Page 24 of My Starry Valentine

Eventually, I ask, “What the heck have I done? I can’t believe I let her go like that…without even getting her phone number. What was I thinking?”

“I don’t pretend to know what you’re thinking right now, Ledger. Maybe you could try calling the hospital in Montrose to see if they’d relay a message to her through Naomi?”

“I don’t even know Naomi’s last name,” I sigh. “Or when she’s discharging. Now that her parents are there, and she’s had surgery, I can’t imagine they’ll keep her much longer.”

“Luna must’ve told you where she lives or given you another way to track her down. You two looked pretty close when I saw you earlier.”

“No,” I groan frustrated. “What was I thinking? Naomi has my satellite phone number, but I erased hers. And I told Luna not to call or text me.”

“Wow, you really were going for finality.”

“Yes, I was. Because I thought it was the right thing to do. Maybe it is. I don’t know.” My voice fades off as I stare at the watercolor again. After another long pause, I say, “Chuck, I think I need to pray. Will you help me?”

“Of course.”

Closing my eyes, my heart fills to bursting as I say, “Lord, Dad, God, whatever it is you go by… You sent an angel my way. Like a drop-dead gorgeous, perfect angel, and I messed things up. Big time. But I know you’re all about forgiveness and humility…and if you could help me figure out how to deserve her. Well, truthfully, I’ll do anything you ask of me...” Tears streak my cheeks, and my voice goes all wonky. Chuck takes over.

But in the stillness of the moment and the desperation of my solitude, a strange peace envelopes me. Like nothing I’ve felt before. As Chuck goes over all the things church people say, filling in the many gaps and holes in my earlier plea, an overwhelming tranquility settles on me, reassuring me that everything will somehow work out.

Chapter Thirteen

LUNA

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

“What are you doing up here?” the inquisitive, blond boy asks me, carefully picking his way toward me across the boulder field at the base of Wheeler Peak. His mother stands a little ways away on the trail, carrying her backpack and watching our conversation intently.

“I’m an artist-in-residence at Great Basin, working on a watercolor right now.”

The dark blonde mother shades her eyes with her hand, watching and listening. She calls to me, “I thought that was a palette and paints you were carrying in the metal case. What’s your name? So that I can say I know somebody famous.”

I chuckle. “I’m not going for fame or anything, but I have a website and an Instagram account. Luna Solace on both.”

“That’s a very unique name,” she replies with a smile. “I should know because my name’s Portia. And this is my son, Gregory. Are you enjoying your artist-in-residency here?”

“Yes, very much. This is hands-down my favorite national park.”

“Ours, too,” the little boy pipes up, his hazel eyes snapping toward my easel and half-finished painting.

“Did you enjoy the Bristlecone pine grove?” I ask, nodding towards the gnarled collection of wood and green below us. “Some specimens are many thousands of years old.”

The boy nods enthusiastically.

“It’s always amazing,” the woman adds.

Gregory looks over his shoulder at his mother before bragging, “I’m getting my Junior Ranger badge today, and it’s my birthday, September 22nd.”

“Very nice!” I glance at my half-finished watercolor, frowning. “The autumn equinox. That’s a cool birthday to have. How old are you, Gregory?”

“Ten.”

“Double digits. That’s pretty grown-up. How exciting!”

He puffs his chest with pride, making me laugh.

Portia laughs, too. “Are you going to the stargazing event tonight?”

“Yes, I am. Are you?”

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