He had mentioned it on one of their flights, after they’d landed in Nevada somewhere and were getting a bite to eat at a roadside stand. Joan had asked him why he’d joined the military in the first place.

“I think I wanted to do something no man in my family had done before,” he’d said, biting into his sandwich.

“No one in your family served in either of the World Wars? Or even Vietnam?”

Hank shook his head. “They found a way out.”

Joan raised her eyebrows. “And here you are,” she said. “About to fly to space with your own two hands.”

“God willing, I suppose so.”

It was easier and easier for Joan to understand why Donna would love him. But the further she got into her training, the harder it got for Joan to understand why Donna would tie herself down to someone at all.

“My father is a mathematician,” Joan told Hank. “Very left-brained and analytical. So I’m not sure I fell as far from the tree as you did.”

“But I bet your mother was a homemaker,” Hank said.

“She was, she is,” Joan said.

“So you’ve carved a new path for yourself, too.”

“Yeah, maybe that is true.” Joan finished her sandwich. “Hey, I wanted to say thank you.”

“What for?”

“It’s not easy to get a pilot to give consistent time to us backseaters,” Joan said.

Hank nodded.

“I know you’re helping out Donna, too,” she added, and then, so he didn’t have to respond, she kept going: “Vanessa’s got Steve, but Lydia, Harrison, and Griff aren’t having an easy time getting their hours in. So I just wanted to say thank you. You’ve been a great teacher.”

Hank smiled. “Well, I’m glad for it. I enjoy these rides with you, Goodwin. You’re one of the good nerds.”

Joan laughed.

“No, I mean it,” Hank said. “A lot of these eggheads have come in here and acted like they’re smarter than everyone else. And talking to that Marty fellow requires propping your eyes open with toothpicks. But you—you’re easy to talk to. And you’re trying. I’m on the other side of it, tryin’ like hell, too. My mother always said, ‘I like a try-hard.’ I agree with her. I like somebody scrappy. Man or woman, I don’t care.” Joan detected that Hank was affording himself a sense of magnanimity with this statement, but she let it go. “You’re scrappy, Goodwin. I’ll always stick my neck out for that.”

Joan smiled. “Well, thank you. I hope you know that I feel the same about you. If you need anything, I hope you’ll ask.”

Hank nodded and put his hand in his jacket pocket.

“I do have something for you, partner,” Hank said.

Joan laughed. “Oh?”