The evening was only beginning to purple into dusk, yet already she could make out millions of stars surfacing into clarity like spirits materializing from the twilight. And bisecting it all was a spectacular flume of starlight, a dense, swirling cloud cutting across the sky.
James gave a throaty chuckle at her side. "Not generally let out after dark, hen? Or is it that there are no stars in your time?"
"No…" she murmured. She began to walk forward slowly, not taking her eyes from the sky overhead. "I mean, yes. There are stars. But not like this ."
"Well then, we shall bide a wee." He ushered her to the base of the hill, sitting them both down. "You must tell me how it is the stars can have changed over time."
"It's not that they've changed. Stars are stars." Magda slowly leaned back to lie against the sloping hillside. "It's the sky that's changed. Because of electric lights, the nights are no longer as dark as they once were."
He lay back, waiting silently beside her, and she finally pulled her eyes from the sky to look at him. "Oh. Electricity." She sighed. "In the future, we have electricity. Like…" She looked back up, scanning the sky. "Like the power of lightning harnessed at your fingertips. Because of it, our homes have lights that burn brighter than any candle. All you need to do is walk into a room, flick a switch, and it's bright as day."
"Doesn't that get… hot?"
"No!" A startled belly laugh escaped her and she turned to him. He'd edged closer and was looking intently at her, his expression open, eager to share in her mirth. Their eyes met, and she grew still. "Oh…" She glanced away quickly. "Um, no, not hot. Just… bright."
"Ah."
She could feel that he hadn't moved, that he still faced her. She could hear his breath, felt it tickle her cheek. Her stomach gave a flutter. She sensed his eyes on her, wondered what would happen if she'd but turn her head the slightest bit. But she kept her gaze locked on the sky above.
The light dimmed quickly now, the sun winking below the horizon, and Magda felt tiny beneath the darkening sky. After all she'd been through, seeing such a magnificent explosion of stars above, it was impossible not to think about the more distant past, all those who'd come before, seen this same vast bowl overhead.
"I see why they named it the Milky Way." She realized she'd been fidgeting and forced her hands to still. "It is like a big swirly cloud of… well, of milk."
"Aye." James shifted, and though she sensed his gaze turn from her back to the sky above, she felt the warmth of his arm near her side. "Greek legend has it that it is a river of milk." He pointed his finger and traced the thick line streaking across the night sky. "They say it appeared while the goddess Hera held her infant son Hercules to her breast. While the baby suckled, Hera discovered he was Zeus's bastard from another woman. She pushed the baby away, and her milk spilled in a great stream, forever marking the heavens above."
"Oh." Her voice was quiet. He had enthralled her, his voice masculine, but gently thoughtful, transporting her to another time.
"So there aren't many stars in your time?" His question brought her back to the moment.
"Well, I suppose there are, we just can't see them as much. Unless you go far into the country, and even then, it's nothing like this."
"So you're not from the countryside?"
"Oh no." She sighed, thinking of Manhattan. "I'm from one of the biggest cities in the world."
"And that's where your museum is?"
"Yes. There are a lot of museums where I live. And stores and bagels and buses and hot dogs…" Her voice trailed off. "Dogs?"
"No," she chuckled. "Hot dogs. A kind of food. People sell them from carts. On street corners. They're like… like tubes of meat. Delicious tubes of meat."
"Ah, like a blood sausage."
"Oh yuck!" She laughed. "Nothing like blood sausage."
"So you don't see many stars whilst eating these… hot dogs?"
"No. You can't really see the stars in New York City."
James was silent for a time, then said, "I'm not surprised."
"That we can't see the stars?"
"No, hen, that you come from a city. You seem… not readily impressed, aye?"
She did turn to him then, without thinking, and smiled. "Well this… these stars impress me." You impress me. She gazed back at the sky and thought how grateful she was not to have missed this. Not miss you. Regardless of what she'd been through, in some small measure, this had made it all worthwhile.
"Thank you." "Whatever for, hen?" "For this."