Twin Engines

if he’d like to stay and pick berries with me. He said he’d like to very much, but was on his way
to go fishing. I laughed and said that was funny because he looked like he just came back from
fishing. At least I thought so at first. His hair was all messy and I thought I saw mud on his
forehead, but it wasn’t mud at all. It was a little patch of dried blood. I asked if he was okay. He
smiled, waving his fishing pole in the air like it was a magic wand or a sword or something. He
said as long as he had a fishing pole and a river to fish in, he was right as rain. Then he said he
missed having his lucky fishing pole. He wished he had his lucky fishing pole.”

“Lucky fishing pole?” Jack repeated, wanting to make sure he heard her correctly.
Amy faced her father. “Yes. He said he missed his green one.”

###########
By the time Jack made his final approach to the Gibson County Airport, Tony Henderson
had been agitatedly waiting for over two hours. He’d made up his mind up to leave three times,
but curiosity won out.
Tony looked to be mid-sixties, on the puffy to bloated side, full head of gray hair with
matching goatee. He was also bound to a rickety wheelchair looking like it was on its last leg. It
was covered with peace, love & Nixon stickers on the left side, and peace, love & Bush stickers
on the right, and one enormous Obama sticker centered on the back.
Tony waited for the engines to be cut, then rolled his wobbly wheels as close to the Baron
as he could.
“You’re late.”
“Am I?” Jack said, fixing his eyes on the wheelchair.
“You weren’t expecting a cripple, right?”

150

Amy stepped down from the plane holding her iPod, then swiftly moved to Jack’s right
side.

“No, I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t,” Jack answered, sizing up the man in the chair. At first
glance he looked like he was down on his luck with a past or present drug problem. Jack then
looked past the thin disguise. Tony was wearing faded designer blue jeans made to look cheap,
an expensive army green Hugo Boss T-shirt and a pair of Jordan basketball shoes. Throw in the
Tom Ford sunglasses, not a cheap ensemble. Tony had a game and Jack wondered what it might
be.

“No need to apologize, man. It’s something I’ve come to terms with a long time ago.”
Tony slapped the right wheel of his chair. “It is what it is. You dig me?”

Jack nodded, not sure how else to respond.
Tony turned his attention to Amy. “This little girl must be your daughter. She looks just
like you.”
“That’s what I keep telling her.”
“Dad,” Amy growled under her breath, socking him in the arm.
“What’s your name?” Tony asked.
“Amy Kelley, Sir.”
“No need to call me sir. Tony will do just fine.”
Amy instinctively scooted beside her protective father.
“Mr. Henderson…” Jack started.
“For crying out loud, man! Tony works for you too.” Tony snapped, rolling his eyes.

151

“All right, Tony. What would you say if we go to the café over there? I’ll buy you a cup
of coffee and ask a few questions.”

“I’d say I’ve been drinking coffee all day waiting for you to show up. I don’t need
another cup of cheap airport coffee. They do however have ice-cold beer from Holland I’m quite
fond of. I’ll take one of those if you’re so inclined in buying. Or we could go Dutch?”

Tony led the way to an outside picnic table suitable to accommodate his wheelchair. He
ordered twin beers to go along with his double cheeseburger and chili fries, then got down to
business.

“How do you want to start this little pow-wow, Jack?” Tony grumbled while stuffing his
face.

A good question Jack thought, uncertain how to proceed with a repulsive man who
clearly believed life owed him more than two cold beers and an order of chili fries.

“I was a teenager when my father had the accident. I didn’t understand or at least fully
appreciate the details of the moment. Now I’m ready to get a better idea of what happened back
then. I want to talk with people who were involved, and you, Tony, are one of those the people.”

“I sure am,” Tony said, then spit on the lawn.
Amy scooted even closer to her father.
“The official report stated my dad took off from the Oshkosh airport around 6:00pm. He
was supposed to fly around the lake. But at the last minute he apparently changed his mind and
chose to fly across instead.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know all that,” Tony said, as if Jack were talking to him like a child.
“You do?”

152

“Of course I do. It was in all the newspapers and on TV. Your dad’s accident was big
news, for about a week, until they found the kid that was with him.”

“My brother,” Jack cut in.
“Uh, yeah, right. Then they moved on to the next disaster. You know how the media
works, right?”
Jack did know how the media worked. Eight days after the accident Carl Graham tried to
cheer Jack up by taking him to the neighborhood ice cream shop. Somewhere between flavors
one and thirty-one, a sprightly deejay’s voice filtered through the ice cream shop’s radio. He
announced that rescue teams had found the body of the missing local boy involved in the tragic
airplane accident in Michigan. Then the deejay went right into playing a George Michael record,
‘Faith.’ Jack walked out leaving his cone on the table.
“Yes, I know something about the media,” Jack said, then quickly moved on. “Tony, you
reported you saw my dad’s plane.”
“That’s what I said. Back then no one wanted to believe me.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know; you’d have to ask them. I guess it was probably because I was young and
a Vietnam Vet. I was more than a little messed up at that time if you know what I’m saying.”
Jack glanced at the wheelchair.
“No. It wasn’t Nam that put me in the chair. It was the drugs and booze I got into when I
got home that put me here. You try going from a killing field to a cornfield. What can I say, I
was bored one summer afternoon, had a little something to feel good and fell off a hot tin roof.”
Tony pointed his finger at Amy. “Little girl, don’t do drugs.”

153

Amy nestled in closer still, beside her father. “No, Sir, I won’t.”
“Good girl, stay that way,” he said, then picked up where he left off. “Bottom line, I
wasn’t a credible source. I couldn’t be a ‘trusted’ witness. But I know what I saw, and I saw your
Dad’s airplane. Sure as shit. And believe you me; I tried to convince all of them I wasn’t making
it up. I went to the police. I went to the fire department. I went to the FAA. I even tried to call the
local television news and they hung up on me. They brushed me off by saying I was trying to
cash in on the publicity, get my face on the news.”
“And, you weren’t?”
“Hell no! What did I want with publicity? I wasn’t trying to get elected or be an actor or
anything. I wasn’t asking for money or nothing. Not a single dime. I needed to get it out of my
head, man! What I saw. Just to get it out of my head so I could get some frick’n sleep!”
So he wasn’t asking for money or nothing, Jack noted, contrary to his mother’s hunch.
“I’m sorry no one listened then. But I’m listening now. Could you please tell me what
happened?”
Tony jiggled one of the beer bottles, disappointed to find it empty. “After you called this
morning I made up my mind I wasn’t going to tell you shit. I don’t even know you, but I was
seriously pissed off. You waited years to find me, years to hear the truth. Seriously, man, what’s
wrong with you? I mean I’m not perfect, far from it. But if something happened to anyone in my
family and I had questions, you better believe it wouldn’t take me ten seconds to get off my ass
and find some answers.”
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” Jack said, rising from his seat.
Tony reached out as far as he could, snagging Jack’s left wrist.

154

“Hold on a minute, brother. Don’t be getting so sensitive. You opened my can of worms,
have the decency to hear me out.”

