Twin Engines

nightmares? One thing was certain; it wouldn’t bring his father and brother back. What if he
didn’t make it? If he only went on to repeat his father’s mistake, what then?

Time for making decisions was up.
Jack put all possibilities behind him, leaving the safety of land and soared over the lake
like the golden eagle, king of skies.
He felt his heart pound and put his hand to his mouth and blew out, to make sure he was
still breathing.
He looked down below and saw a handful of small fishing boats. Knowing they wouldn’t
see, he waved to them just the same.
Less than two minutes had passed.
Satisfied, Jack banked left, back towards the Wisconsin shoreline. He need not go further.
That was enough. He was done with the lake.
No matter how much he wanted to, he wasn’t about to take the unnecessary risk.
In the end, it didn’t matter what weight he carried or how long he’d carried it. He made a
promise to Amy he wouldn’t fly across. And that was good enough for him.
He would gently kiss the lake, but he would not dare cross it.
He cranked the yoke to the North heading back to shore.

###########
The Barney burritos were washed down with a second cup of coffee somewhere between
Two Rivers, Wisconsin and Algoma. He thought there might be a chance he’d feel a little guilty,
like he’d copped out by flying all the way to the lake, then not crossing. But Jack didn’t feel bad

200

at all, instead he felt like celebrating. At three thousand feet the Barney burritos were served as
rollicking party snacks.

Jack playfully rocked the Baron left to right, pushing the nose up and down as if he were
on a rollercoaster. He was elated. For the first time since he started the journey from his small
vineyard in Oregon he was genuinely enjoying the thrill of flying, and knew this was what it was
all about. This was the feeling his dad was chasing. This was the experience, to soar like a bird
just inches above the water’s surface or ascend beyond the highest cloud. Though he’d been
sitting behind the controls flying for days he was just now feeling the immeasurable freedom of
flight. He crisscrossed back and forth between the lake and the shoreline, losing all track of time.
He was exhilarated beyond all boundaries, embracing the enlightening moment, purposely and
completely ignoring his schedule, his location and unfortunately the changing weather.

No sooner had he noticed the light dimming inside the cabin, a massive thermal blasted
under the wings sweeping the plane up and backwards at a forty-degree angle.

Jack’s backbone snapped rearward, driving him into his seat, costing him valuable
seconds to figure out what was happening.

High pressure was building from the Northeast. A front was heading straight in his
direction; making the storm he and Amy had flown into look like a dust devil.

As quickly as Jack discovered his new found passion for flying, it now all but
disappeared. He was lucky enough to escape one close call; two would be pushing it.

Jack frantically switched on every button looking like an anti-icing device. The last thing
he wanted was for ice to build up on the wings. He turned on the cabin lights to full beam. If

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lightning struck the flash would be blinding and he’d want to have his vision restored as quickly
as possible.

With time running out, he’d never make it above the clouds. He considered turning the
plane around in an attempt to outrun the storm, but it was too late. He considered flying beneath
the storm, but if he did rain or hail could knock him to the ground. He tried to radio the tower
requesting instructions, but the reception was too poor.

He scrambled, searching for an emergency place to set down, thinking he had a chance to
make a run toward Green Bay. The storm was building too swiftly, arcing Westward, crowding
him off the shoreline and prohibiting an easy escape route.

He had no choice but to set a course Southeast and hope for the best.
He squeamishly banked to the right. Within seconds he returned to the last place he
wanted to be: over the lake.
Jack focused sharply on the map making his best guess as to his present location and just
how long he’d have to be over water, figuring he was approximately forty to fifty minutes away
from Manistee.
Grasping at straws he tried to recall his mother’s warning. Which would be best, to fly
low or high? If he flew high he’d have a better, longer glide ratio and maybe have a chance to
make it back to the shore. Maybe? If he flew low he’d have a better chance of swamping the
Baron, hoping it would stay afloat long enough for him to make his escape and to be rescued. He
couldn’t make up his mind and settled on two thousand feet, mistakenly steering the Baron
directly into a ghastly gray film. He lost all visibility and didn’t know which way was up or

202

down. He held the yoke so tight his knuckles were turning pale. He wasn’t about to let go and let
the Baron do the work this time.

He scanned every instrument on the console. He heard a screeching metallic howl. He
looked to the left engine. It was okay. He looked at the right engine. It sounded okay, but a
steady stream of blue smoke was billowing out behind the propeller blade. He didn’t know what
to do. He had no idea how to put out an engine fire. He tried hard not to panic, trying to keep her
cool in the motor pool and focus on solutions. Out of nowhere he recalled the mesmerizing
maneuver John Thun had performed during his aerobatic routines. It was called the Lomcevak,
the Czechoslovakian word for headache. Jack had no idea how John did it, but thought if he
came close to getting it right it may be enough to extinguish the engine fire. Mindful not to stall
he pulled back on the yoke, shooting the Baron straight up like a rocket on liftoff until he could
go no higher. Then cut power to the left engine. The plane led by the tail, slipped downward,
flipping over and over and over on its back. Jack threw the yoke to the right, stomped on the left
rudder pedal, striking the ignition switch with his clenched fist. Time seemed to have come to a
dead stop, each second taking an hour. The plane continued to cart wheel. He felt blood surging
to his head and hoped he wouldn’t black out. The right propeller let out a high-pitched scream
like wild horses being corralled, and then began to rotate. Once again, he pulled the yoke back
with all his might until he thought he’d rip it off the console and successfully regained control of
the aircraft. He had no choice but to sail the aircraft just below the storm cloud where he could
see the lake. Risking it all, he dropped the Baron as low as it would safely fly, skimming a mere
ten feet above the choppy white-capped water, creating a breeze that would extinguish the
smoke. It worked!

203

In spite of almost losing his life to the lake, Jack was thrilled. He just stumbled on a
possible answer to his most elusive question. Why did his father fly across the lake? Maybe
because he had to. Maybe his father encountered the unexpected storm forcing him to fly across
the lake, instead of around it?

Jack shifted his attention to the left side of the airplane, spotting something hopeful in the
distance: two cargo ships and a private yacht close to the midway point.

Only a few more minutes to shore.
Only a few more minutes to Manistee.

##########
Pilots cross Lake Michigan every day, for most it’s not a big deal. Most haven’t lost a
loved one.
When Jack landed safe and sound he felt like getting down on his hands and knees to kiss
the ground.
The damage to the Baron was surprisingly minimal. At four thousand feet with limited
visibility the right engine appeared like it had caught fire. Fortunately, it was only the valve John
had fiddled with back in Oregon. The valve loosened during the storm, heating the oil causing a
blue smoky affect. Both engines needed to be looked at to be safe, but that could wait as far as
Jack was concerned.
“I’d offer you a drink if I wasn’t on duty,” the airport manager said, filing Jack’s
paperwork into the computer.
“If you weren’t on duty I’d have taken you up on your offer.”
“Don’t worry about it too much. You wouldn’t be the first pilot to have his cage rattled

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by the expected, unexpected storms we get around here. To tell you the truth, you probably
weren’t in any serious trouble.”

