Deck improvises a target out of a piece of old canvas tied taut between trees, and we take turns shooting at it, moving progressively backward to increase the challenge.
All four of us are good. For the first two rounds, we all hit dead center. On the third round, when we’re quite far from the target, to my shock, Micah misses the center.
He laughs and throws up his free hand. “Predictable. My own friends arrange a game that blows a hole in my image in front of the girl I’m trying to impress.”
He says the words so nonchalantly—like they’re open knowledge—that I blush again. “I really don’t give a damn about such things, but I’m surprised you’re the first out.”
“In my own defense, it’s not skill. It’s my vision. At a distance, it’s not all that great.”
I’d never even thought about it, but of course glasses are few and far between in the world after Impact. Micah’s vision must not be too bad overall since I’ve never noticedhim having trouble with it before. But without corrective lenses, shooting at long distances can’t be done without perfect vision.
Deck signs something out that Lilah interprets. “Everyone always knew to give Micah close-up jobs.”
Micah twitches his eyebrows at me. “I’m really good in close quarters.”
I can’t help but spill over with giggles at his teasing, obvious innuendo. “All I’ve got to say is you need some better lines.”
Lilah misses just slightly during the next round, so Deck and I back up even farther from the target. We’re quite far away now. It’s not sniper range or anything, but I don’t remember ever purposefully shooting a target at this distance. I don’t actually know whether I’ll be good at it or not.
Deck goes first, and Micah runs over to check the target. “Just off of center,” he calls out. “You can do better, Kat. Hit it dead center.”
I find my chances of doing better than Deck rather iffy, but I position the rifle, line up the sight, and take a deep breath.
Then I pull the trigger.
Micah is closest, so he checks the result. When I hear his whoop of excitement, I know I won.
I really can’t believe it. It didn’t even feel that hard. Just another thing to be done.
Micah is so thrilled one would think he won himself.He runs over, scoops me up in a hug, and twirls me around, still exulting over my victory.
With most men I’ve known—even with Jesse—masculine ego would have interfered with any enjoyment over being beat in such an activity by a woman. But Micah clearly couldn’t care less that he was the loser here.
All that matters to him is that I’m the winner.
Deck is obviously not cursed with obnoxious machismo either. He’s relaxed and smiling as he yields to my triumph, and Lilah is nearly as excited as Micah that I’m so good with the rifle.
I always knew I was good enough to do what I needed to do.
It never occurred to me I wasthisgood.
It honestly has never occurred to me before that I’m particularly good at anything except music and taking care of myself.
But maybe I am.
20
An hour later,Lilah and I are lounging on a blanket in a sunny spot while the men are cleaning up.
That was Deck’s idea—he treats pregnant Lilah like she’s made of fragile glass—but Micah was happy to go along with the plan.
“Are you scared?” I ask Lilah when I see her rubbing her belly.
“Yes,” she admits, turning her head in my direction. “Sometimes I’m absolutely terrified. I mean, I’m as healthy as anyone could hope for, but that doesn’t mean everything will go right. But there’s an experienced midwife in the area, and she’s going to help when it’s time. We can’t stop living just because we’re scared.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s right. You and Deck are going to be great parents. I know that at least.”
“Thank you. I hope so. Deck was born to be a father,and I think I’ll learn to be a mom. You don’t want one yourself? Micah would be a pretty good dad.”
