They took Ursula’s Jeep up to a little-known bluff that acted as a fulcrum for a rotating dome of stars. Zadie and Finn sat on camping chairs while Ursula unlatched the telescope case. “We’re lucky. It’s a clear night. Perfect for stargazing.” She unfolded the tripod legs of the telescope stand and positioned them in the dirt. As she bent down to retrieve the telescope itself, Finn asked, “So how long have you owned the campground?”

“About thirteen years. I used to be a security guard at a mall in Roseville. Night shift. Then like most malls, it closed. It was a blessing in disguise, really. I never got to see the stars in that big white box.” She looked wistfully above her head. “A few months later, Nic and I bought the campground.”

Once Ursula had mounted the telescope to the base, she pressed her eye to the eyepiece and adjusted the aim of the lens. “There it is.” She stepped back from the telescope and turned to the girls. “Who’s first?”

Finn hurried toward the telescope and eagerly pressed her eye to the eyepiece. “Be careful not to bump it,” Ursula instructed. “And if you can’t see it at first, squint a little.”

“Whoaaa. Is it that bluish light?”

“Yep. That’s Denebola, Tail of the Lion, the third-brightest star in the Leo constellation.”

“That’s so cool.”

Ursula turned to Zadie. “Your turn.” Finn stepped aside and let Zadie look into the eyepiece. Sure enough, a small blue light winked back at her. “I see it.”

“Denebola is a young star,” Ursula began, walking to the back of the open Jeep. “Less than four hundred million years old. It’s blue in color because of its surface temperature. The bluer the light, the hotter the star.” She sat on the back bumper and pulled her keyboard onto her lap. “I’ve found the hottest stars sound the prettiest.”

Then she started to play. Like whale song, the music had no discernible melody. It was a ship lost at sea, but it wasn’t trying to find the shore. It didn’t raise the sails or lower the oars, but instead gave itself over to the tide, dipping and swaying in the starlight. The music was the reflection of the moon on the water.

But it wasn’t just the music that was strange. It was Ursula herself. It was as if she wasn’t really in her body. She was lost at sea, too, but she didn’t seem scared. She looked peaceful. Content, maybe.

Finn felt it, too. The music made her body feel like it was levitating, and for a moment, she was an asteroid, alone and weightless. Then she remembered her mother’s memory: lost, afraid, following the notes like a beacon in the fog. Ursula must have met her. Now all Finn could hope was that she remembered.