“No?”
“Nah. Not in the resilient plane you’re flying. The storms we get, let’s just say the bark
is usually bigger than the bite.”
“I’ll take your word for it. You look like a man who knows his dogs. All the same, it ran
me up a pretty tall tree.”
“Didn’t say it wouldn’t,” the man behind the counter quipped. “Did you fly in for the
festival?” He asked, switching gears.
Jack glanced at the manager’s photo identification badge. “What festival would that be,
Walter?”
Walter flashed a ‘thanks for noticing’ smile, then proudly pointed out the poster of a
majestic green tree directly behind Jack’s head.
“The National Forest Festival of course. It’s a real big deal in Manistee, real big. It’s been
a tradition since 1936. Yeah, there’ll be parades, fireworks, lots of music and food. The works!”
“Sounds like fun, but no.”
“No?” Walter took a second guess. “You’re a fisherman, then?”
“I do a little.”
“But, that’s not why you’re here?”
“No, that’s not why either.”
“If you change your mind and get the itch you can rent gear by the day or for the week.
There’s a little sport fishing shop down on the Riverwalk between Stanley’s ice cream and Ike’s

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video store called Cast-A-Ways. My cousin, Kyle, runs the place.” Walter scribbled down the
address, handing it to Jack. “You tell him I sent you he’ll give you ten percent off.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“How long are you staying in Manistee?”
“I don’t know just yet. Not long.”
“I’ll get Bob, our mechanic, to look at your engines right away,” Walter opened his cell,
pressing one number. “Can you come by the office? Yeah, it’s about the 58 Beechcraft parked by
hangar five. Okay, thanks, Bob.” Walter collapsed his 2006 Motorola and tossed it back into his
shirt pocket. “He’s on his way.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Walter poured Jack a cup of coffee while they waited. Thirty minutes later the office door
opened. A friendly looking, rail thin, dark haired man about Jack’s age, wearing blue overalls
and a Detroit Tigers baseball cap, stepped inside.
“It must have scared the shit out of you, big time,” Bob said, addressing Jack as he
plugged a quarter into the gumball machine, then plopped down on the brown office sofa.
“Jack, this is Bob Evans our chief mechanic. Our only mechanic for that matter,” Walter
said.
Bob remained seated, raising one hand in Jack’s direction. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Bob cocked his head side to side, working a kink out of his neck. “I took a quick glance
at the engines on the way in. I’ve seen this sort of thing before, not exactly the same, but close
enough. It’s no big thing; the damage looks far worse than it is. That being said, I hope you don’t

206

need to be somewhere tomorrow. It’s going to take a little time to do a proper inspection, two,
three days, guaranteed.”

“I can live with that.”
“Bob’s dad, Dale, used to have my job.” Walter turned, pointing to a photograph hanging
on the wall behind the desk. Dale Evans was wearing a white shirt, thin black tie and no jacket.
Similar to the outfit Walter was presently wearing. “Bob grew up right here at the airport. If
anybody knows airplanes, it’s our man, Bob.”
“Thanks for saying so, Boss.”
Though Jack was interested in hearing Bob’s outstanding credentials, he was more
interested in hearing about Bob’s father, the manager who had been on duty on the night of his
dad’s accident.
“Do you have a place to stay?” Walter asked Jack.
“I don’t.”
Again, Walter took his pen and scribbled down an address. “Rooms are hard to get this
time of year on account of the festival. My older sister runs the SeaGal Bed and Breakfast, over
by the marina. You can’t miss it. There’s a big sign in the front, adorned by the most welcoming
female seagull you’ve ever seen. It was my idea. I can’t promise you a room with a view, but you
tell my sister I sent you; she’ll give you a room and an extra ten percent off.”
“Do you have any relatives who rent cars?” Jack asked.
“As a matter of fact…”

##########

207

Jack rented the old beater Chevy truck that wasn’t on the official rental list from Walter’s
cousin, Ricky.

STICKY RICKY’S USED CAR AND RENTAL: WHERE HIGH PRICES FALL AND
YOUR LOW PRICE STICKS!

Jack missed sitting behind the wheel of his own pickup, and didn’t mind if the red truck
had trouble starting. He was given the ten percent ‘Walter’ discount that sweetened the deal.
Though he still would have rented it without it.

It was dark by the time he finished driving through the city center to take a quick peek.
He was exhausted. He followed Walter’s instructions to the marina, easily finding the SeaGal
Bed and Breakfast that boasted a complimentary breakfast, cable television, premium linens and
a shuttle service to the casino. Things were improving, Jack thought, stretching out on a 300
count, bed sheet.

############
“I trust you slept well?” The woman asked, tidying up the kitchen.
Jack had finally come downstairs, hoping he hadn’t missed the breakfast part of the B&B.
“I did,” he said to the woman in the blue denim dress and fancy cowgirl boots.
“Have you checked your watch? I’m afraid you’ve slept right through breakfast, and
lunch if I served one.”
“I figured I did,” he said, clearly disappointed.
“Go on, sit down. I’ll fix you eggs and toast.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate it,” Jack said, perching himself on a blue and white wooden
stool behind the kitchen island.

208

“We didn’t talk much when you checked in last night. You looked dog tired.”
“It was a long day.”
“Are you here for the festival?” She asked.
Jack took measure of the woman with lioness blonde hair, braided in the back, guessing
she was about his age or just under, and very, very pretty. “No, but I’m getting the idea it’s a
really big deal.”
The woman cracked a couple eggs into a bowl. “It is. My daughter, Jessica, she’s fifteen;
she’ll be singing ‘Over the Rainbow’ on the main stage, Saturday evening, 7:30pm. She’s no
Judy Garland, but I think she sounds just as good as those young gals I see on the television
competitions.”
“If I have time I’ll try and catch it,” Jack said, interested in learning everything he could
about his father’s hometown.
“Oh, I hope I didn’t come across as bragging, roping you into something you’re not a bit
concerned with. I’m still giving you ten percent off.”
“Not at all. Now if I do go, I’ll have something to look forward to.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kelley. That’s very nice of you to say.”
“Please, call me Jack.”
“Only if you call me Elizabeth,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron.
“It’s a deal,” Jack said as they shook hands.
“If you don’t mind my asking, if you’re not here for the festival, then why are you here?”
“My father’s from Manistee.”
“You’re visiting family?”

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“Not exactly. He passed away a while ago. But I had the time and thought I’d see the
town where he was raised,” Jack answered, leaving out his eagerness to meet Aunt Betty, at least
for the time being.

Elizabeth passed Jack a plate. “Going through some kind of a mid-life crisis, searching
for your roots?”

“You might be on to something there.”
“Most of my family has stayed within fifty miles in one direction or another from right
here in Manistee.”
“I remember my dad saying there wasn’t one good reason to leave Michigan.”
“But, he found one.”
“I guess he did.”
“Did he ever tell you what that was?”
“No, he never got around to it.”
Elizabeth poured Jack a tall glass of orange juice. “Sometimes I wish I’d found a good
enough reason to leave. Growing up in a small town you see the same faces, hear the same
stories, over and over again. It takes a little sharp off the blade. I think that’s why I bought the
SeaGal, so I could talk to someone who wasn’t either a neighbor or a relative or both, and listen
to their stories. I can tell just looking at you, Jack, you’ve got a doozy.”
“You can tell that just by looking?”
“I sure can.”
“Then I better keep my distance. I don’t want to accidentally reveal any top secrets.”

210

“That’s not going to be possible,” Elizabeth said, hanging up her apron on the beak of a
seagull shaped doorknob.

“And why is that?”
“Because after you finish your breakfast I’m personally showing you Manistee.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right. You’re going to need someone to help you find your way around. Lucky
for you, I have the afternoon free.”
“Your husband won’t mind?”
“Oh, I don’t have one of those.”

###########
“Do you play tour guide with all your guests, or fishing for a big tip?” Jack humorously
asked, walking First Street with Elizabeth.
“You struck me as the type to leave a generous tip either way.”
“Have we met before, or do I just come off as being predictably predictable?”
“I had a feeling you were going to ask that,” Elizabeth answered with a grin. “No, I don’t
usually do this.”
“But, I look like I need help finding my way around, is that it?”
“Like a stray cat with a road map.”
“Terrific.”
“Actually, my brother Walter called me right after you left the airport. He said you
looked pretty shook up when you landed. He asked me to keep an eye on you if you checked into
the SeaGal. To see if you were okay.”

