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“Sam? How did you …”
He ignored my questions and looked at his watch. “I was worried we’d be late,” he said. “Get out.”
I did, closing the door behind me. It was a bright sunshiny day with a clear blue sky above.
“Look up,” said Sam.
I did, but there was nothing there. Really. Not a single cloud in the sky.
Then, slowly, I heard the humming of an airplane.
Not a jet. Not a Boeing, either. No, it was an old-fashioned plane. A biplane.
“What?” I asked. “Is that a—”
“Wait for it,” said Sam, stepping backward.
The little plane came into view, and then, slowly, I saw a trail begin to follow it. The plane dipped low, and an enormous stream of red smoke billowed from behind it. It was a single letter, like an “I,” hanging in the sky.
I watched the plane dance in the sky, and then I realized.
“Is that Jake?” I asked.
Slowly, the smoke spread across the sky. It billowed a little and stirred in the breeze, but the skill of the pilot ensured the message couldn’t be lost. After a few minutes, it fell out of view.
Left in the sky was a message. It read:
Alicia
I stared at the single word in the sky. It was my name. And as I looked at it, I heard the name, spoken in a dark, gravelly voice that I hadn’t heard in almost six weeks.
And now, the little plane was coming to land.
Lazily it swooped toward us, and I laughed out loud as it skidded to a halt on the tarmac in front of where we were standing. The propeller was turned off, and, as it slowed to a halt, I heard the engine stop. The pilot leaped out of the cockpit, and the biplane rocked as it did. He was wearing a leather jacket and a pair of goggles, which he removed and tossed casually into the pilot’s seat.
Jake turned to look at me. I looked at him.
“I’m sorry,” said Sam. “He wanted it to be a surprise.”
Jake walked toward us. I’d forgotten how tall he was, how strong. But he looked different too. He’d grown that gorgeous, dark stubble of his again, and I thought that his strong muscles had winnowed a little. He wasn’t the same man I’d said goodbye to in the hospital all those weeks ago.
“Hello, Alicia,” said Jake.
I looked at him, then up again at the message. It was starting to fade from the sky, but the letters were still there, clear as day. He’d written my name on the sky.
“Jake,” I said, shocked. “Are … where have you been?”
“Here and there,” he said. “I found Sam in New York. I’ve had a lot to do. And a lot of time to think …”
But I was already running for him.
I threw my arms around him, and he leaned down and kissed me. It was a deep, slow, sweet kiss—the kind that shakes your foundation and leaves your knees weak. I embraced him slowly, and eventually, when I looked into his eyes, I noticed there was a single tear falling down his cheek.
“I missed you,” he said.
“I missed you,” I replied. “Don’t you ever, ever go again.”
“That’s what I wanted to speak to you about,” said Jake. He dropped to his knee.
