The Four Corners of the Sky_ A Novel - Michael Malone [94]
“Looking into the F-35,” she said.
“I hear it’s got problems.”
“Everything’s got problems.” She adjusted her helmet.
Ten minutes later, they were first for takeoff. “You good to go?” she asked him.
He wriggled in the copilot’s seat. “All yours, babe. Take this thing to the max. You break the sound barrier, it makes the earth tremble.”
Annie smiled. It was a joke of theirs, from the past when they’d thought they’d have a future.
At 12:53 a.m., July 5, sprays of rocket bursts and roman candles exploded above as the VLJ started its tight loop.
The logistical nightmare caused by all the backed-up planes had shortened the temper of the surly traffic controller. But now as he watched the super-light Hopper jet corkscrew straight up into the night, headed for the stars, he turned to face his overworked staff and grinned at them widely. To grin widely was not something this man ever did. “You see that?” He shouted at them, “That woman’s a goddamn flyer! God bless America!” They stared shocked at their boss until he yelled at them to get back to work.
By chance, as Annie flew to the southeast of the airport, the last clusters of red white and blue fireworks burst into air, illuminating the stainless steel of the St. Louis Arch. The Cessna Mustang seemed to go right through the fireworks. Then it tilted in a falconlike glide and headed toward Atlanta, Georgia.
“Does it get much better than this?” Brad was not really asking a question and Annie did not give him an answer.
She tipped a wing of the jet at the catenary arch over the Mississippi River, in tribute to the city whose merchants had purchased an airplane for Charles Lindbergh. Lindbergh would christen it the Spirit of St. Louis and honor it years later by transferring its ID to the Monocoupe D-145 that was now hanging from the ceiling in the St. Louis airport���high off the floor but not high enough to stop her father from taking something (she had no idea what)—out of its cockpit.
***
The Hopper jet was very fast and the flight was not a very long one. When they landed in Atlanta, Brad climbed onto the wing and then leaned in to kiss her good-bye. “You find Jack, tell him, well, good luck. You don’t want to let your daddy die in jail.”
“No, I guess I don’t,” she agreed.
Brad looked better, his eyes no longer darting. “Maybe Jack let you down when you were little, but give him a chance. Could be he’s just trying to make it up.”
“Could be…”
“I’m all for a second chance.”
She rubbed his cheek, touched the mustache. “I know you are. Third, fourth, fifth chance.” She smiled at him. “Thanks for the loan.”
“You owe me a month of marriage.” He acknowledged her raised eyebrow. “Name only. But we’re not signing any papers for thirty days.”
She nodded. “After that we’re getting a divorce.”
“No, we’re not.” Brad patted her gloved hand. “You take care of yourself, A. Happy Birthday. You’re looking great.”
She gestured at his muscular body, fashionable clothes. “You too.”
He socked himself in the stomach. “I keep at it. Wow, our first year at Annapolis? That bastard Johnson shoving our faces down in the slush with his boot? Remember that? ‘Give me another hundred!’ And it’s sleeting ice? Those were hard times.”
She nodded. “Yes.” But those weren’t the hard times she remembered. “Take it easy.”
“Always do.” He brought out the ring box again but before he could open his hand to show her, she closed her fingers over his.
“It’s a very nice ring,” she said. “I’m grateful.” She moved his hand back down to his side, smoothed out his lapel. “But no.”
Brad put the box back in his pocket. “You’re not going to find anybody better, A.”
“Probably not.”
“In a month, I’ll ask you again.”
She turned back, looked seriously at him. “Why? Why would you? We weren’t happy.”
He frowned as if thinking through their life together. “I was pretty happy. And let’s face it, babe, you weren’t ever happy. I mean, before it was my fault, you weren’t happy either.”
The truth of what he said took her aback. She’d