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It looked perfect up there, the Milky Way stretching overhead, the gauzy wispiness making it look like some thin curtain of light had been stretched overhead. No aircraft, no satellites, no searchlights advertising God-knows-what.

There was movement about him, and somebody laughed. "Tucker! Sit down!"

An English springer spaniel dog dropped next to him, carrying a tennis ball in its mouth. The dog rolled over and Fletcher reached over and rubbed its belly. There was nothing there, just for a split second, and then the wiry sensation of the dog hair, the firmness of its skin. He scratched at its belly and there was another shriek from one of the children.

"There! Did you see that? Did you?"

A woman's voice, behind him. "Is Tucker bothering you?"

He turned and even in the dim light, could make out her long hair, stretching out over a down vest, worn over a cotton nightgown. Marie, he thought. That was her name.

"No, Marie, not at all," he said.

"Can I sit next to you?"

"Of course," he said.

Marie moved in next to him, and he lifted up the quilt so she could slide her long legs underneath. She shifted her weight so she was close to him, and he could smell her scent. A bit of vanilla in it, it seemed.

"Beautiful night," she said.

"God, you're right."

"Enjoying it?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

The children's voices were as excited as before, pointing out the streaks of lights. A few were so bright they reflected in the still waters of the lake. Marie leaned in. "I'm so glad you moved in this past summer. The people who lived in your place before... ugh."

He managed to smile. "Ugh?"

"Too many parties, too much noise at night, too much of everything. Nobody over there wanted to relax and blend in and enjoy the surroundings. Until you came along. Somebody who appreciated what it's like, living by a lake."

Cautiously he moved his right hand over to her, grazing her wrist, and then he travelled down and he touched the back of her hand. It was smooth and warm. It felt nice. He curled his fingers around and squeezed and she squeezed back, and she said nothing, just leaned into him, a wind coming up and some of her fine hair tickling his nose.

He breathed in her scent some more and then spotted something off to the west. A bright band of light, rectangular, just above the wooded horizon.

He looked at it and wondered if anyone else could see it, but everyone about him were still amazed at the light show overhead. He stared at the rectangular shape, stared and stared at it, and it didn't move, it didn't vary in intensity, it was just there. Damn it.

He took a breath and raised his voice: "Tango Charlie Charlie, end program twelve. End program twelve."

It all shifted. The laughter and the call of the loons and the scent of Marie's hair and the faint breeze from the lake and the stars and the trees and the reflection of the meteor trails on the water and the touch of Marie's hand in his.... And faded out.

He took a breath.