Joan began to see firsthand what being in the astronaut corps, even as candidates, meant in the eyes of the public. They gave talks at schools all over Houston and were met by reporters as they stepped off the bus. Every person they came in contact with seemed to stand a little straighter in their presence and regarded them with a respect that Joan had never received before. Most people’s smiles were a little more intense, when Joan shook their hand, than she had expected. It wasn’t personal. It was the aura of being an astronaut. It was the promise she held. That one day, anyone who shook her hand might be able to say with pride, “I met her.”

After a while, Joan started standing a little straighter, too.

—

This Friday night, Joan handed Frances a magnet from Washington, D.C., where she had gone with the ASCANs and some astronauts to meet lawmakers at a state dinner. Joan had not said much at the event. She let some less reserved members of the group take center stage. But she was surprised to see just how easy it was for Lydia to step into the spotlight. Joan watched as she explained the mechanics of the space shuttle to a senator with such focus and verve that Joan realized Lydia could be a very good instructor one day, long after her astronaut career was over.

“I also got you a replica of the Apollo LEM, but it shattered in my bag on the way back,” Joan told Frances.

“You skipped two Fridays in a row,” Barbara said. “We miss you.”

“I missed you, too. But I will be here for the next few weeks, all right? So no one needs to worry about me being away for a little while.”

Frances ate her Chinese food. “And I can come over every week again?”

“If she can find time in her very busy schedule,” Barbara said.

Joan tried to catch her eye, but Barbara wasn’t looking at her.

“Okay,” Frances said.

Frances never pushed Joan, never tried to make her feel guilty. Joan was not sure if that was because Frances was nothing like Barbara, or if she just hadn’t figured out the power she held yet. But there was something about Frances that made Joan believe she was better—held more goodness—than anyone she had ever met. That kind of faith was a lot to put on a six-year-old girl. Joan tried to keep it in check. To be ready to accept all the ways that Frances would grow and change and blossom into her full imperfection.

Joan would love her no matter what. Even if she grew up to be exactly like Barbara. Joan would love her then, too. Without hesitation. Whether she had to work at it or not, she would do it forever.

“We learned about gravity in school,” Frances said. “My teacher said that astronauts float, and I told her she was wrong. I said, ‘My aunt is an astronaut, and she doesn’t float.’ ”