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Show house/, 454 first time." "There's got to be something we can do." "Look," he said, p o i n t i n g at the clock above the fairway. Damned, s t e a l t h y , i t i n e r a n t hands! We stood up. I dug in^purse for the exact change. No tip. "Well, I c a n ' t ask my mother. You know what she'd say." Brian slung h i s seabag over h i s shoulder. "What about your father?" My breath caught. "Oh, Brian, I d o n ' t think so. He's never liked to give us money. We've always had to make our own way." "What about a loan? Would he do t h a t ?" "Proabably n o t . . . " But I was smiling. "Maybe he would... He's never a c t u a l l y disowned me." We stopped at the gate and Brian looked down at me. "Well, honey, t h i s i s i t . ' What do you think?" There was a huge, t i g h t r o p e kind of ache in my s o l a r p l e x i s. If I could walk t h i s through, I would have everything. Strong legs to stand on. Eyes to see f a r and wide. Balance. If not, if I failed, I would f a l l forever. I looked i n t o B r i a n ' s eyes. "What i f he says no? What then?" "Try," he whispered, k i s s i n g me. He strode across the runway. He t%ned at the ramp. "Try!" he y e l l e d , and I nodded and waved, smiling. I entered the terminal and noticed with s u r p r i s e that I was not crying. There was too much to think about, too much to plan. 1 would be seeing him again soon enough. I sat in a chair before the observation window and watched the wings of B r i a n ' s plane i Ijjjj^a-iim#n»in- nit Q layo-o stirtA m'r»ni o hofn-pp straightenine: southward |