Sheila was a pretty good pilot, Jennlynn thought as she sat back and let the missionary fly the Learjet southward the next day, a white cloudscape far below. Like her husband, Sheila wasn’t instrument rated and needed coaching, but now they were in level flight at flight level 360 and just cruising, so for a few minutes she didn’t have to pay much attention. That gave her a little time to think.

What a difference a day made! Twenty four hours ago, Jeff and Sheila hadn’t even shown up at Lambdatron! And now – it wouldn’t be fair to say that all the wounds between her and her parents were healed, or that all of them ever would be. But a lot of them were healing, after a dozen years of bitterness. She was aware that she had been showing off for them last night, showing off for them today, demonstrating just how different a person she had become. Hauling them down to have lunch with Will was just more showing off – she was proving to them, and to herself, that things were not the way they had been and could never be again. There was still that distance there, and there would always be, for she had changed too much – and so had they.

It would be good to see Will again, even if for only a couple of hours. Over the past year, they had become a lot closer, and maybe they were both growing up. As she sat there and thought about it, she realized that it could well be that the events of the last day could add another piece to that puzzle, but she wasn’t exactly sure how. There was time to take things as they came – not a lot of time today, though.

The plan was to fly her parents and Emily back to Bradford after lunch, then fly back to Phoenix. She’d already called Mike to have him ready to fly Jeff and Sheila and her back to Greeley to arrive first thing Saturday morning. They wouldn’t have any problem making it back to Phoenix before dark, but Magic Carpet was slow enough that this time of year she might have to stop short in order to keep the flight in daylight. There would be no night flying, no backcountry flying, not in an airplane in as iffy mechanical condition as the little Cessna had gotten into. But there was nothing wrong with a night in Albuquerque or Gallup, either.

She still wasn’t sure what she was going to do with Magic Carpet. Once it was airworthy again, there really wasn’t much to do with it but to stick it in the back of the hangar with Songbird andSkyhook, keep it polished, and fly up to Flagstaff for coffee once in a while. Which was all right and relaxing, much cheaper than trying to do the same things with the bigger planes; it was really pretty ridiculous to fire up the Learjet to fly to Denver for a cup of coffee and maybe a doughnut. But Magic Carpet wouldn’t be happy if it weren’t doing useful flying.

The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she could hangar it in Ely. She’d only taken Skyhook into the dry lake at home once and had not been very comfortable doing it, even though it went all right. The surface of the dry lake was not stable, and at some times of the year it became marginal enough that Songbird was risky as well. But Magic Carpet, perhaps fitted with oversized tires, could probably do the last leg safely at almost any time of the year. As long as Will was at Keesler and coming home every so often, it sounded like a possible option. Since Will expected to be at his current post for another two years, she’d probably be seeing him a lot. Magic Carpet might not get a lot of use that way but it would be useful flight time. But that was off in the future; she planned on telling Stew to go through it thoroughly and do a full restoration, taking his time since Jeff and Sheila’s 207 was higher priority.

The six of them aboard the Learjet was too big a load for Will’s Chevy Citation at Biloxi-Gulfport Airport, so he’d asked Cindy to join him there to help with everyone. "Miz Swift, it’s good to see you again," he said as took her into his arms just as soon as she stepped off the plane. "It was a real surprise when you called last night."

"It was a real surprise to me, Will," she whispered, just before they kissed. "But it turned out to be a good surprise."

"Miz Swift," he said. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I got a bad surprise. I’m goin’ to the Gulf again."

"Will! No! Please tell me you’re joking."

"’Fraid not, Miz Swift," he said sorrowfully. "I just found out this morning."

"But Will! You were supposed to be here three years! You’ve only been here a year!"

"The president’s fixin’ to have him a war with Iraq; it’s as plain as day, and they got to have people there to keep an eye on all the reporters."

"God damn George Bush and his family vendettas," she said viciously, not caring that there was a minister and a pair of missionaries only a few feet away. "I know another George Bush from Texas who ought to have his job. His motto is ‘Make love, not war.’"

"Be that as it may, Miz Swift," he said. "It’s my job, and when they say go, I gotta go. I don’t have to go just yet, and I can take some leave, but I gotta go right after the first of the year."

