Florence ran to her mother.
Daddy’s favorite! she said.
Isn’t he a lucky man, Grace said.
Florence turned to her father, who was eating a cookie, scowled, and said, you are lucky.
Harrison narrowed his eyes and finished the cookie; does somebody want a horse-bite? he said.
Florence squealed and ran to the sofa. Harrison ran after her, hands held open like claws. She buried her head in the cushions. Harrison grabbed the back of her thighs.
Horse-bite! he said.
Florence screamed and wriggled away. He growled and crawled after her on his hands and knees.
Mommy! Florence said.
Don’t hide behind me, Grace said. When your daddy’s in one of these moods, there’s not much anyone can do.
Florence ran back into the kitchen.
What’s got your goat? Harrison said to Grace, sitting up.
Nothing, she said, sorry; I’m just tired. Listen, instead of horsing around, I could use some help with dinner?
Sure, he said, standing up. Duck, he said, you’re safe now!
No, Daddy, she said. Cause you don’t do that.
C’mon, he said. Go play til supper.
Florence wandered off. Harrison turned back to Grace, who was staring into the steam rising from a pan of boiling water.
Hon? he said. You okay?
What? she said. Yeah, I’m fine.
She turned back to the vegetables on the countertop.
What can I do? he said.
You could set the table, she said.
Sure.
He began to set the table.
How about me takin Duck on her first fishin trip soon.
Jim, you can’t take her into the mountains; she’s way too young.
Kern River, he said. Nothin crazy. Cast a few lines, stick our feet in the water, have a little fun—that kinda thing. Might even catch us a trout or two.
She dropped the chopped vegetables into the pan of water and turned to look at him.
And how you gonna get there? she said.
Take out one of Pancho’s horses, he said. The gentlest one she got. Saddle her up, strap Duck to me; off we go.
And what happens when Florence loses interest and you can’t keep an eye on her because you’re fishing?
Well, I could take a good length of rope; tie one end around a tree, the other around her waist; pack a few toys for her.
Jim—
That’s not such a bad idea, he said. Relax. Look, we’ll be gone half a day, tops, and most of that’ll be ridin.
Grace looked out the window.
Well, okay, she said.
Hey, Duck, he yelled. Where’d she go?
Florence? Grace said, stepping into the living room.
Maybe I left the door open? Harrison said.
Jim, Grace said, the fence—
Her heart lurched.
You haven’t fixed it yet!
Shit, Harrison said, and ran outside. Grace followed. He looked around the yard.
She’s not here, he said.
Jesus, Jim—if she gets lost in the desert— Call Ridley, get him in the air! he said, and jumped over the fence. Florence!
Grace ran back inside and dialed the base.
C’mon, she said, c’mon.
As the call connected, Harrison burst into the living room with their daughter under his arm.
Look what I found running around the Joshua trees, he said.
Florence, she said, thank God. Jack? Sorry, Jack, we had a missing girl for a while there, but it’s all okay now. Yeah, we’re fine—she looked up at Harrison—I will. Thanks, Jack; bye.
She replaced the receiver, took Florence from her husband’s hands, and raised hell.
We could have lost you, Florence.
Sorry, Mommy, Florence said.
Grace sighed, and put her down.
That’s okay, sweetheart, she said, just … don’t do it again.
Florence stepped back to her father and wrapped her arms around his legs. He put his hand on her head. There was a terrific rumble from outside. Harrison cocked his head.
Quick, he said to Florence.
They ran into the yard.
Look! he said.
The airplane was barely fifty feet off the deck, climbing toward them from the runway. It grew larger and louder; he had to shout to make himself heard over the roar of the rocket plane.
It’s an XF-92, he said.
Florence covered her ears.
Delta-wing prototype!
She said something, but he didn’t hear.
Controls are hydraulically operated, he said. Very sensitive. Sneeze on the stick and you’ll corkscrew in.
They watched the plane pass overhead. The thunder fell to a low grumble.
That was Pete Everest, he said.
Florence, hands still covering her ears, stared at him reproachfully and said nothing. Over her shoulder, in the doorway, Grace smiled.
LONG BEACH,
CALIFORNIA
APRIL 1961
Most days, the three of them stayed by the pool. They ate salty fries and drank cold Coca-Cola through colorful straws. In the early evening, they’d walk along the beach, the heat bearable by the water, the sun a fat orange closing in on the sea. Their room was a double with a sofa made up for Florence, who would kick off her blankets in the night and wake early, cold from the air-conditioning.