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“And…?”
“It’s too soon to tell,” Elizabeth said, stopping in front of a Colonial red brick building
with tall Roman columns. “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please. I present to
you the world famous Ramsdell Theatre,” she said in her best tour guide voice.
“Looks like a firehouse, minus the Dalmatian.”
“It’s not. It’s a revered historical landmark in Manistee. Stage productions and operas
have been performed here since 1903. In fact, James Earl Jones, you know, the voice of Darth
Vader in Star Wars. He started right here at the Ramsdell back in 1953 as a stage carpenter. A
couple of years later he was starring in Shakespeare’s, Othello. Do you go to the theatre?”
“Not much.”
“I absolutely love the stage. A few years ago I played Dolly Tate, in Annie Get Your
Gun.”
“Annie Oakley, right? I think I saw the movie on TV, with Ethel Merman?”
“That’s right. Did you see West Side Story on TV? I also played the part of Anita, aka
Rita Moreno.”
“I had no idea I was in the company of a star.”
“It’s only local theatre, but it’s an interest my daughter, Jessica, and I share. Do you have
any children?” Elizabeth asked, continuing the walk.
“I have a daughter, Amy. She’s twelve.”
“What’s she like?” Elizabeth asked.
“I’m just beginning to find out.”
“Meaning?”

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“Amy lives with her mother.”
“And you don’t?” Elizabeth asked, seizing the opportunity to satisfy her curiosity.
“And I don’t,” Jack answered.
“We can talk about something else if you like.”
“There’s not much to say that hasn’t already been sung in a country western song.”
“I bought myself a Hank Williams record almost three years ago. It’s still in the
wrapper,” Elizabeth said.
“You never played it?”
“Didn’t see the point, I already knew all the words,”
Changing the subject, Jack raised his hands and proclaimed. “So, this is Manistee.”
“Population, seven thousand, thereabouts.”
“I like those odds,” Jack uttered.
“I’m sorry, I’m not following you?”
“Small town; should make it easier to find the house where my dad was raised.”
“An address would make it even easier.”
Jack reached inside his back pocket for the note pad his mother gave him. “How about
117 Ainsworth Street?”
“Ainsworth, that’s up a couple of blocks by the lake. We can follow the Riverwalk.”
Elisabeth leisurely led Jack through the city. Along the way she introduced him to a few
shopkeepers who were busy setting up their outdoor booths for the festival.

213

They passed the fish cleaning station on the way to the boardwalk, then walked under the
Maple Street bridge where they followed the river another quarter of a mile, passing the marina
and a few more fish cleaning stations, eventually arriving at the First Street beach park.

“Ainsworth is three streets up,” Elizabeth said, pointing to the rows of Victorian homes.
“Could we sit down a minute?” Jack asked, looking around for a convenient spot.
“Is there something the matter?”
“I’d like to tell you why I’m here.”
They found a park bench. Jack took his time telling Elizabeth about his father’s accident,
the emails, the keys, the storm he’d put Amy through and the one he’d narrowly escaped. He
explained why he was both eager and a little nervous to talk with his father’s relatives; how Aunt
Betty or Vera might still be living in the house whose doorbell he was moments away from
ringing, though he was reluctant to get his hopes up too high.
“I could wait here in the park, or go with you if you like, your choice?” She offered.
“I’d like you to come,” he answered without hesitation.
Elizabeth smiled, taking Jack’s arm and without saying a word, walked with him along
the path leading out of the park and into Merritt’s past.

###########
“That’s it right there, 117 Ainsworth,” Elizabeth said, pointing to the white Victorian
house with the light blue trim, set on property overflowing with maple trees and juniper bushes.
Jack guessed it may have been built in the early eighteen hundred, then imagined his father as a
young boy working outside the house cutting grass with a push mower, though he must have had
one equipped with an engine.

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Jack wiped his palms on his jeans, took a deep breath and approached the house.
“It’s not for sale,” a voice called out, startling both Jack and Elizabeth.
Jack turned around to see a white sailor cap poking up from behind the hedge. Hearing
the deep voice, Jack knew neither Aunt Betty nor Vera would be under the cap.
“It’s not for sale,” the man repeated, coming around the bush. “Not until after the
festival.”
“You’re selling?” Jack said, noticing the upside down ‘For Sale’ sign leaning against the
garage door.
“That’s what the sign says.”
“As long as we’re here do you mind if we take a look?” Elizabeth asked the man, hoping
to salvage the pilgrimage for Jack.
“Don’t mind at all, if you don’t mind my mess,” he said, wiping his pruning shears. “Are
you in the market to buy right away?”
“No rush,” Jack answered.
The man appeared to be in his mid to late seventies and was tall and trim. He wore gold
wire-rimmed glasses, a green polo shirt, khakis and his white navy crew cap. Jack guessed the
man might have been an avid golfer.
Elizabeth nudged Jack on the arm. Taking the hint, he said, “Actually, my father spent a
great deal of his childhood in this house.”
“I see, reminiscing. You should have said that in the first place. You’re welcome to look
around.”
“I’d appreciate that.”

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“I don’t mind telling you, I don’t want to sell the place,” the man declared, gripping a
wheelbarrow. “But it’s just me now. My wife passed away just before last Christmas and my
boys think it’s too much work for a man of my age to keep up. They’re wrong of course. But the
truth is, with my wife gone and the two kids moved out, it’s just not the same, so why bother.”

“If you like, I could help with those branches,” Jack said, nodding to the scattered limbs.
“If that’s help you’re offering I’d be a fool to turn you down,” the man said, introducing
himself by means of a firm handshake as Warren Talbot, Senior.
Jack tossed his flannel shirt to the porch and began piling the cut branches into the
wheelbarrow.
“Warren snapped a branch in two, handing the pieces to Jack. “You say your father lived
in this house?”
“It was his Aunt’s house, on his mother’s side. I’m told he was here a fair amount.”
“That must have been a long time ago. I’ve lived here with my wife, Mable, going on
twenty-five years.”
“That long ago?” Jack said, mapping a timeline in his head.
“Seems like it was only yesterday to me. What did you say your father’s name was?”
“Merritt Kelley,” Jack said, tugging a long branch to the growing pile beside the
wheelbarrow.
“Kelley? Can’t say the name rings any bells.” Warren shrugged.
Jack didn’t expect to be so lucky.
After a half hour, Warren determined enough yard work had been done for the day,
inviting Elizabeth and Jack inside the house to take a much-deserved look around.

216

Jack ignored Warren’s personal home décor, focusing primarily on the home’s structure,
eyeing the fireplace, imagining that at one time his father might have stoked wood in its hearth
on a cold winter’s night. He ran his hand over the smooth mahogany stair railing, envisioning a
time his father might have run up and down the steps, driving Aunt Betty crazy. He closely
examined the kitchen, living room and every bedroom, window, door, floor and ceiling.

When Jack finished Warren led them back to the living room and opened a nice bottle of
Chardonnay he’d been saving for a sunny day.

“Warren, do you happen to remember who sold you the house?” Jack asked, taking a seat
on the sofa beside Elizabeth.

Warren removed his sailor cap and scratched his polished dome. “Mable found the house
in late August.”

“August, are you sure?” Jack asked, realizing that was only a little more than a month
after the accident.

“I’m positive. It was a hard time for my family. Neglecting to ask my opinion, my work
callously transferred me from Chicago to Manistee late in the summer. I was a researcher for an
Organic farming company. Mable wasn’t in favor of the move on account we had to scramble
and get the kids registered in time for the start of the new school year. We bought the house from
a very nice woman. She was living here with her mother.”

“That must have been my dad’s cousin and aunt,” Jack said, hopeful to learn more.
“Big house for two women,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“Maybe that’s why they sold it for less than it was worth. Mable did the dealing. I stayed
out of it. Sales have never been my forte. Mable made a ridiculously low offer and they took it,

217

straight away, no negotiating. I remember they wanted out of this house, and fast. At first, Mable
and I thought there had to be a catch. Like the house must have had termites or poltergeists. Did
you see that Spielberg movie?”