Jack reluctantly sat back down.
Tony continued. “I started thinking it over, better you start digging late than never. It
does appear like you’re on some sort of quest for the truth. Am I right?”
Jack declined to answer.
Tony removed his sunglasses and began to clean them. “I asked a simple question.”
For the first time since they landed Amy relaxed enough to smile. She agreed with Tony.
They were on a quest, an exploration for an explanation. “You’re right. We’re not leaving until
you tell us your story,” she said determinedly, then looked her dad square in the eyes as if to say
lighten up.
“Out of the mouths of babes.” Tony grinned. “Ok, so you want to hear my story. Here it
is short and sweet, or at least what I can still remember.”
Jack scooted closer to hear every word.
“I used to fly helicopters in Vietnam. I was good at it, really good,” Tony proudly
straightened up the best he could. “There I was, a kid, barely out of high school pushed straight
into a war zone. Thank you very much, President Nixon. My school grades weren’t the best, but
they were good enough to allow me to fly official United States of America helicopters. While I
was there I met this guy, he flew a Bird Dog.”
“Bird Dog?” Jack interrupted.
“The Bird Dog was a two-seater, 0-1 Cessna we used in Nam for recon. They’d fly real
close to the battlefield observing the shelling, then radio back to base to adjust the fire. Just like

155

the bird dogs did for the hunters back home. Anyway, I was with this pilot. You want me to tell
you his name? It doesn’t really matter I guess. He died a few years ago climbing a mountain in
the Himalayas. He got altitude sickness and died. He’d been a commercial airline pilot for most
of his adult life, then ends up dying at a lower altitude than he normally flew because he wasn’t
in an airplane. Weird. Anyway, in our downtime in Nam I would show Patrick, that was his
name, how to maneuver a copter. And he taught me how to fly the airplanes. This wasn’t allowed
of course. We would have been in gigantic trouble if we’d ever got caught. But we were juice
junkies, bored with our situation. And for the most part we didn’t care if we were caught. What
were they going to do, court martial us? I don’t think so. We needed something else to do besides
play chess, smoke dope and wait for the next mission. After I made it out of Nam I came home to
good old Wellston, Michigan. It’s on the other side of lake.”

“By Manistee?”
“That’s right, forty miles East. You’ve heard of it?”
“No, I’ve heard of Manistee.”
“Oh sure you have. That’s where your old man was heading. Where was I? Oh yeah, so I
got home and I still wanted to get high,” Tony laughed at his unintended joke. “Legally, I mean.
Flying. That is what I was trained to do. But, I couldn’t find a job doing it. There wasn’t a single
helicopter in my hometown. But, I knew this other guy. I won’t tell you his name because he’s
still around and I’m not on his Christmas list, if you know what I mean. He was a friend of a
friend who had an old Piper Cub, your basic trainer airplane. So, every now and then I would
sort of borrow it.”
“Borrow it?”

156

“Come on, man! Do I have to spell everything out for you? I didn’t have a valid pilot’s
license. I took it without asking.” Tony made quotation marks with his fingers. “I ‘borrowed’ it.
Can you dig it?”

To Tony’s delight, Jack nodded. He could dig it.
“I thought I’d stand a better chance of not getting caught if I stayed outside of the city, so
I’d fly right off the shoreline, over the beach.”
“I don’t understand. How could you have seen my dad’s plane if you were near the beach
and he was twenty miles off shore?”
“He wasn’t,” Tony said. “That’s what I was screaming to everyone about and they
wouldn’t listen! All the newspaper and television nimrods kept saying he was twenty miles out.
I’m telling you, that’s blue ribbon bullshit! They got it all wrong. His plane wasn’t that far out.
Not even close. I don’t know where that ever came from. The plane almost made it to shore. He
lost power, did a half circle then wobbled like a seagull with a broken wing. He did manage to
pull up at the last second before he hit the water. Then, Ka-Boom! Boy, did it make a splash, I
tell you what!”
“Tony, it wasn’t just the media who made the claim. It was my dad. In his Mayday he
said he was twenty miles from shore.”
“Is that so? Let me ask you something. Did you, yourself, personally hear his distress
call? I bet you haven’t. Am I right?” Tony asked.
“No, I didn’t.”
“I knew it! I knew it! You took someone’s word for it?”

157

“My mother said she had a copy, but couldn’t listen to it. It would have been too painful
for her. She threw it away.”

Tony dumbfounded, shook his head. “Listen to yourself. Do you hear the words coming
out of your mouth? Your mother had a tape recording of your dad’s very last dying words and
she never listened to it? Does that make any sense to you? Sure it would have been painful, but
so what? Think about it, curiosity is in play here and that’s what tilts the scales, curiosity. She
would have been too curious to just throw it away without playing it at least once. It would drive
me nuts to have something that meaningful and ignore its calling. Look, I get she’s your mother.
If you can’t trust your mother who can you trust, right? But I’m telling you she listened to the
tape. So you really don’t know what your dad said, even though you had the chance. They were
recorded on audiotape for a reason.” Tony said, visibly annoyed.

The sparks of clarity firing in Tony’s brain amazed Jack. It didn’t make sense his mother
or Jeffrey never listened to the recording at least one time, or saved it somewhere safe in case
they’d ever changed their mind; or even if he himself decided he wanted to listen.

Tony continued to build his case. “Didn’t you ever think it was possible that someone
else other than your father made a mistake? Maybe the air traffic controller dude in the tower
sent the rescue crews to the wrong part of the lake. Maybe he knew he blew it and covered it up
because he made such a major screw-up. Maybe your mother, for whatever reason is just plain
lying to you? There’s lots of ways you could look at this.”

Jack didn’t want to totally buy into Tony’s conspiracy theory, but he was making sense.
Jack did question the efficiency of the search and rescue operation since Merritt’s plane was
never recovered; but he never thought to question the Mayday call. And he’d never thought to

158

question his mother. Did she have a reason to hold back information? Looking back now, it’s
clear she never volunteered any information until he pressed her. Maybe Tony was right. Maybe
his mother was holding something back. But, why?

“It happened just like I said. I saw the plane hit the water. I was like, Wow! Oh Wow,
Man! I’m freaking out. What am I going to do? I’m like flying a stolen airplane without a
license, totally in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then, it was like Nam kicked in. I said to
myself, like it or not, these are the cards I was dealt. Deal with it, man. So, I headed to the spot I
saw the plane hit the water. I’m in this shitty Piper Cub. It’s a pretty damn slow airplane. I don’t
dare fly too low to the water because the lake was pretty choppy. I don’t want to end up like your
old man. By the time I make it I don’t see nothing, nothing but water, like nothing ever
happened. The plane had completely submerged. I didn’t know what to do next. I didn’t have a
radio in the Cub to call it in. I circled looking for survivors or at least for some part of the
wreckage to identify the aircraft. There was nothing there. I didn’t want to give up. I’m not a
quitter. I circled again and again. The Cub is so incredibly slow; it doesn’t make tight circles. I
had to make these huge gigantic circles.”

Jack nodded, indicating he understood.
“Now, hold on to your hat. I saved the best part for last.”
Tony turned to his left, and then his right, making sure absolutely no one else was
listening, as if he were about to leak a national secret.
“Time passed, with me doing all that circling and shit. I look back to the shoreline.
Which is now a ways away from where I was at because of the wide circles I had to make. But
I’m not so far I can’t trust my own eyes. I look back and I see something floating right off the

159

beach. Something white or yellow, like a small piece of wing or part of the tail. And then, I
swear I saw a shape of a person’s head with an arm holding onto something like a seat cushion or
a piece of luggage, bobbing up and down in the water. By the time I circled back to the shore it
was gone.”

