Twin Engines

Jack slumped into his chair. “I don’t know anything more than you already know. The
plane went down due to engine failure. Dad transmitted his Mayday at 7:10pm. The plane has
never been recovered. Dad’s body was never found. If you ask my opinion I think he was
trapped inside the plane. I think he only had enough time to get Kevin out, but not himself.
Kevin was found a week later by a high school science teacher who was fishing from a beach in
Manistee.”

“Do you know the teacher’s name?” John asked, massaging his sore leg.
“No.”
“Does Barb have his name?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Do you think it’s important?”
Jack turned his chair, lifting John’s wounded leg onto his thigh and began to change the
bandage.
“I don’t think it would hurt to have it. Do you remember anything else?”
“One time Mom did mention there was another pilot who said he saw everything, but I
never asked her about that either.”
“What have you asked Barb?”
“Nothing, really.”
“Nothing! Are you kidding me?”
“We’ve never talked about it.”
“Never talked about it? The damn accident takes the lives of both your dad and brother
and you never talked about it with your mother. Why the hell not?”
“It became the elephant in the room.”

50

“The what?”
“The subject we both avoided discussing, and the matter I wish we were avoiding right
now.”
“Jack, you need to go talk to her.”
“You go talk to her,” Jack fired back.
John grinned. “You know I’m not on your mother’s good side.”
“Tell me why that is?” Jack said, easing John’s leg to the floor.
John chuckled. “You’ll just have to go and ask her why.”
“No.”
“No?”
Jack, frustrated, shot out of the chair, hands high in the air. “I’m done with this! I’m done
with emails! I’m done with fishing poles, and car keys! And, I’m really done talking about my
mom!”
“Sit down, sit down, Jack,” John ordered. “Hear me out.”
Jack grudgingly returned to his chair, avoiding eye contact like a schoolboy about to be
lectured.
“Since the crash you’ve done everything you could to steer clear of Barb. She’s your
mother. I know you’ve had your differences, but you’re both grown-ups now. You’re supposed
to work things out. Think about it, Jack, you’ve got questions; she might have answers.”
John paused, allowing Jack time to let the idea sink in, then continued. “Jack, don’t you
get it? This is your chance.”
“My chance?”

51

“Yes, to turn things around. This is your chance to reach out. You lost one parent. You
don’t need to lose two. I don’t mean to be critical, but look at you. You haven’t exactly done
yourself any favors by NOT talking to her. You live alone in the woods for crying out loud.”

“I grow grapes, John. It’s my business.”
“You grow grapes in the woods alone, miles from anyone. Who does that but hermits,
loggers and the occasional Unabomber? Jack, take a long hard look in the mirror. You don’t let
anyone get close to you. If they try, and I’m not naming names, you find a way to cut em’ loose.
You know what you’ve become, Jack? Disconnected. That’s what you are, disconnected. And
your wagon and everything in it, all hitches back to the accident and how you’ve dealt with it. If
you let this go, this chance, you’re never going to find resolution. You’ll never be at peace with
yourself, never heal. You need to go talk to Barb, and it’s not like you have all the time in the
world. One day she’s going to be gone too. If you don’t talk to her soon, and I mean right now, I
guarantee one day you’re going to regret it.”
Jack knew John was right. He couldn’t quite understand why, but he did everything he
could to avoid his mother. There was always immeasurable tension between them. After the
crash, when no words could be spoken, their relationship drifted apart until they both became
comfortable with the distance.

########
Jack called his mother first thing in the morning and booked a flight for California that
afternoon.
He arrived with an expensive bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape, which he bought at the
airport. She greeted him at the door.

52

“Come inside. We’ll see if it’s a good year. If you’re hungry I can make you a little
snack, but let’s not spoil your appetite before dinner. Jeffrey said he’d pick up salmon. You still
like salmon, don’t you? I can’t remember, maybe you never did.”

Jack detected a slight amount of anxiety weaving through her usually commanding voice.
She may have been just as nervous as he was.

“Sounds great, Mom.”
She seemed smaller, more delicate than the last time he’d seen her which wasn’t a couple
of decades as John suggested, but it had been a good long while.
Barbara Kelley stood five foot even, not counting the four to six inches of old-school
platinum blonde bouffant. She was chicly dressed in a professional looking dark blue pantsuit
and thin trendy red glasses.
“You’ll have to excuse the mess. I wasn’t expecting company. Next time do try and give
more than a six hour notice, won’t you?”
Jack reverently acknowledged the suggestion, and followed her through the sprawling
Spanish ranch home, noting it wasn’t a mess.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, looking about.
“I do what I can, living off a pension.”
Airplane décor dominated every room. Airplane paintings hung from every wall. There
were airplane statues, biplane drinking coasters and hot air balloon lampshades. Every object in
the house appeared to have something to do with flying.
Jack paused to take a closer look at a model replica World War I biplane prominently
displayed on the hallway table.

53

“You always loved that one,” Barbara pointed out. “So did your dad. It was his favorite.
He had it since he was a boy. It’s a replica of Eddie Rickenbacker’s Nieuport 28. A French
design, they only made three hundred of them. They were easy for the pilots to fly, but the
machine guns weren’t very reliable.”

“Remind me, who was Eddie Rickenbacker?” Jack had always been impressed with how
much his mother knew about airplanes and the pilots who flew them.

“He was the most famous American WWI flying ace. The model is hand-made out of
wood, cloth, glue and whatever. Just like your father’s,” Barbara smiled. “If you look closely on
the right side of the fuselage you’ll see Eddie’s autograph.”

Jack knelt, taking a long look. Beside the ‘Hat in the Ring’ squadron decal was Eddie
Rickenbacker’s signature scribbled in black ink.

“That model is what sparked your father’s interest in flying. His cousin Vera gave it to
him when he was a boy. I’ve been meaning to give it to you but never found the opportunity,”
she said, continuing to lead him through the living room.

He was pleasantly surprised to see the old family upright piano tucked neatly in the
corner near the bay window. It was the same piano his father used to pound on after a hard day
fighting fires. Barbara would faithfully prepare a gin and tonic and have it ready and waiting on
top of the piano for her husband to relax and unwind. Merritt only knew one song, but played it
perfectly: the Gershwin tune Jack had coincidently heard on the United Airlines flight earlier that
morning, ‘Rhapsody in Blue’.

Entering the kitchen Barbara handed Jack an airplane shaped corkscrew. He took a seat at
the table to uncork the bottle and was more than a little surprised to see an iPad on the counter.

54

He realized he may have underestimated his mother’s technological interest, but decided owning
an iPad and sending esoteric emails was still a giant leap, although he now had to reconsider his
brother’s involvement.

“How’s Jeffrey?”
“Your brother is doing just fine. He’s very busy with his work, but always finds the time
to help his mother,” Barbara answered with stinging finesse.
“Good. I’m glad he’s here for you.”
“Yes, so am I. And how is my only granddaughter? Amy must be what, ten?” She asked,
while assessing the contents in the refrigerator.
Jack appreciated the fact she knew darn well how old her only grandchild was, and
played along. “Twelve.”
“My, my. Where does the time go? It would be nice to see her before her wedding day or
before I …well, let’s not go there,” Barbara said with an exaggerated southern drawl she wasn’t
entitled to.
“Maybe I can bring her down sometime later this summer,” Jack offered, moving the
conversation along.
Barbara placed a plate of gouda cheese and crackers on the table and sat down across
from her oldest son. “These are for you. I’m gluten and diary free.”
“It’s good to see you, Mom,” Jack said, and he meant it.
Barbara poured a full glass of wine then drove straight to the point. “Okay, son, to what
do I owe this rare pleasure?”

55

Jack had rehearsed his opening statement over and over during the flight, trying to get it
just right. But now he was at a loss for words, staring down a slab of Tillamook cheddar on a
propeller-shaped platter.

“Come now, don’t keep your mother waiting. Out with it. You didn’t fly down here
without a reason. Do you need money, Jack, is that it?” she said teasingly.

