THE DARK, EARLY MORNING AIR HAD A CHILL TO IT, DESPITE the fact that it was the middle of August, and Laura opened the car windows as she drove toward the wine country.

“Doesn’t it feel wonderful to be up this early?” she asked Emma, who was strapped into the back seat behind her.

Emma had frowned when Laura told her they were going to visit Dylan, and it must have seemed odd to her that they were getting up in the dark to do so. But she nearly leapt out of her bed when Laura told her they would watch him fly his balloon. “He flies it very early in the morning so he and his passengers can watch the sunrise,” she’d added, suddenly realizing that the hot air balloon might be the key to Emma’s heart.

The day before, she and Emma had taken an early morning drive in the opposite direction, into Maryland. Laura needed to see Saint Margaret’s, the spooky, old mental hospital Sarah had described so vividly. Saint Margaret’s, she discovered, no longer existed. At least not as a hospital. It was now a boarding school, but viewing it from the street, she had to admit it still had that house-of-horrors appearance, and she could imagine the jokes the students who lived there made about it.

She’d wanted to see the inside. The high-ceilinged foyer, at least. Parking the car in the circular driveway, she and Emma walked up to the foreboding double doors. Inside, she found the foyer much as Sarah had described it, except that the light from the skylights was milky and indistinct. And rather than nurses and doctors, girls in navy blue uniforms roamed the diamond-patterned floor.

“Can I help you?” a young woman asked as she approached her and Emma.

Laura smiled at her. “I just wanted to see the foyer,” she said, even though she would have loved to see the rest of the building, as well. Did students now live in the slumber room? But the expression on the young woman’s face told her she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting past the foyer unless she could come up with a better reason for being there.

Holding Emma’s hand, Laura walked back outside and into the hazy sunlight. She’d been a little crazy to drive all the way out here just to see this building. Ray had been right. She was becoming obsessed with Sarah Tolley, just as she had with every other project in her life.

Two deer stood in the darkness at the edge of Dylan’s driveway.

“Look, Emma!” She stopped the car on the side of the road and pointed toward the deer. “A mother and a baby.”

Emma pressed her face against the car window, but it was too dark for Laura to see her expression. Emma used to know that a baby deer was called a fawn. Was that word going through her mind right now? Laura felt a sudden, near-tears sort of exasperation. Talk to me, Emma, she wanted to say. Tell me what you’re thinking.

She drove down the long driveway, the woods surrounding them in darkness. There were two vans in front of the garage this morning, and she parked to the side, trying not to block anyone in. Getting out of the car, she spotted several dark figures standing in the center of the field.

Taking Emma’s hand, they walked toward the activity. Laura felt her daughter’s mounting resistance in her lagging step and the tight grip of her fingers. She was probably a bit spooked by the darkness.

“Those people are working on the balloon.” Laura pointed toward the center of the field. The crew was bustling around the huge balloon, which still lay on the ground as it filled with cold air from the fan. The sky was lightening quickly, and by the time she and Emma reached the balloon, Laura could see that Dylan was working on the burner. She thought of pointing him out to Emma, but decided against it, remembering Emma’s frown from earlier that morning.

Dylan glanced up from his task, and Laura waved. He said something to Alex, who was working next to him, and walked toward her and Emma.

“Hey,” he said as he neared them. “Two of my favorite ladies.” He gave Laura that smile that made her remember exactly why and how her daughter had been conceived, then knelt down in front of Emma. He was wearing his blue jumpsuit again and heavy work gloves. “Did you come to watch the balloon go up?” he asked.

Emma sidled halfway behind Laura.

“Can you explain a little of what you’re doing?” Laura asked him.

“Sure.” He stood up again. “First we’re filling the envelope—the balloon—with cold air, and after it’s partway filled, we’ll heat the air. Remember I told you about hot air making the balloon rise, Emma?”

Laura wasn’t certain if Emma nodded or not.

