“I promise.” Ollie retrieved the rubber band and slid it onto his wrist. “I better get going. Lots of dusting to do.”

“Be careful,” his mother said, going inside.

Behind the barn, Ollie saw the weathered canary-yellow biplane, looking like a prehistoric bird warming its old bones in the morning sun. The plane was fully fueled and loaded with insecticide, or what his father aptly called pixie dust. He checked the tension wires strung between the upper and lower wings, stepped into the cockpit, and put on his leather cap. As he flipped the ignition, the engine coughed and the propeller turned over, sending a vibrating buzz through his body. He advanced the power, moving the plane down a bumpy earthen runway that split the potato field. The plane accelerated, and the tail began to rise. Sensing the proper speed, considering the instrument panel didn’t work, he pulled back on the stick, and the plane lifted into the air. He circled their house, wondering how he would smooth things over with his father. Flying west to the farmlands, he replaced thoughts of war with his longing of someday going away to college.

The Maine potato harvest would soon be over, bringing an end to another crop-dusting season and his third year of staying home to run the family potato farm. Assuming the fall crop had a good yield and the price for potatoes didn’t plummet, perhaps they’d have enough money for him to leave for college next year. He’d already been accepted at Worcester Polytechnic Institute. But before he would allow himself to leave, his father’s health would need to improve. If everything went perfectly, five or six years from now, he’d have his aeronautical engineering degree, his ticket out of Buxton.

There was nothing wrong with Buxton. In many respects, a farm was a great place to grow up, and he had no regrets about staying to help his father. But most of his friends had left home years ago; many were now cutting logs for a paper mill or hoisting crustaceans from the back of a lobster boat. And the lucky ones had gone off to college, including his girlfriend, Caroline, who went to Bates, where her letters had dwindled and eventually stopped. Even his high school buddies, Stan and James, had gone to the University of Maine and seldom came home on breaks. They were reveling in their life of academia and social parties, while Ollie was still living with his parents. They had taken different paths, and Ollie couldn’t blame them for falling out of touch.