He was stalling, apprehensive to unlock memories that would certainly be unpleasant for
her. Convinced he had no choice, as crushing as it may be, he had questions; she may have the
answers.

“Mom, do you realize you and I have never talked about it? The accident.”
She squeezed her fingers tight around her wine glass.
“No, we never have. I’m not seeing the need to start today.”
“It’s been twenty-five years. It’s time I hear what happened. From you.”
“I think I made myself clear. I don’t want to talk about it. Is there anything else I can do
for you?” She asked, rising from her seat.
Jack raised both hands, waving her to remain seated. “Mom. I’m serious. I need to
know.”
She dipped her nose, and raised her gaze above her glasses. “Why are you doing this,
Jack?”
His eyes glanced at the iPad on the counter. Now, seeing her face to face, he changed his
mind. He didn’t want to bring up the email, not if he didn’t have to, thinking it might only
complicate matters. He was only after her story. If he managed to connect her story with the

56

emails and the keys that would be a bonus, but decided he wasn’t going to push it. “I don’t know,
maybe because they never found his body?”

“What difference does it make now?” She said, attempting to assess his intentions. “Tell
me, Jack, what exactly are you hoping for?”

Hope.
Though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else, even after twenty-five
years he didn’t want to give up hoping. There was something inside he couldn’t let go. He
wanted, or needed to believe his father was alive, not dead. Though highly improbable, bordering
on impossible it was still a possibility. Merritt’s body had never been recovered. That singular
possibility created a fork in Jack’s road, an invitation to hope, making him too damn stubborn to
accept the truth. Hope, he thought… always the last stop before surrender.
She studied his face and then took a calculated guess. “Please don’t tell me you think
your father might still be alive.”
Jack didn’t give her a yes or a no. He reached into his pocket, mindlessly pinching the
two keys he’d brought.
Barbara wriggled in her seat, then took off her glasses, setting them on the table.
“Jesus, Jack. You do realize your father landed in water, right?”
Jack heard the preachy tone in her voice and knew she was just getting started.
“Let me explain something to you. Landing in water isn’t like landing in a forest where
you could pray to clip the wings between a couple trees or find a lovely meadow to set down in.
When you land in water you ALWAYS lose the aircraft. And, when you land in water at a high
speed, well, I don’t have to tell you what it’s like to belly flop in a pool. Keep in mind your dad’s

57

plane had fixed landing gear. The gear had to have dug into the water flipping the plane over
with a tremendous amount of force. And let’s say just for the fun of it your dad survived the
crash and made it out of the plane. Have you ever stopped to think about how cold the water is in
Lake Michigan? Let me tell you, it’s cold, freezing, even in the summer. He would have had to
fight certain hypothermia. And if he had wounds, which he certainly would have had…well,
blood doesn’t clot too well in the water, does it?” Barbara didn’t wait for an answer to her
rhetorical question, but softened her tone. “There’s something I think I should tell you before I
go any further.”

Jack nodded for her to carry on.
“Your dad was a fireman. He risked his life every time he walked out the front door to go
to work. He made it crystal clear if he were ever in a serious accident he wasn’t going to be a
burden to our family.”
“Meaning if it came down to it, to pull the plug.”
“We both agreed it would be best. He never had a good bedside manner.”
It was hard to listen to, but Jack understood.
“I truly believe if he survived the impact of crash, but severely injured, he would have
done everything in his power to go down with his ship. He didn’t want to live a life as an
invalid.” She stopped long enough to see if Jack was following. “Now, if you still have any
questions…?”
Jack pensively ran his fingers through his hair, took a deep breath and asked the one
question he longed to ask for twenty-five years. “Why did Dad fly over the lake?”
Barbara drained her wine glass, filling it right back to the rim.

58

“Beats the hell out of me,” she said flatly, as if it were obvious that was all that needed to
be said.

Jack leaned in, coaxing her to elaborate.
“Did John put you up to this?”
Jack tried his best to maintain a poker face, but his mother knew him all too well.
“The old coot,” she grinned, but just a little.
Jack smiled, hoping the ice was beginning to melt.
She nervously settled in her chair, making herself as comfortable as she could. “The
grand idea was that you and your dad would fly across the country to the Oshkosh air show in
the Cougar. Since we’d be going all that way, he thought we might as well go on to Manistee and
see his only living relatives, his Aunt Betty and Cousin Vera. Jeffrey and I would follow in the
car, driving to each destination along the way. We’d pick the two of you up at the local airports,
then drive to the motels together. Here’s where you come in.”
Jack braced himself. He had a rough idea what she might say next and didn’t want to hear
it, not from her, but he had to. There was no going halfway with this, not for her, not for him.
“You didn’t want to go with us,” she said, almost sounding accusatory. “You wanted to
stay behind and do who knows what. Your dad wanted YOU beside him, not Kevin. He thought
flying in a small plane for hours and hours would be too much for a thirteen-year-old. He didn’t
beg you to go, but he sure tried as hard as he could to convince you. But you wouldn’t do it. It
was more important for you to stay behind with your friends. No, he didn’t force you to go and
that put Kevin right in the passenger seat. YOUR seat, Jack.”

59

Jack lowered his head, knocking down a nickel of dried mud caked to his boot. He’d
accepted the blame for Kevin’s death a long time ago, only to discover accepting the blame
didn’t take away any part of the guilt. He knew very well he should have been on the plane, not
Kevin. He’d always wondered if his mother had blamed him.

She drummed her knuckles on the table. “Hold your head up. I’m not saying it was your
fault. We all know you didn’t cause the accident. You were just a kid yourself, not much older
than Kevin. No matter which one of you was in the passenger seat, at the end of the day I was
still going to lose a son.”

A cold silence overtook the room until Barbara was ready to continue.
“Your dad was going to take off from the field in Oshkosh, Wisconsin and fly North over
the top of the lake and land in Manistee. Not fly across the lake like a damn fool.
“What?”
The first bullet fired.
“I thought Dad was going to fly around the South of the lake?” Jack muttered.
“I don’t know where you got that idea. His plan was always to fly to the North. I was
doing something, I can’t remember what, but I was preoccupied. Your dad sent Kevin over to me
to get the life preservers. We brought along the small sailboat, attaching it to the top of the van.
Anyway, I didn’t think anything of it at the time, so I gave Kevin two life preservers.”
Bullet Two.
“Dad had it in his mind all along he was going to fly over the lake?”
“No, I don’t think so. I think at the last minute he remembered we’d brought the
preservers. He must have thought since we had them, might as well throw them into the cockpit.

60

Then again, who knows? Maybe he did intend to save time and fly across all a long. The only
thing certain is he did it; and that’s the one thing I just can’t let go of and never will forgive. Not
after what happened the first time we did it. He promised me he’d never do it again.”

Bullet Three.
Jack felt like he’d been cracked upside the head. “What are you saying? You’d flown
across the lake before?”
Barbara nodded. “Of course we did. When your Grandma Margaret died. You knew
that.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Sure you did. You must have forgotten. We left you kids with the Grahams for a couple
of weeks during the summer.”
“I remember you went to Grandma’s funeral. I thought you took a commercial flight.”
“No, your dad insisted on flying the Cougar. He imagined it would be a great experience,
an adventure. I think he just wanted to show off a little to his relatives.”
Jack nodded.
“Anyway, he was right,” Barbara, continued. “We did have the best time, right up until
we reached the lake, then that was it for me. I was scared to death. I had my head buried in my
lap the whole time we were over the water. Your dad felt awful. He thought I’d love the view.
The moment he saw just how terrified I was, he admitted he wasn’t thinking and had made a
completely irresponsible mistake. He said he wouldn’t blame me if I didn’t talk to him for the
rest of the week. I said try a year. But I couldn’t stay upset with him if I tried. I never could. He

61

was the kind of man who wasn’t afraid of anything. He was a fireman after all, completely
fearless, and sometimes being fearless leads to disastrous consequences.”