Both Jack and Elizabeth nodded in unison.
Warren’s eyes scanned the large room. “The house turned out to be just fine, no ghosts.
Knock on wood.”
“Do you remember anything else about the sale?” Jack asked.
“Not really. We lived in a motel on the East side while the purchase was going through.
Mable did all the legwork organizing the movers and what have you, while I was busy setting up
my business. I signed my John Hancock when Mable handed me the pen,” Warren glanced into
the next room. “She kept all the paperwork in the file cabinet. You’re welcome to take a look if
it’s important to you. It will just take a minute to find them.”
“If you don’t mind?” Jack quickly replied.
“Not at all.”
Warren ambled into the next room, returning with a stack of papers.
“Let’s take a look,” Warren said, leafing through the documents. “I don’t think there’s
much here that would be all that interesting. Only what we offered and paid, the title company,
that sort of thing.” Warren stopped cold. “That’s odd. A few pages are missing, torn out. I don’t
know why Mable would do that.”
“I’m mostly interested in the previous owners. Do you have the names of the two
women, or where they moved?” Jack asked, watching Warren rifle through his papers.

218

“No I don’t. Their personal information is on the pages that are missing. But don’t worry,
if you want to find them. I know the women didn’t go far.”

“Why do you say that?”
“The daughter, she was a nurse.”
“That would be my dad’s cousin, Vera.”
Warren passed the documents to Jack. “Vera? Yes, I think that rings a bell. She worked
over at the hospital taking care of the mental patients. I saw her there a few years after we bought
the house. My oldest boy, Warren Junior, broke his femur playing touch football. Mable and I
saw the woman working there.”
“Vera?” Jack asked to be absolutely certain.
“Yes, I think so. We saw her in the hall by the cafeteria. Mable immediately recognized
her. Mable had an uncanny way about remembering faces, but horrible with the numbers, except
for when it came to money. Anyway, Mable went up to her and they chatted for a bit about the
house. That’s when she explained to Mable how she looked after the ‘special patients’. I took
that to mean the mental ward. But I could be wrong.”
“Do you remember anything about Vera’s mother, anything at all?” Jacked asked, seizing
the opportunity to find any detail concerning his family, no matter how small.
“Well, let’s see. I do recall that it was the daughter who was running the show. She’s the
one who accepted Mable’s low offer in a flash. Though her mother was totally in line with her
decisions, one hundred percent. I also remember Vera being tremendously respectful and caring
towards her mother in a way that moved me. Made me wish I had done the same for my parents.
It was touching. Maybe it was the nurse in her. You know nurses are natural caretakers, or so I’m

219

told,” Warren stopped dead in his tracks. “Say, follow me!” Warren said excitedly, leading them
to the garage.

“I just remembered, while I was cleaning the attic last week getting ready to sell the
house I found a box that didn’t belong to me. Now, where did I put it?” Warren began
rummaging through several moving boxes filling up half the garage. “I don’t know if it belongs
to your family. I know it certainly doesn’t belong to mine. I was going to give it to Goodwill or
the Salvation…ah, here it is.”

Warren picked up a large sized storage box, passing it to Jack.
Jack set the box down, peeled back the cardboard flaps and reached inside.
“That’s so beautiful,” Elizabeth said, examining the lime green cashmere sweater, Jack
had handed her. “Look, the price tag is still on it. It’s never been worn,” she said.
“Must have been saving it for a special occasion,” Warren added.
“I would have made sure I found one,” Elizabeth said.
Next, Jack pulled out another article of clothing, a woman’s Manistee High School
Chippewa’s sweatshirt, sealed in a plastic garment bag.
Making a game out of it, Jack let Elizabeth pluck an item from the box. She presented a
pair of wire frame eyeglasses and a promotional deck of playing cards from Moby’s Hobby and
Game shop.
“Look at this. What do you think it is? ” She asked, holding up what looked like an old
plastic ruler with a circle in the middle.
“That’s a whiz wheel, an A6B to be precise,” Warren answered.
“A what?”

220

“It’s a calculator for pilots,” Jack said. “To calculate fuel burn, ground speed, how wind
direction can affect the speed and course.”

“They were mostly used in flight training,” Warren added. “Though, I hear some
commercial pilots still like to use them today.”

“How do you know so much about whiz wheels, Warren?” Elizabeth asked.
“Me, I used to be a pilot in the Navy.”
“No kidding?” Jack said.
“No kidding.”
“You’re a very interesting man, Warren,” Elizabeth said, dipping her hand back into the
box.
“Tell that to my two sons.”
“Now, this is the best!” Elizabeth said, showing off a leather flight jacket.
“Try it on. It looks like it might fit,” Jack said, examining the jacket.
“Do you really think I should?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“You’ll need these, they go with it,” Warren added, handing Elizabeth a leather pilot
helmet and goggles also from the box.
Elizabeth slipped into the leather Jacket, tugging the helmet and goggles on over her
braided hair. “What do you think, boys?” she said; posing in front of a dusty mirror Warren had
nailed to the garage wall.
“It suits you to a tee. You look like a regular Elizabeth Earhart,” Warren said.
“Thank you, Warren,” Elizabeth curtsied.

221

Jack flipped the box upside down, emptying the remainder of the contents, a blue Duncan
Yo-Yo, a first edition of Charles A. Lindbergh’s novel ‘We’, a Michigan state road map, and
lastly a full nurse’s uniform, including a black plastic name tag with Vera’s first name.

“We’ve got the right, gal,” Warren confirmed. “Vera was the nurse who sold me the
house.”

“And my first cousin, once removed,” Jack added.
############

After their visit with Warren, Elizabeth decided it was time to take a break. She couldn’t
think of a better place to take Jack to unwind than Manistee’s Pierhead Lighthouse to watch the
sunset.

Wearing the leather flight jacket, sans helmet and goggles, Elizabeth led Jack down the
narrow wooden catwalk to the beacon where they sat, letting their feet dangle above the water.

Jack slipped Amy’s camera out from his shirt pocket, snapping a photo of the lake.
“For my daughter,” he said, with a heartfelt smile. “I promised her a photo.”
Elizabeth unsnapped her country-chic denim handbag; taking out the bottle of wine
Warren gave them, filling two paper cups.
They sat comfortably, feeling the breeze, watching the waves roll under the pier, neither
of them sensing any urgent need to speak.
“Big lake,” Jack eventually said.
“You’ve come a long way to see it. Is it what you expected?”
“It’s bigger than I imagined, I’ll say that much. But, I don’t know what I was expecting,
really. I just knew now was the time I was supposed to see it.”

222

Jack slowly scanned the lake, left to right. “He’s out there somewhere, my dad.”
“Yes, he is,” Elizabeth said evenly. “So is mine.”
Jack flinched. “What?”
Elizabeth nodded. “My dad was a skipper on a fishing boat. The lake nabbed him, same
as yours.”
“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. Here I am going on all afternoon about losing my
dad, when…”
“No, it’s okay, Jack,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I was going to tell you sooner. Back at the
park bench. Then decided it could wait a little longer.”
Jack didn’t say a word; giving her time to think about the significant story she was about
to reveal.
“I was going to school, my junior year, University Of Michigan, Go Wolverines! I had
just walked into my dorm room from a Halloween party. Walter called me. He was crying so
hard it made me cry before he even told me what happened. He said Dad was making a night
crossing. A storm came and snatched him like a robber, sweeping him overboard. Dad’s boat
made it through the storm without a scratch. In fact his entire crew made it without a scratch, but
not Dad. One second he’s there, the next he’s gone. No mercy. It caught Walter totally by
surprise. Not me. I had a feeling it might happen someday. Actually, I knew it was going to
happen. It happened to other fisherman, why not my dad? I had the feeling ever since I was a
little girl the lake was going to take him. I just didn’t know when. In some strange way I think I
was preparing myself for that day all my life.”

223

Jack understood. He had the exact same feeling. He couldn’t explain it, but knew one day
his father would have an accident. He reached for her hand.

