And You Will Find Love

"Are we ready now, for tomorrow?" Barbara asked.

"Ready," he allowed.

But George couldn't help but slightly hope that the next day, when Barbara tossed another coin to see who got what plane for the air show, his precious wife got the Piper again.

That night, to celebrate the end of a lot of hard work, Barbara threw a party at the airport, a steak fry on the runway. Her guests were those she liked the most there and who had helped the most: Buck and Edna; George and Leila; her grub-staker, Moose Mondrowski; and her partner, Russ Oberman, although he had done nothing more than sleep, drink beer, and stay out of everyone's way while they worked. Barbara laughed at how Russ's and Moose's mutual love for beer had brought them together as new best buddies.

During the party, long after dark, the phone rang in Barbara's office. A strange rush of anxiety rushed through her as she went to answer it.

Things are going too well. This is going to be bad news. She still feared every day, almost every time the phone rang, that Chet Armstrong would be calling, to torment her. She dreaded the thought, but could not help but admit to herself that somehow he could discover where she had gone. Then he would come out and terrorize her again.

The voice on the phone sounded faint, and anxious.

"Barbara, it's Gail."

Barbara sensed bad news and held her breath.

Gail hesitated, then let it out. "I can hardly say it... Paul's dead."

Barbara postponed the Grand Re-Opening of America West Airport and her air show until the following Sunday, even though newspaper advertisements and posters tacked up all over that part of the county by school boys and girls she'd hired would be a total waste. Those who had planned on coming to the event would have no way of knowing it had been postponed. They would come from all around, but a week too early. They might not want to make the trip a second time the following week.

None of it was really important to Barbara. What was, was flying back to Chicago immediately, and being with Gail.

Nothing Barbara had ever done before was as sad to her and as difficult as standing with Gail at Paul's graveside on a blustery early winter morning. It reminded her of the gray day she had first seen Paul, in the doorway of the hangar where she had sat sewing, and his presence had blinded her as sunlight seemed to radiate around him.