Jackie hated working at Rick's on Sunday mornings.

Sundays brought the church crowd, and in Spearfish Lake, the church crowd was full of lousy tippers and complainers. The Saturday bunch was much more friendly, and the weekday crowds were, too. But, put ties on some of the same people, and bring their wives with them, and the atmosphere changed completely.

It didn't help that Jackie had experienced two short nights of sleep in a row. She could barely drag herself out of bed a few short hours after Mark had brought her home the night before. The alarm had to ring for several minutes before she could pull herself together enough to sit up and shut it off; fortunately, she'd had the presence of mind the night before to move the clock so that she couldn't reach it from the bed, or she would have slept all morning.

All morning long, as her feet began to ache from running back and forth with pots of coffee, she thought of Mark and his plans that she had heard about the night before. That would be quite a trip, she thought; it was quite a dream to have held. It would be a fun trip to take.

Except for some lunch business, the crowd died out about one, and Rick's normally closed at two. It had been a terribly long day, and she was glad to have it over with.

Outside, she saw that Mark had been right; some weather had moved in. It was still cold, more from the wind blowing than pure bitter cold, but it was overcast and it looked like there might be some snow in the air. Most of the snow around Spearfish Lake had disappeared early, for once, except for some patches back in the shade of buildings, or deep in the woods, but the sky looked like it could dump some more on them. For Spearfish Lake, spring was still a month or more off; winter usually hung on until everyone was thoroughly sick of it. By this time of year people were pretty tired of seeing bare trees and the winter gray and brown; the snow being gone just made everything seem more drab.

It was easy to understand why Mark wanted to be on his way to someplace else.

Jackie got into the car and started it up. As tired as she was, she thought that she would just go home and see if she could take a nap. Naps in the afternoon were hard, though; Johnnie made a lot of noise, and hadn't yet learned that there were times that people wanted to be let alone to sleep. Plus, the TV would be on, and besides a nap would put her schedule out of sorts.

As Jackie drove towards home she came up on the intersection of the state road. Going down the state road a short ways would take her out to the airport; she wondered if Mark were out there, working on the ribstitching of the wing. On a whim, she slowed and turned down the state road to see.

At the airport, she could see Mark's old Ford sitting in front of the hanger; apparently he was still there. For a moment, she thought that it would be rather forward of her to just barge in on him without warning, but decided to do it anyway.

Inside, she could see that he was intent on what he was doing. "Looks like you've made quite a bit of progress since last night," she told him.

"Dad was out this morning, and he helped me for a couple of hours before his hands got too painful," he said. "Every little bit helps."

"I just thought I'd see how you were coming. I can't really help you out this afternoon. Sarah needs to get her car back, and I'm not dressed for it."

"I could pick you up," he suggested. "You were a big help last night."

Jackie thought for a moment. She was tired, and she knew Sarah planned to go to Lynchburg right after she got home. If Jackie stayed home, then Johnnie would probably be left with her, and she was too tired for him right now. On the other hand, it would be pleasant to spend more time with Mark.

No contest. "Can you follow me right home?" she asked. "That way, I'm less likely to get roped into babysitting my stepbrother."

He stood up. "I can do that," he said. "I was getting about ready to get my hands into some gloves for a while, anyway."

Sarah acted a little disappointed that Jackie had something planned other than babysitting, but she wasn't about to say anything with Mark standing there, waiting while Jackie changed out of her white dress into something warmer, and pulled on the snowmobile suit once again. "She wanted to," Jackie told Mark in the car as they headed back to the airport, "She's got the idea that I should automatically be willing to be a free babysitter whenever she wants."

"Sounds like a real pain in the butt," Mark commented.

Jackie shook her head. "Most of the time, it's not, really. I don't mind Johnny most of the time, but I just hate being taken for granted. Working at Rick's has helped. At least I'm not automatically free whenever she wants."

"You sound like you're not too crazy about her," he observed, swerving the car around one of Spearfish Lake's numerous potholes.

"She's OK," Jackie said. "We get along OK, most of the time, but I guess I've always felt that she took Dad away from me, a lot."

"You mean, compared with back when you were littler."

"Yeah," Jackie agreed. "I shouldn't really feel that way. I mean, Dad has to have his life, too. But, it seems like I'm on the outside a lot, kind of like a fifth wheel."

Perhaps it was the irritation with Sarah, or perhaps it was just being tired, or perhaps it was because talking over the wing, out of sight of each other, was sort of like being in a confessional; but as they worked on the wing in the waning hours of the afternoon, Jackie found herself telling Mark a lot about herself — things that she had not been willing to talk about with a friend like Kirsten. It was good to have someone to talk to, who could listen, and perhaps understand.

