The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(96)
“I know.” She picked up a low tumbler, which smelled like a rum and Coke, and gave him a wink. “How is she doing?”
“ Doris is doing pretty well. She’s looking forward to seeing you. So is my daughter, Rachel.” Hershel also had a martini. He lifted it. “Now that we’re all here … l’chaim!”
To life, indeed.
*
I lay sprawled across the bed while Nathaniel rubbed my feet. His thumbs dug into the ball of my right foot in a searching circular pattern, like a tension-finding radar.
“So … I take it dancing is out?” He ran one thumb down the arch of my foot.
I groaned and pulled a pillow over my face. “I’ll need a compelling reason to leave this bed. Ever.”
“I might be able to provide that.” The motion of his hand changed to a softer pressure that sent shivers up my spine.
“That feels more like a reason to stay in bed.” I pressed the pillow more firmly over my face.
My husband has a wonderful laugh. “Fine. Stay in bed.”
“What was the story Aunt Esther told tonight? While I was with the little girls.”
“Oh God. I nearly died.” His fingers worked around the back of my heel to my Achilles tendon, and then up my calf. “I don’t think I can tell it the way she does, though. Apparently, when your father was little, they’re having a party, and your dad sees his first electric light. He touches it and says, ‘The damn thing’s hot.’ Now—you have to picture your aunt Esther saying that.”
I could just see her, with her delicate features and bright eyes, chirping, “The damn thing’s hot.”
Things you don’t expect small children or little old ladies to say. “I’m sorry I missed that.”
“How about you? I didn’t get to hear anything about the testing today.”
“Mm…” Under the pillow, the world was warm and had the suffused light of dense cloud cover. Low visibility was fine by me. I’d spent the past five days being tested along every axis they could think of, and some I hadn’t known existed. “The centrifuge was fun.”
“Ha! You are the only person I know who would say that unironically.”
I pushed the pillow up so I could stick my tongue out at him. “Any idea how long before we hear back?”
He shook his head and lifted my foot a little higher. “Not my area. I’m more concerned with the health and morale…” Nathaniel bent down so his hair fell across his forehead, and took my big toe into his mouth. His teeth nibbled the tip, and my back arched as he withdrew his mouth. “… of specific candidates.”
“I see.” Pulling my foot back, I slid it down his chest to nestle into the place where his thighs met. “And what is your candidate criteria? Besides an ability to handle being placed in a centrifuge chair, of course.”
Nathaniel’s hips flexed to match my pressure, and, for a moment, his eyes flickered closed. A lazy smile ghosted across his face as he leaned forward. “Well … Clearly the centrifuge indicates an ability to work with compromised blood flow, which is … ah … necessary for a pilot.”
“Is that why women are able to handle higher G-forces than men?” I traced a line up the inside of his thigh. “What other qualifications does your candidate possess?”
The bed creaked beneath me as Nathaniel shifted to his knees. “It’s critical that suitable candidates have experience with rocketry.”
“What type of experience? Should I demonstrate my experience ensuring that the rocket is topped up and ready for launch?” Beneath my hands, his body seemed super-charged with heat. His shirt bunched under my touch as I found my way to his belt.
Nathaniel leaned down, his breath hot against my cheek. “That would be acceptable.”
“Acceptable!” I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him down against me. “I plan on being excellent.”
THIRTY-ONE
DR. KING TO LEAD ANTI-BIAS TREK
15,000 Southern Negroes Going to Capital to Observe 4th Year of School Decree
MONTGOMERY, AL, May 18, 1957—Next week, a young Negro minister will lead a pilgrimage to the Meteor Memorial in Kansas City to mark the fourth anniversary of the Supreme Court’s school desegregation order.
Saturday morning we all went to synagogue together. Several times during the service, I had to press my handkerchief to my eyes because I would look at Aunt Esther beside me and half-expect to see Grandma on her other side, or Mama and Daddy behind me. I was so very glad to have her back, but she brought ghosts with her.
Nathaniel hadn’t been able to join us because it was a launch day. Ever since the Orion 27 disaster, he wouldn’t miss a launch. Rockets still blew up occasionally when they were being tested, but those were just data points.
That evening, we all went over to Mission Control to watch the launch. It was a manned craft, heading for the orbital platform. I say “platform,” but it was more donut-shaped than flat, rotating to create a limp artificial gravity.
The night was warm and banks of clouds bounced the lights of the launch tower back down to the Earth in a sodium-orange haze. Baffles gave some shelter to the rooftop, but wind snuck past it and cooled the sweat from the back of my neck. I still hadn’t gotten used to being warm outside again.