I asked, "And Amelia Earhart?"
Jean's voice was rough. "July 2nd, 1937. I guess I'll never forget that, when my god died. What are you trying to say? Is it some new damned cult you're promoting, Fred?"
"You called her a god. Why, Jean?"
"I don't know. I was only thirteen when she died. But she was so clean, so—so free and windswept, so—oh, what the spirit of America should be—and isn't."
I looked up to see tears in her eyes. Why was she moved? This girl who certainly knew corruption, this worldly, lovely girl. I smiled at her.
She wiped the tears with the back of her hand. "Fred, you are the strangest—I know this town's a zoo, but you, Fred—"
I continued to smile at her. "I'm just a guy trying to learn. May I repeat something I said last night? You're beautiful, Jean."
"You're no three-headed calf, yourself," she said.
Twin planets and parallel evolution.... Parallel destiny? Not with a third planetary war shaping up here. Three major wars in less than fifty years. Why, why, why....
She said, "Thinking, again? You do a lot of thinking, don't you?"