The flight was bumpy, but Mara wasn't scared. Whenever she had a rough flight, she would think of her father. He had flown during World War II—had been a hero for the twenty-five bombing runs he had made across the English Channel to Germany. She thought of all the bad weather he had encountered, all the attacks he had survived. After so much terror in the air, he had died on what should have been a peaceful cruise—a ferry excursion across a wide inlet, with Mara's mother on a trip to Ireland, when Mara was just four.

She had grown up believing that you can't predict your fate; you don't see death coming. You just do your best, staying as open to life's possibilities as you can. Worrying about rough flights was a waste of time.

On the final approach to National Airport, Mara realized that everyone on the plane was holding their breath; everyone but her. She turned toward the window and stared out. She felt an old ache in her chest—a hollowness that rang and echoed, as if she were a bell. The vibrations ran through her bones and nerves as the plane jostled against the headwinds. The person next to her was praying.

The plane shook, as if it might break apart. One person cried out sharply. Mara just watched the snow outside. Her eyes filled with tears; she wished she were afraid of dying. But she wasn't, and she hadn't been since the day her parents died. Sometimes she wished she had been with them on that ferry, instead of home in Connecticut with her grandmother.

She had built a life on work, needlepoint, and her grandmother. She was thirty-one years old, and she had never really been in love. Why fall in love, when it could all end on a summer day, on a peaceful ferry crossing in Ireland? When they finally touched down, bouncing hard on the tarmac, the other passengers cheered. Mara just gathered her things.

The business-class passengers were let off first. Mara noticed the other passengers waiting; a young man wearing a tweed sports coat stood at the front of the coach cabin, seeming to watch her as she gathered her things. Thinking she was holding everyone up, she gave him a quick smile and hurried off the plane.

The flight attendants and captain stood at the plane door, obviously shaken by the rough flight. She thanked them as she passed. The captain said, “Hope you'll fly with us again.” “I will!” Mara said. She walked a little taller—shaken not so much by the flight as by her own emotional turmoil. Maybe she could make a New Year's resolution to try to open her heart a little.