The rest of the Wilders’ afternoon was spent at the RV camp. Finn asked every person she met whether they had seen their mother, but their responses were nearly identical: new travelers came through Constellation every day. It was possible that they had met Nora, but it was just as likely that they hadn’t. Despite their lack of progress, however, Finn remained in high spirits. “Someone has to remember her,” she kept saying. Zadie wasn’t as certain but held her tongue.
As the sun went down, the temperature dropped from precisely 84 degrees Fahrenheit to 76 and falling. When the last drops of daylight had drained from the sky, they heard a low chime echo throughout the canyon. Then all at once the lights went out and the camp was plunged into darkness.
Zadie’s voice cut through the hush. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” Finn answered.
After a few seconds, the black lights blinked on and the camp was transformed into an ultraviolet wonderland. The saltbox shacks and mosaic path glowed with bold geometric patterns that hadn’t been visible in daylight. The succulents that dotted the grounds now looked like tiny prickly aliens that lived in holes in the ground. Zadie leaned in to look at the flower of a nearby cactus. It gave off an undersea glow and glittered with the spray of pollen. A pocket-size neon lizard skillfully scaled its spiny flesh, pausing beside the flower as though even a reptile could appreciate its loveliness.
But it wasn’t just the flora that caught her eye. She soon realized that everyone in the square was looking up. When she followed their gaze, she finally understood what the black lights were for. Above her were an impossible number of stars glinting like faceted jewels against the ancient vastness of space—more stars than she’d seen even in the most rural corners of her home state. It was both peaceful in its stillness and terrifying in its enormity. “They’re so bright,” she heard Finn whisper.
Theywerebright. And beautiful. As Zadie searched the sky for Ursa Major (the only constellation she knew), she heard one lonely piano note sing out in the desert air. At first she thought she was hearing things, but that note was followed shortly by another, then another. The song was faint but familiar. As her sister and the rest of the camp were busy admiring the stars, Zadie snuck off in the direction of the music.
She found the stranger sitting on the stairs of the boxcar stage, keyboard balanced on her lap. As with the previous night, the woman didn’t seem to be playing for anyone but herself. She kept her long, gray-streaked hair tucked behind her ears as she leaned over the keys, rocking slightly as if she were pressing on an invisible pedal. She was neither old nor young. She was the age of someone who had lived enough life to know what she liked and gave little thought to who was watching. Unsure of whether to approach the stranger, Zadie hung back, half-hidden behind a trellis of bougainvillea.
Without looking up, the woman said, “Hi again.”
This was the second time she had caught Zadie watching her.She must think I’m a creep,Zadie thought, flushing with embarrassment. “Hi,” she answered, stepping out from behind the trellis.
“Zadie, right?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“My wife, Nic, runs the front office during the day. I’m Ursula. I own the place.” She finally stopped playing and studied Zadie with guarded curiosity. “I hear your sister is a hit with the neighbors.”
“She has that effect on people. I’m more of an introvert.”
“Me too.” The woman smiled thoughtfully.
Zadie nodded at the keyboard. “I like your music.”
Ursula looked surprised. “Really? You don’t think it’s sad?”
“Well, yeah… but that’s kind of the point, right?” The stranger nodded. It appeared that they shared an appreciation for a good dirge. “Did you write it?”
“Yes and no.” Zadie waited for Ursula to elaborate, but she didn’t. Instead she looked up at the sky. “Have you looked at the stars yet?”
Zadie nodded—forgetting the woman wasn’t looking at her—then said, “They’re so much brighter out here.”
“That’s because there’s no light pollution. I lived in Sacramento most of my life, so I never really saw the stars until I came down here. At least not like this, anyway.” Zadie wasn’t sure what to make of the stranger. She didn’t appear sad, exactly, just distant, as though her mind were floating at the end of a tether.
The contemplative silence was broken by hurried footsteps. Zadie turned to see her sister walking up from behind. Under the black lights, she was all teeth and whites of eyes, a Day-Glo Cheshire cat. “Zadie, I heard that same music— Oh, hi,” she said, noticing Ursula’s presence. “Was that you playing?”
Ursula nodded.
“I’m Finn.”
“Ursula. Your sister and I were just looking at the stars,” she answered. “Actually, I was thinking about taking my telescope out tonight if you two are interested in joining me.”
Zadie caught Finn’s eye. It was clear by the look on her little sister’s face that the answer to Ursula’s question was yes.
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.”