LAURA WAS SHORT OF BREATH. SHE’D NOTICED IT FIRST IN THE grocery store as she tried to decide what to serve Dylan for dinner that night. Deciding Emma’s needs were far more important than Dylan’s, she bought hamburger meat along with corn on the cob and Emma’s favorite red-skin potato salad. She’d watched the young woman dishing the potato salad into a plastic container and wondered if something was wrong with her heart that she couldn’t seem to take in a deep breath.

She was still short of breath late that afternoon while shaping the hamburger patties and husking the corn, but by this time she was certain it was nerves. The same anxiety was evident in Emma, who raced around the house, a naked Barbie in her hand, stopping to stare out the front window every few minutes.

“He’ll be here at 5:30,” Laura said the fourth time she caught Emma looking toward the driveway. “See?” She pointed to the clock. “He’ll be here when the big hand is on the six, and the little hand is between the five and six.”

Emma listened to Laura’s explanation, studying the clock, then ran into the living room and turned on the television. A few minutes later, though, she was back at the kitchen window, and Laura wished she knew whether her daughter was dreading or looking forward to meeting the stranger.

A few days earlier, she’d had a long, one-sided talk with her.

“Do you remember Marti, Emma?” she’d asked as she was tucking her into bed. “The little girl you used to play with in our old neighborhood?”

Emma had nodded.

“Do you remember that Marti had two daddies?”

The nod again. Emma hugged her bunny close to her cheek.

“Well, the daddy she lived with was her adoptive daddy, and the daddy she went to visit was her birth daddy.”

Staring at the ceiling, Emma frowned.

“You know how a mother and father have a baby together?”

Emma nodded. She knew about sperm and eggs, although she’d never asked exactly how the two got together.

“Well it’s the birth father whose sperm helps make the baby. He’s responsible for that baby ever being born. But sometimes the birth father isn’t the one who raises the baby. That’s the adoptive father. So Mr. Linder was Marti’s adoptive father.”

Mr. Linder was no such thing, in reality. He was simply Marti’s stepfather, and not a very good one at that. But for the purpose of illustration, he would have to do.

“Not everyone has both an adoptive daddy and a birth daddy,” Laura continued. “Most people, like Cory, just have a birth daddy. But you happen to have both.”

Emma looked surprised at that, and Laura knew she was following her.

“Ray—Daddy—was your adoptive father. He loved you just as much as if he was your birth father, though. You were very special to him.”

Emma picked at the bunny’s ear with her thin, delicate fingers, her eyes turned away from Laura’s. She doesn’t believe that for an instant, Laura thought.

“You also have a birth daddy,” she said, “although you’ve never met him. I talked to him the other day. He’d like to meet you.”

Emma’s eyes widened in either surprise or terror. Laura couldn’t tell which.

“Not yet, though,” she said quickly. “Not till you’re ready to meet him. I have a book that will help you understand about birth fathers and adoptive fathers. We can read it tomorrow, okay?”

Emma didn’t react. Laura bent over to kiss her, turned on the fairy night-light and left the room, realizing as she did so that laying this on Emma right at bedtime had been a stupid thing to do. Emma had enough trouble sleeping without having something this enormous rolling around in her head. Sure enough, she was up and down for most of the night.

They read the book Heather had recommended together three times, and Dylan sent Emma pictures of himself so that he would not be a complete stranger when she met him. Still, Laura had no idea how much of the situation Emma understood, much less how she felt about it.

At five o’clock, she and Emma walked down the lane to the string of mailboxes lining the road. Laura got their mail, sorting through it on the way back to the house. There was another long white envelope bearing no return address, and she fingered it for a moment before tearing it open. She stopped walking to read.

Memory loss can be a blessing. Sarah is nothing to you. Don’t go again.

The message sucked the remaining air from her lungs. Was this some sort of warning? She looked at the front of the envelope. This one had been mailed from Trenton rather than Philadelphia.

Emma tugged at the hem of Laura’s T-shirt.

“All right, honey,” she said, walking again. She folded the letter and put it in the pocket of her shorts. Don’t go again. Was there an “or else” implied in that demand? Should she call the police? They would think she was making something out of nothing, and she probably was. Once she was back inside the house, though, the isolation of living on the lake suddenly overwhelmed her, and she locked the doors.