For example, she had always felt awkward and freakish about her height. Always tall, she now stood an even six feet tall, taller by far than most of her friends, taller than most guys. She stuck out in a crowd, and she had always been self-conscious about it. But, in Mark, who was even taller than she was, although not by much, she found someone who could understand.

"It was tough for me, too," Mark told her. "That idiot Meredith, when he was the football and basketball coach, was always on my ass to go out for basketball. I could never make it clear to him that I can't play basketball, don't like basketball, and could care less about basketball."

"It's tougher for a girl, I think," she told him. "Six feet for a guy is just on the tall side. For a girl, it's awful tall. People were always making jokes about it, and that hurt. You know, 'Hi, how's the weather up there?' — that sort of thing. It hurts. You can't do anything about it, but it hurts just the same. I felt like such a freak."

"The hell with the little people," he laughed. "You know and I know that one of the good things about being tall is that we can look down on them. When people laugh at us for being tall, it's because they envy us, not because they hate us. Be proud that you're so tall, not ashamed of it."

"That's easy to say," she said. "When you're a girl and there's no one that's anywhere near as tall as you, it's awful hard to do. Then, on top of all the tall jokes, there were always the stories about my mother. You know, my real mother, not Sarah."

"I know," Mark said. "At least, I know about the stories."

Jackie had been probing with the needle for the proper place on the far side of the wing, but now she stopped. "I haven't seen her for, six or seven years," she said quietly. "I just can't bear to look at her. There's nothing to see. She just lays there, staring at the ceiling, eyes open, humming the same note, all day, and they tell me all night. They're not sure if she's awake or asleep, and they don't think she'll ever get any better." She had never shared even this much with anyone, except for her father, not even Sarah, and she wondered even as she spoke why she was telling Mark now. "I'm not sure I care any longer, at least about her. I barely remember her when she was what you call normal, although I don't think she was well, even then, but I didn't realize until later just how strange she was acting."

She probed with the needle again; Mark saw that it was in the right place, and pulled it on through without saying anything. Somehow, he couldn't think of anything to say.

As he tied the seine knot, she started to speak again. "You know, it's not the stories that people tell that bother me," she said. "It's just the fact that she's my mother. She's tall, like me, and I've worried for years, if maybe what she has is genetic." She was silent again, so silent that Mark stopped fiddling with the seine knot and stood up to look over the wing and see if she was all right. Sitting on the stool, she looked up at him and said, "God, I hope somebody has the good sense to kill me if I ever get like that. Frankly, Mark, it scares the hell out of me."

Mark found himself at a loss for words. Just what the hell do you say to something like that? "Well, I'm no expert," he said. "But, I would have to think that it's probably not genetic. Environment has to play a part, too." It wasn't the best thing he could have said, he realized, but he couldn't think of anything better. It would have to do.

"I hope you're right," she said finally. "I've had people that know more about it than you do say they don't know for sure, either."

"Like I said," Mark replied. "I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure of one thing: worrying about it won't make it any better."

They were silent for a moment before Jackie nodded. "You're probably right. I guess I know that, but I can't help worrying about it. Let's get back to work."

Mark bent back over again, finished the seine knot, then started probing with the needle again. She had helped him work the needle into the right place and was pulling it through when he snickered a little; he couldn't help himself. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"Oh, the thought crossed my mind that the whole thing is something you could use to your advantage, not let it just get you down."

"What do you mean?" she said, a little suspicious.

"Well, take this trip. I haven't really told many people besides my family, and now you, what I'm up to. I mean, most people would think the whole thing is a little screwy, you know."

"I can see that," she agreed, "What's your point?"

"Simple," he smiled. "Me, people will say when they hear about it, 'What's got into that kid?' Now, if it was you that was doing something that's a little off the wall, people wouldn't think much of it. They'd just say, 'Aw, hell, it runs in the family.'"

She laughed along with him. "I never thought of it like that. It's probably something a guy could use, but it doesn't work the same for girls."

"Maybe we're not on the same wave length," he said, "But I think it works more for girls than it does for guys. I mean, guys have a little room to do stuff that's a little off the wall, anyway. Girls have to be pretty straight. You know, the double standard thing. I mean, it gives you an excuse to do something you want to do."

"I guess I see what you mean," she said. "I mean, when you stop and think about it, sitting out in a freezing hanger in a snowmobile suit sewing on a wing is kind of a screwy thing to do, but I enjoy doing it."

"Right," he laughed. "The best thing of all is that most people that you know, anyway, are going to be pretty nice about it. I mean, they're not going to say to your face, 'You're crazy to be doing that.' Let's take a break."

