Contents ( 66)
- Cover
- Books by Valerie Fraser Luesse
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- Map of Florida
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Keep Reading for a Preview of Valerie Luesse’s Next Book!
- Prologue
- one
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
Early the next morning, Ezell and LeBlanc were showing him the airfield when they spotted a pilot headed for one of the planes. At a distance, the pilot looked a lot like Peyton’s father—tall with sandy hair bordering on blond, his eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses. Ezell jogged out to catch him before he boarded the plane. Over the roar of engines, Peyton couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he saw Ezell salute the pilot and point in his direction. Then Ezell motioned for him to join them.
“I hear you’re a wing nut,” the pilot said with a smile.
“Yes, sir,” Peyton said.
“This one’s been out for repairs. I’m just taking her up to make sure she’s good to go. Want to come along?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Climb in and I’ll give you a little preview of the island you’re heading for.”
The pilot showed Peyton how to strap in. As the buckles clicked shut, one after another, whatever barrier had existed between boy and machine melted away. The plane felt like an appendage, an extension of himself that he didn’t know he had. It was exhilarating. Before long, the engine fired, the props whirled, and they were taxiing down the runway, faster and faster until the ground fell below them, the base diminishing as they climbed ever higher. Peyton looked up through the clear canopy that covered the cockpit at a brilliant blue sky and an occasional drift of clouds, which looked like the cotton he used to pull straight from its bolls and stretch through his fingers when he was a little boy.
They had been flying probably less than an hour when the pilot dropped his altitude, tapped on the canopy to get Peyton’s attention, and pointed down.
“Oh, man!” Peyton couldn’t believe what he saw—a string of islands floating in a sea of turquoise. They must be over the Florida Keys. The pilot tipped his wings over the largest island farthest south. Key West. At this very moment, Peyton thought, Lisa was somewhere down below while he was high above. They occupied the very same dot on the map, yet they were a world apart, unable to touch each other. If it was the last thing he ever did, he meant to cross that divide.
The plane banked at the southern tip of Key West and turned back to base. Peyton could feel the mechanics of a landing in play and wondered what it would be like to have the knowledge and skill to bring a flying machine down onto a precise strip of earth without a scratch.
Once on the ground, he and the pilot climbed out of the plane, and Peyton shook his hand. “I can’t thank you enough, sir.”
The pilot looked up at the sky. “Think you might climb into the cockpit one day?”
“Sure hope so. I mean to try. Won’t ever be as good as you, but maybe I’ll be good enough.”