############
“I think he was telling some truth, but making up a lot, Dad.” Amy was sitting at the table
with her writing pad trying her best to comfort her father.
Jack was pacing the motel room floor, thinking it through. Could his dad survived the
crash then somehow miraculously make it to shore, and if he did, what happened? Where did he
go? Did he die in the outlying forest beyond the beach? Should the rescue team have spent more
time looking for Merritt’s body in the woods instead of the lake? It made sense, if Kevin’s body
was recovered right on the shoreline a week later, then why not Merritt’s?
For twenty-five years, Jack privately believed his dad had just enough time to get Kevin
out before the plane sank, with him in it. But what if they both made it out of the plane? What if
the plane was much closer to shore, as Tony Henderson swore it was? Then Merritt indeed had a
fighting chance of surviving. Would his remains still be there, hidden in the forest? Maybe they
had already been found, devoured by animals?
There was also the matter of the Mayday recording Jack couldn’t let go of. He opened his
cell and dialed.
“Mom.”
“Jack, I was just thinking about you. How’s it going out there in the wild blue yonder?”
“Amy and I are doing great. We should be in Manistee in a couple of days.”

160

“You’re making excellent time.”
“Yes we are. Mom, do you remember Ruth Cooper from the Sky Scraper?”
“I do.”
Amy’s ears perked up, and she glanced at Jack, trying to follow the conversation.
“She sends her best. She wants you to visit. She says she’ll have a piece of her famous
pumpkin pie waiting for you.”
“She said that?” Barbara’s tone turned from sweet to sour.
“She did.”
“She’s got a lot of nerve, that bony, redheaded matchstick! Did she happen to mention
who gave her the recipe for HER famous pie?”
“No.”
“I did, that’s who!”
“I thought it tasted familiar.”
“That’s not funny, Jack.”
Jack figured he’d be better off changing the subject and dove straight to the point. “We
left Tony Henderson an hour ago. The pilot who saw Dad hit the water.”
“Claimed. He ‘claimed’ he saw it happen,” Barbara stressed. “I told you he was always a
question mark in my book.”
“Mom, he saw it.”
“You believed him?”
“I did.”

161

“I warned you, Jack. He was he looking to get paid. He was looking to make a fast buck
off our misfortune. That’s why no one believed him. He wanted the television news shows to pay
him something like five thousand dollars for an exclusive. For five grand he’d fly them to the
exact area to get their video footage. They didn’t bite so he lowered his price to three grand to
the newspapers. They all told him to go to hell.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jack asked, hoping he hadn’t taken a big bite out of Tony’s
bologna sandwich.

“Positive…I think.”
“He didn’t ask me for more than a beer and a burger.”
“No money?”
“Not a dime.”
“He must have had something up his sleeve?”
“I want to believe him, Mom.”
The phone went silent.
“Me, too,” Barbara eventually said.
“Mom?”
“I’m right here.”
“I want to ask you something and I want the truth.”
“Isn’t that what you always get from me?”
Not wanting to debate, Jack let her question go. “The Mayday recording, you listened to
it didn’t you?”

162

“I’ve got to go now, Jack. Your brother is stopping by in a few minutes. I want to make
him something to eat before he gets here.”

“Mom, don’t hang up. I want the truth.”
Silence.

“Mom, I want you to answer my question.”
Silence.

“Once. I listened to it once, okay. That’s all. Then, I threw it away.”
“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I didn’t want to get into it. It doesn’t change things one way or
the other.”
“What did it say? What did Dad say?”
“It said your father was a brave man who was about to die and soar to the great big
airport in the sky. Now are you satisfied?”
“Sarcasm isn’t really helping, Mom. What did he say?”
“There was no smoking gun on the tape if that’s what you’re hoping for. Your dad didn’t
say anything other than he had engine failure.”
“Then, why throw the tape away?”
“Because it wasn’t what he said that made me throw it away, it was the way he said it. It
broke my heart listening to it the one time. It was his voice. It was my man, the love of my life
facing his death only seconds away, with his son, my son, beside him. I didn’t ever need to
listen to it again. I didn’t want that one tape to be his last defining memory. That’s all I’m going
to say about it. I’m done!”

163

Jack was certain she meant what she said. She was done. No matter how much he could
press her he knew well enough from experience, when Barbara Kelley said she was done, she
was done. He moved the conversation on to other less pressing topics, then turned the phone over
to Amy so she could chat with the grandmother she barely knew.

“Dad, when are we going to see the lake?” Amy asked, hanging up the phone, handing it
to Jack.

“Next stop is Oshkosh, Wisconsin!”
“Really? The last airport where Grandpa Kelley took off before the lake?”
“Yep. Check the map. We should be there before dinner tomorrow.”
“What are we going to do when we get there?” Amy picked up Jack’s old fedora hat and
tried it on.
“We’re going to try to find the air traffic controller who was on duty. I want to see if I
can look at the airport files or logs, whatever they kept on paper to see how they match up to
Tony’s story.”
“Then what are we going to do?” She looked at herself in the mirror and adjusted the hat.
“Then we fly to Michigan.”
“Around the lake,” she stressed, making sure there was no mistake.
“Yes, AROUND the lake.”
“Then what are we going to do once we get to Michigan?”
“You have a lot of questions tonight.”
“I do. I’m a curious pre-teen girl. I want to know everything that’s coming up.”
“Any other reason?” Jack asked, suspecting he already knew the answer.

164

“When I called Mom earlier she sort of wanted to know.”
Jack checked his watch, then turned off the overhead light. It was late.
“I thought so. Tell her we’re renting a car and driving around the town where your
grandpa grew up, to see if anyone might remember him besides his Aunt Betty and Cousin
Vera.”
“That’s the big plan?”
“For now.”
Amy crawled into her bed, propped up a pillow and turned on the nightlight.
“Dad?”
“Yes, Amy.”
“I want to talk to you about something. It’s important.”
“Okay. It sounds serious,” Jack said, pushing aside the maps that were spread across his
bed.
“You’ve talked with Ruth and Tony Henderson about some weird email.”
Jack was relieved she’d asked the question. He’d been meaning to discuss the email
before they’d ever taken off in Oregon, but didn’t know how to table it. It wasn’t like he could
say, I think I’ve been emailing with your departed grandfather. Would you like to fly across this
great nation of ours and help me find him?
“Yes,” he answered.
“Are you going to tell me what they’re about or am I supposed to put the pieces together
on my own?”
“I’m sorry. I should have said something before you had to ask.”

165

“You can tell me now.”
“A few weeks ago, around the time we were fixing the Baron’s engines, somebody, they
wouldn’t say who they were, sent me an email.”
“I know that part.”
“You do?”
“I heard you and John talking, something to do with being super cool in some swimming
pool.”
Jack grinned. “Close enough. The email said ‘Keep her cool in the motor pool’ it was an
expression my dad, your Grandpa Kelley, used to say to me.”
“What’s it supposed to mean?”
“I don’t have a clue what the literal translation means. I haven’t been around too many
motor pools. He used in a way to let me know everything was okay, everything was cool.”
“I get it. Somebody who knows you wrote to let you know they were okay, because they
didn’t want you to worry about them.”
Jack stopped to think about what Amy had just said. When he first read the email he was
so taken aback that he quickly made the jump to connect point A to point B. He focused on the
sender. Now, listening to Amy, the way she phrased it, he knew he’d missed something, the
possible intention of the message. Was somebody trying to let him know they were okay and not
to worry?
“I don’t know, maybe that was the reason. They sent a few more. They were very short,
sometimes just a word or two, connecting Grandpa Kelley and the accident. Here, let me show
you.”

166

Jack reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the photo Ernie had given him. He
handed it to Amy pointing out what he’d scribbled on the back.