"But Will! It’s not fair! You did two tours in the Gulf, a tour in Okinawa, and now they’re screwing you on stateside time. Now just as soon as you get done with this tour, they’ll send you some other damn place far away."

"I knowed it was a risk when I reenlisted last winter," he said. "But it goes with the territory. At least I only reenlisted for three years, so they cain’t hang onto me for more than a little over two. This tour’s supposed to be TDY, so I might be back in a few months."

"And it comes out of your stateside time, and they’ll ship you right back over there!" she protested. "Look, Will, what if I talk to Mike, and see if maybe he can call in a favor? I can think of a couple other places I could try."

"Miz Swift, I really wish you wouldn’t do that," he said. "I don’t want to go, but it ain’t fair to those people that don’t have them strings to pull."

"Oh, God damn it Will, that’s why I love you, you’re too fair for your own good. All right, not this time, but if they do it to you again I will roll some heads. You’ve gotten the short end of the stick once too often, and I swear this will be the last time."

"I’m sorry, Miz Swift, I really am," he said. "But you know me well enough to know how it’s got to be."

"Could I come and see you sometime?" she said in a small voice.

"Probably not if it’s a war zone," he said. "Look, Miz Swift, let’s not talk about it now. We do got some time, and we’re bein’ rude to our guests."

"You’re right, Will," she said, deflating and turning to everyone else. "I’m sorry everyone," she said. "I should know better than to let myself get into too good a mood since there’s a bad one not far off. This is Master Sergeant Will Hoffman; I don’t know whether to call him my boyfriend or my fiancé or what, but he’s my man. Will, I need to introduce you around: you know Jeff, this is his wife Sheila, my parents, and Emily Holst. I went to school with her; she came along for the ride."

"Apologies accepted, Jennifer," her father said. "First things first, after all. Sergeant, we’re pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Will smiled, holding onto Jennlynn tightly. "I’ve heard a lot about you."

"I trust none of it good," Reverend Swift smiled.

"Well, no sir," Will laughed. "But I take it that’s gettin’ fixed a little."

"I hope so," her father replied.

"Jennlynn, why don’t you ride with Will?" Cindy offered. "I’ll take everyone else, and that’ll give the two of you a few minutes alone."

"Thanks, Cindy," Jennlynn sighed. "I’m sorry everybody, I guess I need a few minutes to pull myself together."

"We might as well get moving," Cindy said. "Claudia’s got some special sauce for blackened redfish, and some real fresh shrimp, right straight out of our Gulf."

"Sounds interesting, ma’am," Jeff said. "Jennlynn, Will, see you at the restaurant."

Just the walk to the car gave Jennlynn a little time to pull herself together. She got in the car, and snuggled up close to Will. As he got the car moving, she asked him, "Will, is there any chance you could get off the rest of the day and for the weekend?"

"Shouldn’t be a problem, Miz Swift. What you got in mind?"

"Will, I’ve got a busy couple days but there’s no reason you can’t come along. After we’re done eating, I’m going to fly my folks and Emily back to Bradford, then Jeff and Sheila and I are going back to Phoenix. Mike’s taking us to Greeley, Colorado in the morning, and they’re going to ferry a 207 back to Hernando. I just bought Magic Carpet back yesterday. It’s in terrible shape but I’m going to get it rebuilt. You could ride along, and we could have a chance to talk. If you’re going to the Gulf, I want to spend all the time with you I can. I can bring you back here Sunday afternoon."

"I ain’t gonna turn you down, Miz Swift," he smiled. "If you ain’t guessed, I ain’t real happy about bein’ away from you like that, either. After this, I ain’t sure how much more of my life I want to give to the Air Force, but I know I ain’t had time to think through the other ideas yet. I think we both need to think it through."

"God, Will. You’ve gone away before, but after the last year, I don’t know how I can handle you going away on me again. Will, things have changed a lot for me, especially in the last day."

"Your folks?" he said. "Miz Swift, that news came as a helluva shock to me, I don’t mind saying."

"Yeah, that’s part of it," she said. "It’s a little early to say how things are going to work out in the long run, but I think we’re going to at least be able to exchange Christmas cards. They hurt me, Will, and I hurt them back. It left scars that will be a while healing over. While they say they can accept me being a prostitute, I can tell they’re a little dazed about it, and I think they’re just trying to be nice. It’s one thing to hear it on the street, to see it on TV, but face to face is another story."

