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Oh； shit！ As he looked at the pieces he felt like a fool。 A fucking toy plane！ He threw himself on the couch and lay there staring at the ceiling。
Toad Tarkington was silent as he drove from stoplight to stoplight on the main highway through Rehoboth Beach。 The woman beside him finally asked； 〃So how is he？〃
〃He's changed；〃 Toad said。 〃The official report said he was in a a for two weeks。 It was a week before that Greek fishing boat even made port。 It's a miracle he didn't die on the boat。 He said the fishermen expected him to and kept fishing。〃
〃I would have liked to meet him。〃
〃Well； I was going to mention you were in the car； but he was bogy working on a model airplane and he was。。。 Anyway； you can always meet him later。〃
The woman reached for the knob to turn the stereo on； then thought better of it。 〃This new assignment…asking for it just because you like him。。。〃
〃It's not that I like him；〃 Toad said。 〃I respect him。 He's。。。 different。 There aren't many men like him left in this day and age。 If Congress hadn't jumped into that incident with both feet and voted him the Medal of Honor； he would probably have been forced to retire。 Maybe even a court…martial。〃 Toad smacked the steering wheel with his hand。 〃He's a national hero and he doesn't give a damn。 I've never met anyone like him before。〃 He thought about it。 〃Maybe there aren't any more like him。〃
The woman reached for the knob again and turned the stereo on。
She had known Toad Tarkington for three weeks and she was still trying to figure him out。 He was the first military man she had dated and he was modestly famous after the attack last fall on United States。 Her friends thought it was so exciting。 Still； he was a bit weird。 （A well； he made a decent salary and bathed and shaved and looked marvelous at parties。 And he was a fine lover。 A liBri could do a lot worse。 〃Where do you want to eat tonight？〃 she asked。
It was dark and spattering rain when Jake heard Callie's car pull in。 He had pleted assembly of the vertical and horizontal stabilizers； the rudder； and the wings； and had placed them on top of the bookcase and credenza to cure and was cleaning up the mess on the kitchen table。 He raked the rest of it into the box the airplane had e in and slid the box up on top of the kitchen cabinets； then went outside to meet her。 She was opening the trunk of her car。
〃Hey； good…looking。 Wele home。〃 He pecked her cheek and lifted her overnight bag out of the trunk。
〃Hello。〃 She followed him into the house； hugging herself against the evening chill。 He closed the door behind her and climbed the stairs toward the bedrooms。 〃What's this？〃 Callie called。
〃I'm building an airplane；〃 he boomed as he dropped the bag on the bed。 When he reached the foot of the stairs she was examining the wing structure without touching it。 〃It's dry enough to pick up。 How about coffee？〃
〃Sure。〃 Callie walked slowly around the living/dining area； her purse still over her shoulder； looking。 She opened the door to the screened…in porch and was shivering in the wind； looking at the wicker furniture； when he handed her the coffee cup。 〃This stuff needs to be painted again。〃 She slid the door closed and leaned back against it as she sipped the hot liquid。
〃What kind of week did you have？〃
〃So…so。〃 She was halfway through her first semester as a language instructor at Georgetown University。 〃They asked me to teach this summer。〃
〃What did you say？〃
〃That I'd think about it。〃 She had been planning on spending the summer here at the beach。 Kicking her pumps off； she sat on the sofa with her legs under her。 〃It all depends。〃
Jake poured himself coffee and sat down at the kitchen table where he could face her。
〃I went to see Dr。 Arnold this afternoon。〃
〃Uh…huh。〃 Jake had refused to go back to the psychologist。
〃He says if you don't get your act together I should leave you。〃
〃Just what does the soul slicer think my act is？〃
〃Oh； cut the crap； Jake。〃 She averted her face。 She finished her coffee in silence； then rinsed the cup in the sink。 Retrieving her shoes； she went upstairs。
The sound of water running in the shower was audible all over the downstairs。 Jake spread the airplane diagram on the table and opened the instruction manual。 Finally he threw the manual down in disgust。
He needed a drink。 The doctors had told him not to； but fuck them。 He rummaged under the sink and found that old bottle of bourbon with several inches of liquid remaining。 He poured some in a glass and added ice。
The problem was that he didn't want to do anything。 He didn't want to retire and sit here and vegetate or find a civilian job。 He didn't want to go to the Pentagon and immerse himself in the bureaucracy。 The Pentagon job had been the only one offered to him when he was finally ready to be discharged from Bethesda Naval Hospital。 The politicians had made him a hero and checkmated the naval establishment but the powers that be had still been smarting from the way the official investigation had been derailed。 Luckily he had been damn near atose in the hospital and everyone in uniform knew he had nothing to do with the political maneuvering。 So he was still in the navy。 But his shot at flag rank had vaporized like a drop of water on a hot stove。 Not that he really ever hoped to make admiral or even cared。
He lay down on the couch and sipped at the drink。 Maybe the whole problem was that he just didn't care about any of it anymore。 Let the other guys do the sweating。 Let them dance on the tightrope。 Let someone else pick up the bodies of those who fell。 He put the glass on the floor and rolled over on his side。 Maybe he was depressed…that soul doctor。。。 Yes； depression； that was probably。。。
When he awoke it was two in the morning and the lights were off。 Callie had covered him with a blanket。 He went upstairs； undressed； and crawled into bed with her。
The wind whipped the occasional raindrops at a steep angle and drove the gray clouds at a furious pace as Jake and Callie strolled the beach。 They were out for their usual morning walk； which they took rain or shine； fair weather or foul。 Both wore shorts and were barefoot； they carried the flip…flops they had worn to traverse the seashell mix that covered the street in front of their house that led to the beach。 Both were wearing old sweatshirts over sweaters。 Callie's hair whipped in the wind。
Jake critically examined the contours of sand around the piles that supported a huge house some ignorant optimist had constructed on the dune facing the beach。 The first hurricane； Jake suspected； would have the owner tearing his hair。 The sand looked firm now。 Shades obscured all the windows。 The house was empty。 Only three or four other people were visible on the beach。
Birds scurried along the sand； racing after retreating waves and probing furiously for their breakfast。 Gulls rode the air currents with their noses pointed out to sea。 He watched the gulls and tried to decide if the Gentle Lady could soar with them。 The moving air had to have some kind of an upward vector over the sand。 Perhaps if he kept the plane above the dune。 The dune was low； though。 He would see。
Callie's hand found his and