Jack nodded, fully agreeing with his mother.
She continued. “Here’s something you may not know. When you fly across the lake
you’re supposed to radio the tower every ten minutes and let them know your approximate
location and situation. Your dad didn’t do it the first time we flew across.”
“And he didn’t do it the last,” Jack cut in.
“No, he didn’t.” Barbara answered methodically, like she was replaying the scene in her
mind.
Jack peered into his mother’s eyes and understood; she needed to finally get her side of
the story out to him, just as much as he needed to hear it.
She continued. “They took off a little after six o’clock. I’m not certain of the exact time
because Jeffrey and I had to leave before they did, to make the last ferry to Manistee.”
“I thought you drove around the lake?”
“Why would I have done that? It would have taken more than twice as long.”
“No, it makes perfect sense,” Jack agreed. “I just had it in my mind all wrong.”
“Am I helping?”
“You are. Please, go on.”
“Jeffrey and I made it across and were waiting outside the airport office with your dad’s
cousin, Vera.”
“Vera, the cousin who gave him the model airplane?”

62

Jack had rarely heard his father speak about his side of the family. Occasionally Merritt
would talk about this person or that, but he couldn’t recall ever hearing about a cousin Vera.

“That’s the one. Vera is Aunt Betty’s daughter.”
“I remember Dad’s Aunt Betty. She was at Kevin’s funeral.”
“That’s right, Aunt Betty was there.”
“I don’t remember Vera.”
“She was invited,” Barbara vigorously insisted.
“But she didn’t come.”
“No, she chose not to. Aunt Betty had some excuse for her. I don’t remember what it
was. To be honest, I didn’t miss her. In fact, I was relieved Vera didn’t make it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. She just got under my skin. I’d only met her once face to face at your
Grandma Margaret’s funeral. Sometimes I’d have to talk briefly to her on the phone whenever
she called your dad. I don’t know why, but it almost seemed like she was competing with me.
She always made these digging remarks, trying to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough for
him. They were practically raised together, you know. He was like the big brother she never had.
Maybe that had something to do with it.”
“Raised together?”
“You w​ ere​ kept in the dark, weren’t you, sweetie?”
“That’s why we’re talking.”
She paused long enough to take a sip of wine. “Aunt Betty was your Grandma Margaret’s
younger sister. She looked after Merritt during the day while Margaret worked at a dental office.

63

Margaret didn’t want to be away from home, away from Merritt, her only child, but Aunt Betty
convinced her to keep working by promising she’d take the better care of Merritt than any
babysitter. Money was tight in those days. Working in the dental office was a good paying job.
Your Grandpa Dwight had a job selling logging trucks, but it wasn’t enough. Margaret’s extra
income helped the whole family.

Vera was a few years younger than your dad and also an only child. According to him
they were inseparable, closer than two peas in a pod. Merritt said she was a real tomboy, a
hellcat to be precise. Apparently she had no problem getting them into trouble, and often, and it
always fell on him to get them out of it. On the other hand, she watched out for him like a mother
hawk. He told me one time he was sick with pneumonia or something serious. Vera stayed with
him night and day, never leaving his room, watching out for him, making sure he wasn’t
disturbed, making sure everyone did EXACTLY what the doctor ordered. She was so caught up
in protecting him she ignored her own health and became sicker than he was. They ended up
sharing a hospital room.”

“What about Aunt Betty’s husband, Vera’s father? Where did he fit in?”
She shrugged. “Not much to tell about him. He died in a car accident right after Vera was
born. That made the decision to keep on working easier for Margaret. She figured Merritt would
have a playmate, and it would be good for her sister, Betty, keeping her busy, easing her pain
from losing a husband.”
Barbara needed a break and made her way to the refrigerator, returning with two tall
glasses of sparkling water with lemon. She took her seat, then picked up where she left off. “I
really don’t know too much about your dad’s family history. He was never forthcoming about his

64

roots. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of his family, but he never volunteered to tell stories about
his upbringing either. Anyway, where was I? We’re getting way off track. My memory isn’t
what it use to be.”

“You were waiting at the Manistee airport with Vera,” Jack reminded her.
“Yes. We waited at the airport for the longest while, then waited some more. I wasn’t too
worried at first because your dad was a good pilot. I thought if they got caught up in a storm they
might have landed at another airport to wait it out. Then way too much time had passed. Your
dad still hadn’t called or radioed to let us know what was happening. Sunlight was slipping away
and in another half hour it would be dark. Then it hit me in my gut, real hard. I knew something
was horribly wrong. I felt like vomiting. I stepped inside the airport office, which wasn’t much
bigger than a tollbooth. I remember thinking it was such a small airport, and that they weren’t set
up for anything more complicated than keeping gas in the tanks and checking the local weather. I
asked the airport supervisor on duty if he’d heard anything. He was a hulk of a man, bald with a
large black, handlebar mustache, real silly looking in my opinion. His name was Dale. I
remember his name because his last name was Evans, just like Roy Rogers’ wife. I thought that
must have been a hard name for a man to be toting around for a lifetime. Anyway, Dale said he
hadn’t heard anything concerning, but said he could place a call to the District FAA office. He
disappeared into the back office and I didn’t see him again for at least forty minutes. When he
came out, the look on his face said it all. There had been one Mayday call. A rookie air traffic
controller on duty dismissed it as a prank, since the message didn’t include the appropriate
heading. The controller heard Merritt say, 11717. According to FAA rules and regulations it

65

should have been announced as N11717. If calls were not specific they were dismissed. Merritt
forgot the N.”

“N” Jack’s heart skipped. He had a possible connection. The last email sent to his
computer may have had something to do with identifying Merritt’s airplane or something having
to do with the Mayday call.

“Yes, ‘N’. Does that mean something?” She asked.
“Maybe, let me think about it for a bit.”
Barbara continued. “Search and rescue crews, which were minimal to say the least, were
sent out, but it was too late. It was already dark. There was nothing I could do but wait with
Jeffrey, alone, until morning.”
“Alone, didn’t Vera stay with you?”
“No. The moment we were told the plane went down in the lake she left immediately. It
was too much for her.”
“She just left you there?”
“She bolted, leaving me stranded. She may have been everything peaches and cream to
your dad, but not to me. Dale Evans, the airport supervisor helped me find a cheap motel nearby.
The rescue teams resumed the search early the next morning. A Coast Guard helicopter
was sent out hoping to find debris floating in the lake or washed up on the shore. I was on the
phone all that morning, calling family and waiting it out, hoping somebody saw something,
hoping Merritt and Kevin made it to shore, hoping it was all a bad dream and I’d wake up and
everything would be okay.”
Barbara drew a deep breath, held it for a few seconds then let out a forceful sigh.

66

“Aunt Betty met me at the airport later that afternoon and turned out to be a rock for me.
She was the strongest, most stoic woman I ever met. I don’t know what I would have done
without her. She kept me focused on what I needed to do, instead of getting caught up in my
emotions. She had me give a detailed description of what Kevin and Merritt were wearing, not
only to the police but to the media as well, in case anybody came across something on the beach.
She looked after me, making sure I ate. I felt so guilty. I knew Aunt Betty was torn up inside just
as much as I was. Like I said, she practically raised Merritt. Days passed with no news until the
end of the week, when a body turned up.”

“Do you need a minute, Mom?”
Barbara didn’t acknowledge his question.
“They had me go to the morgue to identify a body they’d found washed up on the shore. I
asked why, it couldn’t have been Merritt or Kevin because the accident happened miles out.
They insisted I come in anyway to be sure. It was just like you see in the movies. The coroner
along with a deputy policeman brought me in to this stale, awful-smelling room that reminded
me of my high school science class. The coroner instructed me not to let my emotions get the
better of me, to take my time and look as long or as short as I needed to be certain, but that I had
to be a hundred percent certain. Then he pulled out a long drawer from the wall. I saw Kevin’s
green tennis shoe poking out from the bottom of a sheet. I felt my legs start to buckle. Someone,
who I don’t remember, it might have been the policeman, caught me and propped me up. I said I
didn’t need to see anymore. It was Kevin. I think it was the coroner who said I had to identify the
face. I said no, I didn’t need to, I was positive it was Kevin, but they insisted I look. He pulled
the sheet back and I saw Kevin’s face. My little boy looked like he was sleeping. He was

67

bloated, bruised, had a patch of black and purple dried blood on his forehead, and still had on his
orange life preserver. But, somehow he also looked peaceful.”

