Brunonia Barry - The Map of True Places

“The North Star.”

“Yes. Polaris is always within one degree of the North Pole. You can pick up your latitude by looking at Polaris.”

“I see the North Star, but I don’t see the other one you were pointing at,” she said. He moved her head into position and extended his pointing arm from over her shoulder, adjusting for her sight line. “Still don’t see it,” she said.

He laughed.

“Well, you see the moon. We use the moon a lot, and the horizon,” he said. “So you have three points of reference. You can only take readings at dawn and dusk, because when it gets this dark, the horizon disappears. But at twilight, for just a little while, the stars are still visible.” He pointed again, this time to a spot low on the western horizon. “Look, there’s Spica, in Virgo, one of the brightest stars in the sky. Spica is a blue giant, and it’s not really one star but two stars that revolve around each other so closely that they appear as one.”

“That’s either very romantic or hopelessly codependent,” Zee said, looking where he was pointing.

He laughed. “See it?”

She shook her head. He pointed again. “Do you see the Big Dipper?”

“Yes,” she said. “That I can find.”

“Okay, follow the handle of the Big Dipper.” He lay behind her, placing himself at her eye level and raising her arm with his until it traced the handle. “That bright star there is Arcturus. Now, if you keep tracing the straight line about the same distance, you’ll find Spica. Right there. See?”

She squinted her eye.

“Spica is key if you’re ever navigating at the equator.”

“Good to know,” she said.

“In another month you’ll hardly be able to see her in the night sky at all,” he said. “She won’t be back until next summer.”

“She?”

“Spica is definitely female. See her?”

“Sorry,” she said.

“Right there,” he said, tracing the line again.

“It’s sad when Spica disappears below the horizon,” he said. “But she has her heliacal rising right around Halloween.”

“Her what?”

“At morning twilight in the middle of October, Spica will be visible again on the horizon for just a few days. It’s like a tiny sunrise. It’s always good to see her again when she shows up.”

“I think you have a thing for this star.”

He laughed. “I just love bright, beautiful Virgos, what can I say?”

She laughed.

He traced the line one more time, pulling her closer to him, lifting her arm with his. “Right there. See? She’s the brightest star in Virgo.”

“I’ve never seen Virgo, and I don’t see her now.”

“I think that’s sad. You are a Virgo,” he said, laughing again. “Actually, you can only see part of Virgo right now. She’s mostly below the horizon this time of night.”

“Spica. Virgo. This is how you navigate across the ocean?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you believe in maps?” she asked.

“No way. Ocean maps are incredibly inaccurate.”

“What about GPS?”

“I do believe in GPS,” he laughed. “I just believe in the stars more.”

“More than GPS?”

“GPS is electronic. It can malfunction. If you put your faith in the stars, you can always find your way home.”

“Unless it’s a cloudy night,” she said.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “On a cloudy night, I believe very strongly in GPS.” He stopped talking then. “Listen,” he said.

“To the stars?”

“No.” A soft hissing sound was barely audible. “I think this air mattress has a leak,” he said.

She laughed. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

THE AIR COOLED DOWN QUICKLY. Zee got some more blankets from the drawer. “We really need a campfire,” she said.

He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. “You promised me a scary story,” he said.

“I have a better idea,” she said, kissing his neck.

“I thought we were supposed to be at camp,” he said.

“We are.”

She pulled off his T-shirt and ran her hands over his chest.

“Obviously, my mother sent me to the wrong camp,” he said.

ZEE ROLLED OVER, TRYING TO get comfortable. The air mattress had completely deflated during the night, and she woke to find herself sleeping on the cold floor. The sky was beginning to lighten. Hawk was across the room by the open window, setting up the brass sextant.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Come here and I’ll show you,” he said. “If I were taking sights today, this would be the time. In fifteen minutes, when the horizon line is more clearly defined, you’ll no longer be able to see those stars.”

He showed her the star he was plotting. “That’s Procyon,” he said.

She leaned over and looked through the sextant.

“It’s there, just above the horizon,” he said.

“I see it.” She smiled. “It’s beautiful.” She looked at the star for a long time. “You take sights at both dawn and dusk?”

“Morning and evening twilight,” he said.

“And from this you can find your way home from anywhere in the world?”

“Pretty much,” he said. “As long as I have a good quartz watch and an almanac.”

“Amazing,” she said.

“Not really,” he said. “You could learn to do it, if you wanted.”

“I can’t even find Spica,” she said.

Hawk laughed. “True enough.” He kissed her good morning. “I need coffee.”

She pulled the blanket tighter around her. “God, it’s cold,” she said.

He pulled her to him and hugged her. Looking over her shoulder, he spotted the closed door. “Is that another room?”

“It’s the bedroom,” she said.

“We slept on a cold, hard floor when we had a bedroom?” He was across the room and had the door open before she had a chance to stop him.

She followed him inside, watched as he discovered the bed with its fading green chenille.

“I don’t get it,” he said.

“It was my parents’ marriage bed,” she said.

“And?”

“And, as a result, we always just sleep in the living room.”

“I still don’t get it, but I get the idea that I’m supposed to drop the subject,” he said.

“You do get it,” she said with a laugh.

WHEN ZEE GOT BACK to the house, Jessina was whipping egg whites into a white mountain of frosting for the chocolate cake she was making. Worried, she related to Zee the story of Mickey’s visit.

“Finch didn’t recognize Mr. Doherty,” Jessina said.

Zee was surprised, though she tried to rationalize it away, telling herself that the two men hadn’t seen each other for a long time. Still, it was difficult not to recognize Mickey Doherty. It could have been something with Finch’s medication. Lately he had started to spit out his pills. She checked in between his chair cushions and on the surrounding floor. He seemed all right today, if somewhat drowsy.

At dinner Finch mistook her for Maureen again.

Zee called the doctor and left a message.

She called again in the morning and asked that the doctor fit them in.

IT WAS CLEAR FROM THE office visit that things were deteriorating fast. The last time they’d been there, Finch had been able to walk the straight line, albeit shakily, that the doctor had taped to the floor. This time he couldn’t do it without his walker, and even then he was so tired he could only make it a few feet before he reached out for Zee’s arm, and she rushed to help him.

The doctor suggested some physical therapy. He offered to set it up so that they could come to the house two times a week to walk with Finch.

“I walk with him,” she said, somewhat defensively.

“You have enough to do,” he said, and had his nurse make the call.