Chapter 10 - Under the Stars
The autumn air returned to Greenwich a year later, crisp and clean, bringing with it the familiar scent of woodsmoke and turning leaves.
On a clear Saturday night, far away from the flashing cameras of the financial press and the sterile boardrooms of Manhattan, the lawn behind the Vale estate was quiet and still.
A heavy wool blanket was spread across the grass near the ancient weeping willow. Four people sat upon it, looking up into the vast, infinite dome of the night sky.
The Greenwich streetlights were dimmed, leaving nothing between them and the constellations overhead.
Matthew lay on his back, pointing a small brass telescope toward the eastern horizon. Beside him, Lucy sat cross-legged, holding a star chart illuminated by a small red flashlight. A few feet away, Clara and Alexander sat together on two folding chairs, sharing a thermos of hot spiced cider and watching the children with quiet, affectionate amusement.
Matthew adjusted the focus ring of the telescope, his breath pluming in the cool night air like a tiny white cloud. He turned to Lucy, his fingers moving quickly in the dim light.
Found it, he signed. The Orion Nebula. One thousand three hundred years away.
Lucy leaned over, peering through the lens. Her eyes widened as the distant, shimmering gas cloud sprang into sharp, beautiful focus.
It’s incredible, she signed back. It looks like a fire burning in the dark.
Matthew smiled, looking up from the telescope at the stars above, then glancing across the blanket at his father.
Alexander caught his son’s eye. He didn't need words, and he didn't need sound. He simply raised his right hand, his fingers forming the sign for friend, followed by the sign for home.
May you like
Matthew nodded, his heart full, and signed back: Forever.
Above them, millions of light-years away, ancient stars burned in total, unbroken silence—reminding everyone on the grass that the most important things in the universe never needed to make a sound to be heard.
