Astronaut.

Noah was sitting calmly at the dining room table. His face was turned to the open window so that the autumn sunlight poured over him and emphasized every curve and perfect blemish in his golden skin. His amber eyes were pools of light. Both feet were kicked up on the next chair, in that casual pose he always had. It was like he was home – which he was, of course. He was in Jupiter’s kitchen, the one they had shared for nearly a year before he left. He looked like an angel in the off-white glow of the kitchen’s tile.

The year was 1947. Jupiter had left her husband in ’42. Noah had left her in ’43. Lora Joan had died – not as unexpectedly as their Mama – in ’45. Jupiter would have near murdered herself between now and then, if not for the blind hope that Noah would come back and still want her. Because she knew, she would always be his.

“Feels good to be home,” he murmured, not turning his head to Jupiter, who was leaning on the doorframe not five feet from him. She felt like a child in his presence, all grown and golden in the afternoon light. It hurt her to know that he had been fine without her for those four years. She had dreamed that he might have missed her as terribly as she missed him.

“Did you have fun?” She felt absurd, speaking pleasantries when all she wanted to do was grab him and wrap her arms around him and feel his do the same to her. She missed being loved more than anything. But she said nothing of it.

Noah nodded. There was a flicker of a smile at the corner of his pale ruby lips. Jupiter felt a pang of jealousy deep within her. Who had he had that fun with? Had he thought of her? “Yes, I had fun.” Then he turned his head to her, and she felt herself melt in his gaze. There was love there, she was sure of it. Noah spoke the words that she had wanted to hear from the moment he had left. “I missed you, Jupiter.”

She nodded and looked away before she started crying. Why was she so sad? She should have been overjoyed at seeing him, knowing he was alright, that nothing had happened to him – other than the acquiring of several tattoos. She wanted to ask about those.

He must have seen her looking, because he stirred. His eyes fell to the one near his right elbow: the heart with Madeline on its twisting ribbon. He figured that was the first one he should explain. Noah took a deep breath and pulled his legs down from the other chair. He turned to the table and rested both arms upon it as he stared at a spot which Jupiter could not see. “You do realize that when I left, I didn’t just leave Cape Cod.” His eyes lifted to hers in answer to her unspoken question. “I left you, as well.”

Jupiter’s throat closed and she felt tears prickling her eyes. “I see,” she whispered, unable to look away now that she had met his gaze. She wanted to avoid subtlety, because that never got anyone anywhere. “Did you fall in love?”

Noah’s eyes softened like they always did when she said something that upset him. “No,” was all he said.

Nodding, she moved to sit across the table from him. She stared at the stainless steel top, not having to lift her head to feel him watching her. “But you got a tattoo of her name.”

“Yes.”

She glanced up at him for only a moment. “If you weren’t in love with her, why did you get a tattoo with her name on it?” She was on the brink of tears; she had lost the only man she had ever truly loved. He had left her, she had let him go. She remembered what he had asked her: “I have to fly, Jupiter. I don’t know where to, and I don’t know what I’ll find, but I have to fly. I need this. Will you come with me? Maybe… maybe we can find each other out there. Not here. I can’t take it here anymore.”

And she had said, “No,” with only Lora Joan in mind. And so she had lost Noah.

His stern frown frightened her. “I didn’t want to forget her. Jupiter… she was a part of my life for four years. I couldn’t let her be forgotten.” He paused and looked at his left hand. There was a small black heart on the stretch of skin between his forefinger and his thumb. He held this hand out to her, so that she could see it. “This was the first, Jupiter. Do you know why?”

She shook her head, feeling much like a child when a parent asked her why she was being punished.

“Because it was to remember you.”



Noah sat on the cold tile of the miniature airport. He had taken the pen from the woman at the counter, who had red hair and a very large, ravenous smile. She would be his pilot for the next few years, they had signed contracts and paperwork; it was all set up and ready to go. He had asked for a moment alone before they actually started up the airplane and headed to California for a month (Noah wasn’t positive he’d make a good surfer, but he was willing to try). It was so cold in Massachusetts; he was ready for heat. He wanted to drown in the sun.

