THEY DROVE TO BALTIMORE IN LAURA’S CAR. DYLAN LISTENED as Laura described the afternoon’s arrangements to Emma: she would drop them off at the aquarium, go to the library for a few hours and come back to pick them up. Emma, as usual, kept her reaction to herself, and Dylan was not certain she understood the plan. He wondered if there would be a scene when they reached the aquarium.

Apparently, Laura was concerned, too. She pulled up to the entrance of the Baltimore Aquarium and stopped the car. “Don’t know if this is going to work,” she said to Dylan under her breath.

Dylan turned to look at Emma in the back seat. “Okay, Emma,” he said. “Mom is going to the library and you and I will stay here and visit the fish. How’s that sound?”

Emma looked at Laura, who nodded. “You’re gonna love it,” Laura said as she stepped out of the car.

Emma unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car herself. Dylan met Laura’s look of surprise.

“How long do you need?” he asked Laura.

“I’ll meet you back here at three, if that’s all right,” she said.

Emma had already started walking toward the entrance to the aquarium.

“Do you think she understands that you’re not coming with us?”

“Hey.” Laura grinned. “She’s mute, not stupid.”

“Well, take your time, then,” Dylan said, his confidence about this outing growing. “And good luck.”

He caught up to Emma, making his hand available to her without demand, but she kept her own hands at her sides. After he paid their admission, they walked inside the beautiful, triangular-shaped building.

“What shall we look at first?” he asked as they stood in front of the map of the aquarium.

She pointed to the picture of a dolphin.

“Okay, but the dolphin show isn’t for a half hour,” he said. “Want to see a really amazing fish tank while we’re waiting?”

She nodded, and they spent the next half hour on the ramp inside the enormous cylindrical aquarium with its abundance of sea creatures.

The afternoon went without a hitch. Emma was crazy about fish, the way her mom was crazy about stars. She might be a mute child, he thought, but he would never describe her as an unhappy child. The dolphin show made her clap her hands. The puffins made her giggle. And at each fish tank they passed, she stopped to press her face against the glass to study the inhabitants more closely.

The only snag in the entire afternoon came halfway through the dolphin show, when Emma began squirming in her seat. It took him a while to realize that she had to go to the bathroom. He had not discussed that potential problem with Laura. He couldn’t go into the ladies’ room with her, and he didn’t want to take her into the men’s room. Finally, he collared a woman who was taking her own daughter into the ladies’ room and asked if she would keep an eye on Emma while she was there. Emma returned to him unscathed, skipping, heading for the sharks.

They were about to visit the hands-on learning center when Dylan heard someone call his name. He turned to see a woman sitting on a bench across from the learning center entrance. Her dark hair was very short and she wore oval-shaped glasses. He recognized her as someone he’d dated years ago but could not remember her name.

“Hi,” he said. “Are you here with your kids?” He hoped he was right in guessing she had more than one.

“Yes. They’re in there.” The woman pointed to the learning center. “And who’s this?” She smiled at Emma.

“This is my daughter, Emma.” He rested his hand lightly on Emma’s back, wondering how she felt about being referred to so casually as his daughter. “Emma, this is…”

“Lynn.” The woman quickly filled in the blank. “It’s definitely been a while,” she acknowledged. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.” She leaned forward. “Hi, there, Emma. You sure do look like your daddy, don’t you?”

Emma sidled close to him, the way she would with Laura when she felt insecure, and his heart nearly burst at that simple display of trust. He shifted his hand to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Have you been in the hands-on center yet?” Lynn tried again. “They have a very cool hermit crab in there.”

Emma only stared at her.

“Shy?” Lynn asked him.

He thought of simply nodding, but what good would it do Emma to know he was lying about her? “No, she’s not shy at all, actually,” he said. “But she’s stopped talking for a while. When she’s ready, she’ll start again.”

Lynn looked puzzled. “I see,” she said.

“Well.” Dylan looked toward the enclosure. “I think we’ll see what’s inside. Nice seeing you, Lynn.”

“You, too, Dylan. Have fun. And,” she added, “you have a truly adorable daughter.”

The librarian guided Laura to the microfilm collection and showed her the drawers containing ancient copies of the Washington Post.

