Spirit Flight

by P. R. Fittante

  Where his father pointed, Frank could see a small pond of water, obviously fed from underground. The garden went down to its edge, and above it stretched an exquisite green meadow.

  “I had never seen it before,” his father continued. “It was always so overgrown back here. Well, I thought it was a beautiful sight and I decided then that I’d live right here. I built the house and planted the garden. Now, what I don’t use to feed myself, I give to the shelter.” His father smiled shyly. “By the way, the person who bought that one lot. Well, she’s a mighty nice lady.”

  Frank smiled with his father. They both gazed at the pond for a moment.

  “You see Frank, knowing what you want is not necessarily a good thing. So many paths are available for us to take in our lives. Often we don’t see them because we are so focused on the path we think we should take. We become blind to other destinies. Then, something happens that suddenly changes all our plans. I think its just God reminding us that we have free will.”

  Frank turned to face his father. “What if you realize what you want, but it’s too late?”

  “It’s never too late Frank. God gives second chances.” His father looked at him closely. “Have you found someone special?”

  “Do you remember Anna Preston?” His father’s eyes lit up as he nodded. “I ran into her at the beach. She flew back with me today, but I think she’s already moved on with her life.”

  His father grasped his shoulder. “Frank, if it is meant to be, it will happen. You’ve worked so hard all your life. I’ve never known anyone as determined to succeed as you. And you’ve made yourself into a fine young man. I can’t claim much credit for that. But I think you’re beginning to realize that’s just the first step. It’s not enough to simply rise above your fellow man. You must also lift those around you. Give something more of yourself. That includes sharing yourself with someone else.” He looked down at his weathered hands and then at Frank. “Come with me back inside. There’s something I need to give you.”

  Frank felt like a little boy again, following in his father’s footsteps as they headed back toward the house. He sat at the kitchen table while his father went into his bedroom. He returned with a small leather case and handed it to Frank.

  “I wanted to give you this before you left for pilot training, but I think I realized you weren’t yet ready. Maybe it’ll help open a new path for you.”

  Frank carefully raised the lid of the case. Inside, an elegant band of diamonds glittered a familiar greeting.

  “Mom’s engagement ring.”

  “You use it when you think the time is right, Frank. Just remember, it may not be the time you expect.”

  Frank was overwhelmed. He had never felt so close to his father. The two men quietly enjoyed the moment. There was no need for words.

  A few hours later, the phone rang. Frank answered it. He spoke quietly while his father watched from the sitting room. He smiled as Frank put the phone down.

  “A second chance?”

  The sparkle in Frank’s eyes was answer enough.

  Chapter 19

  Charlie Babcock finished off the last chunk of peach cobbler and took a long drink of sweet tea. “Mrs. Preston, you certainly out did yourself tonight. I’ve half a mind to move out of the city and sign on as your hired hand, just so you could feed me everyday.”

  Lydia leaned over to clear his plate and laughed. “You’d make a sorry laborer, Charlie Babcock. But if you could get that daughter of mine to settle down, I’d be happy to feed the both of you a little more often. Where’d she take off to anyway?”

  Charlie shrugged. “Said she needed to make a phone call.”

  “That girl hardly ate a thing.” Lydia frowned as she carried the plates into the kitchen. “She’s practically a vegetarian now. I worry about her health.”

  “She looks mighty good to me,” Charlie called after her. He had been pursuing Anna Preston for some time with only marginal success. She was a beautiful woman, but one he found difficult to control. He relished the jealous stares of his golfing buddies when she met him for lunch at the country club, but he could never get her to stay in the city. She was always running off to her beach house to paint. He didn’t understand why she needed to be alone out there for weeks at a time, and he didn’t like it. Especially when she suddenly returned home with some long-lost childhood boyfriend.

  Lydia returned with a fresh pitcher of tea. “Girl used to be skinny as a rail. You’ve been seeing her for what—two, three years? Wasn’t until high school that she stopped being a tomboy and started acting like a young lady.”

  “She’s still got some tomboy in her,” Charlie said. “But I’d like to hear about those high school and college days. That military fella that was here today. Was Anna pretty serious with him?”

  Lydia looked at him with surprise. “She never told you about Frank Farago?”

  “No,” Charlie said uneasily. “Is there something I should know?”

  Lydia shook her head wearily. “Oh, I don’t know. The fact that I and everyone else thought they were getting married, perhaps?”

  The sour taste of jealousy crept up from the pit of Charlie’s stomach and rolled into his mouth. He felt like spitting. Instead, he swallowed hard and fought to hide the sudden surge of anger and frustration. He noticed Mrs. Preston seemed to be enjoying his reaction. She motioned for him to follow her into the living room.

  “I’ve got something that Anna will never show you, but I think you ought to see.” She pulled a large photo album from one of the end table drawers and sat down on the sofa.

  Charlie sat beside her. “Is this a scrap book that she kept?”

  “No. I did. But Anna was constantly giving me pictures and mementos to put inside.” She opened the book to the first page and turned it so Charlie could see.

