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about what O’Brien had said. “I guess what happened in Boston was draining. Did Dad hear about that?”

“We both saw it on the news.”

“He never mentioned anything to me.”

“He probably forgot.”

As Erik was pulling out of the driveway, Ursula stood at the window, bright sunlight streaming through windowpanes so clean the rays were unobstructed, recalling her family’s emigration from Deutschland during the 1960’s. Lots of hardship remained left over from WW II and like many of their countrymen they were smitten with the young, handsome yet tough American president who had stood up in response to the Soviet threat and declared, “Ich bin ein Berliner.” Although America welcomed them with open arms, her parents joined a German-American social club to recapture a portion of what was left behind. That was where she and Joe had met, with their journey to the New World always depicted as a fairy tale. But like many things, the truth got lost somewhere in the mists of time. She was young, barely spoke the language and they were soon married, though it was a marriage of convenience and not love. After moving into their current home, she did fall in love, but with a neighbor who seemingly provided the warmth Joe lacked. Considering divorce, she went as far as to rehearse in front of the bedroom mirror how she would inform him, but before anything could be put into action she discovered her lover had departed with his family for parts unknown. One night while drinking, another neighbor informed Joe what he had already suspected and when confronted, she confessed. His cruel response made her contemplate leaving him anyway, but she had nowhere to go. Joe had made her and Erik’s lives miserable ever since, thinking Erik might not be his child, a question still gnawing at him. She turned away from these painful thoughts and resumed cleaning the house.

Driving to the flight school Erik had the radio volume high, humming along with the songs. Although he didn’t understand why, his mind was on only one person, Carol Rodriguez. Whenever his thoughts turned to her everything else faded away. Strutting into the office he told Andrea, “You look marvelous.”

“My, but you’re in good spirits.”

“Remember the pretty chick I flew with last week?”

“You mean the skinny one who kept me here ‘til almost 7:30?”

“Her second lesson is later today.”

Not pleased, Andrea had fantasized one day Erik might invite her out and after getting to know her, well who knew what might happen? But apparently he had his sights set on this other girl.

“This time, I just hope she leaves a bit earlier,” she muttered and turned back to her typing.

The day seemed never-ending, with Erik afraid Carol might not show, but then he saw her enter the office dressed in second-skin jeans and an equally tight-fitting pink tank top, her thick hair pulled back into a ponytail, carrying the books he had provided. The same huge shades hung around her neck.

Smiling, he pointed to the books and asked, “Did you read them?”

“Yes. But I couldn’t understand everything.”

“You should’ve called.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” she replied, not telling him she had begun to dial his number several times but chickened out.

“You remember how to perform the preflight inspection?”

“I think I do.”

“C’mon. I’ll follow you,” he said with a toothy grin.

All her preflight items were down pat, so Erik again reviewed the cockpit instrumentation and procedures while keeping a close eye on everything. As they taxied out he handled the radio communications while Carol performed a flawless takeoff.

“Take her up to two thousand five hundred feet,” he said pointing to the altimeter. “We’ll review the fundamentals, again.” Carol was more self-assured and they returned to the field at twilight, just as the horizon was swallowing what was left of the sun. “This is the most magnificent time of the day to fly,” he offered. “The air’s smooth, no wind or sun-induced up or down drafts.”

“It’s the most gorgeous sight I’ve ever seen. I wish I’d brought my camera.”

As the sky was beginning to deepen from watery blue to purple and the sun’s late-day bolts barely penetrated the darkening clouds and touched the treetops, Erik floated in for a perfect touchdown. “Were you comfortable?” he asked.

“Yes. How did I do?”

“You should be able to fly solo pretty soon.”

“Well, I’d better check with my father before thinking about that.”

“Glancing at his watch Erik asked, “It’s past six. Wanna grab a bite?”

Ten minutes later they were seated side-by-side in a small booth at the airport diner decorated with white walls, vivid red tables and edged with sparkling chrome called The Landing. She cupped her chin in her palms and stared at Erik with blinking huge brown eyes. “How did you get into flying?” she asked, as though every word he uttered was important.

Feeling like God’s gift to Carol Rodriguez, Erik surrendered a shortened autobiography. “I was kind of drifting aimlessly, going to school, learning how to sleep ‘til noon, working at different summer jobs, that kind of stuff. One thing I always knew was I never wanted to get on the business world nine-to-five treadmill, the one you never get off. I finally spread my wings after going up with a buddy’s father because flying made me feel meaningful. I set my sights on becoming an airline pilot and never looked back.”

“How could you afford the lessons? They’re so expensive,” her beauty shining like a magnet to him.

“I borrowed the money.” He heard himself say, almost opening up too much. He steered the conversation in a different direction. “I’m a brand new Boeing 727 flight engineer for Shuttle Air, the new airline headquartered at LaGuardia, flying from New York to Boston and Washington. I’m teaching on the side just to earn some extra cash.”

“You’ve got another job?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ve been there only a short time but was involved in an episode last week in Boston when an engine quit during takeoff. Maybe you read about it or saw something

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