rolled on top of him. "Thank you," she said, and kissed away anything else he might have had to say.
"Oh," he said. A smile crept across his face. "Okay, then." His hands slid beneath her shirt, and she snuggled her head into his shoulder. "What happened, Jack?" she said for the fourth time. "No," he said. "I've got something I want to say first. Something I need to say."
There was a note in his voice she had not heard before. Her heart gave an uncomfortable thump some where high up under her breast bone. "You sound serious," she said.
"I am serious," he said. "We're both alive, and here, and the stars are out and the moon is full and there's no one around and I want you to listen to me. No cracks, no getting up and walking away. Just listen."
"All right," she said, uncertain, nervous without knowing why. He looked so serious, his eyes level and almost stern, belying the tangle of hair above, tousled from her hands.
"Light bright shining," he said.
"What?" "Shut up," he said. "That's what you are. My light bright shining. It's from a poem by Mary Tallmountain, an Athabascan from Nulato." "A poem?" Kate said doubtfully. This was beginning to sound dangerously romantic and potentially sentimental. Kate, who prided herself on the hardness of her head, didn't do sentimental.
"No," he said quickly. "Don't say anything. Please don't. Just listen. Listen, Kate."
He feared mockery, anticipated ridicule, dreaded her scorn. She saw all that in his face and more, and she knew a sudden shame that he would expect such a reaction from her. The realization silenced her as nothing else would have.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them to see her wary expression, his mouth twisted up in a wry smile.
"I memorized it, word for word." He waved a vague hand at their position, the top of the empty fuel tank. "This wasn't quite how I pictured saying it to you. But here goes."
He took a deep breath. His voice was clear and deep, letting the words speak for themselves.
Companion to me in every place You stretch your hand: I see Majesties of mountains Crowned with living light.
Your arm flings wide: I see Wild little islands wrapt in fog Grey luminous: hidden folds Of emerald and ermine earth.
I fly free clean through glowing Cat's eye aquamarine Filled with light air breath Swaddled in this cocoon this dense and lifeless mass Yet weightless I soaring with it shall be for you Light bright shining The poem, the words and the meaning behind them were so overwhelming and so unexpected that the breath left her body and she couldn't seem to find it again.
He saw her expression and his own relaxed. "Don't, Kate. Don't look so scared. It's just the way I feel. It's the way it is for me." His smile was crooked. "Light bright shining."
She opened her mouth and nothing came out. Again, he filled the gap.
"I'm thinking of retiring."
She gaped at him. "What?"
"I'm thinking of retiring," he repeated. "I've got over twenty in, I'm eligible, and as you know the state is trying right, left and center to cut the budget. They're offering a good buy out to unload a few of us older employees, so they can hire someone in our place at half the salary and a quarter of the benefits."
She was still staring. "What would you do instead? You're only forty-five, Jack. Not quite time to put yourself out to pasture."
He knotted his hands over his head and stretched, comfortable now with the poem out of the way. Romantic gestures did not come easily to Jack Morgan, especially when they came from the heart. "I don't know yet." Around the sudden lump in her throat she managed to say, "Were you thinking of moving?"
"Yes."
"Oh." The lump grew bigger.
His voice came as if from a great distance. "I was thinking I might try the Bush lifestyle for a while, see how I liked it year-round."
She stopped breathing. "Bush lifestyle?"
"Uh-huh." He met her eyes. "I know someone with a cabin. It's one room, might be a little cramped for
"Oh," he said. A smile crept across his face. "Okay, then." His hands slid beneath her shirt, and she snuggled her head into his shoulder. "What happened, Jack?" she said for the fourth time. "No," he said. "I've got something I want to say first. Something I need to say."
There was a note in his voice she had not heard before. Her heart gave an uncomfortable thump some where high up under her breast bone. "You sound serious," she said.
"I am serious," he said. "We're both alive, and here, and the stars are out and the moon is full and there's no one around and I want you to listen to me. No cracks, no getting up and walking away. Just listen."
"All right," she said, uncertain, nervous without knowing why. He looked so serious, his eyes level and almost stern, belying the tangle of hair above, tousled from her hands.
"Light bright shining," he said.
"What?" "Shut up," he said. "That's what you are. My light bright shining. It's from a poem by Mary Tallmountain, an Athabascan from Nulato." "A poem?" Kate said doubtfully. This was beginning to sound dangerously romantic and potentially sentimental. Kate, who prided herself on the hardness of her head, didn't do sentimental.
"No," he said quickly. "Don't say anything. Please don't. Just listen. Listen, Kate."
He feared mockery, anticipated ridicule, dreaded her scorn. She saw all that in his face and more, and she knew a sudden shame that he would expect such a reaction from her. The realization silenced her as nothing else would have.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them to see her wary expression, his mouth twisted up in a wry smile.
"I memorized it, word for word." He waved a vague hand at their position, the top of the empty fuel tank. "This wasn't quite how I pictured saying it to you. But here goes."
He took a deep breath. His voice was clear and deep, letting the words speak for themselves.
Companion to me in every place You stretch your hand: I see Majesties of mountains Crowned with living light.
Your arm flings wide: I see Wild little islands wrapt in fog Grey luminous: hidden folds Of emerald and ermine earth.
I fly free clean through glowing Cat's eye aquamarine Filled with light air breath Swaddled in this cocoon this dense and lifeless mass Yet weightless I soaring with it shall be for you Light bright shining The poem, the words and the meaning behind them were so overwhelming and so unexpected that the breath left her body and she couldn't seem to find it again.
He saw her expression and his own relaxed. "Don't, Kate. Don't look so scared. It's just the way I feel. It's the way it is for me." His smile was crooked. "Light bright shining."
She opened her mouth and nothing came out. Again, he filled the gap.
"I'm thinking of retiring."
She gaped at him. "What?"
"I'm thinking of retiring," he repeated. "I've got over twenty in, I'm eligible, and as you know the state is trying right, left and center to cut the budget. They're offering a good buy out to unload a few of us older employees, so they can hire someone in our place at half the salary and a quarter of the benefits."
She was still staring. "What would you do instead? You're only forty-five, Jack. Not quite time to put yourself out to pasture."
He knotted his hands over his head and stretched, comfortable now with the poem out of the way. Romantic gestures did not come easily to Jack Morgan, especially when they came from the heart. "I don't know yet." Around the sudden lump in her throat she managed to say, "Were you thinking of moving?"
"Yes."
"Oh." The lump grew bigger.
His voice came as if from a great distance. "I was thinking I might try the Bush lifestyle for a while, see how I liked it year-round."
She stopped breathing. "Bush lifestyle?"
"Uh-huh." He met her eyes. "I know someone with a cabin. It's one room, might be a little cramped for
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