“I felt so sad for my mother. She never saw it coming. She thought Dad was
indestructible because of his size. He was a big bear of a man. He looked just like Grizzly Adams
with his bushy beard and sandy blonde hair. My mom and dad were high school sweethearts,
which isn’t a shocker in this small town. They were so much in love. When dad wasn’t on the
boat he was never more than an oar away, as he would say, from my mother. She never got over
losing him. She closed herself off to the world. She never went outside. She never met with
friends, never went to the movies or out to dinner. She disconnected.”

Jack was reminded of the time John had said the exact same thing about him, that he was
‘disconnected.’

Elizabeth leaned back from the edge, turned her eyes away from the lake and from Jack,
then sighed. “I don’t think I ever saw her smile again. It broke my heart to see her that way.
You’ve heard of those couples that are so close they die without each other? Mom died eight
months later. The doctor said it was from a strange cold or some other nonsense. It wasn’t. It was
from a broken heart.”

Jack took his sleeve and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Look at us. Aren’t we a fine pair?”

###########
The next morning, Jack was not only on time for breakfast, he was early enough
Elizabeth put him to work frying eggs.

224

Elizabeth’s daughter, Jessica, sang her way into the dining room, taking her seat at the
table.

Jack plated her eggs and two pieces of Texas toast, then took a seat across from her.
“You’re Jack,” Jessica said, reaching for the butter.
Jack passed her the dish. “And, you’re Jessica.”
“Thanks for the eggs. Just the way I like them.”
“Sunnyside up,” Jack affirmed. “It was a guess.”
Elizabeth winked at her daughter.
“I talked to my mom about you last night after I came home from rehearsal.”
“Oh?”
“She said you were really nice, and you were going to come and watch me sing tonight.”
Jack listened to the young teenage girl with big brown eyes; observing the strong
resemblance she had with her mother. Her hair was shorter and slightly darker, but her facial
expressions were dead on.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Are you going out with my mom, like on a date?”
“Jessica,” Elizabeth growled, joining them at the table.
She had her hair down, fixed differently in such an elegant way, wearing faded blue jeans
and a white tee. Jack didn’t know if this was ordinary Manistee country fashion, or Bed &
Breakfast chic. He only knew he found it very hard not to stare.
“I was just asking, Mom. Gees!”

225

“Well, don’t. Mr. Kelley doesn’t want to be put on the spot before he has his first cup of
coffee.”

“Jack. Not Mr. Kelley,” he said to Jessica. “And, since this is my second cup I think I
better come clean. Your mom was nice enough to ask if I would join her tonight. I said it would
make it a whole lot easier to find the stage if I did.” Jack thought Amy would be tickled to hear
he was possibly going on an ‘official first date.’

“I’m trying to extend a little courtesy to one of our house guests. That’s all,” Elizabeth
said, smirking at her daughter.

“Sure, Mom,” Jessica rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to Jack. “I’m glad she’s
taking you, on account you’re a ‘house guest.’” Jessica raised both hands, signaling quotation
marks. “My mom doesn’t go out for fun as much as she should.”

“Jessica!”
“Mom, you know it’s true. You’re always working. You never go out and have fun.”
“Who’s going to do what needs to be done around here if I go out and party all the time?
You? I don’t think so.”
“Anyway,” Jessica drawled, “I’m on fifth. Right after Jennifer Bingham sings, “On My
Own.”
“On My Own?” Jack needed to be thrown a life preserver.
“Uh, it’s from Les Mis,” Jessica said. “You know, it’s a Broadway Musical. Les
Miserable? You probably heard of the movie. It won a bunch of awards.”

226

Jack still didn’t get it. Living alone in the hills on a vineyard had its disadvantages, like
going to the movies or the theatre. He leaned over and whispered to Elizabeth. “I think we’d
better show up early.”

Jessica stood up from the table, grabbed an apple from the bowl and headed towards the
door. “I’ve got to run. I’m meeting Alison at the gym. Nice to meet you, Jack.” She turned and
smiled at Elizabeth. “I love what you did with your hair, Mom. Bye.”

###########
After breakfast Elizabeth wrote down the directions to the local hospital. She offered to
drive, but Jack thought it best he go alone.
He wanted to check the hospital to see if anyone knew or could remember Vera, and
hopefully point him in her direction. First, he wanted to make one other stop, returning to the
lake.
Once he was able to get the clunky rental truck to turn over, Jack traced his way back to
Warren’s neighborhood, parking two blocks from the beach. On foot, he followed a rugged path
cutting through the trees leading down to the lake. He walked more than a mile up and down the
rocky beach until he was fairly certain he’d pinpointed the position Tony Henderson claimed he
saw Merritt’s plane go down.
Scrutinizing the water conditions and distance of impact, Jack thought if the plane did go
down in the area Tony mapped out, it was indeed slightly possible Merritt could have swam to
shore. But, if he did survive the crash and the paralyzing cold swim, then what?
He turned his attention back to the forest.

227

The wooded area just above the beach was dense, undoubtedly abundant with wildlife.
Jack further appraised the possibilities of survival. If his dad was weak or injured he could have
easily fallen prey to the forest.

The lake or the woods, either way it didn’t look good for Merritt Kelley.
###########

Jack followed Elizabeth’s directions driving East on US-31 towards the airport, easily
finding the hospital with no trouble. He hoped he’d have just as easy a time finding out
something about Vera. It was a long shot, but he had little else to go on.

He didn’t fully appreciate how much of a long shot it was until he walked through the
hospital’s sparkling glass doors armed with only Vera’s first name, her approximate age, and
Aunt Betty’s disconnected phone number.

His hope all but disappeared.
The building looked brand new. Factoring in her approximate age, Vera surely would
have been retired long before this hospital was renovated. Jack looked at the young staff;
seriously doubting anyone would have been around to remember Vera.
“May I help you?”
Jack stepped to the help desk counter. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to trouble you, but I was
looking for a…”
“First time here?” The receptionist impatiently cut in.
Jack nodded.
The thin woman with short-cropped dark hair opened a small jar of blackberry jam and
took her time artfully spreading the jam across her morning bagel.

228

“How may I help you? Do you need directions or an office room number? You do have
an appointment?”

“No, I don’t, I…”
Again, she interrupted. “In that case you’ll need the clinic or emergency. Is it serious?”
“Is what serious?”
She set her bagel aside. “Sir, you’re in a hospital. I’m going out on a limb. I’m guessing
you might be in need of medical attention, or are you picking someone up?”
“Actually, I’m looking for someone.”
“Okay, now we’re making progress. You’re welcome to take a seat in the waiting area or
if you have their doctor’s office number I can direct you.”
“I’m looking for someone who used to work here. Maybe a long time ago?”
“Come again?”
“I’m looking for a nurse. She’s probably been retired ten or fifteen years now?”
“Is this a joke?”
Jack shook his head no.
“Sir, the sign on the counter says help desk, not miracle desk.”
“Please, is there any way you could check?”
“I don’t know if we have that information in the system. If we did, I don’t think I could
give it out.” The woman gave Jack the once over, head to toe. “You’re not the police. That’s for
sure. Are you a relative?”
“She’s my…she’s my great aunt,” he answered. He wasn’t sure he had the relationship
right, but it was close enough.

229

The woman looked down to her computer screen. “I shouldn’t be doing this. Last name?”
Jack was marginally embarrassed he couldn’t remember what his Grandma Margaret’s
maiden name was; so knowing Aunt Betty or Vera’s last name was out of the question. He
couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked his mother for it.
“Last name?” The woman repeated.
“Vera is her first name,” he sputtered.
The woman slid her glasses down her nose, eyeballing Jack. “That’s a very nice first
name. However, if I am to help you I’m going to need a last name.”
Jack exhaled and stared into space, wishing Aunt Betty’s phone number hadn’t been
disconnected.
“You don’t have one, do you?”
He fished his cell out of his pocket to call his mother and get a last name. The battery was
dead. No power.
“No, I don’t.”
“Sir, I’m sorry. I’m not going to be able to help you.”
“No, I suppose you’re not.”
Let down, Jack thanked the woman for trying, then took her advice and ordered from the
coffee kiosk with the large red and white checkerboard umbrella. He took a seat in the busy
waiting area to figure out what to do next.
Jack sipped black coffee, watching suffering patients methodically take a number. They
waited for what seemed like forever on a comfy red and purple sofa, until they were
miraculously summoned by an angelic looking nurse empowered with a mighty clipboard.

