Matt swerved to the right, down-shifted to slow his Dodge Dart, and slid into an empty parking slot. Jorden held onto her seat. She was tempted, but held back any snide remarks.

Matt delivered her a large coffee with cream. “I hope this is okay.”

“Yes. Thank you. Just the way I like it.”

Matt got back in the car with his black coffee in hand. “It’s about 180 miles to Panama City. We’re making great progress—we only have 177 miles to go.”

Jorden ignored his comment. When they reached Eufaula, Alabama, she finally spoke. “Are we getting closer?”

“No, silly. We’ve gone about forty-six miles—nowhere near the coast. Just shut your eyes and relax.”

Jorden didn’t resist, resting her head against the headrest. Matt continued driving and, forty minutes later, he passed through Newville. Her eyes fluttered open, as she adjusted them to avoid the sunlight.

“Hey, look at the sign!” Jorden said suddenly.

“What sign?”

“Look. There’s another one: “Headland Municipal Airport.” I can’t believe it!”

Matt spotted the sign off to the right. “Why is it special?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Give me a try. I deserve an explanation.”

“I could have been killed.” Jorden stated matter-of-factly.

“What are you talking about?”

Jorden wasn’t surprised how easily the story came to mind, even though it had happened six years earlier. She hesitated before she answered.

“Anna Reynolds, my friend, saved my life when she looked at my parachute and freaked out. She saw the pins had been left in the static line. The trainer also went ballistic and immediately removed them—otherwise, my parachute wouldn’t have opened. I did have a smaller reserve chute, but there’s always the chance I’d have panicked and not pulled it.” The memory drained the color from Jorden’s face.

“You did what?”

“Parachuted!”

“Whatever possessed you?” Matt asked.

“No one ever believes me. When it does sink in, they think I’m crazy. I’ve purposely avoided the subject. Look at you. Do you see how you’re reacting? You don’t believe me?”

“You astound me.” By then they were in the small town of Headland, Alabama. “Let’s stop and get something to eat. I need a break—besides, you can’t leave me hanging.”

“It doesn’t amount to much. The Headland Municipal Airport sign caught me off guard and brought it all back.”

Matt found a small local diner, pulled off and parked. It was almost nine fifteen. Not many people were milling around the town on a Saturday morning.

A waitress ambled up to their table. “You two passing through?”

“We’re on our way to the beach.”

“Weather report says it’s gonna be windy and rainy. Better take raincoats. Now, what can I get y’all? Eat hardy. You’ll need it.”

Matt ordered a full breakfast. Jorden ordered an English muffin and coffee.

“You’re not hungry?”