Julie was fascinated by every detail of the flight. She seemed more like the Julie from before, a girl who faced the world with a sense of wonder. Despite her trepidation, Camille had to admit to herself that this adventure might be just what both her father and daughter needed. And maybe, she thought, feeling drowsy from the pill she had swallowed at takeoff, it might be what she needed—a change.

Can’t wait to see you.

She’d spent far too long trying to figure out what Finn had meant by that. Was it because he was excited about digging into the mystery of her father’s past? Excited to see her? Or was that just something he said?

She thought about Finn and she thought about their kiss, reliving the moment over and over again in her mind. It had been the kind of kiss that caused everything to stop—even time. Even fear.

But time marched on, worry kicked in, and after the kiss, they’d parted ways. Finn had moved on with his life, a life far removed from Bethany Bay. Now they were going to see each other again. And then what? More kissing? A fling? She didn’t consider herself good with flings. She usually ended up being the one who got flung.

The slow, soft music playing on her noise-canceling headphones, combined with the sleeping pill and the bone-deep buzz of the jet, lulled her into a strange twilight zone—not quite sleep, but not wakefulness either. She felt every bump and jostle of the flight, alternately cringing and tensing every muscle. She was vaguely aware of her father and Julie watching a French comedy film on the in-seat monitors. She ignored the muffled announcements, and most of the time she ignored all the negative fantasies playing through her head—the possibility of a plane crash, the thought of landing in a huge, foreign city and heading into the unknown. But throughout the flight, her mind kept circling back to the one thing she never stopped thinking about—the “and then what?” with Finn.

In the midst of a dreamy repeat of that kiss, she came groggily awake as lights went on and window shades went up all through the cabin. She shifted in her seat and rubbed her eyes. Julie was looking right at her. “That was pretty fun, wasn’t it, Mom?”

Camille straightened up, wondering guiltily if some remnant of the dream lingered in her face. “What?”

“The flight. Jeez.”

Camille tried to shake off the groggy feeling. She remembered then that Julie had never flown in a plane. They had gone traveling by car and by train, but they’d never flown anywhere. Flying was one of those things that made her sick with anxiety. And so, every summer, she dutifully planned a tame, predictable, relaxing trip to places like the Smoky Mountains, or Gettysburg, or Atlantic City, or Savannah.

Now that they had arrived in France, she felt a twinge of guilt for letting her own fears place limits on Julie. “What did you think?” she asked. “Did you like it?”