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John eyed Connie as he drove them back. There she sat as calm as could be. For a moment, he’d thought that he’d lost her. He’d seen the blast-shield defense clamp down as she spoke of her abilities. There was a lot of hurt, but once again, he didn’t know why. He took her hand, glad his dad drove an automatic these days. He’d wanted to wrap her into his arms and hold her safe, but the connection of holding her hand worked as well.
Several times during the meal, one or the other had reached out and they held hands as they told tales.
They’d both steered toward safer topics. And had a great time. She flown nearly every rotorcraft airframe and, once he got her started, was comfortable talking about the differences and changes. In addition to working at Sikorsky, she’d consulted with Bell
