“Tommy Dale of course. Never another pilot like him.”
Nancy was so excited she scarcely knew what she was saying as she asked, “You thought I was Tommy?”
“I could have sworn those were Tommy’s eyes. But maybe they did get him. He made me jump first,” the sick man rambled on. “But the plane was still in the air when I saw it last.”
“And Tommy was in it?” she encouraged him gently, fearing his memories might be so fragile the least shock would shatter them.
“Tommy would stick it till everybody was safely out.” He broke off as the feverish eyes came back to the brown ones bending over him. “Your eyes are enough like Tommy’s to belong to him. But maybe I’m dying at last and you’re really Tommy come to see me over.”
“I’m Tommy’s sister,” she said with bated breath.
He could only stare for a moment incredulously. “No, it can’t be,” he finally burst forth. “Things like that don’t happen.”
She pulled her dog tag from under her shirt, and held her flash so he could read the inscription.
“Glory be to the saints!” he burst forth, seizing her hand and pressing it to his lips.
Nancy put her flashlight on the foot of the cot for she was trembling. She pulled a packing box closer to the man and sat down from sheer inability to stand.