“The way I do that is with a very big flame. So when you see the flame, you don’t need to be afraid. It’s supposed to be there.”

Dylan’s gaze was drawn to something behind them, and Laura turned to see a man and woman walking across the field from the driveway.

“Excuse me,” Dylan said, and he started toward the couple.

He spoke to them for a few minutes, then returned to the balloon, and the man and woman came to stand near her and Emma. They looked as though they might be close to seventy, and they wore anticipatory smiles.

“You must be the passengers for this morning,” Laura said to them.

“Yes,” said the man.

“I don’t know how I let him talk me into this,” said the woman, laughing.

“It’s our fiftieth anniversary,” the man said. “And this is something I’ve always wanted to do, so she gave it to me as a present.”

“Congratulations,” Laura said, thinking of her sham birthday flight. “What a wonderful way this will be to celebrate.”

“Have you ever been up in one of those things?” the woman asked, clearly hunting for reassurance.

“Yes,” Laura said, and Emma looked up at her in sharp surprise. “I have, honey,” she said to Emma. “I went up with Dylan a few weeks ago.” To the woman she said, “It’s breathtaking. You’re going to love it.”

“You must be friends of the pilot, then,” the man said. “Of Dylan Geer’s.”

“That’s right. I’m Laura, and this is Emma.”

The man turned his attention to Emma. “What a pretty name,” he said to her. “How old are you, Emma?”

Emma pressed her face against Laura’s hip.

“She’s shy,” Laura said. She hated calling Emma “shy” but didn’t know what else to say. Coping with a mute child wasn’t in the parenting books. Still, she was afraid that by labeling her shy, Emma would begin to think of herself that way. Well, it was becoming the truth, wasn’t it? But it was the last word Laura would have used to describe her in the past.

Emma suddenly gasped, and Laura looked at the balloon. Dylan was standing in front of its large, round opening and had lit the flame.

“Watch now,” she said to Emma. “He’s heating the air and the balloon will slowly rise up.”

Dylan was silhouetted in the circle of light from the balloon opening. The muscles in his arms were cut by the light from the fire behind him, and Laura wondered if she could possibly be feeling the heat from the flame from where she stood. She was reminded for a moment of Sarah, staring at the paintings of nudes in the restaurant, growing hotter by the minute, and she stifled a laugh.

He’s Emma’s father, she told herself, unnerved by the sudden visceral attraction. That’s all you need him to be.

As the colorful fabric began to rise above the basket, Emma slowly moved apart from Laura and closer to the balloon. Laura thought of calling her back but didn’t dare squelch this small act of independence as long as Emma was not in the way. Emma stopped a safe distance from the balloon, and there she stood, small hands knotted behind her back, and although Laura could not see her face, she was certain the little girl’s eyes were wide with wonder. She was so tiny. Her hair was in a ponytail, and her neck looked thin and fragile. Laura finally stole her gaze from her daughter to watch the balloon herself, trying to imagine how magical it would look through Emma’s eyes.

She and Emma watched as the man and woman climbed into the basket. The woman giggled like a schoolgirl, making Laura smile. She reminded Laura of Sarah. Why, though, had fate allowed this woman a husband, a fiftieth anniversary and the means to climb into a balloon and sail into the air, while Sarah was left alone with her fading mind in the retirement home? Laura was surprised by the quick rise of tears, and she blinked them back. Maybe she could visit Sarah more than once a week.

“See you in about an hour,” Dylan called to them from the basket. “I’ll make you and Emma breakfast. Bye, Emma.” He waved.

He was good about this, she thought. For a guy who knew nothing about children, he remembered that Emma was there, and he spoke to her even though she would not speak back.

They watched the balloon rise into the air. Alex got into his truck, which was parked in the field, and Brian walked with Laura and Emma back toward the driveway.

“Dylan said for you two to follow me in your car while we chase the balloon,” Brian said to Laura. “Keep a close eye on me, though. You never know when we’re going to have to turn and go in another direction. You know, like if someone gets sick or something.” He grinned at her, and she guessed that he knew the true nature of her birthday ride deceit.

