Porcelain Keys by Sarah Beard Read Free Book Online Page B

celebrate my birthday with someone other than my parents.”
    The trees grew denser as we entered the aspen grove, and the lantern lit up the white trunks, encompassing us in a luminous orb. It felt intimate, sharing a little place of light with him in the dark world.
    “Your mom was upset tonight,” I said carefully. “Did I say something wrong?”
    He inhaled deeply through his nose and released a long sigh. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”
    “But she was upset?”
    “She’s ultrasensitive about certain things. Particularly about grandkids.”
    “Why?”
    He met my eyes, and with soberness in his own said, “She did have a granddaughter.”
    “Did?” Suddenly Elsie’s reaction to my “granddaughter” comment made sense. “What happened?”
    In the light of the lantern, I saw something change in his face. His brows drew together tightly and his lips flattened into a taut line. He didn’t answer right away, and his silence was somehow intensified by the sound of twigs snapping beneath our footsteps. Finally, he said softly, “She died.”
    “I’m sorry.” The words sounded so inadequate. I had the urge to reach for his hand to offer comfort, but I resisted. “Was she your brother’s baby?”
    “Yes. Her name was Emily.”
    “That must have been really hard for him.”
    “It was hard on us all.” He looked at me and tried to smile, but abandoned it half-formed. “So . . . what exactly did you leave in the tree house?”
    I was thrown off for a second by the abrupt change of topic, but quickly took the hint that he didn’t want to talk about it. “Just a notebook.”
    “It must be important if you’re willing to walk through a dark forest to retrieve it.”
    I thought about telling him how it was filled with Mom’s and my music, but feared it would somehow get back to Dad. “It’s just some ideas I’ve jotted down.”
    “What kind of ideas?”
    “Oh, you know, trivial things like how to cure tuberculosis, and how to save the Laysan Finch from extinction.”
    He watched me curiously, seeming to decide whether to push me for a real answer. But then he let me off the hook and began pointing out constellations instead.
    When we reached the tree house, he set the lantern on the floor and I saw how different it looked from the last time I’d been there. Shelves were filled with long metal boxes, lenses, and instruments. A large star map covered in red handwritten marks hung on the wall. And in the center of the room, an enormous telescope rested on a heavy-duty tripod.
    I went straight to the cabinet and pulled out my notebook. Thomas eyed it inquisitively, and I hugged it to my stomach to conceal it as much as possible. “So,” I said, nodding at the telescope in an attempt to divert his attention, “do you know how to use that thing?”
    “Are you kidding me?” He grinned. “With two generations of astronomers in the family, I would be a dope not to know how to use it.”
    “Will you show me something? Your grandpa let me look through his telescope a few times, but it’s been years.”
    “You don’t have to get home?”
    Remembering Dad wouldn’t be home until morning, I shook my head.
    He undid the latches on the wall and slid the roof along the wheeled track to the deck, opening the tree house to the night sky.
    Thomas turned off the lantern, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The crescent moon outlined Thomas’s face and hands while he fiddled with the telescope, and for a split second I thought how nothing he showed me tonight could be as beautiful. Something about being with him made the tree house feel more elevated, like I could reach up and graze the stars with my fingertips.
    He punched some numbers into an illuminated keypad, and the telescope moved slowly by itself across the sky, stopping over the east horizon. He looked through an eyepiece and adjusted some dials. “Okay—come here.” He reached out and placed his hand on the small of my back to guide