“Anybody hungry?” Jeffrey asked, bursting into the kitchen with two stuffed grocery
bags.

Barbara instantly eased up, comforted to see her youngest son.
Jack stood to greet Jeffrey, wondering how much his brother overheard before barging in.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the return of my big brother. Hell has indeed frozen over,” Jeffrey
said, setting the bags on the counter, taking notice of the iPad, as did Jack. It was the first time
Jack was able to get a clear view of the image on the screen, a photo of the Cougar, his father’s
airplane. Jeffrey switched it off, and flashed a toothy grin. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting?”
“Of course not. Mom and I were just getting caught up,” Jack said, his eyes lingering on
the iPad.
Jeffrey drifted into a position facing Barbara. “Yes, I can see she’s been thoroughly
enjoying herself.”
If Barbara didn’t sneer, she came close to it.
A buzzy sound went off in Jeffrey’s right front pocket.
“Sorry,” he said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a cell phone. “I’ve got to take this.
It’s a client. Go ahead and sit down. I’ll be just a minute.”
Jack took a long, measuring look at his younger brother. Jeffrey was now a man in his
late thirties with a thinning light brown hairline, just a little shorter than Jack, and very trim and
healthy looking. And while Jack was wearing his nicest blue plaid flannel and blue jeans, Jeffrey
was wearing a smart dark blue suit conducting business through his cell.

68

“Jeffrey was just promoted,” Barbara proudly whispered to Jack. “He’s now a senior
member at the agency, specializing in social media, web campaigns, that sort of thing. Your
basic big shot.”

“You don’t say,” Jack said, considering his brother with a fresh pair of eyes. Jeffrey
could have easily sent a stealthy email. But why would he?

Finishing his call, Jeffrey poured a glass of wine and joined his family at the kitchen
table, helping himself to a slice of cheese. “How long are you staying, Jack?”

“I’m catching a flight tomorrow afternoon.”
“In and out. I guess mom and I should consider ourselves lucky you’re at least spending
the one night. I hope we can make the most out of it.”
“I’d say we’re off to a pretty good start,” Jack said, glancing at Barbara. She agreed.
Jeffrey excused himself to wash up. When he returned twenty minutes later he looked
significantly more like Jack, wearing flannel and jeans.
Jeffrey, thrilled to have his older brother back, raised his glass. “A toast,” he announced.
“To the Kelley family reunion. Be what it may.”
The Kelley family clinked glasses and for the first time in many years, laughed together.
With Jack’s help, Barbara prepared the salmon and they spent the next several hours
eating and catching up. Jeffrey explained his job in detail, including his new promotion. And
Jack told them about his recent trip. That he’d been up to see the family house on Seminole
Road, and didn’t immediately recognize it. He told them about his visit with the Grahams,
passing along Mrs. Graham’s open invitation to tea and church, and couldn’t wait to tell Jeffrey
what had become of the forest and the tree stump where they had played as children.

69

After a long dinner, Jeffrey suggested they move into the living room to play cards.
Barbara and Jack sat together on the white Italian sofa, while Jeffrey pushed in a chair,
then pulled out a deck of playing cards. Over the years since the accident, their modified
three-person version of Nine Card Don had become the Kelley family game. Though due to
Jack’s absence they rarely played.
Jeffrey dealt, while Barbara readied the pen and paper.
It was clear right from the start Jack’s attention wasn’t on the game. His eyes kept darting
to the piano in the corner.
“It hasn’t been touched,” Jeffrey said.
“Sorry?”
“The piano, Jack, you seem to be mesmerized.”
“I didn’t know you still had it.”
“We kept it in storage until six months ago,” Barbara said, gazing at her hand.
“I can’t help but think of Dad when I see it,” Jack said.
Jeffrey laid down his cards and sauntered over to the piano. “Yeah I know, me too.
Maybe that’s why I had Mom keep it in storage all these years. I didn’t need the constant
reminder. Besides, it’s not even in tune. It sounds as tinny as a Dutch organ grinder. Neither
Mom nor I can play the damn thing, so what’s the point? All the same, I thought I’d better move
it inside before the termites polished it off.” He lifted the piano lid, and hammered one black key.
A low note resonated, filling the room demanding Jack and Barbara’s attention. “Jack, I’ve got to
ask.”
Jack folded his cards, and waited for it.

70

“When I came home today it looked like you were winding Mom up. If you came here to
interrogate her, don’t.”

“It’s Okay, Jeffrey,” Barbara cut in. “You don’t need to concern yourself. I can handle
your brother and everyone else without your help. Now, sit down so we can play cards.”

“But, Mom...”
“You heard me. Sit.”
Not pleased, Jeffrey obeyed his mother. He closed the piano lid and returned to his chair.
“I want to wait a minute on the cards?” Jack said. The time had come. “I want to talk to
both of you.”
His stomach was in knots but ready to say what he’d held inside for too long. He turned
to his brother and went for it. “Jeffrey, you might have been too young to remember there once
was a time when we were a family, a real family.”
Jeffrey pulled back a little and crossed his arms. “My memory is just fine, Jack,” he said,
sounding defensive. “My memory is so clear I remember I was in Michigan with my family. And
you weren’t. Even though you had the opportunity.”
“Let him speak, Jeffrey,” Barbara said, taking a guess where Jack was heading.
Jack shifted forward to the edge of his seat. “Mom lost her husband and a son, and we
both lost a brother, all in one single tic on the clock. There’s no self-help book out there to show
you how to handle the rest of your life. Everyone handles grief in his or her own way. My way,
at night when I lay down to sleep, I take all that misery, all the memories, and I push them as far
out of my head as they can go. The problem is every morning I wake up, and the sting of the bee
is still there. The grief, it never goes away for me, not for one single day. Because of the accident

71

there’s been no resolution, no closure in my life. I’ve found myself living each and every day in
a disconnected world, and I’m sick of it. I’m guessing the same might be true for the both of you.
I think about what my life would have been like if Dad and Kevin had lived, what we, as a
family could have done together. What we would have built together instead of going our
separate ways. I’ve kept my distance from you and I know that hurt you. I was being selfish. I
put up a wall to guard my feelings, not facing the only two people in the world who were going
through the same experience I was. Mom, I know I was supposed to be on the plane, not Kevin. I
think if I had, maybe all of this would have turned out differently; that Kevin might still be here.
Maybe Dad would have made it out of the plane and we could have swum to shore. I don’t
know. What I do know is, if I could change things I would have been sitting next to Dad on that
plane.”

“Are you finished with the guilt trip?” Jeffrey said, dismissively.
Jack dropped back into his chair.
“Jack, it was an accident. You don’t have the right to feel any guiltier than I do. You
didn’t know Dad was going to fly across the lake. And you couldn’t have known the engine
would give out. It’s not your fault.”
“Exactly what I told him, Jeffrey,” Barbara chimed in.
“As far as what happened later, the way I see it, you were there for me right after the
crash.” Jeffrey said in his ‘Let bygones be bygones’ way. “I haven’t forgotten, Jack. You were
going to go off to college, but you stayed. You sacrificed your dream of going to a good school
to be there for me. Sure, you pulled away later, but you were there when I needed you most,”
Jeffrey said, looking at his older brother with both appreciation and admiration.

72

Barbara listened to her two boys, agreeing with both of them. “Jack, I have something I
want to give you. I think might help.”