KEEP HER COOL IN THE MOTOR POOL
RHODERDENDREN
N
JUNE 30
I’M HERE
ARE YOU COMING

“If you ask me, they look like text messages, Dad.”
“How’s that?”
“Just that they’re short, but to the point. Maybe whoever sent them didn’t have a lot of
time? Do you have any idea what they mean, Rhododendron, N, June 30?” She asked, handing
the photo back.
“I took a guess. Rhododendron Court is the plot of land in the cemetery where your
Uncle Kevin is buried. I’ve narrowed the ‘N’ down to either part of the tail number on Grandpa’s
plane, or to his first name.”
“I don’t get it, how does ‘N’ fit in with Merritt?”
“Actually, it turns out your grandpa was adopted. His birth name was Neil.”
“Grandpa was adopted?”
“Yes.”
“Wow!”

167

“Wow, is right. I only just found out myself. I think these emails were sent to entice me
to fly back to Michigan.”
“By June 30​th​.”

“That’s right. There was one more that came in while we were staying at the Sky Scraper.
It said, HURRY.”

“Let me get this straight. When you told me we were flying across the country to
Michigan to learn about Grandpa Kelley’s life and find out about the accident, it was really to
find who sent the emails?”

“That’s not really a yes or no answer, Amy. We’re flying to Michigan for all of those
reasons. We’re also flying so you and I could spend time together. In the beginning I was having
trouble deciding if this trip was going to be worth the effort. When you asked to come along and
be my copilot it all fell into place. I thought this trip was exactly what you and I needed.”

“I thought so too. I really, really wanted to spend time with you before it was too late.”
“What do you mean, too late?”
Amy pulled up the bed covers over her shoulders attempting to dodge the question. “Dad,
I’m super tired.”
“Amy, it’s okay. You can tell me.”
Amy hesitated, thinking it through before sitting up, pushing the pillow behind her back.
“Dad, I’m not the only divorced kid at school. I see how after a while the dads sort of disappear.
I would see it happening with some of my friends and their dads. Then I saw it was happening
with you and me. Something was changing, Dad. It started to hurt my heart.” Amy’s eyes began

168

to well up. “I don’t want you to disappear, you’re my dad. I love you. I always miss you. I don’t
want you to disappear. I don’t. I really don’t.”

Jack came over and held her, his own heart aching like it never had before. “Amy, I am
never, ever, ever going to disappear.”

“Promise?”
“I promise.”

##########

“Next stop Oshkosh, Wisconsin!” Amy trumpeted.
Jack leveled the Baron off at four thousand feet and carefully poured himself a cup of
black coffee from his thermos.
“When we land I think we should go out to dinner and celebrate,” Amy said.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Sushi.”
“Sushi?”
“Yes.”
“As in raw fish?”
“You’ll love it.”
“I’m sure I will,” Jack said making every attempt to be agreeable.
During the last week he’d been able to see a few more pieces of himself surface within
Amy’s candid nature. The trip so far had been a success. Even if he’d never find out anything
more about his father, he was able to get to know his daughter just a little bit better. It wasn’t

169

perfect, but it was a start. The conversation they’d had the night before not only opened the door,
but knocked it off the hinges.

“What?” she said.
“What, what?”
“Why are you looking at me funny?”
“Am I?
“You are.”
“Just thinking about how much I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad,” she said, leaning over as far as her snug seatbelt would allow,
giving him a hug.
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like, ever go out? You never talk about anyone.”
“Do you mean like on a date?”
“Yeah, a date.”
“This conversation just got a little uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay with me if you do. Mom’s remarried, and she’s happy. I want you to be happy
too.”
“Thank you for looking out for me, Amy, but the answer is no. I haven’t dated.”
“Why not? You’re a real nice guy. I’d think there would be a lot of old ladies who’d want
to hang out with you.”
“Old ladies.”

170

Amy grinned. “You know what I mean, ‘age appropriate’,” she said, holding up her
fingers making quotation marks.

“Why are you asking?”
“Just killing time, as you put it. Remember, you said I could ask you questions.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
“You did, but if you don’t want to answer that’s okay. I guess it’s really none of my
business,” she said, fishing without a pole.
Jack took a second, deciding if he really wanted to take on a Dear Abby conversation
with his twelve-year-old daughter. “Let’s just say, at this time in my life I prefer my own
company, that’s all.”
“You’ve preferred your own company for a long time, Dad.”
“Have I?”
Amy nodded.
“Maybe I better work on that.”
“Do you really like living alone away from everybody?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then why do you do it?”
Again, Jack took his time, searching to find the honest answer his daughter deserved.
“I don’t think I started out with the intention of becoming a hermit. After I divorced your
mother I needed time to think about things. When I found the property I found the perfect space I
could do that in. I was content to grow my grapes, build up a new business, and think.”
“What did you need to think about?”

171

“Leaving you for one thing. I hated myself for that.”
“Then why did you?”
Jack set his empty coffee cup down. “I thought there might be a day when you’d ask that
question. I’ve spent a lot of time out on the porch thinking about it, trying to have an answer
prepared for you. I haven’t found it just yet. Until I do, let’s just say your mother and I started to
see things differently.”
“What do you mean?”
“We started fighting about little things. Then we started fighting about even littler things.
After a while we started fighting all the time and I realized it wasn’t going to get better, but it
could get a whole lot worse.”
“So you left?”
“So I left.”
“I kind of understand, but not really.”
“If I don’t understand it, I don’t expect you to.”
Amy picked up her iPod and scrolled through her playlist giving her something to do
other than make eye contact. “I used to wish I had you there with me every day and every night. I
still do. Maybe not as much as when I was little, but I still do. I know you love me. But, I
suppose if there was going to be fighting all the time with Mom, that wouldn’t have been so
good. I guess what you did was the right thing. Besides, like I said last night, most of my friend’s
parents are divorced. That’s just the way it is with your generation.”
His generation. His young daughter’s honest assessment felt like a swift kick to the
behind.

172

“Amy, I’m not asking for you to justify what I did. What I did may have been the right
thing to do, or maybe not. But it happened and it breaks my heart you didn’t have the perfect
family that every child deserves. But, I hope you know both your mother and I love you with all
our hearts even though we’re not living under the same roof.”

“Do you want to know what Mom thinks?”
Jack didn’t say yes, he didn’t say no.
“She said you moved out five years ago, but you left long before that. She said you had a
problem with relationships. She said your heart was in the right place, but you weren’t capable of
committing your whole self to another person because there was a mountain in your way.
Something you were always fighting.”
“She said that?”
“Yep.”
“Did she say what that something was?”
“Yep. She said it was guilt. She said you never got over Uncle Kevin dying in your place,
and you can’t allow yourself to live. What do you think about that, is Mom right?”
Jack didn’t answer. He turned his head to the left window, away from Amy, and listened
to the steady sound coming from the engines.
“Dad, are you okay? Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, Amy, you didn’t say anything wrong. I was just thinking, maybe your mother is
right. It does seem like there has always been something in my way. Maybe it’s, what do they
call it, survivor guilt? But you know something; I think this trip with you is helping me climb
over that mountain.”

