Where the Forest Meets the Stars(57)

“Which book?”
“Creature Hush . I want to read them chronologically.”
“That’s the only one I’ve read,” he said. “It came out two years before I was born.”
“You’ve never read any of the poems in Hope’s Ghost ?”
“No. It was published when I was thirteen—just a year after . . .”
“After what?” Ursa said.
“After I discovered the meaning of life,” he said.
Ursa studied him, trying to understand what he’d meant. She was like Gabe had been as a child, highly attuned to every nuance of adult behavior. Trying to keep their budding romance secret would be pointless. Certainly she already sensed the difference between them.
“Wow, a clean plate,” Jo said to her. “Even the cauliflower is gone.”
“The cheese made it okay,” she said. “You should do that when you make yuckyflower.”
“Thanks,” Jo told Gabe. “You’ve set the bar way too high for my simplistic cooking skills.”
“You’re welcome. But I’ll vouch for your simple cooking. The fish was delicious.”
“Can I get the marshmallows?” Ursa asked.
“Let’s wait a little,” Jo said.
Ursa slouched in her chair.
“I wanted to ask you about something,” Jo said to her.
“What?”
“Last night when Gabe and I were looking for you, we checked the tree house and found some of your drawings.”
Ursa remained slumped, her expression impassive.
“In the picture of the grave, who was buried under the dirt?”
“A dead person,” Ursa said.
“Yes, but who?”
She sat up. “It was me.”
“You?” Gabe said.
“This body, I mean. I took a dead girl’s body, remember?” Jo and Gabe waited for further explanation. “I felt bad about taking it. I knew people on this planet are supposed to be buried, so I did that. I drew her and then I buried her and put one of those cross things over her like you see in cemeteries.”
“Why did the picture say ‘I love you’ and ‘I am sorry’?” Jo asked.
“Because I love her. It’s because of her I have a body. And I said I’m sorry because she never got to be buried.”
Gabe looked at Jo and lifted his brows.
“Who did you think it was?” Ursa asked.
“Someone from your past,” Jo said.
“I have no past on this planet.” She climbed off her chair. “Can I have more milk?”
“Sure,” Jo said.
“She gave a plausible answer,” Gabe said when Ursa went inside.
“I thought she looked nervous when I asked.”
“Face it,” he said, “she’s too smart to be tripped up even when she trips up.”
“Well, I need her to talk before I leave.”
“When is that?”
“About a month, early August.”
“Shit,” he said.
“I know. Starting this thing was masochism, right?”
“Speaking of this thing . . .” He leaned over and kissed her. “I’ve been dying to do that. You looked quite fetching while you slaved over the fire.”
“You’re a real cave guy.”
“No doubt.”
They kissed again. “You’ll never get that fish smell out of your beard,” she said.
“As a cave woman, you shouldn’t mind.”
“I’m not a cave woman.”
“You don’t like beards?”
“Truthfully, no. I love a clean-shaven face.”
He rubbed his hand over the beard. “I could trim it.”
“You could shave it.”
“Nope.”
“Sit down,” she said.
“Why?”
“Sit down.”
He sat just as Ursa came out with her milk.
“If you won’t shave it, I will,” Jo said. And before he could get up, she sat sideways in his lap.
“Jo, what are you doing?” Ursa said.
“I’m holding Gabe hostage. Bring me scissors and a razor from the bathroom.”
“Why?”
“You and I are going to shave off his beard.”
“Really?” Ursa said.
“No,” Gabe said.
“Don’t you think he’d look handsome?” Jo said.
“I don’t know . . . ,” Ursa said.
“You see?” he said.
“But I want to!” Ursa said. “It will be fun!”
“Ursa! You’re supposed to be on my side,” he said.
“I’m getting the stuff.” She scooted to the door, milk sloshing over her hand.
“I’ll need that can of shaving cream someone left under the sink,” Jo called to her. “And a bowl of warm water.”
“Jo, come on . . . ,” Gabe said.
“You come on. You said you haven’t seen your face since you could grow a beard.”
“You know why.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to stop hiding from who you are?”
“I don’t want to see his face every day!”
“You aren’t him. Anyway, your face has a lot of your mother in it. Your eyes are like hers.”
“I know. I tried to grow the beard over them, but it wouldn’t take.”
She stroked her fingers on the hair below his eye. “It nearly has.” She kissed him softly. “Please let me. If you hate it, you can grow it back.” She kissed him again. “Don’t you want to be irresistible to me?”
“Like George?”