“Okay,” she said with a smile.

She buckled Emma into the back seat of her car, then followed Brian’s van down the driveway to begin the chase.

Alex and Brian were waiting for him. Dylan saw them as he guided the balloon toward one of his favorite landing sites—an empty pasture belonging to a balloon-friendly farmer—but it wasn’t his crew he was looking for.

“Is it going to bounce when we land?” his female passenger asked him.

“Nope,” Dylan said. “This is going to be one smooth landing.”

The woman had relaxed once they were in the air, enjoying the ride with her husband, but she’d become unnerved again as he began the descent and they swept over the tops of the trees.

Searching the pasture, he finally spotted Laura and Emma walking toward his crew, and he felt relief at seeing them there. Relief and trepidation. He wanted to help that little girl, and he didn’t know how. There’d been wonder in her eyes earlier when he was readying the balloon, and he wished he could tap into that wonder somehow. Free her up enough to talk. Usually, children who were around when he was inflating the balloon were filled with questions and curiosity. They’d try to get too close, the questions spilling from them as they inched nearer. Why doesn’t the balloon catch fire? How do you steer? He’d seen those questions burning inside Emma. It had to be the worst thing in the world to be filled with questions and unable to get them out.

He was in over his head with this child, but he was in for good.

Once Dylan had helped his passengers out of the basket, he worked with the crew to dismantle the balloon. Then he sent the elderly couple back to his house in Brian’s van to pick up their car, while he rode with Laura and Emma.

The moment Emma stepped inside his cabin, she ran over to the aquarium in the wall of the living room, instantly attracted to the colorful, exotic fish. Dylan stood next to her, as close as she would allow, and told her about each type. Emma’s hands were linked behind her back, her head raised to see the fish, and her eyes reflected the colors in the tank. She had her mother’s long, smoky eyelashes and a small, perfect nose. One strand of dark hair had come loose from her ponytail, and he longed to slip it behind her ear, but of course, he didn’t dare. He settled for standing there, engaged in a monologue, a tightness in his chest that had something to do with his feelings for this little girl.

They ate fruit salad and toasted bagels for breakfast. Laura asked the sort of questions about the balloon that a child might ask, and he knew she was asking them for her daughter. Answering them in basic terms, Dylan shifted his gaze between his two guests, and although Emma appeared intent on her food, he knew she was listening.

Laura helped him with the dishes after breakfast, not uttering a word about the fact that he had no dishwasher, while Emma wandered back into the living room.

“She loves those fish,” Laura said as she dried a plate.

“Has she ever had one?” Dylan asked. “A fish for a pet?”

“No. Just a guinea pig named Michael, who is no longer with us.”

“What do you think about me getting her an aquarium?” He rinsed a soapy glass under the tap, already thinking about the types of fish he could put in it.

“It’s a great idea,” Laura said.

Dylan looked out the window as Alex pulled in the driveway, the balloon neatly folded in the back of his truck. He watched as Alex turned onto the dirt road leading to the barn.

Laura followed his gaze through the window. “He and Brian really seem to know what they’re doing,” she said.

“Oh, yeah.” Dylan handed her another glass. “They’re great. Alex is working on getting his license, though, so I’ll lose him eventually. He’s going on a cruise next week with his girlfriend to get me used to him being gone, or so he says.”

Laura suddenly stopped drying the glass. She looked at him with a surprised expression on her face. “That’s it!” she said.

“What’s it?”

“You know Sarah? The woman I visit in the retirement home?”

“Your father’s friend.” Dylan nodded.

“She used to be a nurse on a cruise ship. My father took a few cruises over the years. Maybe that’s where he knows Sarah from. Maybe they met on a cruise.”

“I bet you’re right.” Dylan turned off the water and picked up the sponge to wipe the counters. Laura seemed a bit consumed with trying to figure out the relationship between her father and the old woman, but he had to admit he’d wondered about it himself.