The space heater in the office felt good, and the warm cups of coffee tasted good, too, even though it was just instant coffee. They plopped down on the battered and broken old couch to let the warmth wash through them. Mark glanced at the clock on the wall. "It'll be getting dark soon," he said. "Don't guess we get to do any stargazing tonight. How long do you want to stay out here?"

"I'm in no rush to go home," she said. "I kind of like staying out here with you. It's so nice to be able to just talk with someone, and relax, and feel I'm doing something constructive, too. I know it may not seem like it to you, but I've really enjoyed last night and this afternoon."

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying it," he said. "The thing is, I'm getting about ready to go something to eat. Would you like to go out for a sandwich, or something? Maybe go out and get a beer?"

"No beer today," she said. "It's Sunday, and all the bars are closed."

He stopped for a moment, thinking. "Yeah, it is Sunday, isn't it? Well, we could just do what I normally do when I get hungry when I'm out here."

"What's that? Go without? Not on my account."

"Naw, I just heat up a can of stew on the space heater. You like a nice plate of canned stew to go with your coffee?"

"Would you think I was crazy if I said that having a plate of canned stew and a cup of instant coffee out here with you is better than having the best steak in town by myself?"

He nodded his head, and said, "It's nice that you think that way," but his mind was on something long ago and far away — in Bangkok, to be precise. It had been years since he had been so comfortable and relaxed with a woman. The last time he had done something even comparable had been just walking through the city with Mei-Ling. He savored the memory while he opened a can and poured its contents into a pan. He hadn't told Jackie, but he had probably enjoyed being with her over the past twenty-four hours as much as she had enjoyed being with him. Maybe more.

He thought back to how often he had hoped and prayed for a girl friend, someone just to talk with, to joke with, to enjoy being with, and those dreams went back even further than the trip — much further. As much as he had enjoyed the sex he had with Mei-Ling, it had seemed a touch artificial, which he knew it was — but the companionship and the shared fun he had enjoyed with her had only proven to him what he had missed by not having a girl friend. He could tell that he was well on the way to having a girl friend now, perhaps not the stacked-up blonde or the sweet Chinese-Thai girl of his dreams, but perfectly adequate. In many respects, much better than adequate. Jackie might not have been Miss America, but she wasn't ugly, either; the worst you could call her would be "plain". And, she seemed interested in a lot of things he was interested in, and that, he knew, was even harder to find.

Why now? In a month, maybe less if things went well, he'd be gone. It was damn inconvenient timing, to say the least. But then, that was one thing he had learned from Mei-Ling: enjoy it now. It may not be there tomorrow.

All these thoughts blasted through his mind in a matter of seconds, and he was a little surprised at how briefly the image of Mei-Ling lingered. "To tell you the truth," he said, "I can't think of anything I'd rather do than share a plate of stew out here with you, under these circumstances."

Hours later, they got the last stitch in the wing. It was nearing midnight again, and both of them were tired, but they had been able to see how little was left, and it kept them both driving on. As he tied off the last stitch and clipped off the end of the string, he said, "That's one down, and one to go. I really appreciate the help you've been, Jackie. It would have taken me all week to do this by myself."

"I'm just glad I could help," she said. "Are you planning on starting on the other wing tomorrow? I'm off, and I could help you then, if you like."

"Look, I don't want you to think you have to do it," he said as he picked up tools and turned out lights, "But if you'd like to help out again, I'd really appreciate it. It's not just getting this wing done, but I've really enjoyed having you here."

"I've enjoyed it too," she said. "More than you might think. What time do you want to pick me up?"

Jackie was a little surprised to find herself awake before the alarm went off the next morning. It had been set for nine, but at eight-thirty she was so awake that she knew she might as well get up. She pulled on a robe and headed downstairs to pour herself a cup of coffee. She didn't like it real hot; by the time she would finish her shower it would be just about right.

Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee, he must have made it home after she went to bed. Since she was running a little early, the shower could wait a few minutes. "So how was the run, Dad?" she asked as she poured a cup of coffee, then ran a little cold water into it to make it cool enough to drink.

"Not bad," he said. "About the same, except that coming back from Syracuse I had three units, and all of them kept running. First time that's happened in a while. Then, I just missed crunching a car, right outside Putnam yard."

"Close?" she asked. A railroader's daughter, she knew just how dangerous it was to run a crossing ahead of a train that couldn't stop within a mile or two.

Walt Archer shook his head. "Missed them by inches, horn going all the time. I've never killed anyone yet, but sometimes you wonder if someone that dumb or that careless doesn't deserve to die."

"You have to wonder about people like that," she agreed, sipping her coffee.

