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had sanded smooth, the Chief Pontiac hood ornament polished to a high gloss, and the gray velour seats brushed clean and soft. “Can I borrow it sometime? I’d be careful.”
    Dad opened the hood and identified each engine part. She watched attentively as he demonstrated how to check the oil, clean the carburetor, and fill the radiator. He said, “Tomorrow, I’ll show you how to change a tire. You need to know that.”
    They all piled in for a trip into town for ice cream, stopping to pick up Abe on the way.
    “I’m a good driver,” Frank insisted, tipping his hat back.
     
    That evening the night was warm, the sky full of stars, and the smell of lilacs sweetened the air. Margie and Abe sat on the front porch swing, mindful only of each other. Cuddled up to him, she whispered into his ear, “I love you so much.” Her hand ran down the front of his shirt and rested on his lap.
    He fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, and she felt herself melting. “We better not. Daddy’s still up.” She leaned back against him. “December’s getting close. We should start planning our wedding.” She locked her fingers into his. “What do you think of a Christmas theme? The attendants in red satin and the church filled with poinsettias and holly? You’ll need a best man and two ushers.”
    Abe gave the swing a push with his foot, starting it in motion, its squeak competing with the chirping of crickets. He took a deep breath then said, “Promise you won’t be mad?”
    She tensed. “What?”
    “December won’t work.”
    “Why not?”
    “I’ve been selected for advanced training. It’s an honor. I can’t pass it up.”
    “Can’t we get married anyway?”
    “Not as long as I’m in training. I’m sorry. Please don’t look so disappointed.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her lightly. “It’s only six months.”
    “That long?”
    “It’s not so long, and with both of us working, we can build a nest egg. I’ll open us a joint savings account and send you my paychecks.”
    “It’s you not your paychecks I want. Where will you be stationed?”
    “At an airbase in the desert north of Los Angeles. Muroc Bombing and Gunnery Range. It’s desolate out there. I’ll be living in a tent.”
    “A bombing and gunnery range?”
    “I’ll be learning aerial combat. When I finish, I’ll be qualified to fly fighter planes.” He held her hand. “Is a June wedding okay? I promise you an extra-special honeymoon.”
    A year to wait. She loathed the thought of sleeping alone in her childhood bedroom while he was off learning to fly fighters. She tried to make light of it, but her voice sounded thin. “It better be an extra-extra-special honeymoon.”
    “I promise,” he said, handing her a small box.
    As he slid the engagement ring on her finger, the tiny diamond sparkled like the brightest star in the sky.
     
    Margie fussed with her hair and makeup, then slipped on a rayon blouse, slim skirt, hose, and shoes. She arranged a sweater over her shoulders and checked in the mirror. Satisfied with the look, she watched for Abe’s car from the front porch swing. Today was their last day together.
    Mama came out and sat beside her. “It’s a beautiful day to be out and about. Where are you and Abe going?”
    “Ann Arbor. He wants to go through the art galleries and see what’s new. He used to talk about owning one. Did I ever tell you that? His uncle owned a gallery in Chicago. Abe spent summers there and did odd jobs. He liked hanging out with the artists. He hasn’t mentioned that in a long time.”
    Abe stopped the car in front of the house and waved through the open window. Margie hurried down the rutted driveway, opened the passenger-side door, and slid over close to him. She hollered to Mama, “We’re meeting friends for dinner. We might be home late.”
     
    As they drove, Margie contemplated Abe’s decision to become a fighter pilot. “You love it, don’t you? What’s it like up there in the