Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“That’s one of the deepest views of space ever captured in visible wavelengths,” I explain, and his brows furrow as he continues to study it. His interest spurs me on. “The million-second exposure was taken over the course of 400 orbits of the Hubble Space Telescope, and that image contains more than 10,000 galaxies.”
His gaze slides slowly to me and still, he stays quiet, goading me on.
I have to fight my smile as my enthusiasm starts to bleed out of me. “You want to know something else? You probably know light takes time to travel, so when we look at an object or star that’s 13 billion light years away, we know the light emitted from that star has been traveling toward us for 13 billion years. So, basically, we’re seeing that star as it appeared 13 billion years ago.” I point to the Hubble Ultra-Deep Field. “Like those stars right on that little poster in this crappy trailer.”
He nods, obviously intrigued by my rambling. I pray he can’t see my blush as I turn and busy myself with checking the cupboard for something to eat for dinner.
“You like space?” he asks, turning in a slow circle, eyeing my other posters and pictures: Eileen Collins as the first female commander of a space shuttle mission, the first untethered spacewalk, the first image of a black hole.
I shrug. “Yeah. Couldn’t really help it. My nan raised me on Star Trek.”
He looks back toward me. “Nan is your grandmother?”
I nod.
“She raised you?”
“That’s…not what I meant.” I rummage around in the cupboard like I’m looking for something I can’t see. There are only a few things in here. What’ll it be, Raelynn? Soup or soup? “I was just saying I watched a lot of Star Trek. But yes, she raised me.”
I close the cupboard and decide to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead. I grab two plates, knowing Ben could probably wolf down food at any time of day, before opening the bread. He takes a seat at the table and watches me for a long tense bout of silence before he finally speaks again.
“And now she’s not doing well?” When I look shocked that he would know that, he explains, “I heard you talking about it at the diner the other morning.”
I hum. “Yeah. Well then you’re caught up.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Here?”
“In Pine Hill. You said you lived in Los Angeles at one point, so why’d you come back?”
I shoot him a teasing smile. “Not just anyone can serve up bacon and eggs at Dale’s, Ben. I mean, do you know how finicky that coffee machine can be?”
“Right. So…”
My joke doesn’t deter him, so I try a different tactic.
“If I told you then I’d have to…” I mime slicing my throat.
He’s not amused. He just sits and looks at me, waiting. His brown eyes are filled with curiosity like he’s trying to probe the depths of my mind.
“Sheesh. Relax. It’s really not all that serious. And you already guessed it, pretty much. I’m here for my grandma.”
I finish making the sandwiches and carry them to the table, taking the seat across from him. It’s cramped quarters, and if I kept my legs dangling, we’d be all tangled together soon enough, our knees banging together, so I tuck my legs up crisscross style and pick up my sandwich, about to take a bite when I realize Ben’s still just looking at me, not touching his food.
“Would you cut it out?”
He leans back and throws one arm over the back of the low bench seat. “I’m just annoyed that you can’t seem to carry on a conversation with me.”
“Maybe I’m a private person. Maybe you should stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
After a long moment, he looks down and picks up his sandwich, seemingly content to let me have a moment of peace.
Like a well-planned dose of reverse psychology, his resignation finally convinces me to open up a smidge.
With a frustrated groan, I plop my sandwich back down on my plate and drum my pointer finger on the table nervously. “Even before I left for college, I knew something was wrong with Nan. She’d started forgetting things, repeating the same things every now and then, but I chalked it up to her age. If she knew her diagnosis then, she didn’t let on.
“I think now, there were more signs that I just didn’t want to see. Y’know? I was a senior in high school and I wanted out.”
“Anybody would.”
His words aren’t the balm I wish they were.
I study my sandwich as I keep talking.
“I was about to finish the fall semester of my senior year in college a couple months back when I got a call from Sheriff Corbin telling me my nan had taken a turn for the worse. I mean…it could have been a lot worse. She’d accidentally set fire to her house.” I shake my head at the bad memory. “Left a towel on the stove. Anyway, she’s fine. Sheriff Corbin and the guys were able to get her out before…”