"I don't want to think about it," he said. "God, I close my eyes and see that guy's taillights right under my feet. But anyway, Sarah tells me that you've been out late on dates every night."

"Not really dates, Dad," she explained. "Well, Friday night was a date." She blinked. Was it only Friday night that she had been out with Hjalmer? It seemed like months. "The last couple of nights, I've been helping Mark Gravengood work on his airplane. You remember Mark, don't you?"

"Sure," Walt said. "He just got out of the army a few months ago, didn't he? What have you been doing with him on his airplane, anyway?"

Jackie explained the ribstitching process she had been helping Mark with. "I can see it goes really slow when it's only him doing it, but it really works well with the two of us. He's picking me up in an hour or so, so we can start on the other wing."

"Well, I guess it doesn't sound like a date," he said.

"It's really kind of far from it," Jackie told him. "You ever hear of bundling boards? Back in the old days, when houses weren't heated, people used to court by climbing into bed with this board fixed between them so they'd keep their hands off of each other. It's kind of like that. We've got this fifteen foot bundling board, about four feet wide, between us. We talk a lot, but we hardly ever see each other."

"You like Mark? I hadn't seen him since before he joined the army, but he always seemed like a pretty level-headed kid."

"He's a nice guy, dad. I enjoy being with him. When I was out with Hjalmer, it seemed kind of like boy-girl. With Mark it seems kind of like brother and sister."

"Well, have a good time," he said. "Just don't let it get out of hand and you find yourself doing something you really don't want to do."

"I don't intend to let it happen, Dad," she said. "I kind of thought that it might have been heading that way with Hjalmer Friday night, and I knew I'd walk home if I had to. I just don't get that kind of feeling with Mark."

Walt sipped his coffee. "Well, I've always been able to depend on you to do the right thing," he said finally. "It's going to have to be up to you to do it." He sighed, and looked at the ceiling. "I've realized, the last two or three years," he said, "That sooner or later you're going to go off to college, or go off with some young man, and whether you do right or do wrong is something Sarah and I really can't do much about. We'll just have to depend on you to know what's right, and hope we've raised you to know to do what you're supposed to."

"You're saying, be a good girl, and don't go to bed with everybody I meet, right?"

"Yeah," Walt said. "I just can't bring myself to say it like that, to you, anyway. I have to make myself realize that you're not my little girl any longer, and it's going to happen sooner or later. It's just that you're going to have to be sure it's right, that you're not making a bad decision. If you're not sure it's right, it's probably not."

"Well, I don't think there's any danger of that with Mark," Jackie said. "Not now, anyway. And, it might take a long time." Especially with him leaving on his trip, she thought. It might not happen at all. "For right now, I'm just enjoying being with him, and helping him out. It might develop into something, and it might not. But, it's fun, and he's a nice guy."

"I remember him as a good kid," her father said. "It always kind of struck me that he had his own list of things to do, but then, I guess we all do. What time is he picking you up?"

"Ten," she said, looking at the clock. "And, if I'm going to get a shower before he comes, I think I'd better get moving."

She took a cup of coffee with her stopped by her bedroom to pick up clean clothes for the day. As soon as the water in the shower was warm, she got in, soaped herself down good, rinsed off, and washed her hair. She had missed her shower the day before; her schedule had been just too tight. Her hair had gone several days, now — too long, but it was such a hassle to get it dry that she usually tried to put it off as long as she could.

Feeling suitably clean a few minutes later, she shut off the shower and got out. The bathroom, which had seemed uncomfortably cool a few minutes earlier, now was cozy with the heat and the moisture of the hot shower. She dried herself off and turned to brushing out her wet hair. She was tempted to put on her robe, but it didn't seem necessary.

In the mirror, she looked strange without glasses; better perhaps — who could say. Looking at the reflection of her naked body, she tried to imagine what longer hair than her current shoulder length would look like; it would certainly look different. Maybe she'd put off getting it cut for a while, to see.

She continued to brush out her hair, but her mind went to what her father had said. She'd often wondered what it would be like to be with a man — what it would feel like, how it would be. She knew what the mechanics of the situation were, of course, but what would it feel like? She wondered if she had a body that would appeal to a man. She was tall, of course, and thin, perhaps too thin. While she wasn't flat-chested by any means, she didn't have a chest like her friend, Kirsten Langenderfer, either. Boys had always sniffed around Kirsten because of her chest, she recalled, and she wondered if things would have been different if she'd had Kirsten's size, Kirsten's build. Would Mark like her body the way it was? What would it be like to be with Mark, anyway?