“Is there an index?” Laura asked, pulling out one of the huge drawers, filled end to end with microfilm reels.

“Not for newspapers before 1972, I’m afraid,” the woman said.

“Whew.” This would take longer than she’d expected. She pulled out a few reels from the late fifties and sat down in front of one of the large microfilm readers.

During the past few days, Laura had spent her spare time trying to track down Joe and Jane Tolley. She’d called the state libraries in Maryland, Virginia and the District, attempting to learn what long-term care institutions had been in existence at the time of Joe’s hospitalization. She got the names of several, but a few more phone calls quickly told her that those old medical records were no longer in existence. She would have to find another avenue for her search.

In the local public library, she found a book describing ways to track down people, which told of a computer database containing death records. She checked the database for both Joseph and Jane Tolley, and found one of each name on the list, but their birth dates were far off the mark. It looked like both Joe and Janie were still alive.

She found a person on the Internet who claimed to be able to locate anyone. He immediately berated her, via e-mail, for not having Joe or Jane’s social security numbers, but Laura could think of no way to obtain them. Joe’s birthday might be May 3, she said. Around 1930. She remembered Sarah mentioning that Janie had been born in April 1958. The people-finder did not sound hopeful, but he said he would get back to her shortly.

Within a few hours, he contacted her again. Joseph James Tolley had been born May 3, 1930, in Washington, D.C., he told her in his e-mail message. Jane Elizabeth Tolley had been born on April 8, 1958, in Maryland.

Laura was excited at first but quickly sobered. How would that help her find them now?

Did she have any other information on them? the researcher asked. An occupation, perhaps?

That’s when Laura remembered that Joe had written for the Washington Post. Maybe the Post would offer some clues as to what had happened to him. But this search through the old Posts, page by tiresome page, was making her eyes glaze over, and her mind drifted back to the aquarium.

How strange it had been, watching Dylan and Emma walk away together. She remembered all the times she’d seen Emma and Ray walking together, Emma holding Ray’s hand. She hadn’t seemed interested in holding Dylan’s, but neither had she looked back at Laura for reassurance as she walked off with him. Dylan had a brisker, lighter step than Ray, and he chatted with Emma as he walked. His mind was on her, instead of on the next chapter of his book.

Maybe Emma had to hold Ray’s hand to remind him she was there.

A few days ago, Laura had sat behind the two-way mirror, watching Heather Davison attempt to talk with Emma, who was too absorbed in her drawing to bother with the therapist. She pressed hard with the crayons on a sheet of paper, her tongue held between her lips in total concentration.

“I know you’ve been talking to Sarah,” Heather said.

Emma slipped the crayon she was using into the box and took another one.

“Would you talk to me, too?” Heather asked.

Shaking her head, Emma continued drawing.

“I guess Sarah must be an easy person to talk to,” Heather said.

Emma lowered her head very close to the paper, pressing hard with her crayon. Suddenly she sat back in her chair, holding the paper in the air, and Laura smiled when she saw the picture of a hot air balloon. The enchantment of the sunset balloon ride was still lingering in Emma’s mind.

Emma jumped from her chair and rooted through the box of dolls in the corner of the room. Pulling one of the male dolls from the box, she held it against the basket of the balloon and pranced around the room, taking both drawing and doll on a graceful, fanciful flight.

Joseph Tolley.

It was a byline, the first of his she’d come across, and she shifted her attention back to the microfilm. She devoured the article, hungry to feel in touch with him, even from this distance of many years. Suddenly, the papers were filled with articles by him, many of them on the editorial pages. One eye on her watch, Laura raced through them. Joe did indeed have a sensitive and creative approach to his subjects. Reading his words, knowing how alive, how bright and sharp-witted he had been when he wrote them, Laura was saddened by the thought of his destruction.

There was one article about Joe himself, written in November 1959. Journalist Suffers Breakdown, the headline read. Laura scanned it quickly.

Laura made a copy of the article, then turned off the machine. She stared at the blank screen for several minutes, trying to pull herself back to the present. Yet as she left the library for the drive to the aquarium, her thoughts and her sympathy were still with Joe Tolley.