At exactly 5:30, Dylan arrived. Emma was at the window, and when she saw him coming up the walk, she ran upstairs to her bedroom. Laura let her go.

In the living room, she pushed open the screen door. “Hi,” she said.

“You’re out in the middle of nowhere.” Dylan stepped into the living room carrying a foil-covered plate and a rectangular-shaped gift box. He was wearing a blue short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts.

“You should talk,” Laura said.

“True.” He followed her into the kitchen. “Is there really a lake out there?” He looked through the back window at the thick screen of trees.

“Uh-huh. Through there.” She pointed to the patch of blue-gray beyond the trees.

“I brought some dessert.” He stepped away from the window and held out the covered plate. “Chocolate cake. Does Emma like chocolate cake?”

“Loves it, thanks.” Laura took the plate from him and set it on the counter. The wrapped package was still in his hands, and she knew what it contained. Doctor Barbie. He’d asked her what gift Emma might like. “Doctor Barbie?” he’d said. “I didn’t know there was such a thing. Barbie’s come a long way, huh?”

“How about some lemonade or iced tea?” Laura asked. “Then I’ll go see if I can convince her to come downstairs.”

“Iced tea, please.” If he was nervous about this meeting, it didn’t show.

She poured a glass of tea for him. “By the way,” she said, “when I was at the library to get the book Heather recommended for Emma, I picked up those books she’d suggested for you, as well. Save you a trip.” She hoped he wouldn’t think she was being pushy, but her daughter’s well-being was at stake.

“I’ve already read them,” he said.

She looked at him in surprise. “You have?”

“I want this to work, Laura,” he said. “I don’t want to screw it up.” Then he laughed. “I’ve read so much, I could probably get a job in a child care center by now.”

She felt like hugging him. Instead, she put the pitcher back in the refrigerator and went upstairs.

Emma was sitting on her bed, leaning against the wall, surrounded by her stuffed animals. Her thumb was deep in her mouth. She looked like a three-year-old.

“Come on downstairs, honey,” Laura said, cheer in her voice. “Dylan would like to meet you.”

She’d expected a struggle, but to her surprise, Emma slipped off the bed and reached for her hand. They walked together down the stairs to the kitchen.

Dylan faced Emma with a smile. “You must be Emma,” he said.

Emma slipped behind Laura, who put her hand on her daughter’s head. “Emma, this is Dylan. Your birth father. Remember?” She couldn’t see her, but she knew that Emma was peering out at Dylan, suspicion in her eyes.

“I brought a little present for you,” Dylan said, holding the gift out in front of him. “It’s to celebrate our meeting.”

Emma shifted position ever so slightly behind Laura’s back.

“Go ahead, honey,” Laura said. “Take the present.”

Emma moved slowly toward him, took the box from his hand, then stepped back to Laura’s side to open it. She tore off the pink paper and was unable to hide her delight when she saw what was inside. Her eyes lit up, and she wore one of those rare, genuine smiles Laura saw so infrequently these days.

“Do you like it?” Dylan asked, and Emma, clutching her new treasure to her chest, slunk once again behind her mother.

“Well,” Laura said to Dylan, “I hope you don’t mind a casual dinner. We’re having burgers. They’re Emma’s favorite, and I thought—”

“Good idea,” Dylan said. “What can I do to help?”

“I thought you and Emma could make the salad,” Laura said, hoping to ease the tension by putting them to work together. “Emma, let’s wash your hands, honey.”

Emma set the box containing Doctor Barbie on the counter and obediently climbed onto the footstool by the sink to wash her hands. Then Laura handed her a bowl of clean lettuce leaves. “You can tear these up and put them in the salad bowl, okay? Dylan, maybe you could chop the tomatoes and cucumbers.”

Dylan asked Emma a few questions as they worked on the salad. What had she done that day? What was her favorite toy? Did she like to swim in the lake? Emma responded with her stony silence, concentrating on tearing the lettuce into various shapes, and Laura felt sorry for Dylan. He was trying, and she knew how frustrating it could be. Catching his eye above Emma’s head, she gave him a sympathetic smile. At least Emma was helping him with the salad. Laura had been afraid she’d hide out in her room all night. But when Laura stepped out to the deck to light the grill, Emma jumped off her stool and ran after her, obviously not wanting to be left alone with the stranger. Laura didn’t make an issue out of it, and once they were back in the kitchen, Emma climbed onto the stool again.