  A glossy eight-by-ten photo took him back to Anna’s high school days. She stood upon a platform, surrounded by other young girls in sleek skirts and spiked heels. A small crown sparkled above her head. A young boy in a football uniform stood beside her, his arm extended to support her.

  “She never told me she was homecoming queen,” Charlie said quietly.

  “It’s hard to get her to talk much at all about those days.”

  Charlie looked again at the dark-haired boy in the photo. “Is that Frank Farago standing beside her?”

  “Yes. They started dating their senior year in high school. He was her first steady boyfriend.” She turned the page to reveal more photos of the young couple. There were pictures in the park and at the beach and several more of the senior prom. There were also several photos of Lydia with the two of them. “He lost his mother when he was much younger,” Lydia explained. “So I suppose I kind of became a second mother for him. But he was always such a serious boy. I never felt I really knew what was going on in his head. Turns out, Anna didn’t either.”

  Charlie took the book and flipped through several more pages. The ache in his stomach tightened into a hard knot. “They dated through college?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “Yes. All those years and they never had eyes for anyone else—at least I know Anna didn’t.”

  “OK,” Charlie seethed. “They were the perfect couple. So, what happened? Why didn’t they get married?”

  Mrs. Preston pointed to the final page of photos. “This was taken right after college graduation when Frank and Anna flew to the beach to celebrate.” Charlie looked at a picture of Frank at the controls of a small single engine airplane with Anna seated beside him. “Anna was certain Frank was taking her there to propose. I was too. But he never did.”

  “Why not?”

  “Oh,” she said, her eyes flashing angrily. “Anna just didn’t fit into his grand plan. He had pilot training to worry about, and he didn’t need any distractions. But, of course he wanted her to wait for him, so he could come back in all his glory and sweep her off to some distant land when the time was right for him. But Anna did the right thing. She ended
it then and there. That was the last time she heard from him—until now.”

  The realization that he may have a rival worried Charlie. If that was Mrs. Preston’s intent, it had worked. He looked at her uncertainly. “Does she still care about him?”

  “I don’t know,” she said quickly. “But I do know something about my daughter.” She pointed to a final photo on the opposite page. “Anna put this here. It’s the only picture I have of Anna with her father. Did she ever tell you about him?”

  Charlie studied the faded black and white photo. In it, a tall slender man in uniform awkwardly cradled a small baby. “She only said her father left home one day and never came back.”

  “Anna never knew her daddy, but not because he abandoned us—though sometimes I can’t help but feel he did. No, he joined the marines in 1969 when Anna was just a year old. He was all full of spit and vigor, that man—convinced it was his duty to go fight in that war. Less than a year later, we learned he’d been killed in action.”

  Charlie said nothing, though he wondered why Anna had never told him. He suddenly wished he had never asked Mrs. Preston about Anna’s past.

  Mrs. Preston shook her head sharply and turned to Charlie. “You see, Anna doesn’t stand for anyone she cares about to run off and leave her. That’s why you’re a good man for her, Charlie. You’ll be devoted to her and not some silly principal or romantic dream.”

  At that moment, Anna entered the room. She didn’t seem to notice the open scrapbook, but instead, smiled happily at the two of them.

  Charlie was relieved to see her in better spirits. Looking into her soft brown eyes, he resolved to make her forget about Frank Farago.

  Chapter 20

  A million thoughts rushed through Frank’s mind as he drove to the Preston farm. Anna’s invitation to come see her had set him to rethinking his entire life. He hardly slept the night before. And this morning’s Easter service, seeming analogous to his own resurrection, had passed in a glorious blur. He was excited and nervous, but most of all, he felt happy.

  He turned into the driveway and anxiously scanned ahead for any other vehicles. There were none. He stopped the car under a large pecan tree, got out and eagerly looked about for Anna. The farm was serenely quiet. The rustle of magnolia leaves and soft shrill of the katydids only sharpened the silence. He tilted his head toward the clear blue sky and inhaled the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle and cherry blossoms. He couldn’t imagine a more peaceful setting.

  “Saddle up, flyboy!”

  Frank turned to see Anna emerge from the barn. She held the reins of two horses, one a golden palomino and the other a black arabian.

  “Thought I’d give you a taste of my type of transportation,” she teased.

  She approached him in faded blue jeans and a bright red T-shirt. The shirt clung tightly about her chest. Frank had to keep himself from staring. He looked at the horses and noticed the arabian wasn’t saddled.

  “Which one’s mine?” he asked.

  “The child seat’s for you,” she said handing him the reins to the palomino. “I still only ride bareback.”

  “And barefoot,” Frank said, looking at her naked feet.

  “Still a farm girl at heart, I guess.” She smiled coyly.

  Frank’s heart pounded. “So where are you taking me?”

  “Just for a ride. You’ve been in the desert so long, I thought I’d remind you of all that North Carolina has to offer.”

  “And your mom and Charlie?” Frank asked cautiously.

