Breaking the Silence

  “Well, it looks to me like Joe, here, never did get himself lobotomized. Or else it was a pretty poor job.”

  “But why would he have changed his name? And why wouldn’t he have contacted Sarah? That makes no sense.”

  “Got me,” Dylan said with a shrug.

  “I wonder if this John Solomon is still alive,” she said, studying the newspaper clipping.

  “You said Sarah’s husband would only be in his sixties, so if that’s who he is, I’d say there’s a decent chance of it.”

  “Let’s see what we can find on the Internet,” Laura said, getting to her feet.

  They spent the next half hour on her computer in the skylight room, using the Internet to search for John Solomon’s address. They found only two men by that name in Nevada—one in Reno, the other in Serene Lake.

  “Okay,” Laura said, jotting down the addresses and phone numbers. “I’ll write these guys a letter. Want to help me compose it?”

  “Why write?” Dylan moved from his seat by the computer to the pillowed floor. He stretched out on his back, arms beneath his head. “Let’s call them,” he said. “It’s ten here, so it’s only eight there.”

  She looked at her watch. In a few minutes’ time, she could be speaking to Sarah’s long-lost husband—who probably did not want to be found. “It seems so…forward,” she said.

  “What do you have to lose?” he asked. “Want me to do it?”

  She shook her head. “All right.” She studied the addresses. “Reno or Serene Lake?”

  “Serene Lake,” Dylan said. “Sounds more interesting.”

  Logging off the computer, Laura picked up the phone and dialed. A man answered almost instantly.

  “Is this John Solomon?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He had a deep, friendly voice. “Who’s calling?”

  “You don’t know me, Mr. Solomon. My name is Laura Brandon, and I—”

  “The Laura Brandon?”

  It took her a minute to understand. “Oh,” she said, smiling. “Actually, yes. That’s me.”

  “Well, why is a famous astronomer giving me a call?” He sounded nice. Really nice.

  “It’s hard to explain, Mr. Solomon, and I’m not even certain I have the right person. Are you a journalist?” she asked. “Can you tell me if you ever worked for the Washington Post?”

  He was quiet a long time, and Laura felt Dylan’s eyes on her.

  “I have a feeling this is not something we should discuss over the phone,” John Solomon said.

  Laura let out her breath. It’s him. She mouthed the words to Dylan. “I live on the other side of the country, Mr. Solomon, and so I don’t know how we can…Could I just ask you a few questions?”

  “No,” he said firmly. “I’d certainly like to hear what you have to say, but there’s no way we can discuss this by phone.”

  “May I write to you, then?” Laura asked.

  “It’d be worse in a letter.”

  “Maybe I could come out there,” she said, feeling impulsive. “I…let me think about it and get back to you. Would that be all right?” She saw Dylan raise himself up on one elbow to get a better look at her. He must have thought she’d gone mad.

  “Uh…you really have me mystified,” Solomon said. “What would an astronomer care about my work at the Post? Are you really Laura Brandon? Tell me something only Laura Brandon would know.”

  “I wear a size seven-and-a-half shoe,” she said, grinning. She liked this guy, whoever he was.

  Solomon laughed. “Who manufactured the telescope you used to find your first comet?” he asked.

  “I did,” she said. “I built it myself. And I used it to find the first three, actually.”

  “All right, then,” he said. “You’re legit. Can you tell me what…No, never mind. Not on the phone.” He sighed. “I hope you do decide to come out here,” he said. “Give me a call when you know your plans.”

  She told him she would, then hung up and looked at Dylan. “I want to go,” she said. Resting her head on the back of her chair, she looked at the dark sky through the Plexiglas ceiling and thought through the ramifications of making such a trip. “I’d have to take Emma with me.”

  “And me, too.” Dylan lay back on the pillows.

  “What? You have a balloon business to run.”

  “I know someone who can cover for me for a few days,” he said. “You’ll need me. I could watch Emma while you talk with John Solomon.”

