And he was so thrilled to hear from his daughter that he wasn’t even mad about the telescope. When he learned she was dying, he was devastated. He got on an airplane and flew to Wisconsin as fast as he could, but he was too late—his daughter had died. (“Where was Trish?” I asked. “Traveling Europe,” said Simone. “She worked in Paris as a correspondent for the Washington Post. It all happened so fast. Nobody knew she had such little time left.”)

Dr. Leo Lacamoire was in despair. But the woman—Lyra Lacamoire, his daughter he loved more than anything even though he didn’t know how to show it—had left him a letter, telling him where he could find his telescope and apologizing for everything. Of course, it was Leo who needed to apologize, and even though he was able to do so on the phone, it wasn’t enough. He had let an opportunity pass him by—to not just be beloved by science, but to be beloved by a family. And little did Lyra Lacamoire know that it wasn’t the telescope he longed for, it was what was inside it—a photograph of the two of them together, taken when she was a very little girl and he still visited her sometimes, folded up and stuck in the focus finder. That was what he had been so upset to lose.

He knew he had to get the telescope—it was the only thing left of his daughter. So he hatched a plan to travel to Moose Junction, Wisconsin, and dig up the time capsule himself. He would never see Lyra again. He would never turn back time. But he could retrieve that telescope, and the picture inside it. This, at least, he could do.

“He’ll never speak to me again,” I said to Simone, who had spilled this entire story to Jade and me as we sat on the curb. Dr. Leo Lacamoire had taken the photograph of him and Lyra and driven off in the car, ignoring Simone’s pleas. He wouldn’t even so much as look at me. “I had it this whole time. I just . . .” I shrugged. “It was kind of like my own photograph.”

“We dug it up with our sister,” said Jade. “And she’s really sick. She might not ever get better.”

Simone nodded. “I know. I understand. It was wrong to lie to us, but I do understand. Leo will, too, eventually. That old man has been through the wringer. He’ll heal from this.”

We sat there, right on the curb, and I realized I didn’t give a single crap who saw us in front of the dug-up time capsule. I mean, really, who was going to get mad? Harriet? I highly doubted I would be hearing from Joanna Creech now. Officer J.J. could come drag me off in handcuffs for vandalizing public property for all I cared. He was probably too busy directing traffic off Main Street. I almost laughed at how stupid and foolish this whole thing had been. All this work for a box that had been under my bed. I was tired of hiding and lying. I sat there in the sunlight and dared to let the whole world see what I’d done. But nobody drove by. That part of the plan, at least, had worked.