230

“Are you finished with that?” the janitor asked, gesturing to Jack’s paper cup.
Jack took one last swallow and tossed the cup into the garbage bag, thinking if the older
man had a guitar instead of a broom he’d fit right in with ZZ Top.
The janitor kindly nodded. Taking his own time he pushed the cleaning cart down the
corridor.
Jack followed him. There was something about the gangly man with the long white beard
suggesting he’d been with the hospital for a very long time.
“Excuse me,” Jack said, stopping the janitor at the elevator door. “Excuse me, sir, do you
have a minute?”
“Me?”
“Could I buy you a coffee, pastry or something?”
“You want to buy me a pastry?” he suspiciously asked.
“Have you worked here long?”
“Close to twenty years.”
“Yes. I’d definitely like to buy you a pastry.”
“Pastry…hmmm? I don’t think it would hurt to take my break early. I really don’t eat
pastry without having a cup a coffee,” said the janitor, pushing his cart to the side.
Jack followed Buffalo Bill Caldwell back to the coffee stand and ordered him a medium
coffee and a slice of lemon pound cake.
“If you’re wondering, my grandkids gave me the name. They were watching an old
western on the television, starring Joel McCrea or Rory Calhoun. They said I look like the guy,
so the name stuck. Could have been worse I suppose,” Bill said, taking a seat. “If they’d been

231

watching ‘Lord Of The Rings’ you’d be drinking coffee with Gandalf Bill Caldwell. That
doesn’t sound too cool, does it?”

“Do I call you Buffalo, or Bill? I’m kind of at a loss here.”
“Whatever you like.”
“Okay, Buffalo…Bill, I’m looking for a woman who worked here as a nurse, maybe
recently, maybe a long time ago, ten, fifteen years ago, maybe longer? Her name is Vera. I don’t
have a last name.”
“A good thing you narrowed it down. It makes searching my memory bank easier.”
Everyone’s a comedian, Jack thought.
Buffalo Bill stroked his long beard. “Vera? Let me think. Let me think. Nope. The name
doesn’t ring any bells.”
“Her mother’s name is Betty, if that helps.”
“Let me think. Let me think,” Buffalo Bill repeated. “Wait a minute. Oh, sure, I know
who you’re meaning. You’re looking for Ms. G.”
“Ms. G?”
“Ms. Vera Garner. She worked upstairs in the psych ward for years. I don’t know why
you’d want to go out of your way to find her. She wasn’t friendly to no one I know of. She
always kept to herself. That is, except with her patients. She loved every one of them like they
were puppies. It’s strange, you bringing her name up. Ms. G, she was here only a few weeks ago.
That’s how it came to me who you were talking about. She brought her sick mother in. I’m sorry
to say it didn’t go well for Betty.”
“Are you saying her mother just passed away?”

232

“Yes sir, I am,” Buffalo Bill lowered his head in respect.
“You knew Betty?”
“Sure I did. This is a small town. Back in the day, I’d see Betty Garner on the beach
every now and then, while I fished. I’d offer to let her use one of my poles, but fishing wasn’t
her thing, so we’d talk baseball. Baseball, now that was her thing. She loved them, Cubbies. She
was deep into stats, always kept track of who was pitching, who was being traded, things like
that. I never followed the sport so I didn’t understand her most times, but that was okay. I
thought she was a real nice lady. I think she thought I was okay too, maybe cause of my beard.
She said I looked like Robert E. Lee. At first, I didn’t know how to take that, Betty being a
full-blooded Northerner,” Buffalo Bill tugged his beard. “One of these days I ought to cut the
thing off, but I’m too dang afraid to find out what’s hiding underneath.”
“When was the last time you saw Betty?”
“Five or six months ago, I bumped into her in town. She was buying bulbs for her garden
over at Cold Stream Farm. We didn’t talk much. Now I wish I had. You know, sometimes it’s
like that. You see people never knowing it’s going to be the last. If I had known it was going to
be my last time with Betty, we would’a talked all day.”
“How long did you work with Ms. G?” Jack asked.
Buffalo Bill leaned back from the table, hesitant to answer. “Why? What do you want
with her? She owes you money, huh?”
“No, she doesn’t owe me money. She’s family. We’ve been out of touch. I’d like to find
her. That’s all.”

233

Buffalo Bill relaxed. “I see. Reaching out? That’s cool. I did a little of that myself a few
years ago. At least I tried.”

“You did?”
“I have a younger sister I lost track of. It wasn’t like we were at war with each other or
anything like that. At some undefined point in our lives she went left. I went right. Or, maybe it
was the other way around? Anyway, we lost touch. My wife saw it was bothering me, like a frog
on a windshield. She insisted I find my sister. She said I wouldn’t be happy until I did.”
“How did that turn out?”
“Not good. I got my sister’s phone number off the Internet. It’s the new yellow pages. I
called her up. She was thrilled to hear from me. She invited me to come see her in Miami Beach.
I trimmed my beard and drove down in my Buick Riviera. I rolled up right in front of her house,
put it in park, and stared in awe. It was the biggest, fancy rock star kind’a house I’d ever seen. I
think Bruce Springsteen or J.Lo owned the house next door. I sat there for a while, thinking
things over. I was intimidated. I put the Riviera in gear, stepped on the gas and kept on going.
That was a mistake. We’ve never talked since. I let my foolish pride get the best of me. I
shouldn’t have done that.”
Buffalo Bill scratched his beard, mulling things over. “If you want to find Ms. G, I can
tell you what I know.”
Jack flashed a grateful smile.
“I worked with Ms. G for about five years, maybe longer? She was one of those
brooding figures you pass in the hall and nod to, never thinking to engage in a conversation
because you’ve heard the stories about her. Besides who was I to her? Who was I to my sister?

234

Just an old man with a beard and a broom, that’s who,” Buffalo Bill took a deep lamenting
breath. His gentle smile quickly reappeared. “No need for me getting sentimental. I’m living the
good life with a wonderful family I love and who loves me back.”

“I’m sure they do,” Jack insisted.
“Thanks,” Buffalo Bill said. “Anyway, Betty and Ms. G live in the Hudson house out on
Lancaster Road, right off the beach. Well, not Betty, not anymore. I meant Ms. G. The house
used to belong to General Robert Hudson after the Civil War. You can’t miss it. It stands out in a
crowd. We might be able to talk Tracy, the gal at the help desk, into looking up Vera’s phone
number if you’re willing to part with a piece of lemon pound cake?”
“I can do that.”

###########
By the time Tracy finished her last bite, Vera Garner’s phone number was in Jack’s front
pocket and he was on his way.
Since Jack was close enough to the airport he thought he’d swing by to check on how
Bob was doing with the Baron.
“Glad to see you got your color back,” Walter teased, watering the one and only plant in
the front office. A potted cactus.
“It took a while.”
“You found the SeaGal, I heard.”
“I did.”
“Elizabeth said she took the afternoon off to show you around?”
“She did,” Jack answered, taking a seat.

235

“I don’t recall she’s ever done that for a guest.” Walter set down the copper water can,
returning to his post behind the counter.

“No?”
“No, I don’t think so. Are you something special, Jack?”
“I don’t think so, but if you want to check with my mother you’re welcome to.”
“Did Elizabeth take you by the Little River Casino?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think she would. She’s not much of a gambler. Keith, her ex, works there. He’s
a dealer. He wasn’t a good husband, but he’s a great dealer. I win off him all the time. If you
want to go, say the word. I’ll take you. It’s real nice. It’s not Vegas nice, not even Branson nice,
but it’s nice enough for us locals. They’ve got music, classic rock and country. Styx played there
just last month. The month before that they had a Journey tribute band, real good. Lead singer
sounded just like Steve Perry.”
“I don’t see how I could stay away.”
“Alright, that’s what I like to hear!”
“Walter, I didn’t see the Baron?”
“Bob rolled it into the barn.”
“The barn?”
“That’s what we call hanger three, on account it’s our oldest. We’re going to keep it till
the end of summer then we’re tearing the damn thing down and building a new one.”
Jack threw a concerned look.