  If she went, she wanted him to come with her, and not only because she could use a baby-sitter.

  “I’d want to go very soon,” she said. “And it would be hugely expensive to get tickets so close to the flight.”

  “Just one more reason why you need me,” Dylan said. “I’m an old airline pilot, remember? I can pull strings. When would you like to go?”

  “Yesterday.”

  He sat up from the pillows. “Let’s call the airlines now,” he said.

  “No,” she said. “This is insane. And what kind of friend are you, trying to talk me into this wild-goose chase?”

  “A friend who wants to know if this guy’s Joe Tolley just as much as you do,” he said.

  Dylan opened his windows on the drive home to let the cool September night air fill his car.

  He had not had this feeling since before Katy died. This exhilaration. This odd mix of satisfaction and longing. But with Katy, he’d been sure of himself and his feelings for her. His affection for Laura was not that cut-and-dried, and it was colored by the love he felt for Emma.

  He’d meant it when he said he cared about her, but he hadn’t expected those words to slip out of his mouth just when they did. Had they surprised her as much as they had him?

  If Laura were willing, maybe they could chance having something more than friendship. He wanted to give it a try, although it would mean losing his freedom to date anyone he wanted, whenever he wanted. He remembered Laura’s disbelief that he could find women willing to put up with that arrangement and knew she would never tolerate it herself. Right now, though, the thought of seeing anyone else was unappealing. No one but Laura would ever feel the way he did about Emma.

  What if it didn’t work out between them, though? What if she wanted more than he was willing to give? They would have to go into this with their eyes open, putting Emma’s needs first. If he and Laura screwed up their relationship, he didn’t want Emma to get screwed up along with it.

  Maybe Laura wasn’t even interested. Always a possibility. Whether she was or not, though, didn’t matter right now. He still had a phone call to make once he got home.

  It was after eleven when he reached his house, but Bethany was a night person. Sure enough, she sounded wide-awake when she answered the phone.

  “Hi, Beth,” he said.

  “Hey, Dylan. Are you calling to firm up plans for tomorrow night?” she asked.

  “Actually…I have to cancel.” He was sitting on his bed, gazing at the aquarium. “I’m sorry.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said, “but I wanted to let you know that you were right. I was more hung up on Emma and Laura than I knew. It took me a while to admit it to myself, I guess.”

  “Laura, too?” she asked.

  “Yes. I don’t know if she and I will actually…get together, but my mind is on her. I’m not fit company for anyone else right now, as you’ve noticed.”

  Bethany let out a long sigh. “Well, shit,” she said.

  “I’m sorry if I misled you.”

  “Oh, you never misled me, Dylan,” she said. “I knew you didn’t know what you were doing and what you were feeling. Even though you were clueless. It was pretty obvious.”

  “I’m not going to be seeing anyone else for a while,” he said.

  “You mean, like me.”

  “Like anyone.”

  “For a while?”

  “Well, at least.”

  That sigh again. “Can’t say I didn’t see this com
ing.”

  “Thanks for being so understanding.”

  She laughed. “I only wish you’d been a lying, cheating bastard,” she said. “It would have been so much easier to write you off.”

  He hung up the phone, lay back on his bed and forgot about Bethany more quickly than was charitable. His mind was already on the possibility of a trip to Nevada, traveling with his two favorite women.

  38

  THERE WOULD BE NO WALK TODAY. THE RAIN SHEETED OVER Laura’s windshield as she drove to the video store, and for the first time since spring, she turned on the car’s heater.

  By the time she’d run from her car into the store, she was soaked. Shivering, she picked out an old movie she hoped Sarah would enjoy and ran back to the car, where she sat and stared at the jewelry shop next to the video store. The jeweler had been leaving messages for her for months, asking when she was coming in to pick up her repaired necklace. She’d put it off. Her beloved old pendant had become linked to unpleasant memories: her father’s final moments, when he’d accidentally torn it from her throat, and the day of Ray’s suicide, the day she’d taken the necklace in to be repaired.

  Grow up.