173

“Really?”
“I sure do.”
Jack reached for Amy’s hand. Before he could make contact his head whipped back then
snapped forward. He turned in time to watch Amy’s fragile frame recoil into her seat.
Instinctively, Jack pulled back on the yoke as hard as he could, holding on like a rodeo cowboy
as turbulence cracked the plane like a baseball bat swatting a housefly.
“Dad!” Amy cried out.
“Are you okay?” Jack asked.
“I think so.”
“It’s just a little turbulence. Check your seatbelt. Make sure it’s tight,” he ordered.
Jack held on, managing to regain altitude, leveling the Baron.
He looked ahead and almost lost his lunch. In between the quilted patchwork of dark-blue
sky he saw a small thunderstorm moving directly into his flight plan.
“Dad, what are we going to do?”
Jack didn’t have an answer. This wasn’t supposed to happen. As his routine, he checked
the weather forecast not once, but three times. The last time had been ten minutes before takeoff.
He didn’t like the idea of flying in a storm. Even the most experienced pilots don’t like to take on
a thunderstorm.
Remembering John’s advice, Jack eased up on the yoke, allowing the Baron to do the
work.
Raindrops the size of wooden nickels began to pelt the plane, making a terrorizing sound,
like rocks dumping on a tin roof, forcing Amy to cup her hands over her ears.

174

“Are we going to crash?” Amy cried out.
Jack believed the storm looked and sounded far worse than it was. The hard part would
be convincing Amy to believe it. “Amy, everything is going to be fine. It’s going to be bumpy,
but we’re going to be fine. I need you to be brave. Can you do that?”
“I’m scared.”
“I know you are. Here, scoot next to me.”
Amy slid in as close as her seatbelt and harness would allow.
He calculated he was less than fifteen miles from the eye of the storm when the first
crack of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by a vociferous boom. It wasn’t a big storm, just
big enough to knock them out of the sky.
Jack focused on the altitude indicator and wrestled to keep the wings horizontal. The
plane vibrated like he was driving his pickup truck on his gravel country road, clustered with
unavoidable potholes.
“Make it stop, make it stop!” Amy shouted.
Jack tried to radio the tower.
The plane’s nose tipped straight up, and spun the left wing clockwise. On a clear night,
Jack would have been staring at the moon.
“Daddy!”
Jack let go of the yoke and cut the engines, letting the plane tumble on its own will,
hoping the plane would ultimately sideslip downwards and sweep around the fringe. Maps, pens,
Amy’s camera, iPod, and whatever else that wasn’t secured were tossed around the cabin.
“I want Mom!” Amy cried out at the top of her lungs.

175

Jack grabbed hold of the yoke, pushed the nose straight down, then turned the engines
over. Lightning snapped like a scorpion’s tail, just missing the left wing tip. Jack cranked the
yoke hard to the left until it could go no further, snapping it back to the center, pulling it up with
all his might and masterfully regained control of the plane. Out of the corner of his eye Jack saw
an opening between two dark clouds. He pushed full throttle, diving through, like thread through
a needle.

Jack leveled the Baron. The storm was behind them.
Amy was trembling.
“Amy?”
No response
“Amy, we’re going to be on the ground in about an hour. You’re safe.”
No response.

#########
“Damn you, Jack! Damn you!” Sharon screamed over the phone.
“I don’t want to hear another word from you. Do you understand me? Not one. I’m
catching the red-eye. Have my daughter waiting at the gate first thing in the morning. Damn you,
Jack!”
It wasn’t the celebration Jack and Amy had in mind, but they had landed unharmed at
Whitman Regional Airport in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Amy was in no shape to continue, leaving
Jack with no choice other than to call Sharon, making arrangements for her to fly to Oshkosh and
escort Amy home.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”

176

Jack pocketed his phone, wrapping his arm around his daughter’s shoulder.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. This was way too much
of a trip to drag you along.”
“I wanted to go with you. I still do. But I don’t think I can get back into the Baron. Not
right now, anyway.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t mean to get so scared. I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen. Are you
disappointed in me?”
“Oh, Amy, I’ve never been disappointed in you, ever. You were so brave.”
“Really?”
“The bravest.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Jack took her by the hand, leading her out of the airport. “You know, I was scared, too.”
he said.
“You were?”
“Sure I was.”
“You didn’t look like it.”
“I was. Sure as spit.”
“Oh, Dad,” she said, punching his arm, smiling again.
“Your mom will be here in the morning.”

177

“I heard. Sorry. I’ll tell her it wasn’t your fault. I mean really, you didn’t know there were
going to be any storms. And you did check the weather before takeoff. No one can predict the
weather a hundred percent of the time.”

“You don’t need to cover for me. Besides, I can’t blame her for being protective.” Jack
stopped to think for a moment. “I tell you what. It’s our last night together. We made it to
Oshkosh. Didn’t someone say something about celebrating?”

“Don’t you want to find the traffic controller man and ask him about Grandpa Kelley,
first?”

“That can wait,” Jack said, hailing a cab. “I’m taking my daughter out on the town.”
“In Oshkosh?” Amy said.
“In Oshkosh, by gosh!”
“What are we going to do?”
“Do you like bowling?”
“I like sushi, Dad.”

##########

“It was irresponsible. I don’t know how I let you talk me into it in the first place,” Sharon
said, looking like she hadn’t slept a wink on the plane. She dragged Jack into a private corner of
the Appleton airport to read him her riot act.

“I thought we both agreed it was a good idea,” Jack knew it was a lame attempt to break
even, but had nothing else.

178

“You could have killed her! What were you thinking? What was I thinking for letting her
go with you? This is how your dad and brother died,” Sharon said, fighting to keep her voice
down.

Jack glanced at Amy, waiting by the gate, completely absorbed in her iPod, or at least
pretending to be.

“Sharon, how could I have known there was going to be a thunderstorm? It came out of
nowhere. Besides, it really wasn’t that bad. It was the element of surprise that made it seem
worse than it was. I had it under control.”

“You still should have been paying closer attention. This part of the country is known for
its storms. I looked it up on the Internet. Doesn’t that damn plane have any gadgets that could
have warned you? You risked my daughter’s life, Jack!”

“Our daughter’s life,” he said, pouring gas on the fire.
Sharon started walking. “Look, I can’t do this now. We need to board the plane,” she
said, having more than enough.
“Let’s talk about it when I get back,” Jack said.
Sharon stopped. “You’re not flying back with us?”
“Why would I do that? I haven’t finished what I’ve started. I need to go to Manistee.”
“You’re still going to fly that death trap? You’re unbelievable! You do have a death wish.
Take your time getting back, Jack. I don’t want you anywhere near Amy for a long while.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I want you to give us some space. You scared her to death. She needs some time to get
over this. She’ll probably have nightmares for years!”

179

“She’s fine, Sharon. You’re overreacting.”
“Am I, Jack? Is that what you think? Let me tell you something. You don’t know your
daughter half as much as you think you do. A couple of days in a junky airplane don’t make you
‘father of the year.’ You haven’t been around her much in five years. Five years, Jack! You don’t
have a clue what frightens her, or how she handles it. Don’t you get it? She was scared to death
up there with you but she doesn’t want you to see that part of her. She wants to be brave for her
daddy. You hurt her more than you’ll ever imagine.”
“I didn’t mean too. I wanted to get closer to her, to get to know her again.”
“Yeah well, life is full of good intentions. You do what you have to do but we need to get
on the plane.”
“Let me say goodbye to her.”
“You’ve got five minutes.”
Jack sat down on the chair beside Amy, motioning her to pop the ear buds out.
“What were you listening to?”
“Led Zeppelin.”
“The classics.”
“Yeah,” Amy agreed, slipping her iPod into her coat pocket. “How did it go with Mom?”
“It could have been worse.”
“I asked her to take it easy on you.”
“It seems like you’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
“It seems like I’ve had to, a lot lately,” she said, grinning.
“Thanks. It’s time for you to board the plane. Are you going to be okay flying home?”