Barbara left, returning a few minutes later with an old Thom McCann shoebox, placing it
down on the coffee table in front of Jack.
“I don’t know what you’re looking for. But, maybe you will find some answers here.” Barbara

opened the box pulling out a stack of maps, receipts and letters.
“Everything I saved from that time I kept in this box. There’s the map I carried showing
your dad’s flight route, the hotel receipts where we stayed, the official statement from the FAA
and the petition for your dad’s death certificate. I wrote down the names of some of the people
we met along the way and some I wish I had spoken to, including the name of the rookie traffic
controller who was on duty that day. It’s everything I have.”
Jack picked through the pile in front of him. He was impressed and grateful, but noticed
there was one item missing.
“Where’s the tape?”
“Tape?” Barbara asked.
“The Mayday tape. I remember you once said you had a copy. I don’t see it in here?”
“I threw it away.”
“You did what?” Jack roared.
“You heard me. I threw it away. I was never going to listen to it, so I threw it in the
trash.”
Jack turned to Jeffrey. “Did you listen to it?”

73

“No, he didn’t” Barbara quickly answered before Jeffrey had the chance. “I wouldn’t let
him.”
“Why not?”

“He was too young. It would have been too hard for him. Maybe you don’t understand,
but that’s how it is,” Barbara sharply answered.

“Weren’t you curious?” Jack pointedly asked Jeffrey.
“Of course I was. But you didn’t see how Mom was from one day to the next. If she
wanted the tape gone, it was hers to throw away.”
Jack backed away from the small pile of papers and put his hands on his knees.
Barbara read the disappointment on Jack’s face. “The tapes not in there. But there’s
something else you might be particularly interested in. Something even better than the tape,”
Barbara said, regaining Jack’s attention. “The Mayday reported your dad to be twenty miles out
from shore. There was another pilot up in the air that day who contradicted that statement.”
Jack leaned in.
“He claimed he saw your dad’s plane much, much closer to the shoreline. The FAA
ignored this witness’s claim, suggesting he was only out to make a fast buck, trying to sell a
story to the newspapers. At the time, I begged the FAA to look into it. They said there wasn’t
enough cause to dip deeper into their budget. Merritt radioed stating he was twenty miles out. So,
that was that.
I found out years later the pilot who made the claim was high on drugs or something, and
that supported the FAA investigation. But, if it had been true, then it would make perfect sense
why the Cougar has never been recovered. They would have searched the wrong spot. The

74

pilot’s name and phone number is written down on a post-it note. Though, if you do talk to him I
don’t know how much I would believe. It’s up to you if you want to waste your time on him.”

Jack didn’t respond. He collected the papers and put them back in the shoebox. Now it
was his turn to show them something. He fumbled in his pocket and placed the keys on top of the
shoebox.

Jeffrey waited for an explanation, while Barbara looked as if she’d seen not one, but two
ghosts.

“Where did you get these, Jack?” She asked.
“Special delivery, a couple days ago.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know. There was no note, no return address.”
“Where’s the key ring?”
“No key ring.”
“Does anybody want to clue me in to what the hell is going on here?” Jeffrey said, his
eyes darting between his mother, his brother and the keys.
“They’re your father’s Jeffrey,” she answered, picking up the tarnished key, holding it up
to the light. “This is the key to our house on Seminole road.”
Jeffrey picked up the other key.
“That’s to our Ford van,” she asserted.
“Are you sure?” Jack asked.
“Sure enough.”

75

“Wouldn’t Dad have had his keys on him, even while he was flying? That would put
them at the bottom of Lake Michigan,” Jeffrey pointed out.

“I guess he could have left them behind at the house. There was no need for him to bring
them since I was driving and had my set.”

“They might look similar, but I’m not buying it,” Jeffrey strongly objected. “I’d put
money on someone pulling an elaborate prank, Jack,”

“Why would anybody want to do that?” Jack asked, noting his brother just put the idea of
pranks on the table.

“I don’t know, for the money, maybe? Think about it. By all appearances, you with your
grapes on that rich soil, you look like a potential target. What’s more likely is somebody wants
you to believe Dad is still alive. Which is impossible. Or, they’re trying to get you to believe
they know something worth paying for.”

Barbara placed the keys back in the palm of Jack’s hand and squeezed. “I know there’s
that piece of you that so desperately wants to believe your dad might still alive, and if these were
really his keys they would fuel that dream. But I think Jeffrey is right.”

“Mom, you just said these were his keys. You were sure of it.”
“I can’t afford to get caught up in this. I just can’t, Jack. Besides, keys are keys. Who can
really tell one from the next?”

########
Sleep was impossible.
Jack ran the idea over and over in his mind.

76

A trip to Manistee had to be the next step. With a shoebox full of information he now had
what he needed to repeat his father’s journey. And with a little luck he might discover something
new about the accident. More importantly, this was his chance to find out what kind of man his
father was as a person.

There was only one problem.
Over the years, Jack had talked himself into a minor fear of flying. He didn’t stay totally
on the ground as John had suggested, but only flew the bare minimum when he had to, to keep
his flying license current. He never found the burning desire to take flight he’d seen in his father.
So, why bother to get the license in the first place? Because he thought it was expected, to keep
the Merritt Kelley legacy alive.
He tossed and turned and was about to let his trepidation derail his new adventure, then
had an idea. John could fly the Baron while he navigated.
Jack was positive John would love the idea.
With that being settled Jack closed his eyes, hopeful to get a few hours’ sleep. But,
something else kept gnawing at him. The piano. He couldn’t get the old upright piano out of his
head. The memories were too vivid. Waking up in the early morning seeing his father sitting on
the piano bench wearing his fireman’s uniform, soiled from the night before, running his fingers
over the piano’s blemished keyboard. He remembered watching the serenity in his father’s half-
moon smile. Jack understood the smile. His father was happy to have made it through one more
fire, returning safely home to his family, one more time.
Jack quietly slipped into the living room to take a closer look at the dilapidated
instrument.

77

He swept his palm over the top of the old upright as if he were trying to lift every note
that had ever been played. Then he carefully flipped the lid back, inspecting the faded ivory
keys. Some were chipped. Some were stained. All were damaged in one way or another. The
entire piano was in horrible shape, which wasn’t surprising. It had always been in horrible shape.
The piano was never intended for serious music. Merritt bought it from a woman, a single
mother of three, who’d lost everything in a house fire. He wanted to help her, paying her more
than what it was worth. The piano represented something more than music to Merritt, it meant
another day.

Jack watched the morning sun break across the room like a silver bullet, striking a small
metallic cube on the piano’s top right corner. It was a rusty latch.

Jack had spent an hour examining the piano from top to bottom, not thinking to look
inside.

He pressed his thumb against the small square.
It wouldn’t budge. The fragment of metal had decomposed into the wood sealing the top
of the piano.
Hunching over the piano to gain leverage, Jack tried with all his might to pry it open. He
heard a small pop and watched the brass latch fall apart onto the white carpet.
He cracked the top lid open as if he were a gravedigger, coughing as he inhaled its dust.
Poking inside, he explored the instrument’s internal mechanisms, running his fingertips
over the corroded vertical copper coiled strings, counting the green and red felt tipped pads and
wooden hammers.

78

Jack closed his eyes, feeling his father’s soul pump through each string, hearing him play
the Gershwin song. He stuck his arm inside to dig deeper as if the piano were buried treasure,
discovering something that didn’t belong. Lying close to the bottom, caught between the thick
copper bass strings lay an envelope.

Jack bent the strings upwards as far as he could; twisting his fingers underneath between
the gap of sharp metal hinges, screws and hardware, hooking the yellow paper like a fish with his
pinky.

He freed the envelope from its hiding place and tapped it across his left thigh, creating a
small dust cloud.

The envelope contained four documents.
Jack delicately unfolded and read the first document, the marriage license of Merritt’s
parents, Dwight and Margaret Kelley.
The second document was an application for adoption of a nameless child through the
Manistee County, Michigan courthouse.
The third document announced the legal adoption of Neil Merritt to Dwight and Margaret
Kelley, and the last document stated the official name change of Neil Merritt to Merritt Kelley.
Merritt had been adopted AND his first name began with the letter N.

