“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.
No one moved until the song was over. After the last note wasfinished echoing off the vermilion cliffs, Ursula said, “That’s what Denebola sounds like tonight.”
Barely louder than a whisper, Finn said, “You can hear stars?”
“Every star has a song,” she answered plainly, sliding the keyboard behind her. “I’m the only person I’ve met who can hear them. The first one I heard when I was a kid was Polaris. It was years before I could hear more distant stars, and years after that before I figured out how to tune them in and out. Other kids used to think I was weird because I wore these.” Ursula reached back into the Jeep and pulled out a pair of noise-canceling headphones. “I wear them during the day. It’s the only way I can sleep. The sun is so loud. It’s like radio static being blasted into my ears.”
“That’s why you work the night shift.”
Ursula nodded. “It’s not so bad, really. I mean, I get to see this every night.” She gestured to the starry sky.
Finn beamed. “Yeah, not bad at all.”
“Why are you telling us this?” Zadie asked.
Ursula, to her credit, simply smiled and said, “Because Nic and I have worked hard to make this a place where people feel like they can be themselves, no matter how the rest of the world sees them. I gave up hiding a long time ago.” She shot a pointed look at Zadie, who promptly averted her eyes.
Finn, on the other hand, took her invitation to heart. “Actually, we could use your help.”
A searching look crossed Ursula’s face. “Oh?”
“We’re looking for someone. Nora Wilder. I think you might have met her.”
“I don’t recognize the name, but we have thousands of guests every year. Why?”
“She’s our mom.” Finn glanced over at her sister. By her expression, it was clear that Zadie would have preferred they keep that particular detail to themselves.
“Your mom…” Ursula’s words hung in the air for a moment like mist.
Finn pressed on. “Do you keep records of all the people who’ve stayed here?”
“Yes, but they’re all paper. The ones we haven’t thrown away are all packed away in boxes.”
Finn’s heart sank. “Oh.”
Ursula paused, as if contemplating which of her own policies she would be willing to break to help them. “When do you think she stayed here?”
“Five years ago.”
“Tell you what… I’ve been meaning to go through those boxes anyway. I can take a look through them later tonight.”
“Really? Thank you!” Finn practically dove at Ursula and pulled her into an awkward side hug.
“Uh… it’s no problem.” Unsure of what to do with her arms, Ursula patted Finn lightly on the back. When Finn finally released her, she cleared her throat and said, “At this time of year, I wake up around eight, when the sun’s going down. Why don’t you come over tomorrow around nine?”