  She got out of the car again and went into the jewelry store.

  There was no answer when she knocked on Sarah’s apartment door. Possibly she was in the lounge or one of the activity rooms. Laura knocked again, and was about to try to find Carolyn, the attendant, when Sarah slowly drew the door open. She was smoothing her half-buttoned blouse with her hand, looking as if she’d dressed in a hurry. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her gray hair tousled. Laura was alarmed by the sight of her.

  “Sarah,” she said, pushing past her into the living room, “what’s wrong?”

  Sarah fumbled in the pocket of her skirt for a tissue and wiped her eyes. She seemed too distraught to speak.

  “Is it the rain?” Laura asked, although surely this was an extreme reaction to not being able to take a walk. “I brought a movie we can watch instead.”

  “It’s Joe,” Sarah managed to say.

  “Joe?”

  “I can’t find him!” A look of despair came into her face.

  “Oh, Sarah, I know, dear.” Laura slipped her arm around the older woman’s shoulders. “I know you looked everywhere for him and couldn’t find him. That must have been terrible.”

  “No, no!” Sarah protested. “I can’t find him.” She pointed to the end table, and Laura suddenly understood. Joe’s picture. That’s what Sarah was talking about. The framed picture that was in Laura’s purse.

  “You mean Joe’s picture?” she asked. “It’s right here. Remember, I borrowed it yesterday? You don’t need to be upset.” She reached into her purse and withdrew the photograph, hoping Sarah didn’t ask her why she’d wanted it. She would not tell her about John Solomon until she had all the facts.

  “Oh!” A smile spread across Sarah’s face. She took the picture from Laura and held it to her chest.

  Laura waited for her to ask her why she had it, but Sarah did not seem at all interested. All she cared about was that she had Joe back.

  She settled Sarah into her favorite chair, then inserted the video into the VCR. Sarah watched the movie halfheartedly, still sniffling, and occasionally running her fingers over the picture in her lap.

  And Laura knew for sure that she would make the trip to Nevada.

  39

  LAURA LEANED OVER TO CHECK EMMA’S SEAT BELT. EMMA was a seasoned traveler, and as had been her habit since she was a baby, she’d fallen asleep as soon as the jet was in the air. Dylan, though, was another matter. At first Laura thought she was imagining his anxiety. His hand had a small but noticeable tremor when he handed his boarding pass to the attendant, and his face had been ashen as they looked for their seats. Laura had said nothing. It had to be her imagination. He’d been a pilot for many years. Maybe it was making this trip with her and Emma that had him uptight.

  Now that he’d ordered his second drink, though, she had to know what was bothering him.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He offered her a weak smile. “I will be, as soon as we land in Reno.”

  “You’re…afraid of flying?”

  “I don’t like the word afraid,” he said. “Makes me sound like a wimp.”

  “What word would you prefer?”

  “I…simply don’t care for it,” he said.

  “Oh. Well. Is that why you quit the airlines?”

  The flight attendant delivered his drink, and he took a swallow, staring at the seat in front of him. “Six years ago,” he said, “I was scheduled to fly a 747 from New York to San Francisco, but I had an ear infection and decided not to fly. Usually the doctor grounds you with that sort of infection, but the company doc said it was my choice. Well, I didn’t see the point in risking my eardrum, so I canceled.” He took another sip of his drink. “That plane crashed,” he said.

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Everyone on board was killed. The investigation was short and swift. It was pilot error. He’d been up late the night before, had some drugs and too much to drink.” He looked at her squarely. “If I’d been flying that plane, it wouldn’t have gone down.”

  “But you were sick.”

  “True. But I could have flown. It was my call.”

  “It was the pilot’s fault,” she said, “not yours.”

  “I know that, in my rational moments, at least.” He set his drink on his tray table and rubbed his palms together, slowly. “Some of the crew on that plane were my friends,” he said. “Including one of the flight attendants. Her name was Katy. We’d lived together for years. We’d finally decided to get married. The wedding had been planned for a few months after the crash.”

