Where the Forest Meets the Stars(94)

“I’ll need some advance warning,” Jo said.
“I told them that.”
“Can I go to George and Katherine’s wedding?” Ursa asked.
“I don’t know,” Gabe said. “It depends on whether your foster parents will let you.”
“They will,” Ursa said.
“Are you sure?” Jo said. “I hear they’re the kind of people who’ll make you eat green stuff.”
“If they do, I might run away.”
“Nope, we’re done with that for good,” Gabe said. He buckled her into the back seat and hugged her. “I’ll miss you, bunny.”
“Not for very long,” Ursa said.
“Why not?”
“The quark things.”
He stood back from the car and looked at Jo. “Seems our fates are still tossing on a sea of quarks.”
“It’s been quite a ride,” Jo said. They kissed and held each other. They didn’t know when they’d next be together. Gabe had to harvest and put up the farm’s fall crops, and Jo would be teaching and taking classes during the fall semester. But she would drive down for Katherine and George’s wedding no matter how busy she was. She whispered in Gabe’s ear, “I don’t think I can wait until the leaves turn color.”
“I know. Maybe I’ll steal Ursa’s paint set and get to work on these damn leaves.”
Jo started the car and drove away, watching him recede in the mirrors.
“Don’t worry, you’ll see him before the wedding,” Ursa said.
“You seem much more confident about your quarks these days.”
“I’m better at it now.”
During the long drive, Ursa read her birthday books, cuddled with her purple people eater, and played with the kittens through the carrier door. When they left the interstate, Ursa peered out the car windows, taking in her new hometown. Jo turned the car onto her pretty tree-lined street, burnished gold with late-afternoon sun. Before she turned into the driveway, she paused to appreciate the white clapboard house, wreathed in a late-summer bloom of flowers.
Tabby stepped onto the porch, smiling and waving.
Ursa climbed out of the car, trying to balance the kittens in her arms.
“You’d better put them back in the cage,” Jo said. “If they jump down, they may get lost.” Jo looked to Tabby for help with the kittens, but she was talking seriously to someone on her phone.
“They won’t get lost,” Ursa said. She tucked the squirming kittens against her chest. “I wish Frances Ivey’s cats were here. They could be Juliet and Hamlet’s foster moms.”
“It’s a good thing Frances isn’t here. She said no kids, and we haven’t told her about you yet.”
“Something is going to happen to fix that,” Ursa said.
“What?”
“You’ll see.”
As they arrived at the walkway, Tabby ran down the steps. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”
“Tabby! How about you say hello to my foster daughter?”
“Right . . .” She pocketed her phone and pressed a kiss on Ursa’s cheek. “Happy birthday, awesomest girl in the universe.”
“I like the purple people eater you gave me,” Ursa said.
“He’s from Purpletonia, a faraway planet,” Tabby said. “Wow, how cute are those kittens?”
“Gabe gave them to me.”
“So what happened?” Jo said.
“Frances Ivey called—I just hung up with her. You won’t believe it. She’s going to marry Nancy and stay in Maine! She wants to know if we’re interested in buying the house.”
Jo looked at Ursa. “Okay, this is too weird . . .”
“What is?” Tabby said.
“Ursa just said something would happen to change the no-kids rule.”
Tabby grinned. “Did you do this, little alien?”
Ursa squealed. The kittens were clambering up her hair to escape her arms. They jumped to the ground and ran straight up the porch steps, as if following an invisible trail of quarks. Juliet sprawled on the welcome rug and Hamlet flopped onto his back beside her, one paw softly batting her chin.
Ursa clasped Jo’s hand in her left hand and Tabby’s in her right. She pulled them in tight against her body like a little bird snuggling into its nest. She smiled at the kittens playing on the porch of her new home. “I did make this happen.” She turned her face upward. “Didn’t I, Jo?”
“You sure did, Big Bear.”


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book would not have blossomed without Carly Watters of P.S. Literary Agency. I thank her for her commitment to getting it published, and also for her early pruning of my convoluted backstories. Her deftness with the hedge clippers greatly improved the story.
I am deeply grateful to Alicia Clancy, who supported this book from sea to shining sea. Her unwavering enthusiasm has been a guiding light.
Another talented editor, Laura Chasen, sharpened and polished my writing beyond my imagining. I much appreciated her competent and compassionate style of editing.
I also would like to thank the first people who read this manuscript. Scott, my ever-willing alpha reader, provided thoughtful commentary, as always. Nikki Mentges, editor and beta reader of NAM Editorial, helped me improve the manuscript for the query process. I thank them both for encouraging me to seek publication.
I owe more thanks to the many people at Lake Union Publishing who supported and worked on this book.
I would like to thank the following people who provided insight into the emotional and physical aftereffects of being diagnosed with BRCA-related cancers. My friend Dr. Lisa Davenport offered advice and connected me with Dr. Victoria Seewaldt of City of Hope and Dr. Sue Friedman, executive director and founder of FORCE (Facing Our Risk of Cancer Empowered). Their guidance was critical to writing Joanna with realism. Dr. Ernestine Lee, kind friend that she is, offered much-needed support when I sought more advice on Joanna’s medical history. She talked to numerous oncologists whose advice helped me sort out my concerns.