Pulling a ceramic bowl from one of the cabinets, Laura asked Emma, “Do you know what kind of work Dylan does?”

Emma concentrated on her task.

“He flies hot air balloons,” Laura said.

Emma raised her head at that, a blank look in her eyes.

“Do you know what a hot air balloon is, Emma?” Dylan asked.

She stared at him without answering.

“Maybe I could draw a picture of one,” Dylan said.

Laura was about to walk into the family room for some paper when Emma beat her to it. She returned with a box of crayons and a sheet of paper and set them on the counter next to the salad bowl.

It took Dylan less than a minute to draw his balloon, complete with its swirly striped design and a couple of people in the basket. “See?” he said. “I light a fire right here and that heats the air inside the balloon. When air is hot, it rises, so the balloon goes up in the air. People stand in this big basket and get to float through the air, above the treetops.” He added some trees to the picture.

Emma was nearly smiling, and it warmed Laura’s heart. Watching the two of them, father and daughter, talking about the balloon, she wondered if Dylan saw what she did—his own face reflected in Emma’s.

Still, Emma did not want to be alone with him. She followed Laura outside each time she went onto the deck to check the grill.

“Take your new Barbie upstairs,” Laura said, “and when you come back down we can eat.”

She and Dylan walked out to the deck, and Dylan watched while she checked the hamburgers.

“I was hoping I could get her to talk,” he said. “You know, like Heather said. If a stranger acted as though they expected her to talk, maybe she would.” Dylan looked as though he’d failed.

“I’m her own mother,” Laura said as she transferred the hamburgers to a plate. “The person she should be most comfortable with in the world, and I haven’t been able to get her to talk. So don’t feel bad. She’s relating to you, at least. That’s far more than I’d hoped for.”

“I was overly optimistic, I guess.” He took the plate from her and carried it to the picnic table. “She looks so much like my sister’s kids,” he said.

“She looks like you.”

He smiled. “I knew from her picture that she was mine, but seeing her in person, I just…It’s hard to believe. I actually have a child.”

Emma returned from upstairs and the three of them sat at the picnic table, Laura and Dylan making one hundred percent of the conversation as they ate. Dylan talked a bit more about the hot air balloon, then changed the subject. “Your mom told me she’s an astronomer,” he said to Emma. “That must be a very interesting job.”

Emma suddenly left her seat and ran into the house. Dylan and Laura looked at each other.

“Was it something I said?” Dylan asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Laura said, perplexed.

In a moment, Emma returned to the table. Standing next to Laura, she handed Dylan the framed photograph of Laura’s fifth comet.

“She’s trying to tell you I’ve discovered some comets,” she said, touched by her daughter’s gesture.

“You did?” Dylan held the picture in front of him. Then it seemed to dawn on him. “Laura Brandon,” he said. “You’re not…this isn’t one of the Brandon comets, is it?” he asked.

Emma and Laura nodded at the same time. “That’s Brandon Comet Five,” she said.

Dylan was clearly stunned. “I had no idea.” He looked at Emma. “Your mom is very famous, did you know that?”

Emma slid behind her mother, the direct question making her shy once again.

“I used to pilot big planes,” he said. “Jets. And I remember how much I loved to fly on a clear night back then when this comet was in the sky. It was a beauty.”

“I saw it from a plane once, too,” Laura said. “You feel like you’re right next to it.”

“You’ve found another one since then, haven’t you?”

“Actually, five since then,” she said.

“Five! You mean ten all together? That must be a record.”

“No.” She laughed. “Not even very close. But the last one I found is going to be bigger than this one.” She pointed to the photograph. “You’ll be able to see it without a telescope next summer.”

“So, this is your area of research? Comets?”

“Actually, no. Professionally, I study planetary atmosphere. Finding comets is my hobby. I do it on my own time, with my backyard telescope.”

“No kidding?”