##########
“You’re up early. Did you make coffee for both of us?” Barbara asked, heading straight
for the fridge.
Jack didn’t respond; his eyes fixed on the documents that were spread across the kitchen
table like a royal flush.

79

“I’m sorry sweetie. Am I disturbing you?” She said provokingly.
“Mom, did you know Dad was adopted?”
Barbara wasted no time moving to the table, leaving the fridge door wide open. “I’m
sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“Yes Mother, you did.”
“Enough is enough!” She shot. “I’m already regretting giving you the shoebox.”
“Take a look at these,” Jack said, thrusting Merritt’s adoption papers into her hand.
“I don’t have time for nonsense.”
“Mom, sit down and take a look,” he demanded.
“Don’t take that tone with me. I’m still your mother,” Barbara rolled her eyes, pulled up a
chair beside her son and adjusted her eyeglasses.
“Where did you get these?” She asked.
Jack nodded to the living room, directing her to the disassembled piano. “They were
hidden inside.”
Barbara read every word on every line on every page of every document, over and over
as if she were an IRS accountant. “He never said a word, I swear. I had no idea.”
“There’s no mention of who his birth parents were, anywhere. Only that he was adopted
by the Kelley’s,” Jack said.
“No, there wouldn’t be, would there? Privacy issues.”
Jack nodded. “Are you still in touch with Aunt Betty or her daughter, Vera?”
“No. I haven’t talked to Merritt’s Aunt since the accident,” Barbara said, flipping through
the pages.

80

“Really?”
“Trust me. I tried reaching her several times. She never returned my calls. Even though
she helped me while I was there, once I left and came back home I got the feeling she blamed
me, like it was my fault, like I was the one who told your dad to fly over the lake. I gave up
trying to contact her years ago. As far as I know she might have passed away by now.”
Jack drifted to the counter and poured her a cup of coffee. “So then you haven’t kept in
touch with Vera either?”
“No reason too. There was just that first night at the airport when we found out about the
accident. I told you she bolted. I never saw her again.”
“Why not? You were there for a week.”
“Aunt Betty said Vera was taking it real hard, that she was trying to get her act together
enough to try and see me before I left, but time ran out. I couldn’t wait forever. I had my boy to
bury. I left without saying as much as a goodbye to that woman, which was just fine with me. I
don’t ever need to see or hear from Vera again. But, Jack, you should try to find them, talk to
them. They’re your family too. I don’t think they can hold any misgivings towards you. It’s a
long shot, but they may know something about his adoption. They might even know something
about the keys. If they’re still around that is. It’s been so long anything could have happened to
them. Like I said, Aunt Betty could have died. Vera could have married and moved away. But
you’re welcome to try. Aunt Betty’s address and phone number, they’re in the box with the
maps.”

######
After a long breakfast, Jack was rushed to make his return flight.

81

He quickly collected his overnight bag and the shoebox. And, as a special gift, Barbara
carefully packaged the Eddie Rickenbacker model for him to take.

When he was finally ready Barbara and Jeffrey walked him to the car.
Jack tossed the bag and the shoebox in the back and set the model beside him on the
passenger seat. He started the ignition, and rolled down the driver window to say goodbye.
As Jack was pulling out of the driveway, Jeffrey flashed his toothy grin and called out.
“Hey, Jack. Keep her cool in the motor pool!”

#########
“It’s really Eddie Rickenbacker’s autograph, for real?” John asked, inspecting the model
biplane Barbara had given Jack.
“Mom said Dad’s cousin Vera met Eddie at a hobby store while he was passing through
on the lecture circuit. She bought Dad the model, and Eddie signed it for her right there in front
of her.”
“I’ll be. That’s really something special. How much do you want for it?”
“It’s not for sale,” Jack answered, not certain if John was joking.
John held the model at arms length, engrossed with the amount of detail. “Eddie
Rickenbacker was a genuine American hero, the real McCoy. Did you know he shot down more
airplanes than any other American pilot in WWI? Then he got shot down himself in WWII. He
was lost in the Pacific for about a month. Fred MacMurry played him in the movie. It wasn’t a
good movie, but all the same. I could go on. Eddie built his own automobile company. He ran
the Indianapolis Speedway. Then, later on he became the head of Eastern Airlines. And while he

82

was with them do you know what happened? He crashed in one of their airliners and lived to tell
about it.”

“Was he the pilot?”
“No, by that time he was management. That man had more lives than a cat. And, you’ve
got yourself a biplane with his signature. That’s really something special.”
Jack pried the model from John fingers and looked at it in a different way, appreciating it
even more than he already had, then carefully set the model down on the kitchen table. “Now, in
case you’ve forgotten, you’ve got an appointment with the doctor. We’ve put it off long
enough.” John’s knee had swollen, almost doubling in size. It didn’t look pretty.
“For this little scratch? How can I go see the doctor in good conscience when I just told
you all the harrowing ordeals Eddie Rickenbacker went through? No way, Hombre, this is
nothing but a scrape. I want to hear more about your trip.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll take you to see the doctor. You stop making a fuss, and
I’ll tell you more about my trip along the way.”
“Done.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Do you know you’re more like your mother than you realize?”
“That’s not funny.”
“Wasn’t supposed to be.”

###########

83

The knee was more serious than both John and Jack had realized. Fluid had to be
extracted, plus John needed stitches and crutches were necessary. John would have to stay off his
feet awhile, but it could have been much worse.

Jack promised the doctor, John would stay with him until he was back on his feet, no pun
intended.

“I don’t need to stay with you,” John said, arriving back at the vineyard.
“Where are you going to go? You can’t drive, let alone fly.”
“I can take a bus,” John said defiantly.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re staying here and I don’t want to hear another word. Besides,
I could use the company.”
John hobbled to his spot on the porch, leaned his new aluminum crutches on the rail and
plopped down in what had once been Jack’s favorite chair. “Fine, since you put it that way could
you hand me a beer, or do I need to shamble and get it myself?”
“I should make you shamble,” Jack said, reaching into the ice chest and pitching a cold
one.
“Muchas gracias,” John said, popping the top off the bottle.
Jack collapsed into a wooden chair next to John and kicked his boots onto the rail.
“We’ve got time,” John said, watching the sun slide behind the back acres.
“Time for what?”
“C’mon, don’t keep me hanging. You never finished. So, Merritt’s real name was Neil?
You’ve got to be kidding. All this time you think you know somebody…why do you think he’d
keep that a secret?”

84

Jack shrugged. “He must have had his reasons.”
“And Barb didn’t know?”
“Not a clue.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Of course I believe her. Wouldn’t you believe your mother?”
“Of course I would. Then again, Barb’s not my mother.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ve known your mother a long time. I’ve seen her play poker.”
“I believe her. Let’s leave it at that.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing? Barb gave you a shoebox chock full of info.”
Jack let out a sigh. “Okay, for a minute I had this crazy idea I’d talk you into flying the
Baron to Michigan for me. You and me tracing Dad’s exact route; it would have been sort of like
a flying road trip. Now, with your leg banged up you’re not going anywhere any time soon.”
Jack popped another bottle. “End of story, Hombre.”
John took a long draw off his beer. “I would have, you know. I would have flown you
around the world if it had made any kind of sense to you.”
“I know you would have.”
“Yep.”
“Yep.”

85

John fell silent, placing his right hand under his chin, posing as if he were a Rodin statue
thinking things over. An impish smile of pure genius blossomed upon his rugged face. “You
could,” he said.

“I could what?”
“You could still go. You could fly the Baron yourself. You don’t need me tagging along.”
Jack shook his head. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m serious. Once we get her fixed, you’ll fly her to Manistee on your own.”
Jack slumped further into the chair.
“You can do it, Jack. I know you can. The Baron practically flies itself. Nothing’s going
to happen to you up there you can’t handle.”
“You’d trust me to fly your Baron?”
“You bet I do!”
“All the way across the country… alone?”
“Sure, why not? I think it would do you a lot of good. When was the last time you’ve
challenged yourself? A man always has to challenge himself, to have something to reach for,
something to look forward to. That’s how you stay young.”
“Are you about finished?”
“I could go on.”
“Well don’t. We’ve talked enough for one night.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.”
The two remained completely silent for two solid minutes.