  The enormity of what he was saying took a minute to sink in. Laura wrapped her hand around his arm. “I’m so sorry,” she said. No wonder he was the way he was. No wonder he dated women helter-skelter, committed to his life of no commitment.

  “The crash changed everything,” he said. “I quit the airlines. I started drinking. That’s when I met you. Or at least, so you say. I still don’t remember it.”

  “That’s okay.” She squeezed his arm.

  “I sort of…lost my direction,” he said. “The accident made me realize that my life—that anyone’s life—is nothing more than a fleeting blip on the screen of eternity.”

  She nodded. “You can’t be an astronomer and not be aware of that fact,” she said. “Studying the stars makes you come to grips with your insignificance pretty quickly.”

  Dylan eyed his drink but didn’t touch the glass. “Well,” he said, “when I figured that out, I decided I would live for the day. I wouldn’t think about the future. There was no assurance I’d have one, so what was the point? And that’s how I’ve been existing ever since. It’s actually not a bad way to live, one day at a time. But then I met Emma.” He wrinkled his nose. “Hard to have a child and not think about the future,” he said.

  “I know,” she agreed.

  He handed his unfinished drink to the attendant as she passed by his seat. “I really don’t want to get drunk,” he said, leaning his head against his seat. He looked at her. “Although once when I got drunk, a wonderful thing happened.”

  “It did?”

  He nodded toward Emma, and she understood.

  “We are a guilty little threesome,” she said. “You for the crash, Emma and me for Ray’s death.”

  “Not doing us a hell of a lot of good, is it?” He closed his eyes, a small smile on his lips. “Wake me when we get to Reno.”

  Truckee was a quaint little town just across the border in California, not far from Serene Lake. The woman at the car rental company had suggested they stay there, and they were able to find adjoining rooms in a small hotel near the main street.

  With a few hours to kill before going to John Solomon’s house, they drove to Lake Tahoe and rented a sea kayak. It took them a while to persuade Emma to get into the boat. The youn
g man in the rental booth told her that the kayak could not possibly tip over, and although Laura thought he was twisting the truth a bit, she didn’t mind. He also fitted Emma with their “very best, highest quality” life jacket. Still, Laura was surprised when Emma actually agreed to climb into the boat. She sat in the center, while Dylan took the stern and Laura, the bow.

  The air was chilly but not uncomfortable, and the lake was beautiful, surrounded by mountains and filled with deep green, translucent water. Although Laura was anxious to meet John Solomon, this time with Dylan and Emma felt precious to her. There was a lightness inside her she had not experienced in a very long time.

  The drive to Serene Lake took about forty-five minutes. From the road, the lake looked small and calm, the water a luminous blue. The houses circling it were of the mountain chalet variety, and each of them had a long covered walkway extending from the front door to the street, to cut down on snow shoveling, Laura supposed. There were already a few inches of snow on the ground, but the roads were clear.

  They found John Solomon’s address. He lived in an A-frame cabin close to the lake’s edge. In the side yard, Laura spotted a huge woodpile and an ax jutting from a tree stump. In the backyard, a red canoe rested upside down on a couple of sawhorses. It suddenly seemed doubtful that they had the right man. This was the house and the lifestyle of someone young and active.

  She didn’t voice her concern to Dylan as they walked up the covered path to the front door. Emma clung to her hand, as if uncertain about this new situation, but she laughed when Laura pulled the leather strap hanging from a bell on the door, producing a resonant clang.

  In a moment, a man stood in the doorway, and Laura couldn’t help but smile. She did have the right man. She remembered Sarah’s description of Joe Tolley when she’d first spotted him on the train so long ago. He’d looked like Jimmy Stewart, she’d said. And he still did.

  “Mr. Solomon?” She held out her hand. “I’m Laura Brandon.”

  “Come in, Laura,” he said.

  They stepped into a slate-floored foyer. The living room was directly beyond the foyer, and the triangular glass wall gave them a magnificent view of the lake.