here?”
“It’s gonna get cold, you know.”
Andi dug into her bag and pulled out a blanket. “Besides a boatload of money, the other thing I inherited from my parents was the Boy Scout motto—be prepared.”
“And I love you for it,” he mumbled, burrowing his way under the blanket.
Andi watched him disappear, then sat, staring up at the stars. Out here, far away from city lights and smog, the stars became less of a decoration and more of a live entity—a vast, glittering carpet that both terrified her and took her breath away.
“Well, Daddy,” she murmured. “Quite a ride I’ve been on today, huh?” She paused, as if expecting a response. “Yes, I love him,” she said, replying to an unasked—yet obvious—question. “And I know he loves me. I still remember when you told me your only wish for me was that I’d find someone . . . someone I care about more than myself. Your wish came true.”
She turned and burrowed her way under the blanket until she found Mike’s warm body. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, listening as her breathing grew slow and even. He stayed awake long enough to give her one more kiss before he joined her in a deep, dreamless sleep.
On to Chapter Seven
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