Mel shifts in the grass, now lying on her side to face Frank. He’s still looking at the vast sky above them. Its splendor is so clearly mirrored in his blue eyes. Twinkling, glowing, endless. She wants to stay in this quiet moment for as long as possible. Just the two of them and the hum of the valley around them, teeming with all sorts of wildlife.
Like a soundtrack to a July she’ll never forget.
“You know, my Mom used to take Becca and me here when I was little. I used to bring this big book of constellations with me, and we’d read the stories of all the ones we could find in the sky,” she admits softly. The Cherry Spring State Park holds some of her dearest memories of her mother.
“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve gone somewhere new.”
Mel shakes her head no and takes Frank’s hand. She laces their fingers together and swears she can feel his heartbeat in his palm.
“This place is sacred to me and, well, it makes me happy to know it’s sacred for you too. I bet that’s why you wanted to take me here in the first place, yes?” Mel’s appreciative of the way Frank swallows and nods in agreement, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.
“You know me too well,” he chuckles in that boyish way that makes Mel’s heart swell—eyes bashfully cast downward with the smallest smile.
If she were braver, she’d pull him in for a kiss.
Instead, she asks, “Do you want to know what constellations are out tonight?” It’s not a kiss, but her own form of intimacy.
“Of course I do,” he says eagerly, “tell me about every single one.”
And as she recounts the tales of every star and constellation within the northern cross, time stands still like a photograph, as if this moment would last forever, just like she wanted. And looking into his eyes, she sees the rest of their life together. Laid out as clearly as the stars above them.