He heard a sound from the living room, a vaguely familiar squeaking sound, and it took him a few seconds to place it. When he did, his heart leapt into his throat.

“The guns!” he said, dropping the sponge. He ran into the living room and spotted Emma balancing on the armchair below the glass cabinet that contained his father’s old gun collection. She had the cabinet door open and was reaching for one of the guns.

“Get down!” Dylan yelled as he raced toward her. “Get away from there!”

Emma turned toward him, cowering, terror in her eyes at the angry sound of his voice. Losing her balance, she fell onto the arm of the chair and toppled over backward, landing on the floor. Dylan tried to reach for her, but she got quickly to her feet. Crying loudly, she ran to Laura, who was standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, a stunned look in her own eyes. Emma grabbed hold of her mother, burying her head against Laura’s stomach and sobbing.

Dylan turned back to the gun cabinet, his hands shaking as he closed the door. He didn’t even know if those damned guns were loaded. Probably not. He’d probably blown it with Emma over a bunch of harmless guns.

Laura leaned over her trembling daughter. “You know better than that, Emma,” she scolded, her voice firm but soft. “You mustn’t play with guns.”

Dylan looked at Laura helplessly. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I was afraid she’d—”

“It’s all right,” Laura said. “You had to stop her.” She bent over her daughter again. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

Emma pressed her face more firmly against her mother’s stomach.

Laura glanced toward the TV in the corner of his living room. “Can she watch cartoons while we finish cleaning up?”

“Of course.”

He went into the kitchen while Laura settled Emma on the sofa in front of the TV. When she returned to the kitchen, she leaned against the counter, arms folded across her chest.

“They’re loaded?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He’d picked up the sponge, but now set it down again. “They were my father’s. I’m not a…gun guy.” He smiled weakly. “I just stuck the cabinet up there with the guns in it and never bothered checking to see if they were loaded or not. I never had to worry about it before.” He sounded like an idiot. Who would have guns in his house and not even know if they were loaded?

“She’s had a fascination with guns ever since Ray killed himself,” Laura said. “She plays with them—with the toy guns—in her therapy sessions. She probably thought they were toys.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have blown up at her like that,” he said.

“You had to,” Laura said again. “It was an emergency.”

“I’m supposed to watch my anger around her. That’s what Heather said.”

“This wasn’t anger,” Laura said. “This was fear. True?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure it all sounds the same to her.”

“She’ll get over it,” Laura said, but he heard the lack of certainty in her voice.

Looking through the doorway toward the living room, he could just see the top of Emma’s head above the back of the couch. He imagined how she would look from the front—eyes puffy and red from crying, thumb in her mouth. If she could speak, she’d be telling her mother she wanted to go home, to get away from that mean man who was pretending to be her father.

“Thanks for helping me clean up.” He looked around his kitchen. It was in pretty good shape.

“You’re welcome. And thanks for breakfast and for letting us watch the balloon go up.”

She walked into the living room, and he followed her.

“Come on, honey,” she said to Emma. “Time to go home.”

Emma flicked off the TV and ran to the front door, not even glancing at her mother or Dylan. She was out the door quickly, and when he and Laura walked onto the porch, she was standing on the steps with her back to them.

“Whoa, she’s mad,” Dylan said quietly to Laura, his sense of powerlessness mounting. He would never be able to turn this around.

“Tell her why you did it,” Laura said to him, just as quietly.

He took a step closer to Emma and spoke to her back. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Emma,” he said. “I got scared. I was afraid you might hurt yourself if you tried to play with the guns. They’re real guns. Some of them might…have bullets in them. I was trying to protect you.”

Emma scrunched her shoulders up to her ears as if she could block out his voice.

Laura touched his arm and offered him a smile as she passed him. “We’ll be in touch,” she said. “Thanks again. And don’t beat yourself up over this.”