180

“Is it a big plane?”
“Biggest one they’ve got.”
“And, I’ll be safe?”
“I’ve talked to the pilot, personally. I told him what you’ve just been through. He
guarantees clear skies all the way.”
“We were having the best time, weren’t we?” she said.
“We were having the best time, and we’re going to keep having more best times.”
“Can we take another trip when you get back, just the two of us?”
“You bet, just the two of us.”
“Maybe take a train next time?”
“Maybe even a boat?”
“Thanks for understanding, Dad.”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Maybe a little. I’ll get over it when I get a little older.”
“Take your time. I’ll be there when you do.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Jack waited outside in the airport parking lot and waved goodbye to his little girl as her
plane touched the sky.

###########

181

Jack rented a car off the airport strip. He preferred a truck, but all they had left was an
economy model he could barely squeeze in to. His plan was to grab a quick lunch, then call the
only Hoskins listed in the area.

Feeling anxious he pulled the car to the side of the road. He changed his mind and
decided he’d eat after the phone call. He was too eager to meet the last man to ever hear his
father’s voice while he was alive.

He dialed.
“I’m sorry, he’s dead.”
Jack knew it was a possibility, but the sting was no less painful.
“My husband died five years ago. Who did you say you were again?”
“Mrs. Hoskins, I’m sorry to catch you off guard. My name is Jack Kelley. My dad was in
an accident flying over Lake Michigan. I believe your husband was on duty and took the distress
call.”
“That was twenty-five years ago.”
“That’s right. How did you know that?”
“Harvey gave that job up, right before I met him. Almost twenty-five years ago.”
“He gave it up?”
“Yes. He realized it was more responsibility than he ever wanted to take on in his life. He
quit and took up real estate.”
“Mrs. Hoskins, do you think I might be able to come by and talk with you?”
“I don’t know why. I’ve just told you, Harvey’s dead.”

182

“Yes, you did. But I’ve come a very long way and I have a feeling we should meet in
person.”

Mrs. Hoskins seemed to size-up the troubled voice on the other end of the line.
“It has been a long while since I’ve had company. It might do us both a little good.”

##########
Jack drove into Mrs. Hoskins long, well manicured driveway.
Harvey had done very well in the real estate game.
Jack ran his fingers neatly through his hair, and then rang the ornate doorbell. He was
thankful he’d changed into a nice pair of tan slacks and navy blue polo shirt for the occasion.
Sylvia Hoskins was elegantly dressed with a trim figure and long, perfectly styled silver
hair. She formally introduced herself, then led Jack through her imposing English Tudor home to
the back terrace. Along the way she pointed out several photos of her and her late husband,
making it very clear she loved and missed him, dearly.
“This home meant so much to Harvey, and to me, of course. It’s how we met,” she said,
with a twinkle in her soulful sky blue eyes. “I had just come into some family money and wanted
to buy a cozy two-bedroom. Harvey was just starting out with his business, showing property.
This home was the first one he wanted me to see. Harvey said ‘Start at the top. It’s easier to roll a
quarter down a mountain, than to roll a nickel up.’ He called the house my “accessory” because
he said it matched my eyes.” She seemed to drift off for a moment then turned back to Jack.
“Would you like anything to drink Mr. Kelley, tea or lemonade? The lemonade is very good this
time of year.”
“No thank you,” he replied looking about.

183

“Shame, you don’t know what you’re missing. In the afternoons, especially the sticky
ones like we have today, I like to add a little something special,” she said, adding a devilish
wink.

“In that case I don’t see how I could refuse.”
“That’s just fine then. I’ll be right back.”
Jack was left alone to walk the luscious garden. A stream corkscrewed through the
property reminding him of the creek he and Kevin used to fish.
Sylvia returned with a large crystal pitcher. Jack had a feeling if it were as potent as she
implied he might be staying longer than first intended.
They settled at the summer table under a yellow and white striped umbrella, next to the
swimming pool.
“How may I help you, Jack?”
Jack drew from his fancy coiled straw, convinced very few lemons had been sacrificed to
make the potent cocktail.
“Twenty five years ago my dad and brother took off in their small plane from the
Whitman airfield. My dad intended to fly around the lake to an airport in Manistee; but for some
reason at the last minute he decided to fly across. There was trouble and he radioed a distress
call. A Mayday. I think Harvey may have been on duty and took the call. I was hoping to talk
with him and ask if he remembered the accident.”
“Oh yes, he remembered,” Sylvia confirmed.
“You’re sure?” Jack set his cocktail down and leaning forward. He wasn’t counting on
such a direct answer so quickly.

184

“Absolutely. Your father’s accident was the reason why Harvey quit being an air traffic
controller. I didn’t know it was your father of course, until now. You know, names have little
meaning without faces. Harvey and I talked about the accident plenty when we were first
together. Then it came up occasionally, mostly around this time of year as a matter of fact, early
summer, June. It gave him nightmares throughout his whole life.”

“Nightmares?”
“Oh yes, horrible nightmares. He felt responsible for losing the little boy’s life, your
father’s too, of course. He thought it was all his fault.”
“Why?”
“He thought if he’d only done things differently, maybe made quicker, better decisions,
he could have saved your family. Please don’t judge him too harshly. Keep in mind at that time
Harvey was young. Not that it’s any excuse, but he wasn’t cut out to be in that kind of a
high-pressured job. He never handled stress very well. He was just so high strung. I don’t know
why he ever thought he was cut out for it to begin with.”
“But he did have the job. He must have been properly trained?”
“Yes, of course he was. You’re bringing up a point he struggled with. He was very well
trained, and nobody placed blame on Harvey, but Harvey. He was that kind of sensitive man.
You see, when it came right down to it, he panicked. Or at least that’s what he thought he did.”
“What do you mean?”
“He did everything by the book. And as I recall, when your father called for help, he was
the one who didn’t do it right. Harvey said your father didn’t use the right terminology,
something to do with leaving out part of his name or serial number of his airplane. I’m not sure.

185

But because of whatever it was, Harvey thought it must have been a prank. It wouldn’t have been
the first time. They were often getting prank calls back then. Also, your father’s radio signal
wasn’t clear, it was all fuzzy. Harvey had to make a split-second guess as to where your father
was located. It’s all there on the cassette tape.”

Jack’s eyes opened wide, and his heart beat faster. “Sylvia, do you have a copy of the
Mayday call?”

“Yes, I do. Did you know it’s impossible to get one from the safety administration? It’s
because they don’t keep the recorded tapes from that far back. But Harvey made a special copy
for himself. He played it over and over again for years, torturing himself. Then one day he
stopped and never played it again.”

“Could I listen to it now?”
Sylvia pulled back just a little.
“Please, Sylvia.”
Sylvia took her time thinking it over, then took Jack by the arm leading him to the study.
“I suppose you have every right to hear it.”
The room was Harvey’s personal sanctuary, filled with rare maps, books, antiques and
modern paintings. He thought he recognized one of Ernie Meir’s sculptures, but decided that
would have been too much of a coincidence, knowing he honestly couldn’t tell a Dali from a
Disney.
Sylvia sat Jack down in the leather chair behind Harvey’s modern teak desk.

186

“Let me try to find it. I used to know where he kept it, but it’s been years now,” Sylvia
said, searching through an antique treasure chest. “Here we go,” she said, placing an old-fashion
cassette tape recorder in front of Jack.