86

“You’re a good pilot, Jack. You know you are. You’re just out a practice. All you need
to do is go up one time, just one time to get back on the horse.”

Jack leaned over the rail, eyeballing the Baron chocked in the middle of the strip. “Okay,
I’ll think it over.”

“Hey, you know what just occurred to me?” John said, as if he’d just invented the light
bulb. “We were so caught up with my leg and your new travel plans you forgot to check your
computer. Maybe you got another email from your secret admirer.”

Jack dropped his boots and bolted from his chair, sprinting to the computer. John
clumsily limped behind forgetting the crutches, but remembering his beer.
Jack powered up the Mac and logged into his account.

Two emails.
Before he opened the first, Jack noted the time it was sent, and wrote it down on a pad. 7:10pm

He clicked.

JUNE30JUNE30JUNE30JUNE30JUNE30

John whistled a ghostly note. “You sure you want to open the other one?”
Click.

I’M HERE

##############

87

Jack intended to take Amy to lunch at her favorite cafe in the city to make up for his
blunder, and was pleasantly surprised when she insisted on spending the entire weekend at the
airstrip instead.

Jack had told her about John’s accident and she wanted to do something special for him.
He was like the grandpa she never had.

The lanky, strawberry blonde, twelve-year-old sprang out from the pickup and ran to
John who was busy napping on the porch.

“Hey, John!” She called out, tossing a paper airplane at him. “It’s for you, airmail!”
John caught the paper plane on his nose, unfolded it and smiled at the drawing of him on
crutches, standing in front of his airplane. “Looks just like me.”
“I thought so, too. Do you like it?”
“You bet I do. Best picture I’ve ever seen. It should be framed and put in a museum in
Paris, right next to the Mona Lisa.”
“Don’t kid a kidder,” Amy said peeking at John’s leg, making a heartsick face.
“Oh no, I’m not, I’m super serious,” John said, flattening the drawing with his elbow
against the rail.
Jack walked the porch. “After lunch Amy’s going to help me put your plane back
together.”
“Is that right?” John said.
“Yep. Anything I can do to help,” Amy confirmed, and John adoringly patted the top of
her head.
“I have a feeling it won’t take long,” Jack said.

88

“You and your feelings,” John smiled. “We should go to Vegas.”
“Dad said he saw a lot of blue smoke coming out of the right engine. He thinks it might
be the fuel line. I told him it sounded more like a problem with the exhaust.”
“You don’t say?”
“Yep,” she said. “Dad said after we get her going again he might even fly her.”
“You don’t say?” John threw an I KNEW IT look to Jack.
“Yep. That’s what he said, alright.”
“Your dad is full of surprises,” John said, framing the drawing to the post beside him.
“What else did he say?” He asked.
“I’m right here,” Jack said, slowly waving his hands above his head. “In case anybody
was wondering.”
Amy went on, ignoring her father’s obvious plea for attention. “He said he was thinking
about taking a trip. But, you know what, John? I think if he does it won’t be in an airplane. He
says he knows how to fly, but I’ve never seen him.”
“You think he’s pulling our leg?” John asked, egging Jack on.
“Don’t mind me. I’ll go in and whip up some peanut butter and jelly,” Jack said, not
taking the bait.
After a short lunch Jack walked Amy across the acres to the other end of the runway
where the Baron was now chocked and blocked.
Jack buried his head inside the plane’s right engine, then left, tracing a fuel line.
Amy sat cross-legged on the grass in front of the nose of the plane, holding a ratchet
wrench.

89

“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“What was he like?”
“What was who like?”
“Grandpa Kelley.”
Jack stopped working and looked over to Amy. “What brought this on?”
“Well, Dad, it’s June, and….”
Jack cut in. “Did John bring up your Grandpa?”
“Yep.”
“And…?”
“He reminded me what happened and told me this is always a hard time for you.”
“He said that, huh?”
“So, what was he like, Grandpa Kelley?”
Jack buttoned down the engine cowling. “Well, for one thing you look just like him.”
“Come on, Dad, for real. John said he was a hero, being a fireman and all.”
“It takes someone very special to do that kind of work,” Jack confirmed.
“And, he was a pilot. John said pilots are just about the bravest men on earth, maybe even
braver than firemen.”
“John would say that, now wouldn’t he?”
“If Grandpa Kelley was both, he must have been like the bravest man ever. Not counting
you, of course.”
“He was the bravest.”

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“Do you miss Grandpa?”
“Very much.”
“How come they never found him?”
Jack came around the engine and sat down beside her.
“Lake Michigan is a very, very big lake, Amy. Many planes and boats, and I’m talking
airliners and big ships, have been lost in that lake.”
“Really?”
“Really. Disappeared, never to be seen again.”
“If they found the Titanic in a huge ocean, why can’t they find Grandpa Kelley?”
Jack put his arm around his daughter. “I’ve wondered that myself, many times.”
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“I want you to know, I know what you’re up too.”
“Oh. What would that be?”
“You’re going to fix the plane and fly back to find him, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to fix the plane because John needs it fixed. How else am I going to get rid of
the old coot?”
“You don’t mean that, Dad,” she said, prepared to defend John to the very end.
“Don’t I?”
“You better not,” Amy waited to make absolutely sure her father completely understood
her meaning, then continued. “So?”
“So?”

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“So, what was he like, Grandpa Kelley?”
“Did I ever tell you the story about your grandpa and the Superman suit?”
Amy shook her head no.
“When I was in the first or second grade I wanted to be Superman. Every kid on the
block wanted to be Superman. For me it was the George Reeves Superman. Not the Christopher
Reeves Superman, or the Henry Cavill Superman. They’re fine too. But the innocent black and
white version captured my imagination. Anyway, I’d rush home from school. At exactly three
fifty-five p.m. I’d turn on our small television to watch the Man of Steel. They were reruns of
course. I’d seen all of them over and over again. With the help from his friends, Jimmy Olson
and Lois Lane, Superman would save the day. Five days a week on channel seven. He would
bust through walls, fly faster than a speeding bullet and leap tall buildings in a single bound.
Don’t laugh, I wanted to be Superman.”
Amy giggled. “You thought I was funny when I wanted to be the first girl Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtle.”
“It gets better,” Jack said. “After each episode was over I’d immediately put on my blue
pajamas and asked your Grandma Kelley to tie a red towel around my neck. It was a good
likeness, but not quite right. I would run around the yard trying to catch a small breeze to raise
the cape. Your grandma would constantly warn me not to jump off the roof of the house.
Anyway, all of the Five and Dime department stores like Woolworths were selling Superman
suits.”
“Five and Dime stores? Woolworths? Do you mean like a Costco?” Amy asked.

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“Yes, Woolworth’s was sort of like the Grandfather of Costco. But it was a lot, lot
smaller. Anyway, I never wanted anything more than that suit. So, one morning I got up extra
early to catch my dad coming home from the night shift. He came in, smelling of smoke from a
fire he’d been to during the night. He was surprised to see me up so early. I even made him toast,
to butter him up.”

