He laughed softly in the warm night air. “I think you just see it as very romantic. I'm not so sure they do. Believe me, to them, it's probably just a job.”

“Maybe,” she said, not wanting to argue with him, but knowing far more than she let on to. Flying was like a secret brotherhood, one she desperately wanted to join, and so far no one would let her. But for those few moments in the air today, when Chris had let her fly the plane, that was all that mattered.

She sat thinking of it for a long time, staring into the darkness off the porch, forgetting that Bobby was even there, and then suddenly, when she heard him stir, she remembered.

“I guess I should go. You're probably tired from gassing all those planes,” he teased her. But actually, she wanted to be alone, to think of what it had been like to fly the plane. It had been so exquisite for those few minutes. “I'll see you tomorrow, Cass.”

“Good night.” He held her hand briefly and then brushed her cheek with his lips before he walked back to his father's old Model A truck with “Strong's Groceries” written across the side. In the daytime, they used it for deliveries. At night, they let Bobby drive it. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

She smiled and waved at him as he drove away, and then she walked slowly back into the house, thinking of how lucky Nick was to be flying through the night, on his way to San Diego.

3

Nick returned to Good Hope from the West Coast late Sunday night, after dropping off cargo and mail in Detroit and Chicago. He was back at his desk at six o'clock Monday morning, looking rested and energetic. It was a busy day, some new contracts had come in, and there was always more mail and cargo to be moved around. They had plenty of pilots working for them, and enough planes, but Nick still volunteered for the longer-range trips himself, and the more difficult flying.