OCR Text |
Show 272 could drop me at the airport Monday, and keep the car." He spoke hesitantly, as if he had not yet convinced himself that this was a good idea. "How would that be?" "You mean keep the car?" She could not hold the excitement from her voice. "While you're gone?" "Yes. You've driven it before. There shouldn't be any problem." "No. No," she said quickly, "I'm not worried about that. But you've never loaned that car to anybody." "I know," he said, "and it makes me nervous." He laughed. "Oh, Robbie, it will make all the difference with Auntie." "Yes." He was convinced now, it was in his voice. "I know it will." That Monday when he picked her up on the way to the airport, it was just turning light. It had been raining when she had gone to bed, a hard winter rain, and she had worried: the plane would crash on takeoff, she would witness the ball of flame, there would be no survivors. And she would be left without anyone. It was the kind of fear that she had wallowed in before. But it was very threatening to her, lying there in the bed. She had prayed for his safety. But the fear had not gone away, and she had slipped into sleep to dream nightmares of that recurring ball of flame. First from one angle, and then another; from a distance, like a long shot in a movie, and then close up, so that the yellow blackish explosion filled her vision, so close its perimeters were undefined. But then when she woke, the sky was clear, and seeing that, |