by Ginny Dye
The hooting of several owls broke the stillness as they called back and forth. Robert listened closely, wishing he could interpret what they were saying. Perhaps they were doing nothing but heralding the arrival of a new season. He wondered how many of them were watching him right now. When he heard a very quiet whoosh sound over his head, he knew an owl had just flown by. Felicia had explained to him, after emerging from the library one day for her mandatory ride, that owls have specialized feathers with varying degrees of softness that helped muffle sound when they fly. Their broad wings and light bodies made them nearly silent fliers, which meant they could stalk prey more easily.
She had also told him that the flattened facial disk of an owl funneled sounds to the bird’s ears and magnified it as much as ten times to help the owl hear noises mere humans couldn’t detect. Felicia’s eyes had been wide with the excitement of discovery when she told him what she had learned. In truth, it was as fascinating to him as it was to her. It also made him want to spend more time in the library over the winter so he could learn more. He had ordered many new horse publications, but Felicia’s hunger for information had ignited an answering passion in him to learn about more than just horses.
Robert smiled as he peered at the sky. For the first time in his life he felt settled and truly content. Carrie’s decision to stay on the plantation that winter had solidified that for him. When she went back to school, he would support her, but he also intended to savor every moment they had together.
A thought crept in that brought a frown to his face. Being with Amber, Felicia, John and Hope had given him a hunger to have children of his own. The war had kept him from thinking about it, and then the pressures of starting the breeding program had kept him preoccupied, but now that things had settled down, he spent a lot of time imagining what having children would be like. He and Carrie had never talked about it, other than a conversation early in their relationship that revealed both of them wanted to have children one day. His frown deepened as he thought about the reality that one day kept being pushed back by circumstances. It would have been folly to have children during the war, in spite of the fact that many soldiers had done just that, but now there were new things to delay the one day. He was beyond thrilled that Carrie had decided to stay on the plantation, but her delay in becoming a doctor would surely postpone any plans for children.
He continued to peer into the sky. He knew it was silly to expect to find an answer there, but still he could hope. He thought about Felicia’s explanation of a shooting star. He had seen many of them growing up, but knowing what he was looking at now made them seem almost more mystical, not less. His neck was getting stiff from gazing at the sky, but he remembered Felicia saying the Leonid Shower on November thirteenth would be bracketed by more meteors than usual on the days surrounding it. It was still four days away, but… His eyes widened as a bright gleam shot across the sky, followed almost immediately by another one, and then another, before the stars went back to their random twinkling.
Robert took a deep breath. He had asked for a sign, but he had not defined what it would mean. Was it too late to do that? After a moment’s thought he decided the wonder of seeing three shooting stars almost simultaneously meant he could determine what the sign meant. “I will be a father,” he murmured into the glittering sky. “I will be a father.”
Chapter Thirty
Carrie had watched the sky anxiously all day. The morning had started out with thick gray clouds pillowing across the sky. As excited as she was for the first snowfall, this was not the day for it. The cumulus mass had cleared away under a weak, cold sun, but the afternoon winds had blown more in.
Felicia walked out on the porch and joined her on the edge to peer upward. “It just can’t be cloudy tonight,” she cried. “It just can’t.”
“It won’t be,” Carrie said firmly. “We are going to see the Leonid Shower. It’s your birthday present, honey.”
Felicia peered at her with cautious hope. “And just how do you know that?”
Carrie smiled. “There is more than one way of knowing something my young scientist friend.”
Felicia looked at her appraisingly. “You mean like magic?” Her voice was thick with disappointment.
Carrie laughed. “You don’t believe in magic?”
Felicia shrugged. “I don’t know enough to deny that it may have a place somewhere in the world,” she admitted, “but I don’t believe magic will make the clouds go away.”
“I see,” Carrie murmured as she continued to watch the sky.
“So what makes you so sure the skies will clear tonight?” Felicia demanded again. “Everyone will be here as soon as it gets dark. That’s not so far away.” Her voice held a hint of panic.
Carrie knew how important this night was to the little girl. If it hadn’t been, she would have stayed in Philadelphia a few extra days. As it was, she and Abby had worked with other women in the city to send close to five hundred warm coats and pairs of gloves to the children of Moyamensing. Michael took a wagon down the day Carrie had left. She would have loved to see the expressions on the faces of the children, but it was enough to know they would be warm this winter. Abby had chosen to remain in the city a few extra days so she could send another wagon, but Carrie’s promise to Felicia had brought her home.
Carrie smiled. “You spend so much time studying the night sky, Felicia, that you haven’t learned how to read the daytime sky.”
“Huh?” Felicia was clearly confused. “What’s to study? There is a sun.”
Carrie chuckled as she took Felicia’s chin and turned it so she could look toward the east. “What do you see?”
“Clouds,” Felicia said morosely.
“Beyond the clouds,” Carrie prompted.
Felicia stopped fixating on the clouds and trained her eyes on the farther horizon. “I see a patch of blue.”
