Then something in me heard the stars, the pawpaws, trilliums, the whippoorwills, crawdads swimming in the creeks and cousin Alma all calling. Like the air had shimmered them.

It was amazing how I was able to ignore all his cursing, but he knew airplanes. He showed me how to line up straight on the obscene-curse-word runway and how to use the curse-word throttle and rudder to control the blasphemous-curse-word-plane, how to taxi down the smutty-curse-word runway and, when I got up to top speed, how to add up-elevator and how to maintain a simple-curse-word gradual ascent.

I didn’t say Atwater gave me old dresses with rips, and seams coming apart, and leftovers to eat—like it was a tip for doing a real good job for little pay.

Yes, I knew how to keep a secret since I was a girl and saw my uncle murder Zeke. I had learned to act like nothing had ever happened, how to walk across the crime scene and smile against my fears.

I enjoyed sitting behind him, watching. God he was handsome. How many times had I admired him? His backside, his shoulders, slim hips, long legs, his oval eyes, fingers, ring finger. I should give him a ring to wear. I’d slip it on his finger. Usually I don’t like a ski-jump nose: I liked his. Can I say love? I was almost beside myself when Miss Sally opened the door at 2 p.m. and said she was leaving for the day.