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“A beer and egg picnic it is then. And I know just the spot.” Indy winked.
I found a packet of chips in the cupboard to go with the beers and tossed her the keys. “Wanna drive?”
“What? You said I could never drive Francine again.”
“Well, when you were learning to drive there wasn’t a bush on the side of the road that didn’t live in fear of you coming. Stop signs quavered, crossing guards cowered behind their fluorescent vests.” I made a woo-woo gesture with my hands.
“Hey! I wasn’t that bad!”
“Remind me again how many times you failed your driving test.”
“The first two times didn’t count,” she protested. “That driving inspector had it out for me. I’m still convinced you and Josh paid him off.”
“It was more likely the Finkelmann’s cat. That poor thing shit itself when it saw you behind the wheel.”
“Very funny. That cat loved me.” She came to a sudden stop at the doorway and I nearly ran into her.
“What?”
She grabbed my Detroit Red Wings cap off the coatrack. “You have to wear this.”
“Really?” I ran my fingers through my hair. “That bad, huh?”
“No, it’s just, I always loved you in a baseball cap. Oooh, will you wear it backward?”
I slipped it on, snapping it over my eyes before turning it backward. “As you wish.”
“Yes! And more Princess Bride quotes please.”
I laughed. “Want me to put my fisherman’s sweater on too?”
“No, that would be overkill,” she answered and skipped out to the car, flashing me a killer grin as she unlocked Francine’s driver side door.
“What exactly are we doing?” I asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
“Making my teenage fantasy come true,” Indy said as she put the car in reverse.
***
We parked near the base at a lookout point behind a small vineyard. It had a perfect view of the snow-capped mountains and the runway.
Diana cut the engine and stepped out of the car. I followed. “Are there any jets taking off today?”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but kind of unusual this late in the day.”
It was strange being here with her, on the edge of the life I was considering giving up. I’d yet to confess to Indy that I’d completely blown off my meeting with my commanding officer on Friday to be with her. Gonzo had warned me that Anderson was pissed. Whatever. Maybe I’d never fly another jet again. It had been worth it.
“So this is your big plan for a celebration?” I shook my head at her. “Haven’t you seen enough jets in your life?”
“It’s been years, Levi, since I’ve watched a plane take off,” she admitted quietly. “But I have some great memories of tagging along with you and Josh. It’s like old times.”
It sure was. I closed my eyes and remembered laying on our backs in the old pickup that Josh had inherited from his dad on his sixteenth birthday. Indy always bugging us to tag along. Sometimes we’d let her come. I’d pack a picnic with ice-cold pop; club sandwiches; the saltiest, greasiest chips we could find; and we’d shout up at the planes when they passed over us. I still did it to this day—except for the shouting part. Only now I did it alone.
“Come on, Jones.” I plopped the beers on the hood and hopped up onto the car, patting the space next to me.
“Is that allowed?” laughed Indy. “Won’t we dent Francine?”
“Nah, Francine is tough.” I popped the cap off a beer and waited for Indy to climb up beside me before handing it to her. “Besides you weigh what, one hundred pounds soaking wet?”
