“Good!” The girl settled back. “His parachute is open. He’s coming down. But, Sparky! we’ll be right beneath him!”
Sparky banked sharply to the right. Mary leaped for the door. Bracing herself against the current of air, she threw the door open, to stand there waiting, looking up, hoping.
Yes, there he was drifting down. He was closer, closer, much closer. He saw her. She could see him smile. She waved. He waved back. She shouted:
“I’ll be seeing you!”
He could not hear, but understood. With his hand he threw her a kiss. Then he was gone. When Mary brushed her hands across her eyes, they were wet with tears.
After that, seated beside Sparky, she sat in silence while miles of desert and mountains, narrow, green valleys, and more mountains passed beneath them until, with surprising suddenness, a small city with many trees, domes and strange rooftops appeared beneath them.
“That’s it,” Sparky said quietly. “We come down here.”
A little beyond the city that nestled among the hills, they dropped into a narrow valley and down upon a landing field.
As Mary stepped from the plane, she once again found herself staring at a familiar, broad back and, as the man turned, exclaimed:
“Dad! It’s you!”