Page 25 of My Starry Valentine

“Yes, Gregory’s obsessed with the stars.”

I stare at the curious kid, a sudden sadness gripping me. Is this what Ledger was like as a boy? “That’s so cool. A future astronomer! Well, maybe I’ll see you two tonight.”

“Yes, we’ll look for you.” The woman waves for her son to get back on the trail, and he scrambles like a mountain goat over the boulders as I hold my breath. Despite his agility, painful memories of my last cross-country skiing trip with Naomi wash over me.

“It’s the first day of fall, Ledger, and you never showed up,” I whisper to myself. It’s not like he said he would. But it didn’t stop me from waiting breathlessly every summer night of the dark sky programs, scrutinizing tall, dark male forms, listeningfor familiar deep voices, and reliving painful disappointment again and again.

By early afternoon, the wind picks up, ice-chilled as it glides off the glacier, and I pack up. I have a lot to do before the program tonight, including a hot shower, a quick nap, and a call to my grandparents. I make my way down carefully. The five-mile hike covers an elevation change of more than one thousand feet, which means some fairly steep patches. I navigate the most challenging spots slowly and deliberately.

Since Naomi, I no longer take ankles for granted. Fortunately, she’s healed up and back to normal life, with only a scar to show for her ordeal. She spent the summer volunteering at the Monterey Bay Aquarium, using a knee scooter until physical therapy helped her walk again. I make a mental note to text her later for details about her latest man crush, the hunky physical therapist she sees twice a week. I live vicariously through her in the romance department these days.

As the sun sets, I drive towards the Lehman Caves Visitor Center, with its single-story brown facade and wraparound porch on a prominence overlooking the parking lot. The Rhodes Cabin and Great Basin Astronomy Amphitheater sit on the right-hand side facing it. Rugged stone staircases lead to the center, and vast views of the park provide a stunning backdrop.

I savor the breathtaking swatches of vibrant color that declare nightfall. Extravagant shades of hot pink and lavender, splashy layers of periwinkle and gold, juxtaposed against the magnificence is Wheeler Peak, still lightly snow-capped despite the lateness of the season. I have to stop for photos, though I already have hundreds of this mountain.

Twilight settles, and red lights illuminate the parking lot, stairs, and the long walkway to the amphitheater, guiding tourists toward the upcoming event. I high-five some of theyounger rangers who I’ve gotten to know before reporting for duty to my supervisor, Jessica.

“Luna, you’re covering the parking lot again tonight. Sound good?”

“Sure thing, boss. Can I assume that means I won’t be saying any opening words about the artist-in-residence program, then?” I ask as I don the reflective vest she hands me.

“Nope,” she says cheerily. “It’s all astronomy tonight.”

“Sounds good.” After she leaves, I approach cars that roll up the long roadway to the visitors center, leaving behind oceans of sage for the evergreens and scrub brush of the foothills. Directing them where to park, I explain the reason for the red lights, caution them against using their cell phone flashlights that impair night vision, and mention tripping hazards as they head to the amphitheater.

Thirty minutes in, a brown Jeep rolls up, and my mind flashes to Ledger for the briefest of moments. But it’s not his vehicle, and it’s autumn. I need to move on. The windows roll down, revealing Portia and Gregory.

“Hey, you two!” I greet. “Well, did you do it, birthday boy? Did you get your Junior Ranger’s badge?”

The adorable kid puffs out his chest, proudly displaying the wooden badge emblazoned with the park’s logo.

“Congratulations! Wear it with pride,” I say.

I dive into the speech I give to each party, and the ash blonde nods, staring ahead towards the area where I direct her to park before saying, “We’ll sit up front and save you a seat.”

“Thank you!” They drive away with Gregory leaning out of the window, looking over his shoulder, and waving at me.

After thirty more minutes of directing traffic, I walk down to the amphitheater, following the red lights lining the walkway. In the gloaming, I make out the dark forms of a packed crowd and four presenters on stage next to a bright, movie-theater-sizedscreen where PowerPoint slides provide a variable glow. Their dark profiles denote two tall, clean-cut men and two women. One woman wears her hair in a ponytail, and the other has a beautiful halo of mid-length curls. It’s too dark to make out their faces.

The slide says they’re here on behalf of the International Astronomical Union, discussing how stars, comets, and other celestial bodies get their names. It’s a special presentation we don’t normally offer. So, I haven’t watched it before. The woman with the curls holds the mic, speaking as she points toward slides projected onto a large screen.

My eyes scan the front row until Gregory runs towards me, grabbing my hand. “We saved a spot for you,” he whispers.

All I can say is the kid has incredible night vision because I can’t see much of anything apart from the outlines of bodies. “Thank you, buddy.”

I sandwich myself between Portia and the little boy, who starts chatting animatedly about his Pokemon card collection. His mom leans closer, whispering, “You can seriously tell him to quiet down whenever you like. He’ll talk your ear off, just like his dad used to.”

“Oh, are you all staying here together?”

“My husband was killed in action in Afghanistan.”

My breath catches in my throat as her words hit me. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“It’s been tough,” she says quietly. “Gregory was young when it happened. He doesn’t have any memories of his father.”

“Luna…” the little boy says, tugging on my sleeve.

“One moment,” I whisper, lamenting the timing of his interruption.

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