Page 64 of Atmosphere

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“And we can get dinner?”

Griff raised his palm up. “One thing at a time, Goodwin.”

Joan smiled when she heard him call her that. But she did recognize that something had been lost between them that would never come back.

They walked on, farther from the campsite, before eventually heading back.

“Can I say one more thing?” Griff asked, just before they approached the camp. “That is not my place to say?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not going to pretend to know what’s in your heart. But you’ve said a few things, here and there, and I’ve…sensed a few things, maybe…and…”

He stopped and turned toward her. “If you do have feelings for someone—if that’s something that’s on your mind…I worry that you’re in a tough spot. Because as wrong as I think their position is, there are some things NASA doesn’t officially condone for astronauts. From what I’ve heard.”

Joan couldn’t breathe for a full second, her body forgetting how to let the air out of her lungs.

“You okay?” he said.

She nodded. “Thank you, Griff. For looking out. But I…I’m not sure what any of that has to do with me.”

“Okay,” he said. “I just…I will go to bat for you. If you need it. I just wanted you to know that. Regardless of you completely decimating my ego back in New Orleans…” he added, laughing.

“Would you stop?”

He kept laughing. “I’m just saying…my wounded pride wouldn’t affect what I believe to be right. Everyone should be free to live theirlives, love anyone they choose. I’ve got your back, Goodwin. Okay? That’s what I’m trying to say.”

“Thank you, Griff, really,” Joan said. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

—

Joan went back to hertent but, finding herself all alone in there without Frances, she couldn’t sleep. She could not quiet her mind—but also could not ignore the small splashes she kept hearing from time to time, some fish or bird out there in the lake. With a huff of frustration, she got out of her sleeping bag, unzipped her tent, and stood up.

There, on the dock, was Vanessa. She was skipping stones across the lake’s surface.

Joan looked up at the sky. Just based on where Vega hung, Joan suspected it was earlier than twoa.m.

She could have returned to her tent and tried to fall asleep again. But the back of Vanessa’s body was lit by the brightness of the moon, and Joan walked to her.

Vanessa must have heard her footsteps, because she turned and, upon seeing Joan, smiled big and wide. Vanessa’s smile was so beautiful, the way it was lopsided, but the rest of her face was always perfectly symmetrical. The curls of her hair were the most gorgeous thing Joan had ever seen in her life, and she wanted to reach out and run her hand through them. To pull her closer.

“Look,” Vanessa said, pointing up toward the western edge of the sky. “Hercules.”

Joan did not speak.

“The whole sky makes sense to me now,” Vanessa said. “Because of you.”

And Joan thought,Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

December 29, 1984

Now in her space suit,Vanessa enters the payload bay, tethered to the ship. She moves toward the forward bulkhead to inspect the right-side latches. She tries not to think about Hank. She tries not to think about what Donna must be going through right now. She tries not to think of baby Thea and the fact that Thea will never remember the way Hank held her on Thanksgiving. The way Donna kept asking to take her, and Hank always shook his head. “No,” she’d heard Hank say. “Please don’t. Let me have her.” Thea will never remember the way it felt to be in her father’s arms like that. Her father will be someone people tell Thea about.

She can’t stand to think of it.

She thinks, instead, of Griff. She thinks of Lydia.

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