“I haven’t seen one of these players in years,” Jack said, running two fingers across the
dusty machine.

“Listen closely. It doesn’t last long,” Sylvia advised.
“You’ve heard it?”
“Yes, I have. Prepare yourself, Jack. It may be hard for you,” she warned.
Jack dropped his elbows onto the desk and clasped his hands.
“I’ll leave you alone. Take your time. I’ll be out on the terrace.”
Sylvia shut the double doors behind her, leaving Jack to stare down the obsolete tape
recorder.
Jack remained still for a moment. With the exception of his dreams he hadn’t heard his
father speak in twenty-five years.
Jack pressed play.
Noise.
Distorted, warbled, almost inaudible noise.
It seemed either the tape was too old, was ruined, or something was wrong with the
machine.
Jack put his ear to the speaker, playing the tape over and over; managing to decipher a
few words at a time until he was satisfied he’d heard everything he could.

187

“Mayday. Mayday. This is Cougar 11717 flying over Lake Michigan. I have engine
failure. I am (…inaudible …) to Manistee.”

That was it.
Less than ten seconds. Less than twenty words that said so much.
Jack rewound the tape and played it again. This time he focused on the powerful sound of
control resonating within his father’s voice. Merritt was calm and in charge, not wanting to alarm
Kevin to what was certainly going to happen. There was no trace of fear. He stated only the
facts: his number and probable location. Merritt did fail to give his name and he did leave out the
‘N’ in the airplane’s identification. This was a crucial mistake. His location wasn’t audible, noise
in the signal made it impossible to make out his position.
Harvey Hoskins didn’t have a chance to save Merritt.
Jack played the tape again.

#############
“You’re welcome to come back anytime you like,” Sylvia said walking Jack to his car.

“I’d like that very much.”
“I wish Harvey were still alive. He’d have wanted to meet you, to have known you didn’t
blame him.”
“Deep down, don’t you think he knew? Like you said, it’s all right there on the tape. It
was an accident. I don’t blame anyone. If I did, it wouldn’t be Harvey.”
“You blame your father, don’t you?” She asked, reading the anguish in his eyes.

188

“I don’t think so. Maybe I did before because he made the decision to cross the lake.
Right now, I feel proud of him. After hearing the tape I think he did the best anyone could have
done in that situation.”

“What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to fly to Manistee. I’d like to see where my dad grew up and see if there’s
anyone still around who might remember him.”
“Does he have family there?”
“He did. He had an aunt and a cousin, maybe others. I really don’t know. I never kept up
with my dad’s side. I’m hoping somebody’s still there.”
“Do they know you’re coming?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“A surprise?”
Jack smiled as he slipped behind the wheel; placing the cassette tape recorder she’d given
him on the passenger seat.
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not.”

###########
He wanted to clear his head and the Touch-N-Go Taqueria directly across the street from
the airport seemed like just as good a place as any.
Jack sat down in the booth nearest the door and ordered the Barney Barnstormer Burrito
and a shot of tequila on the recommendation of Billy Chimes, a curly, dark haired college student
sitting at the bar who was home during the summer break.

189

The first tequila went down faster than expected and Jack ordered another, then reached
for his cell.

“Hello?”
“John,” Jack said, rotating the newly acquired tape recorder under the dim light of the
table lamp.
“I was getting worried about you, Amigo.”
“Don’t worry. Everything’s hunky-dory,” Jack said, beginning to feel the tequila.
“You don’t make it easy.”
“You heard?”
“Oh, I heard about it, alright.”
“John, I could have killed her.”
“No, Amigo. You just got goosed is all. It happens. Those little thunderstorms pop out of
nowhere in that part of the country, sure as spit. I have faith it wasn’t anything you couldn’t
handle. The main thing is you’re safe, and Amy’s safe. In fact, she’s right here with me.”
Jack pushed the recorder aside. “She’s with you?”
“Yep. Sharon dropped her off, straight from the airport.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Trust me, Sharon wasn’t happy about it, but Amy insisted. She was worried about my
leg. Can you believe that girl? Do you want to talk to her?”
“I sure do.”
A few seconds later, Amy was on the line. “Hi, Dad.”
“You made it home okay. You weren’t too scared?”

190

“I wasn’t scared. Well, maybe a little in the beginning. Mom said I slept most of the
way.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I’m okay. I’m taking care of John.”
“I heard. How’s he doing?”
“Better, now that I’m here. He said sleeping in your big, comfortable bed is helping his
sore leg.”
“I’m sure.”
“Dad, I’m sorry I left. Now that I’m back I think I should have stayed.”
“No, it’s good that you went home. John needs your help. You know he can’t do anything
on his own.”
“Or won’t.”
They both laughed.
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Could you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“When you make it to the other side of the lake, promise you’ll take a picture for me.”
Jack lovingly smiled. “I promise.”
John came back on the line. “Are you making progress?”
“I called the controller.”
“And?”

191

“And, he died.”
“So, it was a dead end. No pun intended.”
“It wasn’t a total loss. I was able to meet with his widow. Turns out that Harvey Hoskins,
the air traffic controller made a recording of dad’s Mayday.”
“I didn’t know they did that.”
“He had a guilty conscience. He thought he panicked. But even if he did there wasn’t
much he could do. Dad’s message was direct, but the audio was extremely noisy. I had to play it
a few times just to make out a handful of words. I still wasn’t able to get it all.
Overhearing the conversation, Billy Chimes turned and looked over his left shoulder to
Jack’s table.
The two men slipped into one of their long silences.
“Jack.”
“I’m here.”
“Right after we hung up the other night I checked your email.”
“And?”
“Yep. You got another one. This time I didn’t write it down. All it said was, ‘Too Late’.”
“Too Late?”
“I guess they’re trying to be polite and save you a trip.”
“Too late for that.”
“Yep.”
“Yep.”

192

Jack and John went over a few more things concerning the vineyard, nothing too
important it couldn’t wait, then said their goodbyes.

As he slipped the phone back into his pocket the tacky restaurant placemat caught Jack’s
eye. He cleared off the utensils to take a closer look. It was a map of the city filled with adorable
children flying in all types of airplanes.

“This town wouldn’t be what it is, if it weren’t for the air show. It put us right on the
map. That and Oshkosh B’gosh, the kid’s clothes,” Billy offered. “Mind if I join you?”

Jack waved the college boy to take the seat across from him.
Jack had nowhere to go, and apparently neither did Billy.
The waitress dressed in a loud red, black and yellow Tex-Mex outfit delivered Billy’s
second beer, and Jack’s third Cuervo.
“Here’s another thing I bet you didn’t know,” Billy continued. “The airport was named
after this guy, Whitman, a legend in aviation circles. He used to design cool airplanes and race
them. In 1995 he crashed his plane five miles South of Stevenson, Alabama. He got himself and
his wife killed.”
“They didn’t fall out of the plane did they?”
“No. I don’t think so. He was ninety-one years old. Rumor has it, Orville Wright issued
Whitman his pilots’ license. I’ll tell you something. I grew up with the air show in my backyard
and everything that went with it, the tourists, the pilots, the planes, the ambulances, and the
screams from the crowds. If there’s one thing I know, you fly those little ones, sooner or later
they’re going to bite you,” Billy said, as if he had wisdom beyond his years.

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“So, let me get this straight. You don’t like to fly, but you eat at an airport diner,” Jack
said, attempting some humor.