236

“Don’t worry. Your plane is safe enough. Bob’s there now if you want to see how he’s
doing.”

“I’d like that,” Jack said, plugging a quarter into the gumball machine on the way to the
door.

“Swing by the office if you feel like a cup a coffee before you leave. I’d buy you drink
if…”

“If you weren’t on duty?”
“Right,” Walter said, grinning.
Jack followed the signposts to hanger three, the barn, finding Bob on a stepladder with
his hands inside the left engine.
“Interested? It’s blue.” Jack asked, holding out the candy in his palm.
Bob stepped down, wiped his hands and eagerly popped the blue gumball into his mouth.
“Thanks.”
“How’s it going?”
“I was just about ready to take a look. It’s been a busy morning.”
Jack glanced at his wristwatch.
“It’s old and has some wrinkles, but it’s a great plane,” Bob said, guiding his hand over
the Baron’s sleek fuselage. “An all-time classic in my book.”
“In mine too,” Jack concurred.
“How long have you had it?”
“It’s not mine. I’m borrowing it.”
“You could have done a lot worse.”

237

Jack had something on his mind and found it difficult to formulate a simple transition,
and just blurted out. “Bob, Walter was saying your dad worked here?”

Bob selected a crescent wrench from the toolbox. “That’s what the Boss said.”
“He didn’t say when?”
“Guess he didn’t think it was important. Is it important to you?” Bob said, returning to
the engine.
Jack chose to ignore the question, inspecting the other side of the plane.
Bob stopped momentarily, slipping the wrench into the back pocket of his overalls. “What really
brings you to town, Jack?”
Bob pulled out a flashlight from his side pocket of his overalls, shining it on the engine
mount. “Could it be that chances are my dad was on duty the day your father tried to fly across
the lake?”
Bob clicked off the flashlight, tossing it into the toolbox and turned to face Jack. “That’s
what you wanted to know, wasn’t it?”
“You know about the accident, then?”
“Word gets around.”
“Walter?” Jack guessed, playing a hunch.
“Jessica’s close to her Uncle Walter. She dropped by this morning with a friend. She
overheard you and Elizabeth talking. I put two and two together.”
“My mother said your dad was very helpful.”
Bob smiled. “He would have been. He was that kind of man.”
“I was hoping to talk with him.”

238

“Can’t do that. He’s passed away.”
Once again, just like Harvey, time had beaten Jack.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
“Did he ever mention my dad’s accident? He and my younger brother were flying across
from Oshkosh.”
“My dad rarely brought his work home with him. As you can imagine, he dealt with
accidents all the time. Your misfortune doesn’t stand out in my mind. Look, your dad wasn’t the
first pilot who tried and failed to cross. Hope you didn’t come all this way to be disappointed.”
Down but not out, Jack checked his cell phone, forgetting it had no power.
“Bob, I need to make a phone call, local. Do you have a phone I could use?”
“Local? I had the impression you didn’t know anybody in Manistee.”
Jack didn’t answer, letting Bob’s curiosity hang in the wind.
Jack followed Bob back to office. Walter led Jack through a door behind the counter
leading to a cramped office filled with file cabinets, charts, and logbooks. Vintage air show
posters hung on every wall.
“There you go,” Walter said, guiding Jack to the corner desk. “Take your time. I’ll be up
front. If you need anything just give me a holler.”
Jack waited for Walter to close the door, picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hello.”
“Is this Vera Garner?”
“It is.”

239

“Ms. Garner, I’m not sure how to start this…I’m Jack Kelley, Merritt’s son.”
Silence.
“Ms. Garner?”
“What took you so long to call, Jack?”
“You knew I was here?”
“Of course, I did. Let’s see. You landed a Beechcraft Baron 58. I hear it’s a marvelous
airplane. You’re staying over at the SeaGal. Right so far?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Small town, Jack. Word travels fast.”
So he’d heard, twice in one afternoon.
“What can I do for my second cousin once, twice, three times removed?” She asked.
“I was hoping we could meet.”
“Certainly. I would love to see you. I’d invite you to the house, but I’m having a small
renovation job done at the moment. It’s such a mess.”
“I understand. We could meet somewhere else. As a matter of fact I’m at the airport right
now. I could see about rustling up some sandwiches. We could have ourselves a picnic and
watch the airplanes take off. Does that sound okay to you?”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
As Jack was hanging the phone up, his eyes locked on to a poster tacked to the door. The
vintage poster listed the Air Show’s headlining performers. Halfway down the bill a name glared
at him. He turned his eyes to the other half dozen posters hanging in the office.
“Walter, could I see you?” Jack called out.

240

Walter knocked before entering his own office.
“Walter, please close the door.”
“Is this a private meeting?”
“No.”
“Good. For a second I thought I was being called into the boss’s office. Which
technically I am, so that didn’t really make much sense,” Walter related, curious as to what Jack
was up to.
“Walter, would you please turn around and take a look at the poster for me?” Jack asked,
motioning to the office door.
“Okay. What am I supposed to be looking for exactly?”
“I’m looking at the name of one performer. Do you know her, Four G Vera Garner?”
“Know her? Every pilot in the Great Lakes area knows of Four G Garner. She’s a legend.
Why do you ask?”
“I just got off the phone with her.”
“No you did not! Shut up! Are you putting me on? Did you really?”
“She’ll be here in an hour.”
“What! That’s impossible. I don’t think Four G has set foot on this or any other airfield in
almost twenty years. Are you kidding me, Jack?”
“I’m not. She’s family and one of the reasons I’m here. What can you tell me about her?”
“Shut up! Are you kidding me? How do you not know about Four G Garner?”
Jack waved his hands to get on with it.

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“Hang on a second,” Walter opened the door and called out. “Bob, get in here right now,
and I mean run!”

Bob didn’t run, but made good enough time. “Yeah?”
“Would you please inform Jack about Vera Garner?”
“Why?”
“Please, just do it.”
“Okay. Well for starters she was the youngest woman pilot to ever get her license in this
state, or at least this part of the state. If you don’t count Harriet Quimby, that is.”
Jack recalled Amy telling him that Harriet Quimby was a Manistee native and the very
first woman to ever get a pilot’s license in the entire United States in 1911.
Bob continued. “Legend has it when Vera Garner was a teenager she was down at
Moby’s hobby and game store looking at airplane models, and who walks in? None other than
WWI flying ace, Eddie Rickenbacker, in the flesh. She’s standing there, hypnotized by a model
of his biplane, the Nieuport 28. He gets such a big kick out of seeing this young girl holding a
model of his plane, he starts up a conversation, asks her what she’d like to do when she grew up.
She said she wanted to be a pilot just like him. He was so tickled he asked how old she was and
delighted to hear she was just old enough to get started. He paid for all her flying lessons and she
got her license in record time. It made all the state newspapers.”
Walter interrupted. “I can’t believe you didn’t know this?”
Jack in fact did know a little bit from his mother, and thought Walter would be very
surprised if he knew Eddie’s model airplane was now in the backseat of the Baron chocked in the
barn, hanger three.

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Bob proceeded. “She started out helping farmers, crop-dusting their fields. Then, before
she reached the age of twenty-two she became an aerobatic pilot, a barnstormer. She was
unbelievable, fearless and daring. She would do every single maneuver the other aerobatic pilots
would do, only better. Rumor has it she had this crazy routine where she’d put her biplane
through a plus four G-force in four minutes.”