“Right. Now, what way is the wind blowing?”
Felicia frowned, but answered. “From the east.”
“So what is the wind blowing toward us?” Carrie watched as Felicia’s frown melted away into a hopeful look.
“The blue patch,” she whispered as understanding dawned on her face. “The wind is blowing clear skies toward us.” Then another frown puckered her brows. “How do you know the clear skies will get to us in time?”
“Ah…” Carrie started. “That’s where the magic comes in for one eleven-year-old birthday girl who dreams of seeing the Leonid Shower more than anything else.”
Felicia’s face fell. “So you don’t really know?”
Carrie reached down and lifted her chin so their eyes could meet. “I told you there was more than one way of knowing,” she reminded her. “Trust me. Your skies will be clear tonight.”
Felicia still looked doubtful, but she nodded her head. “If you say so,” she said, her eyes fixed on the clear band of sky that seemed so achingly far away.
“I tell you what,” Carrie said. “Let’s go in and help Annie in the kitchen. Staring at the sky isn’t going to make the clouds disappear any faster.”
“Is it like watching a pot will keep it from boiling?”
“Well, from a scientific perspective, that is not really true,” Carrie observed. “Given enough time, a pot will boil whether you are watching it or not.” She reached down and grabbed Felicia’s hand. “Come on. Even a scientist likes sugar cookies.”
Felicia’s frown disappeared immediately. “Sugar cookies? I thought Annie was making just oatmeal cookies.”
“That’s just what she told you,” Carrie whispered, glad she had found a way to erase the troubled worry from Felicia’s eyes. “It’s supposed to be a birthday surprise. I’m going to forget that I’m not supposed to take you into the kitchen. Make sure you look very surprised.”
“Okay,” Felicia whispered back as she hurried into the house.
Carrie drew a sigh of relief and followed her, praying the wind would blow all the clouds away before the meteor shower was supposed to
begin.
Felicia edged up to Carrie as everyone arrived laden with armfuls of quilts and looking like they were wearing everything they owned. “You were right, Carrie!”
Carrie smiled up at the sparkling clear sky, breathing a sigh of relief that the wind had blown the clouds away in time. She had seen another band of clouds tucked far away on the horizon just as the sun was setting, but since the breeze had died down completely, they should still be far away. She was praying they would stay away long enough for everyone to experience the historic event that was about to happen.
Felicia darted away to welcome everyone. It looked like every student in the school had come, almost all of them accompanied by both parents. Evidently, the picture the children had painted for their parents of what they had learned from Felicia was enticing enough to make them leave their warm fires on a bitterly cold night.
Thirty minutes later, when everyone was settled on top of a thick mattress of quilts, with more quilts wrapped snugly around their bodies, Felicia stepped up to stand in the middle of the circle that had been created. She had mandated no fires be built because she wanted nothing to mar the brightness of the meteor shower. The darkness was almost complete, but there was just enough light from the stars and the half-moon hanging above the treetops to outline her lithe body.
“We are all here tonight for the Leonid Meteor Shower,” Felicia said. The crowd quieted instantly, seeming to sense they were about to experience something very momentous. “The last Leonid Meteor Shower was in 1833. It actually marks the discovery of the shower, but it also marks the actual birth of meteor astronomy. Pretty soon you are going to see a lot of meteors falling from the sky, but the sky will really light up in the last four hours or so preceding dawn,” she announced. “I don’t know how many of you will make it that long, but I can promise I will be out here the whole time.”
Carrie wondered if she could last the night. Robert reached for her hand under the layer of quilts and squeezed it gently. “I’m up for it if you are,” he whispered.
“If I don’t turn into an ice statue,” Carrie murmured.
“I can keep you warm,” Robert promised as he blew warm air gently into her ear.
Carrie shivered, but not from the cold. She snuggled closer to her husband as she listened to Felicia.
“People reacted in different ways to the 1833 meteor shower,” Felicia continued. “Some people were hysterical because they believed the Judgement Day was at hand. Scientists were just wildly excited by the thousand meteors a minute emanating from the constellation Leo. Just about everyone knew about it back then. They were either awakened by the cries of their excited neighbors, or they were jolted awake by flashes of light from the fireballs.” Her voice was high with excitement.
Carrie could feel both excitement and trepidation radiating from the people around her. The students had learned there was nothing to fear, but she wondered if they had passed the knowledge on to their parents. “Is there any reason to be afraid?” she asked.
“No,” Felicia answered firmly. “Meteors like the ones we are about to see tonight are very small and not very dense. They are moving very fast so they will look very bright when they enter the atmosphere, but they will burn up long before they reach earth.” She understood the reason for Carrie’s question. “We are in absolutely no danger.”
Carrie heard the sighs of relief from many of those around her.
“Where did you say the meteors are coming from?” another person, unable to be identified in the darkness, asked.
“From the constellation Leo,” Felicia answered. “Leo means ‘lion.’ It’s called that because if you drew a line and connected all the stars, you can see a lion in the sky.”
