Harrison spent the next four days preparing for the flight. Touch-and-go landings in an F-104, forty hours in the simulator. He was hardly home. Friday morning, the Big Engine performed beautifully. After the flight, he typed up his pilot’s report on the spare desk in Ridley’s office. DATE, PILOT, FLIGHT NUMBER, FLIGHT TIME, LAUNCH LAKE, LANDING LAKE, LAUNCH TIME, LANDING TIME. He pulled on a cigarette as he filled in each. ABORTS: NONE. He looked up from the typewriter and frowned. He filled out the names of the four chase pilots and the B-52 crew. Under PURPOSE he wrote MH-96 EVALUATION. CONFIG: VENT ON, SL INDICATOR ON INSTR PANEL. BURN TIME: 82.4 SEC. THRUST: 100%. He sighed, looked around for his coffee, then typed RESULTS: MAX L/O RETURN FROM ~ 45 SOUTH OF BASE DUE TO BOUNCE AND OVERSHOOT FOLLOWING REENTRY. He looked at what he’d typed. He hadn’t realized how far up the nose had gone after he’d reentered the atmosphere. He’d ballooned out again and couldn’t turn. Sailed on by the landing lake at Mach three. Dropped back into the atmosphere over Pasadena with barely any fuel left, turned, made it back, landed safely—just.
Shit, he said, and unspooled the paper.
Walker came in.
I hear Pasadena’s nice this time of year, he said, grinning.
Harrison looked up, stubbing out his cigarette in a heavy glass ashtray.
I think you set some kinda cross-country record, Walker said.
All right, all right, Harrison said. I heard about Little John.
Oh, boy; that sure weren’t pretty.
Don’t doubt that.
I’m headin home. Give Gracie my love.
Thanks, Joe.
Harrison got home at nine. Grace was dozing on the sofa, Milo’s head resting on her lap. She stirred as he came in.
What time is it? she said, half asleep.
Did I wake you?
I left you dinner—it’s in the stove. I didn’t know when you’d be back.
Me either.
How was it?
Harrison didn’t answer. He stared out the window.
Jim?
Piece of cake, he said. I feel fine.
He walked into the kitchen. She sat up. Milo yawned. A few minutes later he came back in.
I’m going to bed, he said.
What about dinner? she said.
I’m not hungry.
He went upstairs.
C’mon boy, she said to Milo. Let’s get you some water.
Milo followed her into the kitchen. She refilled his bowl. The house was silent. She switched off the kitchen light, locked both doors, said good night to Milo and went upstairs. She could hear her husband moving around the bedroom. She stepped into the bathroom. By the time she got out, he was asleep.
The next morning Grace said, you haven’t forgotten we’re going up to Harper Farm have you? He said no and left for work.
Harper Farm was her father’s ranch. Hal’s heart had kicked and squeezed the previous summer, leaving him a sloppy gait and unstable hands. His world contracted. Grace tried to persuade him to sell up and come live with them in the Mojave but he said he couldn’t leave her mother. That Grace’s mother had died decades ago made no difference. She’d been buried on the ranch and, every night for a week after she’d gone, he’d lain right on top of the soil. Kevin, one of the hands, once told Grace that he’d seen her father testing out the spot for when his time came. The most crucial decision seemed to have been whether left, or right, of the existing plot would work best, with the less conventional top-to-tail also trialed. Grace wanted to talk to her father about it but could never bring herself to raise the topic. Recent events had affected Hal deeply. He’d taken to long and potentially hazardous night walks when the moon was fat enough for him to see. He ate dinner at breakfast and breakfast in the evening. When he slept, he slept on the floor. It was as though his life had been inverted by a powerful force he had no control over. In what was perhaps an attempt to restore some order to his life, Hal had decided to bring the wider family together for a reunion over the holidays.
Grace and Jim arrived at the farm early Christmas eve morning.
Daddy, Grace said, hugging her father on the stoop of the main house.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there, he said. His arms, still strong, mollified his willowy child.
Daddy, she whispered into his chest. They parted.
Jim, he said, shaking Harrison’s hand. Come on in.
Good to see you, Hal, he said.
We’ll bring the gifts up later, Grace said.
Aunt Carolyn hasn’t stopped asking me questions about you, sweetheart, Hal said. I’m glad you’re here.
Mixie here too? she said.
Sure is, Hal said.
Stevie?
Stuck in Utah. Work.
What’s he do?
Could be one of those goddamn astronauts for all I know.
She fixed him a look.
He’s a lawyer.
Oh.
Yeah, that’s what I said when Mixie told me.
Mind if I use the bathroom? Harrison said.
Go right ahead, Hal said. You know where it is. Let’s all go in. Gracie, there’s a bunch of folks in here dyin to see you again.