The Magic in the Moment (Short Stories)

Battina

“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”

–Vincent Van Gogh

            Polly reached her hand toward the sky, cupping her hand around the curve of the fingernail moon so that it seemed to settle in the crook of her palm. The stars glittered in response as though trembling at her touch. She sighed and wished she could sink her fingers into the coolness of the night sky, of the navy velvet decorated with silver jewels. It looked so peaceful and innocent, and she longed to cradle the beauty of it in her arms. She longed to cradle a child, a child that would gaze upon the stars with longing as she did, who would look at the night sky with all the passion and wonder of one who had never before witnessed the twinkling stars and waning moon.

            Her dreaming was broken by the warm arms that slipped around her waist, and she smelled her husband’s spicy cologne.

            “Come inside, Polly. It’s late,” Cam said, his breath warm on her night-chilled cheek.

            “I’m coming,” she told him, dropping her hand to curl it over his clasped fingers at her waist. She leaned into his chest and took comfort in his nearness, dreaming of a life that wasn’t hers, of a child that she could never have.

            He kissed the side of her neck. “What were you thinking? You looked so distant out here.”

            “I was just looking at the stars, Cam. I’m fine. Promise,” she assured him.

            A falling star streaked across the sky, and Polly gasped in pleasure.

            “Look! Did you see it?” she said, breathless, pointing toward the sky. She turned in his arms and searched his face with wide, excited eyes.

            “See what?” he asked, brushing her hair back from her forehead.

            She frowned. “The falling star. You missed it.” Her frown slipped into a whimsical grin. “It was lovely.”

            “You are lovely,” he told her, kissing her forehead.

            Her grin grew and she raised her arms to wrap them around his neck. She lifted onto her tip-toes and softly kissed his lips.

            “I love you,” he whispered.

            “I love you too. To the moon and back,” she said, allowing his warmth to ground her. “Come on, let’s go inside.” She took his hand and pulled him inside the apartment, offering the stars one last fleeting glance.

            “Do you think I’d be a good mother?” Polly asked quietly, lying beside her husband in their bed and listening to Cam’s heart where it beat steadily beneath her ear. She drew abstract shapes on his bare chest with her fingertip.

            “What kind of question is that? You’d be a perfect mother,” he told her, his baritone voice vibrating against her cheek. She could hear the smile in his voice, and she loved him for it.

            “I think you’d be a great daddy,” she whispered, blinking back the quickly gathering tears in her eyes. Before she could catch them, they slid from the corners of her eyes and dripped warmly to his chest.

            “Hey, come here,” he said, pulling her closer to his body and petting her hair with his fingers. “What’s got this on you mind?”