The Lysander made a washboard landing in the field beside an old farmhouse.
“Thank you for this, George,” Jill yelled over the drone of the plane’s engine as he brought it to a stop. She stretched over and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“That’s payment enough. Let’s hope…”
She had known George since…well…she couldn’t recollect when she didn’t know him.
“Me too,” she interjected, sighing. “Nasty storm brewing…Are you sure you shouldn’t wait this out?”
“Git girl! I’ll be back in Portland before it breaks.”
Disembarking with her suitcase, she shut the door and, rounding the plane on the propeller side, headed to the fence-line to watch the plane disappear into the low hanging, foreboding clouds.
The moment she laid eyes on her brother, Allan, standing at the door, she knew and she...