They played a jig, a reel, and a ballad—“O'er the Hills,” their signature song. When they started that one up, a voice from the back of the crowd whooped—Marisa was tempted to look out, see if she might catch a face from the past, maybe an old fan from the Baltimore days. But the truth was, tonight she was playing for two people—the little girl out front, who had always had Marisa's heart, and the man next to her, who had begun to open it up again. She and Sam sang in harmony, playing along.

When it was time for the fourth song, Sam got ready to start, but Marisa lowered her bow. Surprised—her rhythm thrown off, Sam glanced over.

“Everything okay?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Marisa said. She just had to look up for a minute. The sky was blue, just starting to darken. Soon the stars would appear, silver sparks, bursting in the velvet sky. Marisa imagined a cat's cradle, threads in the night, connecting the stars and holding everyone together. She thought of Lily, sent her love and hope, wished for her to hold on tight until help—Patrick, Marisa, Jessica, and Sam—arrived. Then she looked at Patrick and her daughter, sitting side by side.

“This is the last song,” she said out loud, looking straight at Patrick. He nodded, and she suddenly had such a lump in her throat, she wasn't sure she could sing.

“Ready?” Sam asked, bow poised.

“Ready,” Marisa said. She tapped her toe, one, two, three, four . . . And then the sisters began to sing.

There was a storm at sea,

With killer waves,

And my little boat,

So far from shore,

I couldn't see the land,

Sea was so rough,

I was sailing to you,

In my storm-tossed boat,

I'd forgotten that love

Is the only thing,

That can save a girl

From drowning alone.

You're my life preserver,

You're my star in the sky,

You're my port in the storm,

You're my light in the night. . . .

The sisters sang harmony. Everyone in the crowd was silent. Maybe they knew they were hearing a private love song, and maybe they didn't. Marisa played her fiddle, gazing down at one face in the crowd. His hair was red. His eyes were so blue. Even in the gently falling darkness, his eyes were so blue.

When the music ended, the silence was deafening—and suddenly the crowd erupted in thunderous applause. People jumped up, gave them a standing ovation. Marisa and Sam locked hands, took a deep bow.

Now the judges had to consult among themselves, to make their decision, but Marisa could barely think about that. This night had already given her everything she wanted. Still holding her sister's hand, she climbed down off the stage, into Patrick's and Jessica's embrace.

“You were great, Mommy!” Jessica said. “Aunt Sam too! You are definitely going to win.”