“Thus the nickname, Four G Garner,” Jack cut in.
“That’s right,” Walter said. “My dad took me to the air shows just to see her. Who
knows? Maybe that’s why I have this job, why I love flying and everything that goes with it. She
was an inspiration for me and for all the pilots around here, men and women.”
Bob, trying to figure out what was the big deal, turned to look at Vera’s poster. “Okay, so
are you guys going to fill me in?”
“You better sit down, Bob,” Walter gloated. “Vera will be at OUR airport in less than an
hour.”
“What!” Bob said, parking himself comfortably on top of Walter’s desk.
“You heard me. She’s family of Jack’s.”
“No kidding,” Bob said. “Family?”
Walter nodded.
“Do either of you know why she stopped flying and became a nurse? How did that
happen?” Jack asked.
Walter raised his hands in the air. “Don’t know. Nobody knows. One day she just
disappeared from the circuit, or I should say, one summer. Everybody went to the air show
expecting to see her fly. She didn’t show. Same with the summer after that. Rumors started

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floating around she gave it all up for good to become a nurse. She vowed never to set foot in an
airplane or an airport again. Nobody ever dared to ask her why.

“Did you ever meet her?” Jack asked Walter.
“Never did. I always wanted to, but never had the opportunity. I think if I did I’d
probably be too nervous to talk with her.”
Jack patted Walter on the back. “In an hour you’re going to find out.”

##########
Jack borrowed a couple of folding lawn chairs from Walter, setting them up on the lawn
in front of the office.
He waited with Walter and Bob, who were as excited to finally meet the legendary pilot,
as he was anxious to meet his distant relative. He’d never heard of Vera Garner a month earlier,
but he couldn’t wait another minute to hear her stories about his dad, including the accident.
“Do we shake hands, hug?” He asked the tall woman wearing a navy-blue tracksuit,
masked behind her Oakley’s.
Vera chose neither, taking an uncomfortable chair.
“I knew your father,” she said bluntly, looking directly at Bob.
“You know who I am?”
“You’re Dale Evan’s boy, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry to hear he passed.”
“Thank you.”
“He raised you without a mother, didn’t he?”

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Bob nodded, leaving it at that.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Garner,” Walter said, clutching a rolled poster in both
hands.
“You want me to sign that?”
“Would you mind?”
“It would be my pleasure. I haven’t signed one of those relics in years.”
“Was it true, you really pulled four G’s, or was that just a gimmick to sell tickets?”
Walter timidly asked.
“What do you think?”
“I’d like to think everything I’ve heard about you is true.”
“Then you have your answer.” She winked, handing the poster and pen back to Walter.
Jack smiled.
“Why did you give it up? You were a star,” Walter asked.
She shrugged. “I had more important things to do.”
“What could have been more important than flying?”
“Helping people for one thing. I wanted to help people. Not perform for them.”
“So, you became a nurse.”
“So, I became a nurse.”
With autographed poster in hand, Walter and Bob politely said their goodbyes, allowing
Jack the privacy he was due.
“Sandwich, ice tea, celery or carrot stick?” Jack offered, thinking she may have been the
healthiest woman over seventy he’d ever seen.

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Vera waved off his invitation.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Jack said.
“The pleasure is all mine. You must have quite a few questions you’d like to ask
concerning Merritt,” she said, sliding her sunglasses upward to her long untouched silver hair,
revealing the bluest eyes Jack had seen since his father had disappeared.
“I do.”
“Good. I’d like to help you as much as I can. We are family after all,” she said with a
cheeky smile. “You know you look just like Merritt the last time I saw him. I think it’s the jaw
line. The hair is different of course. Merritt had a crew-cut, very out of style for today, but your
eyes are similar to his.”
“That’s funny. I was thinking the same about yours.”
Fidgeting, Vera impatiently brushed her pant leg. “You were? I guess people are just
people. We see what we want to see. Now that we figured out what we look like, where would
you like to begin?”
“I might as well ask the simplest question first, Vera.”
“Fire away.”
“Okay. What was he like when he was growing up?”
Vera squirmed a little, searching for a more comfortable position. “This might be hard for
you to take in. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I’m afraid I’m the wrong person to ask.”
“Wrong person? I don’t understand.”
“I knew you’d ask that question, it of course being the simplest. On my way here I was
trying hard to think of someone who might give you a better answer than I can. Merritt was

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pretty good pals with Hal Roberts, but Hal passed away years ago. Then there was David Kline,
he might be a good one to ask, though I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Vera. Why can’t you answer?”
“Because I didn’t know him. Not the way that would be insightful for you. Not the way
you might have expected.”
“What do you mean you didn’t know him? Mom said you and Dad were very close, that
you were practically raised together.”
“Barbara said that, did she?” Vera asked, not waiting for the answer. “That’s sort of true.
He did come to the house after school, but so did a lot of other boys and girls.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Jack, my mother worked from home. She had what today would be called a children’s
daycare. Sure, Merritt was family, in name. But we weren’t exactly what you’d call close. For
me he was lumped into the group with all the other kids my mother took care of.”
“A daycare?”
“Barbara didn’t tell you? He came to my house after school because both his parents
worked. I’m not even sure he liked being there, except to be around my mother. Merritt and
Mother, they were close. They had the special relationship, not Merritt and I.”
Vera the nurse could see Jack was in need of water and poured him a glass of tea, then
continued. “Barbara surely must have told you that Mother looked after Merritt since he was
born. Doing everything a mother would do for him, and doing everything his own mother,
Margaret should have done; helping him with his homework, taking him to baseball practice,
sometimes taking him to school, and even to the movies. He in turn would help in the yard like

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he was trying to be the big man of the house. It’s funny now that I think about it, even though he
had his own house, his own parents, I think he spent more time here than there. That’s what I
remember about Merritt. That Mother went out of her way to do things for him that she never
would have done for me. Yes, they were very, very close. He and I, not so much. He had his
friends; I had mine. That being said, sometimes our families would see each other, occasionally,
you know, for a Fourth of July picnic, a birthday party, and that was about it.”

Jack believed he might have stumbled upon a trace of jealousy.
“I’d like to help you, Jack, but I need to be honest with you. If you’re looking for
incredible stories to add to his unfortunate notoriety, I hate to disappoint you. Merritt blended
into the background like a thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby. He was nobody in particular,
and didn’t become anyone of special interest until the airplane accident. That’s what got him
noticed, that’s what defined him, the accident. Sadly, I don’t have any heartwarming stories to
tell you about when your father did this, or that. It was a long time ago. The only thing other than
the accident I vaguely remember is the day he left.”
“When was that?”
“When he met your mother, of course.”
Jack didn’t know what to say, realizing he’d never asked the simplest question a child
could ask their parents, how did they meet?
“Barbara never told you?” Vera shook her head. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“You tell me.”
“She lured him away from home. When he was twenty-three or four, he left a note on our
kitchen table. All it said was he met a girl out West. He was moving to be closer to her. That was

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it. He was gone. No other explanation was given. We didn’t hear from him for two years or
more. I didn’t care too much. He was a grown man. He could do whatever he pleased. But the
way he did it, his thoughtless spontaneity not only hurt his parents deeply, but crushed my
mother as well. They worried about him too much, or at least my mother worried about him too
much. I could have asked Merritt why he did what he did when he finally came back to visit
years later, showing off his wife and his new airplane. But I never did. No answer he could have
given me would have been good enough for what he put mother through. And, that’s it. I really
have nothing more to say about him. I hope I wasn’t too direct. I assumed you didn’t come this
far to hear fairy tales.”

“No, I appreciate your candor.”
“If you’d like to talk about something else I’d be glad to. Your grandparents, perhaps?
Have you been by the cemetery to see Dwight and Margaret?” Vera said, checking her watch.
“I never gave that much thought.”
“No? They were your family too.”
“I never met them. They died before I got the chance. I never had a connection. They
were on one coast and I was on the other.”
“Yet here you are with me,” Vera said. “Let’s make the most of it. I could show you
around Manistee if you like. But, I understand the sweet gal from the bed and breakfast beat me
to it?”
“You know that?”

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