“Really?” one of the children asked with a gasp. “Where is it?”
“If you look toward the north you’ll see it. It’s one of the largest constellations in the sky. In fact, it’s the twelfth largest one,” Felicia added.
“I don’t see no lion,” a little boy protested. “Ain’t nothing but a bunch of stars.”
“Come up here with me,” Felicia invited. A little boy scrambled quickly to her side. “Now, kneel down with me.” He quickly obeyed. “See that tallest tree out there at the edge of the pasture?”
“I do,” the boy said solemnly.
“Now look straight up until you see a star that looks brighter than any of the others around it.”
“I see it!” the boy cried as murmurs of agreement rose from the watchers.
“That star is called Regulus,” Felicia announced. “It means ‘little king’ or ‘prince’ in Latin. It’s also the star that is right in the heart of the lion.”
“Really?” the little boy breathed. “Where is the rest of the lion?”
Felicia chuckled. “You have to use your imagination a little.”
Rose moved forward at that moment and passed out a basket of candles, as well as a sheath of papers. “This will help everyone find Leo,” she called.
Carrie reached for her paper eagerly. She was about to discover what Felicia had been hunched over for the last two days. She had witnessed her drawing something, but the little girl wouldn’t let her see it. When she lit her candle and examined the sheet of paper, she realized she was looking at a star chart for the constellation Leo. “Felicia is amazing,” she murmured.
“It’s a good thing she did this,” Robert muttered. “I’m as lost as that little boy.”
Felicia patiently pointed out the stars on the sheet of paper that formed the lion’s chest, the ones that defined the lion’s head, and then the ones for Leo’s body. “Now,” she instructed. “I want you to close your eyes and think about seeing the shape of a lion.”
Carrie knew Felicia had brought pictures of a lion in for all the children to see at school, and she had told all of them to make sure their parents saw them before tonight. Carrie hoped they had. She also wondered briefly what it had been like to see the picture of such a magnificent animal that was from the continent their ancestors had come from.
“You really think I can see a lion?” The little boy’s voice dripped with skepticism. “I sure don’t see nothing like that up there.”
“Trust me,” Felicia urged. “I never thought I would see the constellations either, but I do now. I want everyone to blow out your candle and close your eyes until I tell you to open them. I want you to think about seeing a lion.” She waited for all the candles to be extinguished. “Now close your eyes, but keep looking toward where you saw the stars,” she ordered.
Carrie did as she was told, but she had her own serious doubts about seeing anything but stars when she opened them again.
“Now I want you to imagine a big lion in your mind,” Felicia commanded. “Imagine it standing tall and proud in the sky. I would tell you to hear it roar, but since none of us have ever heard that, it probably won’t help.”
Carrie chuckled as she pressed her eyes together tightly. She so wanted to see what Felicia was describing. She kept them closed for at least two minutes, amazed how completely silent everyone was. They must want to see it as badly as she did.
“Now open them,” Felicia ordered.
Carrie gasped as she gazed into the sky, actually seeing what seemed to be the shape of a lion. As she continued to peer at it, the stars seemed to wrap around the picture she had in her mind. “I see it,” she cried excitedly.
“Me too!” the little boy cried. “There really is a lion in the sky.”
There were some cries of disappointment, but most were able to see the lion.
A little girl ran forward and tugged at Felicia’s arm. “I can’t see no lion,” she said sadly. “Does that mean I won’t be seeing the meteor shower either?”
Felicia laughed. “Not at all. I wanted to teach everyone about the Leo Constellation, but I promise you that every person here is going to see the meteor shower.”
“How do you know when it is coming?” a woman called out. “How do you know it is tonight?”
>
“That’s a great question,” Felicia responded. “After the last one in 1833, a lot of people started going back into history trying to figure out if it had happened before. They were able to find accounts of it all the way back to the year 585.”
Carrie gaped at this new information. She was quite certain everyone else’s mouths were hanging open too. “They kept records that far back?” she murmured.
Felicia heard her quiet comment. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say there were actual records, but they were able to find accounts in people’s journals and notebooks. It was clear they were describing the same thing,” she said. “This research is the reason we are out here tonight. They found accounts of ten different significant showers. It allowed them to calculate that the showers appear every thirty-three and a quarter years. The Leonids actually happen every year in November, but once every thirty-three years, it is spectacular.” Her voice trembled with anticipation. “Calculations tell us the shower will be tonight.” Her voice was almost reverent as she finished, her gaze fixed to the sky.
Carrie knew Felicia was desperately hoping all the calculations had been correct. If not, people would get a great astronomy lesson, but they would go home cold and sorely disappointed.
“Look!” a man suddenly hollered.
Everybody’s eyes shot to the sky in time to see a blazing meteor streak across the sky, its long tail suspended for several seconds.
“Pretty,” one girl cooed.
“And you’re sure we’re safe?” a woman cried anxiously.
