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sky?”
    “Cold mostly.” He laughed, then sobered. “Flying up through the clouds and breaking into the clear—it’s exhilarating. I like it all—the planning, the anticipation, the preflight procedures, waiting to hear those three little words…,” he grinned, “cleared for takeoff.” “The force of it pushes you back in the seat.”
    “You’re never afraid?”
    “No. When I’m up there I’m in total control. Free as a bird. Then the landing approach, the wind whistling, the ground rushing toward me, my heart racing.” He thought a minute. “I take it back. I was afraid once. My first inverted flight.”
    She sensed the car accelerating.
    “I was at 4,000 feet and dangling upside down. I couldn’t see because stones from the cockpit were flying in my face. Then, I felt the harness give. You better believe I prayed like a repentant sinner! Whoo-ee! What a rush!”
    “What happened?”
    “Nothing. The plane righted.”
    “That sounds horrible.”
    “Nah! I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
    Surprised by the tone of his voice, she gazed out the side window. Sometimes Abe seemed different—older, arrogant, and dismissive of her as he had never been before. She said, “Of course, you wouldn’t expect me to understand.”
    He quickly said, “That’s not what I meant. Look. For me, flying is the ultimate thrill. That’s all.”
    “That’s all? Now you want to be a fighter pilot. Why didn’t you ask me how I felt about it? Ever since you told me, I’m having trouble sleeping. What’s this need to push to the edge?”
    He bit down on his lip. “It’s my life, okay?”
    The passing scenery blurred through her tears. “What about mine?”
    He pulled to the side of the road. Drying her tears, he flashed a lopsided grin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I love you. I need you, Margie. You keep me grounded. Look, no more serious talk, no more thinking about tomorrow. It’s just you and me and a sunny day. Send me off with a bang, baby.”
    She kissed the grin she loved. They only had a few hours, and she didn’t want to squabble. “All right, fella. If it’s a bang you want, you got it.”
     
    They toured the art museum and roamed through Ann Arbor’s galleries and antique shops. Abe bought a filigree brooch and pinned it on the collar of her blouse, where his hand lingered before caressing her chin. In a used-book store, she purchased The History of Military Aviation and wrote inside the front cover, “To my favorite flyboy. I’ll love you forever.”
    That evening they met Diane and Paul at The Kneebone, a jazz club where blue lights illuminated the dining room. They could barely see their booth until the silhouette of the waitress lit a tiny candle. The air was heavy with smoke and smelled of garlic and hot sauce. From the jukebox, Duke Ellington droned “Mood Indigo.” The foursome drank pitchers of beer, ate slabs of barbequed ribs, and shared stories.
    “Fay Kinnit?” Abe guffawed at the tale of Salem’s Revenge. “Who thought of that name?”
    “Evelyn,” both the women said at once.
    “P. Brain?” Tears of mirth rolled down Abe’s cheeks. “Margie, I thought that place was so austere, and now you tell me this. Oh, Lord. What other secrets are you keeping?”
    Margie showed off her new diamond ring, and Diane and Paul chattered about their own upcoming wedding. Would Margie and Abe be able to attend? No one mentioned the listless economy, the war brewing in Europe, or Abe’s leaving for California in the morning. They left The Kneebone and went to Charlie’s, where a combo played dance tunes. Margie and Abe clung to each other on the dance floor.
    And so the evening went.
    “Are you sure you can drive?” she asked.
    “Why not?” he said, stumbling into the driver’s seat.
    He drove while she dozed on his shoulder. Pulling into a park on the edge of town, he stopped the car behind a dense grove of trees. Sitting up, she looked around. “Where are