“I’ll remember that the next time I want something really bad, Dad.”
“If you do, I’ll take mine with raspberry jelly and a cup of coffee, black.”
“Inflation!” Amy protested.
Jack smiled, then continued. “He hung up his coat, then asked me how much trouble I
was in. I said none at all. That wasn’t the reason I was up early, waiting. Then I went on to tell
him about the Superman suit. I knew it was a splurge. My dad had a good job, but money was
still very tight. My brothers and I had our own toys, but not many. We mostly had to share what
we had. Buying such an expensive outfit for me wouldn’t have been fair to my brothers. It was
selfish of me to even ask, but I wanted to be a Superhero. For the sake of fighting crime I had to
at least try to get one. I showed my dad a picture of the red and blue outfit from the
advertisement in the newspaper. They were on sale at the Woolworth’s for fourteen dollars and
fifty cents.”
“Was that a lot of money in those days?”
“Yes it was.”
“Wow!”
“My dad rubbed the smoke from his tired eyes and took a look at the advertisement. I
could see he had had a tough night. Still, I couldn’t hold back. I told him it could be an early

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birthday present, even my whole Christmas. I could see by his look it wasn’t working. I upped it
to two birthdays, an Easter and one Christmas. I just had to have that suit. He sat me down at the
piano and told me he was sorry, but we just couldn’t afford it. Bills needed to be paid, and so on.
I wanted to understand, but selfishly I couldn’t. I ran to my room and cried.”

“That’s sad, Dad, in a cute way.”
“There’s more to the story. Two weeks later he asked me to help him. The two of us
worked hard all day long piling rocks and boulders in the backyard. It was the middle of summer
and it felt like the hottest day of the year. We were both sweaty and tired. At the end of the day
he asked me to make one last load because his back was hurting. I went to get the wheelbarrow
and you know what I found in that wheelbarrow?”
“The Superman suit!” She beamed.
“Nope, more rocks.”
“Oh man,” Amy said, letting out a deep sigh.
“Gotcha!” Jack chuckled. “Yes, it was the Superman suit.”
“I knew it,” she said, punching her dad in the arm.
“It turned out the night before I asked him for the suit; he was at an apartment fire. A boy
from my school was killed. My dad never mentioned he was involved, but everyone in the
neighborhood talked about it for weeks.”
“So you’re saying Grandpa thought about how short life could be and wanted to give you
something special, just for you, something you’d keep forever?”
“Yes, something like that.”
“And it wasn’t just the costume, was it, Dad? It was the memory.”

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“That’s right. But, do you want to know a secret?”
Amy nodded.
“I still have the outfit.”
“You do?”
“It’s in pretty ragged shape. I keep it in a special box in the bedroom closet. Sometimes
I’ll take down, look at it for a while and read the special card my dad wrote.”
“What did he write?”
“It said, Jack, always remember, now you’re one of the good guys. Stay that way. Dad.”
“Wow.”
Jack took a moment to collect his thoughts, then glanced at the Baron. “Amy, I was
thinking about taking a trip, not to find Grandpa Kelley, but to find out more about him and his
accident. I don’t know; it’s a crazy idea. Maybe I should just forget it and let it go.”
“No, Dad. Don’t let it go!” Amy insisted.
“We’ll see,” Jack said. “Like I said, it was just a crazy idea.”
Jack took the wrench from Amy and climbed into the cockpit to check the gauges. “Let’s
see if we can’t find John’s engine problem and fix it before dinner.”
Amy joined her father, getting comfortable, wiggling beside him in the passenger seat.
Jack took a close look at the gauges, then smiled knowingly. There wasn’t much of an
engine problem to solve after all. It appeared John purposely loosened a valve allowing smoke to
harmlessly gush from the engine. It was an old war trick to sucker the enemy into thinking the
plane was damaged, drawing the enemy closer then turning the tables and firing upon them.
“That should do it. You were right, Amy. It was the exhaust.”

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“I knew it! What are you waiting for, Dad? Fire her up.”
“Think I should?”
“Yep.”
“Well then…” Jack pressed the starter, feeling his heart pound as the Baron’s twin
engines began to slowly whine, pitching into a deep, throaty roar.
“You did it, Dad! You fixed it! Let’s take her up!” Amy quickly snapped her seatbelt and
crossed the safety strap.
Jack suddenly hit the kill switch and both propellers wound down to a stop.
Silence.
“Dad?” Amy said, confused.
“Not today, Sweetheart.”
“But…?”
“Not today, I said.”

##########
Amy ran all the way to the porch.
“She’s all ready to go, John,” she said catching her breath.
“I heard.”
“I asked Dad to take her up, but he wouldn’t do it.”
“No?”
“No,” she said, folding her arms making it perfectly clear she wasn’t in favor of the
decision.
Jack joined them, taking a place on the porch.

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“Thanks, Jack. She sounds like the first day I flew her.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Amy. She had an inkling it might be the exhaust. Seems a valve
had curiously shaken loose. Sure did make a lot of smoke for such a minimal problem,” Jack
confirmed, throwing him a look.
“Is that so? I suspected those nasty gremlins had been up to no good.” John said, looking
like he’d been caught in the cookie jar.
Jack took a rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands. “I’m going inside and wash
up. Maybe we can move a few barrels from the vineyard to the shed a little later.” Jack said to
Amy.
“Okay by me, Dad.”
Jack ran his grimy hands under the kitchen faucet, keeping one ear to the open window.
“Why won’t he go up, John? The Baron was running like a champ,” Amy asked.
“He will. He needs time to think about it. All in due time, you’ll see.”
“He’s afraid, isn’t he?”
Jack turned the water off, waiting for John’s answer.
John took his time trying to find the right words, then figured there wasn’t any way to
sugarcoat it. “Yep. I’m afraid it looks like it.”
“Oh,” Amy simply said, disappointment caked to her voice, believing her dad wasn’t
afraid of anything.
“Don’t be too hard on your dad. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. He’s just working out
a few bugs, just like he did with the Baron’s engine. I’ve seen this sort of thing before. It happens
to pilots. Even to the great ones.”

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“Really?”
“Sure as spit.”
“Did it ever happen to you?”
“Me? No, not me. Knock on wood. But you don’t need to worry about your dad. He’ll
pull out of his tailspin, you’ll see.”
Nothing could have hurt Jack more. It was one thing to let himself down, another to let
Amy down.
He wanted to fly just as much as she wanted him to fly, but it was June. The time of year
his nightmare only intensified. Every night he’d relive the tragic moment when his father and
brother would spiral downward to their deaths.
Jack dried his hands and went outside to join Amy and John who were enjoying some
sort of card game – one he could never quite grasp.
“I forgot the toolbox in the Baron,” Jack said, stepping off the porch.
“Want me to come with you, Dad?”
“I’ll only be a minute. You can stay here. Enjoy what you’re doing.”
“You think he heard us?” Amy whispered to John.
“Don’t know,” John put his two hands to his mouth and called out. “Hey, Jack, you
okay?”
In the distance, Jack waved the back of his hand in the air as he kept walking across the
property.
Jack circled the silver airplane like a matador approaching his bull, vigilantly inspecting
the plane with fresh eyes, then removed the chocks from the wheels.

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He opened the cabin door, climbed inside, taking a place in the pilot’s seat, checking each
gauge, one by one.

He tapped the pedals lightly and wrapped his fingers around the yoke, squeezing it
tightly, and then aimed his eyes to the starter switch.

Sweat began trickling down both sides of his cheeks. He felt the whole of his body spasm
slightly. He let go of the yoke, exhaled a deep breath and slumped into the seat, defeated.

He clenched his right hand into a ball and glared at it as if it were his greatest enemy. All
he had to do was to use one finger on that one hand to press the one tiny switch and his long
nightmare would have been over.

His father wouldn’t have hesitated. Then again, his father died being reckless.
Jack closed his eyes, remembering his father’s voice. “Son, I fly because I made it
possible to do so. Not to prove anything.”
He recalled sitting beside his father in the Cougar, asking what the big deal about flying
was. “How many people get a chance to fly like birds, Jack? Not many,” his father answered.
“Every time I sit in this seat I know I’m alive. There’s something in knowing you’re alive that
makes you appreciate the gift one single day brings. Do it for the fun of it, Jack, not because you
have to. Then again…” Merritt laughed. “I guess it’s something I can’t NOT do.”
“But Dad, don’t you get scared?”
“Of course I do, Son. It’s only natural, but you learn to control your fear by standing up
to it, meeting it square in the eyes and saying you’re stronger than it and you’re not going to let it
stop you, no matter what. You do this, Jack, you’ll find yourself on top of the world, and the
view is spectacular. I promise you that.”

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