Generations 2.7 kindle (39 page)

……

S
o the helicopter ride wasn’t
the
surprise. It was just the transportation. When Ben told Kat this, she looked excited. But when they landed in a dark field—in the middle of nowhere—she looked worried.

She tried to joke, probably hoping to hide her nervousness. “Where are we—Kansas?”

“No, Dorothy, we’re not in Kansas. We’re still in California.”

“Kay. But … where exactly?”

Ben looked around them, scanning the horizon in every direction. Perfect. Not a single light could be seen. He hadn’t remembered it being quite this dark out here. “I don’t really know,” he lied. “The pilot just had to put her down. A storm’s moving in.”

Ben had a small flashlight to guide them on their excursion; he quickly pointed it in Kat’s direction. He wanted to see her expression. She must have believed him. Her eyebrows creased.

“Kidding,” he said. He grabbed her hand and began to lead her along a trail to the north. At least he thought it was north. He looked up to the sky and found the big dipper. Yep. He was on the right trail. “We landed here on purpose. We should be done by the time the storm comes. If not … I guess we’ll just have to wait until morning to leave.”

This time she must have realized that he was joking because she bumped him with her hip. His foot stepped off the trail, which at that point, was leading them up a slight hill. He lost his footing, albeit briefly. But he couldn’t pass up the opportunity. He turned off the flashlight and hit the ground with a fake, “Humph!”

“Oh my gosh! Ben! Ben! Are you okay?”

He groaned. “My leg!” he cried. “I can’t move!”

“The flashlight! Where’s the flashlight? I can’t see you!”

He could hear the panic in her voice. She was seriously freaking. He could keep going with this … but he knew he’d probably make her mad. Which might ruin the evening. She might hold it against him when it came time to cozy up. So he flicked the light on and shined it at her. He stood up and then shined the light on the ground in front of him, so that she could see that the incline was rather gradual.

By the time he made it the few steps back to the trail, she was scowling. “You …” she stammered, “you … pug!”
 

“Oh, the insults you sling! Like daggers in my heart!”

He was smiling when he grabbed her hand again. She was pouting. “That was … really mean. And … immature. I thought I hurt you.”

“Then maybe you should be more careful: not throw your weight around so much,” he teased.

 
That got a slight smile out of her. But she grumbled something under her breath. Something about him being chipper. He pursed his lips together to keep from laughing. Yes, he was chipper. Jovial even. It felt so incredibly refreshing to be away from the watchful eye of the world. And to be without airs. To be able to be just Ben. Not a Wilder.

They came to a fork in the path. A small wooden sign marked the intersection. Ben took the path to the left, the path that was marked with a painted white star.

“What is this place?” Kat asked.

“It’s a ranch. It belongs to a friend of Paul’s.”

“It must be … big.”

Yeah, ranches typically are. But that’s not what Ben said. He didn’t want to make her feel snickerdoodle (Katism for estúpido). So instead, he told her the acreage—which was rather significant. And then he told her more about the land—how it had been in the owner’s family for four generations.

“So did you bring me out here to ride horses … or brand cattle or something?” Her voice sounded like she was trying to be light—trying to joke—but he could tell that she was dying from the suspense. He wondered who held the record for being able to keep a secret from Kat the longest. He also thought of a very fitting saying. Something about her name and curiosity killing. He wasn’t going to say that out loud either. She’d slug him.

“It’s not really a working ranch anymore. It’s just a hobby ranch. A get-a-way. Henry only comes here once or twice a year. And besides that … it’s dark. I know that you’re wanting to get wild, but riding horses in the dark is just downright dangerous …

Ouch!” She punched him on the shoulder. “I need to sign you up for cage-fighting.”

They crested a hill and Ben could see the outline of the building against the dark sky. He led her to the small outbuilding, which was only about twelve-by-twelve. He went to the north side of the building and shined the flashlight along the wood paneling until he saw the black keypad. He glanced at Kat: she looked perplexed. And a tad nervous. Something dawned on him. He’d dragged her out to the middle of the forest. No one was around. And now he was going to take her inside a shed that essentially looked like a fortress—lacking windows and only one armed door for entrance. What would be going through her head at this moment?

“Any idea what we’re doing here?” he asked.

“Um … mowing the lawn, maybe?”

 
He let go of her hand so he could enter the code. If she turned and ran, he’d know. He’d know that she didn’t trust him. Which would be heartbreaking. But she stayed.

Once he pressed enter, the whirl of an engine could be heard. And then the clanking of chains and the creaking of wood. A panel on the front of the shed folded down to the ground, just like a garage door going in reverse. A section of the roof folded back simultaneously, the panels sliding flush with the rear wall. The shed was practically empty. There were just two stools and a large white instrument.

“A telescope!” Kat sounded relieved. “Holy Tupelo, that thing is … huge.” She stepped forward into the open-air shed. “Isn’t this like … professional size?”

“Almost. Not quite as big.”

Ben pulled her stool up close to the eyepiece. “First stop: the moon.” He adjusted the telescope so that the moon was directly in its sights, and once he saw the image in the eyepiece himself, he let Kat see.

“Cool! You can see all the … pock marks.”