  “Mom’s at a church luncheon and Charlie’s off hunting. We can go join them if you like.”

  “No. That’s quite all right. But you’re going to have to remind me how to operate one of these things.”

  Anna helped him get situated in the saddle and then hopped aboard the arabian. They started a slow trot past the barn.

  “Now, Frank,” she said seriously. “I want you to relax. Remember, small, smooth movements will give you the best ride.”

  Frank glared at her. “Thanks. At least an airplane can’t sense that its pilot is clueless.”

  Anna led the way through an overgrown pasture and then along a narrow path through the woods. They climbed a steep hill, emerging into a small, grassy meadow. At the top of the meadow, under the first row of pine, was a small wooden structure. Anna stopped beside it and dismounted.

  “This is where I wanted to take you,” she said excitedly. “Look behind you.”

  Frank carefully egressed from his horse and turned to where she pointed. From the top of the meadow he could see rolling pine-covered hills and checkerboard fields for miles. The occasional white steeple thrust toward the heavens and in the distance he could see the modest Greensboro skyline.

  Anna stood beside him. “I know you appreciate a good view, so I thought you might like this. After graduation I came here a lot to paint and think. It was always my private little get away.”

  Frank reached for her hand. “It’s beautiful.”

  She squeezed his hand and led him into the small shelter. Its three walls and tin roof were a colorful collage of painted scenes and portraits. “A long time ago this was my father’s deer blind. I took it over and made it my remote paint studio. You can see when I ran out of paper, I took to painting the walls.”

  They sat together on the open front ledge and looked out at the meadow.

  “So what about you?” she asked. “Do you have a favorite place to go in the desert?”

  Frank thought for a moment. “There is a spot beyond the flight line that I like to run to around sunset. It’s up a small hill and gives an incredible view of the lakebeds and the mountains beyond. On a clear day I can see snow-capped peaks over a hundred miles away. And at night, the stars simply fill the sky. But most intriguing are the Joshua trees. There’s a huge one on top of the hill. It’s just a twisted mass of gnarled branches covered with wicked spikes. It looks like some tormented prehistoric creature rising from the desert floor.”

  “Joshua,” Anna laughed. “That’s an inspirational name for such a forbidding tree.”

  “I’ve been told the Mormons named it. As they traveled through the desert, they believed the tree’s upraised arms would point the way to their promised land.”

  “Just like Joshua leading the Israelites to the Holy Land.”

  “Exactly. Except I’ve never seen a Joshua tree that didn’t point its branches in all directions.”

  Anna leaned back and looked up at the mix of faded paint and rusted metal. “After you left for pilot training, I spent a lot of time here trying to decide what direction to take my life. Yesterday I found myself doing the same thing.” She looked at him and smiled. “Seeing you again has me all confused.”

  “What about Charlie?” Frank asked quietly.

  “Charlie,” she said seriously. “Charlie and I met a couple of years ago at an art exhibition. He was working at a bank in town and I was displaying my work at a gallery nearby.” She paused. “He’s been a good friend to me.”

  “More than a friend?”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  Frank was quiet. He decided he had pressed her enough. He put his arms around his knees and looked up at the April sky.

  Anna gently touched his arm. “Charlie’s always here for me Frank. You’re here and then you’ll be gone. I’m a very selfish person. If I give all of myself to someone, I need the same in return.”

  Frank fought to control the rush of emotion that burned at his heart. He yearned to tell her what he was feeling. He gently ran his fingers along her arm, savoring the velvet touch. “I wish, more than anything, that I could stay right here with you. There’s nothing more important to me.”

  “But that’s what I’m afraid of, Frank. You’ll always have something more important to do. And that’s OK. You’re the type of person who can achieve anything in life, and you should. So many others could only wish to live such a magnificent life.”

  “Magnificent desolation,” Frank whispered, shaking
his head.

  “What?”

  “Me.” He looked desperately into her eyes. “Achieving goals isn’t enough anymore, Anna. My plate’s always been full, but inside I’m starving.”

  Anna searched his face. She seemed anxious to believe him, but afraid of what that might mean. At last her features softened. She lay back against the hardwood floor. “What will it take to satisfy you?”

  Frank leaned over her and gently kissed her lips. All the joy and sadness, the hope and desperation, suddenly poured from the depths of his being. In an instant he understood the direction his life had taken. He had fallen in love.

  Anna put her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. The warmth of her body blended with his own. He ran his fingers along the curve of her inner thigh, and could feel the heat through her jeans. He brushed his hand across her stomach and gently encircled her breast. The firm nipple pressed hard against the light fabric of her shirt.

  Anna lifted her body against him, eagerly inviting his touch. She grabbed his shirt about the waist and lifted it over his head. Frank held himself above her as she ran her hands down his chest and traced the hard ridges of his stomach. She slowly slid her fingers to the top of his jeans and undid the button. He kissed her deeply as she pulled down on the zipper.

  Feeling him against her, Anna breathed softly, “Remember. Small, smooth movements . . .”