He picked up the little needle he had "borrowed" from the first aid kit on the wall. Who needed that in a place like this? He wasn’t sure how to do it correctly, but he did it nonetheless. He poked himself alternately with pen and needle until he was satisfied with the bloody and black mass that would become a heart. He smiled slightly, feeling proud of himself as he stood and went into the washroom to clean it. You weren’t supposed to put a bandage on it, were you? Noah had no idea, but he had fun admiring the puffy, angry red bump shaped like a heart. Jupiter would scold him with a smile for this one.

Madeline – she was the woman with the red hair and alligator grin – looked at it curiously but seemed to know better than to ask. Then they were on the plane, seatbelts buckled and helmets slapped on. Sometimes leaving what you were used to helped you feel better, or so Noah believed. He felt kind of… free.

When the plane took off, he was breathless. They flew into the sunset, sailed on an ocean of clouds. He had to wipe the tears from his goggles a few times. Madeline never said a word about it.



Jupiter sniffed and wiped angrily at her eyes. Just because Noah had given himself a tattoo in her memory didn’t mean she would stop hating crying. It was weakness when she could be strong for other people. Maybe that was why Lora Joan had always touched her cheeks, as if she were waiting for the tears that would never come. She did that even on her death bed. She wanted to see Jupie’s tears glimmer in the sickly yellow light her room had grown. But she had never shown.

Noah sat back and looked at the heart for a moment longer before he looked at the window. The frame was cracked from water damage. There was a thin sheet of ivy over one corner, and if he sat in the right spot he could see the soft green light falling like a blanket on the kitchen. He distinctly remembered the bedroom having a window completely covered in ivy. That had been nice: no chance of peeping Toms. He chuckled, which drew a curious look from his lover. Well, she wasn’t his lover anymore, was she? His sunshine eyes looked sadly at her for a moment before he smiled. “You’re crying.”

“No, I’m not.” She turned from him and rubbed the rolled-up sleeve of her shirt angrily across her face. “I’m not crying, okay?” She looked desperately at him. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he said softly. The quiet smile on his lips made her breath hitch. “It’s getting late, Jupiter.” He sat up and pushed away from the table, his hands pressed flat to the metal. “We should go to sleep.”

Mortified, she gaped up at him. “What do you mean, ‘we’?” She didn’t have the words to express her surprise. She would have assumed that he had somewhere else to stay. It never occurred to her that he would come back… and expect her to take him so quickly.

His eyes leveled on hers. “Um. I mean you and I. Go to sleep.” He pointed at the ceiling. “In a bed.”

Jupiter felt a giddy warmth rise in her stomach, but pushed it down with a deep frown. “Noah...” She had to taste his name on her lips once more. She always did. “You’ve been gone for four years.”

“Yes.” He didn’t blink at her words. It was obvious, he thought. He continued that thought, and realized where she was coming from. A smile formed on his mouth as he took a step toward her. He plucked her hand from its resting place on the table and lifted it, bending so that he could kiss her knuckles. “Jupiter… come to bed.”

She tugged her hand away, unaware of the crimson blush splashed across her cheeks. “I – I have to clean up, I made a big dinner and I didn’t put anything away…” Upon looking around the kitchen, she saw that there was really nothing to support her argument. Not a single dish was out of place.

Noah pulled her to her feet and wrapped his strong arms around her slender waist. She fit perfectly against him – something he always loved. The heady scent of her body made him woozy. That was something else he had always loved about coming home to her every day; he could breathe nothing but beauty for however long he had wanted.

He bent to softly kiss her neck. Her spine went rigid in his embrace, but he knew she would give. She always did. His lips grazed her jaw, pulling into a smile at the sight of her tightly shut eyes. She didn’t want to see him that close, apparently.

Without a word, Noah took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly on the mouth. He could feel her melt against him. Her fingers rose and fluttered over his cheeks, as if she were afraid he would disappear. Then, she seized his hair and deepened the previously tender kiss to the point of passion. He chuckled and pulled gently from her grip. “The bed, Jupiter,” he reminded her.

He watched her gasp softly and smile. “Okay,” she whispered, grinning sheepishly up at him.

Dear Lord, she had missed him.