Laura could tell that Emma was growing bored with the conversation, and she’d barely touched her burger. Ordinarily, she’d try to get her to eat a little more, but not tonight.

“How about we play some games?” she suggested. “Then we can have some of the cake Dylan brought.”

In the family room, they played Fish and Candyland. Emma was still clingy, still eying Dylan with distrust, but Laura felt optimistic. He was a nice guy. This might work out.

She put Emma to bed at eight, and the little girl literally gripped Laura’s hand in her own, obviously not wanting to be left alone. Or, not wanting Laura to go back to the family room where Dylan was waiting for her.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” Laura asked her.

Emma gave a shrug and hugged her bunny closer to her chest.

“Maybe some day we can watch Dylan go up in the hot air balloon. Would you like that?”

Emma nodded.

“You sleep tight, now, honey.” Gently extracting her hand from Emma’s, she leaned over to kiss her.

Emma pointed to the night-light.

“I’ll turn it on,” Laura said. She did so, then walked downstairs to the family room.

Dylan stood near the bookcase, studying a photograph of Laura, Ray and Emma. Emma was only two in that picture, a dark-haired little waif.

“Is this your father?” Dylan asked. “Emma’s grandfather?”

Laura laughed. It was not the first time she’d heard that question. “That’s Ray,” she said.

“Your husband?” His eyes were wide.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought…” Two coins of color sprang to Dylan’s cheeks, and Laura laughed again.

“It’s a common mistake,” she said. “Ray was twenty-one years older than me.”

Dylan returned his gaze to the picture. “Emma was a cute kid,” he said. “Still is. It’s got to be so hard on you, though, trying to figure out what she’s thinking all the time.”

“It is, but I figure it must be a thousand times harder on her, trying to communicate without being able to speak.”

“What was she like before…it all happened?”

“Would you like to see a video?” Laura asked.

Dylan’s eyes lit up. “Yes.”

She culled through the videos in the drawer under the TV and put one into the VCR. “Emma’s four in this one,” she said, sitting in the chair closest to the TV, the remote in her hand. Dylan sat on the sofa. “This was in Brazil, where I was working at an observatory. She and her baby-sitter’s little girl were playing dress-up and putting on a skit for us.”

Emma and little Carlita came into camera range, giggling and tripping over the fabric they had tied around their waists. Scarves covered their hair and big earrings drooped from their ears. They proceeded to perform a skit that had no rhyme nor reason to it, as far as Laura had been able to tell, but it obviously had some meaning to the two little girls. Emma did most of the talking, some of it in the Portuguese she’d picked up from the sitter and Carlita. She was garrulous, actually, interrupting Carlita loudly when the smaller girl would try to speak. Dylan sat on the edge of the sofa, transfixed. Laura hadn’t looked at this tape in a long time. It was painful to watch. Emma had completely lost that vitality and self-confidence.

Once the tape had finished, Laura clicked off the video, and she and Dylan sat in silence.

“My God,” he said finally. “She didn’t shut up once.”

“That’s the real Emma,” Laura said.

“She was so feisty.”

“She was born feisty,” Laura said, “and started talking early. She talked constantly, even if it was gibberish. She’d talk to anyone who was around, and if no one was around, she’d talk to herself.” It saddened her to remember the child Emma used to be. “She was the great communicator. I wonder what it’s like for her now. What’s it like for someone who was always sharing her thoughts to suddenly lose her voice? How can she tolerate it? Her gabbiness could drive Ray and me crazy sometimes, but now I’d give anything to hear it again.”

Dylan stared at the blank TV. He swallowed hard, and for a moment she thought he might cry. She felt like crying herself.

“I feel powerless,” he said.

The tone of his voice held such defeat that she was afraid he might give up on Emma. “Can you hang in there?” she asked.

“Oh, definitely,” he said. “I promise you that, Laura. I’m in for the duration.” His face was very serious and she knew he was telling her the truth. He looked back at the television. “I missed out on a lot by not knowing her all this time.”

“Are you angry with me for not letting you know about her?”

“Angry? No way. I would never have been ready to be a father to her before now. Believe me. I was in no shape for it.”

Laura sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I feel like a detective these days,” she said. “The people I care about are mysteries to me. I don’t know what’s going on in Emma’s mind. And there’s this woman…” She waved the thought away. Why get into that?

