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cared if I showed up in class. They probably wished I hadn’t.”
    “Well,” she said in her briskest voice, “I care. Teaching is what I do, so if I can’t teach and feel I’m doing some good, then I lose part of myself. Isn’t that how you feel about flying? That you have to, or you’ll die?”
    “I want it so bad it hurts,” he admitted, his voice raw.
    “I read somewhere that flying is like throwing your soul into the heavens and racing to catch it as it falls.”
    “I don’t think mine would ever fall,” he murmured, looking at the clear cold sky. He stared, entranced, as if paradise beckoned, as if he could see forever. He was probably imagining himself up there, free and wild, with a powerful machine screaming beneath him and taking him higher. Then he shook himself, visibly fighting off the dream, and turned to her. “Okay, Miss Teacher, when do we start?”
    “Tonight. You’ve already wasted enough time.”
    “How long will it take for me to catch up?”
    She gave him a withering look. “Catch up? You’re going to leave them in the dust. How long it takes depends on how much work you can do.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said, grinning a little.
    She thought that already he looked younger, more like a boy, than he had before. He was, in all ways, far more mature than the other boys his age in her classes, but he looked as if a burden had been lifted from him. If flying meant that much to him, how had it felt to set himself a course that would deny him what he wanted most?
    “Can you be at my house at six? Or would you rather I come here?” She thought of that drive, in the dark and snow, and wondered if she’d make it if he wanted her to come here.
    “I’ll come to your house, since you aren’t used to driving in snow. Where do you live?”
    “Go down the back road and take a left. It’s the first house on the left.” She thought a minute. “I believe it’s the first house, period.”
    “It is. There isn’t another house for five miles. That’s the old Witcher house.”
    “So I’ve been told. It was kind of the school board to arrange living quarters for me.”
    Joe looked dubious. “More like it was the only way they had of getting another teacher in the middle of the year.”
    “Well, I appreciated it anyway,” she said firmly. She looked out the window. “Shouldn’t your father be back by now?”
    “Depends on what he found. If it was something he could fix right then, he’d do it. Look, here he comes now.”
    The black pickup roared to a stop in front of the house, and Wolf got out. Coming up on the porch, he stomped his feet to rid his boots of the snow caked on them and opened the door. His cool black gaze flickered over his son, then to Mary. His eyes widened fractionally as he examined every slim curve exhibited by Joe’s old jeans, but he didn’t comment.
    “Get your things together,” he instructed. “I have a spare hose that will fit your car. We’ll put it on, then take you home.”
    “I can drive,” she replied. “But thank you for your trouble. How much is the hose? I’ll pay you for that.”
    “Consider it neighborly assistance to a greenhorn. And we’ll still take you home. I’d rather you practiced driving in the snow somewhere other than on this mountain.”
    His dark face was expressionless, as usual, but she sensed that he’d made up his mind and wouldn’t budge. She got her dress from Joe’s room and the rest of her things from the kitchen. When she returned to the living room, Wolf held a thick coat for her to wear. She slipped into it; since it reached almost to her knees and the sleeves totally obscured her hands, she knew it had to be his.
    Joe had on his coat and hat again. “Ready.”
    Wolf looked at his son. “Have you two had your talk?”
    The boy nodded. “Yes.” He met his father’s eyes squarely. “She’s going to tutor me. I’m going to try to get into the Air Force Academy.”
    “It’s your decision. Just make sure you