She put the hair dryer cap over her head, and set the hair dryer to running. It would take a while to get her hair dry, and she didn't dare go out in the cold with it damp. With the hair dryer roaring away, she sipped at her coffee and began to get dressed. As she pulled on her bra, she thought of the touch of Hjalmer's hand on her breast Friday evening, how exciting it had seemed. The little necking she had done with Hjalmer had been a lot of fun, too. It was strange, now that she thought about it, but Mark had never made the first move toward a hug, a kiss, or anything else. He had been the perfect gentleman, but perhaps he wasn't a touchy-feely type person.

She realized that Mark would be leaving soon. It might be a long time before he got back, and perhaps he didn't want to get anything going. Continuing to get dressed in jeans and a work shirt, she thought about that. It was going to be a heck of a trip; she envied him. Taking off in an airplane to bum around the country by yourself was just something that a girl couldn't do. A guy could get away with it, but a girl would be over her head in no time; maybe not safe, either. Strange things happened to girls that traveled by themselves.

It wasn't fair, she thought. She'd love to do something like that. Mark could do it, but she couldn't. About all she would be able to do would be to wait for his return, and hope they could get something going then.

If he returned.

Jackie was ready to go when she heard the rumble of the Ford's muffler, right at ten. As she went outside, she saw that a light snow had fallen overnight, an inch or two, perhaps; little enough that it hardly counted in a Spearfish Lake winter. Today seemed a lot warmer, although it was still overcast. It was clear that this snow wouldn't be around long; some of it was sloppily melting already.

The Ford left fresh tracks through the thin show as Mark drove up the airport driveway. While the heater was warming the office up, he and Jackie unfastened the wing from the cradle that had held it, and put the other one in its place. The wings were not heavy; the two of them could handle one of them easily.

"This is one of the fun parts," Mark said. "Getting the fabric on the wing in the first place."

The fabric was sewn in a long sleeve, that barely fit around the wing, and it took them a fair amount of shuffling the cradles around and working at the fabric to get it in place. "It looks kind of sloppy," Jackie protested. "How do we get it as tight as the other one?"

"We have to shrink it in place," Mark said. "You want to run out to the car? There's an iron in the back seat."

"An iron?"

"Sure. You iron shirts, don't you? We've got a wing to iron."

Working slowly and carefully, with the iron not very hot, Mark did just that. The heat of the iron shrunk the dacron fabric, but it had to be shrunk fairly evenly, and getting all the wrinkles out and the fabric acceptably tight was a slow process. "I've got an engine pre-heater here that could keep us a little warmer," Mark explained. "I mean, it would be possible to build kind of a plastic enclosure that we could get a little warm. But, the pre-heater would stink us out and maybe gas us, and worse, it might create a hot spot on the wing that would shrink more than we want it to. I'd rather be cold."

In spite of the fact that it was warmer today, they were cold by the time they had the wing ready for ribstitching. They retreated to the office, where they had lunch: some meat loaf sandwiches Jackie had made from the dinner that she had missed the day before.

After they ate they turned back to the ribstitching. After the practice they had, and with it a little warmer, things went well. On either side of the wing, they passed the needle back and forth, and sat talking — not about anything in particular. Mark caught up on Spearfish Lake gossip he had missed out on for four years — who'd gotten married, who'd gotten divorced, who'd gotten pregnant without benefit of marriage. He heard for the first time about the disappearance of Henry Toivo in Vietnam, and though he didn't say anything about it, was glad it hadn't happened to him. He heard about the riot at the school board meeting when the school board tried to extend the contract of the football coach, after the Spearfish Lake Marlins had gone three years without a win. The end result of the riot was that the coach was all but run out of town, and now the Marlins had a new coach that seemed to be doing some good.

The afternoon passed quickly, and they made good progress on the wing. With the weather a little warmer, fewer retreats to the office were needed. It was after dark before they realized the time, and realized they were hungry. Mark offered to take Jackie out to dinner but it seemed like too much trouble to both of them so they made their dinner out of canned stew, heated on the space heater, and went back to work. It was late in the evening before they decided to call a halt, but they were more than halfway done with the wing. One more good day would have it under control.

"I'm not sure we've got enough cord to finish up the job," Mark said as he drove her home. "We'll hit it for a couple of hours, and see."

"Why don't we just get some before we start?" she asked.

"I don't think there's any in Spearfish Lake," he said. "I'll make a couple of phone calls in the morning, but we may have to go get some down in Camden or somewhere. Shall I pick you up around ten, again?

"You can make it earlier," she told him. "I'm not as dog-tired as I was last night. Say, nine?"

"Naw, let's make it ten. That'll give me time to make some phone calls. A couple of the places I need to call don't open until nine."

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