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so . . . he pictured a 747 plummeting to the ground, nose first, and he shuddered. Pilot error. It had to be pilot error. Birds that big didn’t fall from the sky.
    His heart raced and he gritted his teeth. Get a grip, Evans. These things happen.
    A constant stream of scenarios raced through his mind. A missed switch or an incorrect setting. Yes, it had to be pilot error. He gripped the steering wheel and studied his knuckles, his hands. How horrible would it be for those same hands to be at the controls of a nose-diving aircraft? How awful not to be able to pull out of it?
    Almost at the same time the statistics began shouting the truth through the hallways of his subconscious.
    Come on, Evans, thirty thousand Americans fly every day . . .
    Connor relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. Of course they did. Hundreds of flights took off each hour across the world without incident, day after day, week after week, month after month, and most of the time, year after year. Flying wasn’t only safer than driving, it was safer than riding a bike. Safer than swimming or football or rock climbing. A person was more likely to choke to death on airline food than to die in a plane crash.
    35

    – Oceans Apart –
    “Have mercy on them, God.” As he whispered the words, his heartbeat settled into a normal rhythm. Tomorrow at the airport he would find the list of missing crew members, just in case he recognized any names, guys he’d known at West Point, maybe. But even then, he couldn’t dwell on the crash.
    It was one aircraft, one mistake.
    At least it wasn’t his airline. After so many years of flying, he knew many of the pilots and flight attendants. A loss like yesterday’s crash within his own airline would definitely cost him a few friends.
    As he pulled into Home Depot he dismissed thoughts about the crash and set his mind to the task at hand. Picking out a decent riding mower.
    Over the next few hours he found his machine, brought it home, and took down the grass in the backyard; then he picked up the girls from the party and listened to a thirty-minute replay of the birthday girls’ reactions to Elizabeth and Susan’s gifts. By then Connor had forgotten everything bad about the day.
    The car accident, the old man. Even the plane crash.
    All he could think about was how wonderful his life was, and how much he hoped it would go on this way forever.
    36

    THREE
    Something was wrong. Max knew it as soon as he came home from school.
    Ramey was waiting for him at the bus stop and she had Buddy with her. At first he felt his heart get extra happy at the sight of that old dog because the two of them were bestest friends. He ran off the bus and wrapped his arm around Buddy’s neck.
    But halfway home from the bus stop, Max noticed a funny feeling in his stomach, the same kind of feeling he had when one time he ate an old cheese stick from his backpack. Sort of mixed up and jumpy and sickish all at once. And he knew why he felt that way.
    Ramey never brought Buddy with her to the bus stop.
    Buddy stayed home in his own backyard with lots of food and water, waiting for Max and his mom to come home.
    “Can’t he stay with me at Ramey’s?” Max asked his mom over and over.
    “No! You ask a hundred times each month and the answer’s still no, Max. Ramey can’t have dogs at her apartment.” Max wasn’t sure about the hundred times. More like eighteen or nineteen. But . . . if Ramey wasn’t allowed to have dogs in her apartment, how come Buddy came to the bus stop with her today? And how come he stayed for dinner and had his food bowl in the backyard?
    Those were questions he thought about all evening while Ramey talked on the phone.
    “Here,” she told him. “Watch a movie. I’ll be right in.”
    “Can I watch TV? TV’s better than a movie because it’s educa-tional. Mommy told me that.”
    37

    – Oceans Apart –
    Ramey made a face he hadn’t seen before. “No, Max. No TV.
    Not today. We’ll watch a movie