"At least you’re tryin’ to fix things up a little," he said. "That’s a whole lot better than you’ve done for years."

"Yeah, but a lot of things I thought I had worked out aren’t quite as well worked out anymore," she said. "I mean, Will, like you and me. We’ve worked out a pretty good deal for ourselves the last few years, and I thought we had the amount we saw each other pretty well in balance. Now that we’ve got to go back to the old way; it scares the hell out of me to have you gone. Christ, Will, I don’t know how to say this, but it’s going to be a long, slow trip flying Magic Carpet from Greeley to Phoenix. Maybe we should think about spending some time reexamining the idea of getting married."

"I’d like that," he said. "I know we got some issues, and the money is still the big one. Miz Swift, I told you a while back that I couldn’t bring myself to take your money because I don’t want you to think of me as your pimp. That’s still true. But remember we was talkin’ about the Fantasy Ranch. I can’t invest much, but I can do some by puttin’ in the real estate. You can put in more, but it would be somethin’ we’d be doin’ as an investment, not just that I’d be doin’. Now, I ain’t saying we got to be talkin’ about the Fantasy Ranch, cause they’s other things we could be doin’ together, and I don’t think we’d want to spend all the time together, anyway. You and I do have plenty of different interests, and we’re gonna have to cut each other a lot of slack. What I’m sayin’, Jennlynn, is that you and I are smart enough to work it out."

"There ought to . . . Will, what did you just call me?"

"Jennlynn, I think that I ought to be able to call the woman I’d like to call my intended by her name at least once in a while."

"Will, what are they going to say in the Air Force when they find out that you’re married to the nation’s most famous prostitute?"

"I don’t really care," he smiled. "Damn it, you ought to know that by now, and you ought to know what I think about the Air Force right now. There are people that will be appalled. There will also be people that will envy the hell out of me. There will not be many people that understand, but you and I will. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?"

"Will, you’re right, as usual," she shook her head. "Why is it you understand me better than I understand myself?"

"Maybe it’s because I growed up understandin’ what you’ve been reachin’ to try to understand ever since I’ve known you?" he asked. "Miz Swift, I ain’t perfect. I make mistakes, just like you do. But we’ve both learned from that, and gone on from there. Gettin’ right down to the bottom, I’m just a Nevada cowboy tryin’ to make do, just like you’re a Nevada prostitute tryin’ to make do, and we got that in common. I ain’t the first Nevada cowboy in my family to ask a Nevada prostitute to marry him, and who the hell knows? I might not even be the last one."

* * *

Christmas Day in the Nevada desert was beautiful. There was just enough high, thin cirrus to add some depth and texture to the clear blue sky. It was chilly, below freezing, but the air was still and the sun made it seem pleasant as it lit up the sagebrush, and tough grasses and dry pans that rolled away to the purple mountains in the distance. The little cedar log cabin at the edge of the hills was packed with people, most of whom had never been there before. The music was provided by a pair of guitar-playing buskers who would rather be on tour than stay in one place; the food heating on the kerosene stove gave the cabin a distinct flavor of the Louisiana bayou country, cooked by two of the best Cajun chefs in the business.

Though a handful of people had arrived in battered, now-dusty pickup trucks, there were several airplanes sitting on the dry pan not far from the cabin. Two were Twin Otters, chartered for the day from a company that normally hauled passengers over the Grand Canyon, which had brought guests via Las Vegas from Michigan and Phoenix. A Cessna 310 with Skyhook Aviation LLCpainted on the nose and Songbird in smaller letters under the pilot’s side window had brought guests from Antelope Valley. The guests from Mississippi had arrived with the missionary who performed the ceremony in a freshly painted Cessna 207 and soon would be servicing scattered missionary outposts in the Bolivian jungle, bearing on its dash a plaque that would long be the subject of comment: This aircraft donated to Bolivian Air Bible Ministries by Jennlynn Swift, The Fastest Woman in the State of Nevada.

No one thought it odd that a woman with such a title would depart the ceremony for who knew where with her new husband, not in a Learjet – which was waiting for them in Ely – but in another freshly painted and restored airplane, a little green and white Cessna 150 with the words proudly restored on the cowling: Magic Carpet.

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