“Yeah, the craters.” He let her look for several minutes, then he recalibrated the telescope. This time they viewed Jupiter.

“Whoa—you can see the stripes.”

Again, he corrected her terminology. “The belts.”

Ben turned the telescope toward the southern horizon. He found Saturn and focused the telescope. Wow. It was in opposition. Perfect. He’d never seen it this bright—this visible—himself. She was going to love this one.

“Oh. My. Gosh,” she said. “That is so cool! I can see the rings.”

His eyes had grown accustomed to the dark. He could see every detail of her face. She looked enlivened, thrilled. Completely serene. Completely beautiful. She studied Saturn for several minutes, giving him ample time to study her. Their last date—the time when he gave her that necklace—she had obviously dressed up for him. And she’d looked great. Stunning even. Tonight, she was more casual. Her make-up was light. Her hair was a little fuzzy—the curls a little less springy. No jewelry or anything ornate; just sneakers, a skirt and a hoodie. She looked common, yet still sublime. He loved it. That she could be so pretty without even making an effort. She was real. Such the antithesis of the people Ben was required to keep company with. His mind strayed momentarily. Was she just as beautiful when she crawled out of bed in the mornings? Or fresh out of a shower? He imagined so. Not like the problem his friend Troy had. His live-in girlfriend wore make-up to bed, and then would always wake up an hour before Troy just so he never saw her looking less than perfect. She was faux suede. But not Kat. She was more than ultra suede even.

She looked up at him just then and saw him gawking at her. She looked uncomfortable. Uneasy. “What?” she asked quietly.

He knew that he’d been ogling. But he didn’t care. Nor could he stop. “You’re so pretty.”

She tried to shrug off his compliment, like always. She said something about not even washing her hair today. “Really, Kat. Maybe I haven’t said it enough. But your beauty is incomparable. You’re fair. Wholesome. Heavenly. And that’s why I’ve never called you suede. Because it doesn’t fit. You’re better than that. You’re not some derogatory slang word. But the problem is—I can’t even think of a word to describe how pretty you are. And I really don’t think one exists. There is not a single word that illustrates how … exquisite you are. Not in the English language. Or in any other language here on Earth. But maybe somewhere—up there,” Ben briefly looked away from her eager face and up into space, “there is a language that will do justice to the description of your beauty.”

She bit on the corner of her lip again, but just briefly. Then she asked, “Does that mean that I’m extraterrestrial too?”

“Of course. I think we both came from Venus.”

“Venus? Why?”

“Because it’s named after the mythological goddess: the goddess of love and beauty.”

Kat gave a slight giggle. “Should we leak that to the press? That we both think we’re aliens from Venus?”

He chuckled back. Especially because that was so Kat: to change the subject to something light and noncommittal. “Yeah, they’d have a heyday with that. We could tell them that we came out here to meet our spaceship.”

Ben stood and went to the wall at the side of the shed. He needed a cheat sheet. He also needed something else. It was in the pocket on the wall, right behind the planisphere. He reached for the planisphere, and kept the other item tucked behind the star map, out of Kat’s sight. He found the constellation he needed, and set the telescope. Then he showed Kat two different constellations: the Serpent’s Head and its globular cluster, and then Berenice’s Hair and its Black Eye Galaxy.

Kat was enthused. “This is
so
awesome! I can’t believe Paul’s friend only uses this thing twice a year. What a waste! I’d be out here every night if I owned one of these.”

“I don’t know if Henry really uses it when he comes to the ranch. He had it built for his wife. His second wife, I think. But since she left, it’s gone relatively unused. I probably use it more than anyone.”

“You come here a lot?”

Her voice had an undercurrent of … accusation to it. What was she getting at? Was she thinking that he often brought girls here, to woo them? This tugged at the bottom of his heart momentarily. But then he realized that it was her feeling insecure, inadequate. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him; she didn’t trust herself. To be good enough for him. Which was a tragedy, really. And that was why he needed to move forward with his plan. He answered her question with ambiguity. “I love it out here. It’s so peaceful. So secluded. It’s the place I always come when I need to be alone. To regroup.” Then he moved the telescope, consulting the planisphere again for direction. It took him longer to set the telescope this time. This was intentional. He wanted her to get bored—distracted. He needed her to look away for a second. When her eyes were fixed on the stars, he made the slip. Then he looked in the eyepiece. Perfect.

“Okay, check this one out. It’s a constellation. It’s only visible with a high-power telescope.”

Kat brought her eye to the eyepiece. “What am I looking for?”

“Find the biggest, brightest star. That’s the bottom tip.”

“Kay …”

“The shape is almost perfectly symmetric. There are four stars to the right and three stars to the left. They each form an arc.”

She was silent, obviously searching. Her eye stayed at the telescope for a good minute and then she pulled back, looking at Ben. “Naught-uh.”

“What?” he feigned.

“There is not a constellation in the shape of a heart.”

“Yeah, there is. It’s the Amore Constellation.”

“Naught-uh,” she again said. She put her eye back to eyepiece. “How come I’ve never heard about it before?”

“Like I said, you have to have a high-power telescope. There’s not a whole lot of people that can afford telescopes like this one.”