“What woman?” Dylan asked.

“Oh, it’s a long story,” she said.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He settled deeper into the sofa, as if readying himself for a long story.

She told him about her father’s death and the promise she’d made him. She told him about her visits to Sarah Tolley and her inability to discover the attachment between the old woman and her father. And she told him about the notes, pulling the second one from the pocket of her shorts to read to him.

“‘Memory loss can be a blessing,’” she read. “‘Sarah is nothing to you. Don’t go again.’” Reading the note aloud sent a fresh chill up her spine.

Dylan sat forward, arms on his knees. “Weird,” he said. “She has no family?”

“My father said she doesn’t. And the attendant at the retirement home says no one’s ever visited her till now.”

“And you haven’t been able to figure out any connection between her and your father?”

She shook her head.

“Lovers?” he suggested.

“Well, it’s possible, I guess. My mother died when I was seven, and as far as I knew, he never had a girlfriend, although he did have some women friends. But if he had been seeing Sarah, I knew nothing about it. And unfortunately, Sarah doesn’t seem to, either.”

“Oh, he was seeing someone.” Dylan nodded with certainty. “Man doesn’t live by bread alone.”

She smiled. “I suppose not. But I sure haven’t found any indication of it.”

“Could she—Sarah—remember and just not want to let you know for some reason?”

That hadn’t occurred to her. “I guess it’s possible,” she said.

“So let’s say your father was her lover at some time. Maybe someone doesn’t want you to know that and that’s why they’ve sent you the notes.”

“Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense,” she said.

“I suppose not.” He looked as perplexed as she felt. Then his gaze shifted to the window. “Hey, it’s a clear night,” he said “Do you have a telescope?”

She laughed. “Do you have a balloon? Of course.” She looked at her watch. “Want to see my latest comet?”

They walked upstairs and down the hall. Dylan stopped short at the entrance to the skylight room. “Wow!” he said, looking up through the Plexiglas ceiling. “Incredible!”

She pulled open the sliding glass door that led onto the deck. “We’ll take the telescope out here since it’s so gorgeous tonight.” She carefully wheeled the telescope onto the deck and around to the north side of the house.

“This is a phenomenal setup,” Dylan said.

“We have to give our eyes a chance to adapt to the dark,” she said.

She adjusted the settings on the telescope, knowing exactly where her comet would be at this time of night. After a few minutes, she peered through the lens, spotting the small, fuzzy object that promised to grow into something spectacular as it neared the earth.

“Take a look,” she said.

He lowered his head to the eyepiece.

“See that globular cluster in the right side of the field?” she asked.

He laughed. “Oh, sure. What’s a globular cluster? Oh, that white mass there?”

“Right. Well, just to its left, smack in the middle of the field, is a tiny fuzzy ball. See it?”

“Uh-huh. That’s the comet?”

“Right.”

“It doesn’t have a tail.”

“You can’t see one yet, but I think it’s going to have a terrific tail next year.”

“Will it be as big as Hale-Bopp?”

“Bigger, I think. It’s hard to predict that for sure yet.”

He was quiet as he continued observing the sky, and Laura braved asking him the question that had been on her mind for a while.

“Have you ever been married?” she asked. It seemed peculiar for a forty-one-year-old man never to have married. “You were adamant about being unattached at Heather’s office.”

“No, never married,” he said, without lifting his head. “I lived with a woman for many years, but that’s a long and miserable story. So now I’m sort of…leery of commitment.”

“Because of the long and miserable story?”

“Mostly.”

“Well, you said you would commit to Emma.”

“Different.” He stepped back from the telescope and looked at her. “She’s my daughter.”

The words touched her in a way she couldn’t describe. She no longer felt so alone.

They spent half the night staring through the telescope. She hadn’t done that since before Ray’s death. Spending the night with the stars had lost its magic for her; her time with the telescope had contributed to Ray’s unhappiness. But tonight, she recaptured the sense of wonder and joy instilled in her by her father. And each time she explained some phenomenon to Dylan, she heard the life in her voice, the confidence. The sky was the one thing she understood and could count on when everything else in her life was a mystery.