“What can I say? They have the best burritos in town.”
“Can’t argue that,” Jack agreed.
Billy grinned, then motioned to the tape recorder. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
“Help yourself.”
Billy held up the recorder and examined it under the table lamp. “I overheard you talking
to your friend on the phone. You’re having some trouble listening to an audio tape?”
“That’s right.”
“No promises, but I might be able to help,” Billy said, pressing the eject button.
“How’s that?”
“I like to mess around with old equipment. I’m one of the few kids of my generation who
still prefers vinyl. Let’s play the tape and listen to what we’re dealing with.”
Jack plucked the tape out from his pocket, attempting to knuckle it through his fingers
like a magician’s coin. “Sure, why not? Let’s play it,” he said handing it over.
Billy inserted the tape and pressed play.
“Wow, that’s pretty distorted,” Billy, said backing away from the recorder.
“I know. It’s from an airplane radio microphone, not to mention the tape is pretty old.”
“Hang on a second,” Billy unzipped his backpack, pulling out his laptop. “This could be
your lucky day, my friend.”
“Why’s that?”
Billy fired up his laptop. “We’re going to digitize your tape.”

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The waitress came by and Jack ordered another shot, waiting for Billy to explain.
“I’m in a band. I’m the lead guitar and rhythm banjo player. You might a heard of us,
Genetic Mutation?”
Jack shook his head no.
“We used to be called Genetic Control,” Billy said, certain to be recognized.
“Sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter, probably not your thing anyway. We play like a bluegrass, heavy
metal fusion. When we’re recording we use an app to clean up our sound to take the hiss and
noise out.” Billy opened the application and turned the screen so Jack could see.
Billy reached into the front pocket of his backpack, taking out a leather pouch filled with
cables. “Okay, let’s connect the recorder and see what we can do with this little diddy.”
Jack handed Billy the recorder. Within five minutes Billy had transferred the audio from
the cassette recorder to the computer.
“Now we’ll add a filter to reduce the hiss. We’ll boost the midrange for the voice, and
Bingo! That should do it. Let’s give it a try.”
Jack slid closer to the laptop’s speaker.
“Mayday, Mayday. This is Cougar 11717 flying over Lake Michigan. I have engine
failure. I am two miles out Manistee.”
“Dude!” Billy said, quickly backing away from the computer. “WOW! You should have
warned me it was something serious.”
Jack ignored Billy, his eyes opening wider than they’d been in a week.
“Play it again.”

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“What for?”
“Just do it!”
Billy played the recording, twice.
“Did you hear that?” Jack asked.
“What do you mean? I heard what you heard.”
“Tell me, what did it say, exactly?” Jack impatiently insisted.
“Okay, take it easy. The guy said, Mayday, Mayday. This is Cougar, something or other,
and he was flying over Lake Michigan. He had engine failure, and was two miles out from
Manistee.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sort of sure. What’s this all about?”
“How many miles out did you hear?”
“Jack, you’re starting to freak me out. Enough of the tequila for one night, okay?”
“Just answer the damn question, Billy. How many miles?” Jack demanded.
“Two. Two miles out from Manistee. That’s what it sounded like to me. It’s still a little
distorted, but yeah, that’s what I heard. Two miles out from Manistee. For sure.”
“That’s what I heard, too,” Jack said, shaking his head, looking puzzled.
“Does that change something for you, Jack?”
“It changes everything for me.”

###########

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Jack awoke to a pounding headache. He poured himself a cup of coffee, emptying what
was left in his thermos and climbed aboard the left wing just in time to catch the sunrise, East of
the airfield.

The morning was dead calm, serene.
He took a moment to honor his father and brother, who may have seen their last sunrise
from the very spot where the Baron was chocked and blocked.
He took the map he’d been carrying, spreading it across the wing. There was no need to
study it. He had the two courses memorized by heart. He wanted to give himself one last
opportunity to change his mind. If he were to fly across the lake he would simply fly in a direct
straight line from Whitman airport to Manistee, arriving in just over an hour.
If he flew around the lake he’d head North towards Green Bay, hug the shoreline to Sault
Ste. Marie, then wrap around to the Michigan side of the lake, down to Manistee. All in all, an
extra five hundred mile route.
Content with his options, Jack folded the map, returning it to his back pocket and made
his way back to the Touch-N-Go.
His stomach was in no shape for breakfast but thought it wouldn’t hurt to bring a couple
of Barney Barnstormers along for the flight.
The diner hadn’t opened for business. Jack flopped down on their patio bench,
impatiently waiting for his head to clear from the night before.
He smelled the distinct sweet aroma of airplane fuel he’d grown fond of as a kid, while
hanging out at the airport with his dad. He listened to the handful of airplane engines turn over in

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the distance. He managed to sit up to watch the steady flow of small aircraft takeoff as the airport
began to slowly wake up.

A blonde, twenty-something waitress wearing a Mexican sombrero flipped the ‘open’
sign over, and unlocked the Touch-N-Go doors.

Jack ordered three Barneys ‘To Go’ and filled his coffee thermos. He wrote a note,
placing a hundred dollars cash inside an envelope, asking the waitress to please give the
envelope to Billy Chimes the next time he came in.

“I owe him a dinner.”
After giving the Baron a routine inspection and checking the weather for the fifth time,
Jack climbed into the cabin, filed his flight plan with the tower, then rolled onto the runway.
He looked out both sides of the cabin, checking the twin propellers, watching them spin
in perfect synchronicity. He was ready.
The moment Jack had dreamt of for so many years had finally arrived. He was about to
walk in his father’s shoes.
He looked beyond the yoke to the two photographs taped side by side to the console and
slowly rubbed his fingers across the Polaroid Ernie had taken of Merritt and Kevin. He turned his
attention to the other photo from Ruth, rejoicing in the pure innocence gleaming in the eyes of
the boy with his father in the swimming pool.
In one single swoop he snatched both photos, tossing them to the empty passenger seat
beside him, then pushed the throttle wide open.

############
Oshkosh was behind him.

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What appeared to be an endless ocean was just ahead: Lake Michigan.
The sky wasn’t as clear as he’d hoped. There were a few dark clouds towards the
Northeast, but nothing menacing.
Jack listened closely to the twin engines, determining they were running properly and
powerful enough to easily make it over the one hundred miles of water and land safely in
Manistee, Michigan.
He sliced through the morning mist, climbing to three thousand feet and felt something
missing. There was silence, a void. He turned to the empty passenger seat, wishing his co-pilot,
Amy, were with him. Sadly, she left just as they were starting to break the ice. But her leaving
gave Jack time to refocus his attention on the mysterious email; the two keys and what lie ahead.
The James Stewart movie ‘The Spirit of St. Louis’ came to mind, the story of Charles
Lindbergh crossing the Atlantic, alone, from New York to Paris. Manistee, Michigan wasn’t as
far as Paris, but it might as well have been.
As he neared the lake he noticed the weather had changed slightly for the worse. This
change was not forecasted. He cautiously took the Baron up another thousand feet, ready to
knock on the door of his eternal nightmare.
Lake Michigan was three hundred miles long, nearly one hundred twenty miles wide, and
over nine hundred feet at the deepest. Though Jack had seen the lake countless times in his
dreams, he now realized it was much larger than he’d ever imagined.
He’d pictured this moment since he was seventeen: to face the lake, to cross the lake, to
beat the lake. Now, here it was, right in front of him. He could see it. He could smell it. Now he
had to decide if it was worth crossing. Would it ease the guilt? Would it put an end to the

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