7. Lock Haven Yellow #7
"It's not Frank's plane anymore, Charlie.
It's mine. And I'm telling you we should think about selling it.
" Helen's voice was calm and steady, the same voice she used when she was being kind and immovable at the same time.
"That plane has been sitting in that hangar since Frank passed.
It's not flying. It's not being loved the way Frank loved it.
Even you're not here to give it the loving care he did.
" Charlie closed her eyes at the truth through the phone.
"But Katie... Katie can use it to fly, Charlie.
Katie can use it to soar. It'll just be in a different direction, but it'll be in a direction made for Katie.
And I think that is a much better use of Frank's legacy than a machine in a hangar collecting dust."
"Helen—"
"Frank would have wanted this with his whole heart. You know that, Charlie. He loved you girls—" She broke off for just a moment. "You know what he would say. He would say 'get the boss into that school and don't think twice about it.'"
Charlie pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes.
She could see the hangar at Shelbyville airport, the flat stretch of pavement and grass, the corrugated hangars along the tree line.
She could see Lock Haven Yellow catching the Indiana sun and the Continental A-65 under the cowling.
She could feel the weight of the wings and hear Frank's voice: It's an engine that you know.
"What a wonderful gift his legacy could be," Helen said. "For our family."
Charlie didn't say anything for a long time. Then she said, "Okay."
"Good," Helen said, relief in her voice. "I'll work on it soon."
"Do you want us to fly out there to help with the preparations?"
"Oh no, dear. That won't be necessary."
Charlie, settling into acceptance, understood. "Okay. Would you like me to make some calls tomorrow?"
"Not tomorrow, Charlie," Helen answered, not saying anything further.
Charlie heard something in her voice. "Why not?"
"Oh, I didn't want to trouble you girls, but... well, I'm going to the doctor tomorrow. Just to have some tests done."
Charlie's throat constricted. "Tests? What kind of tests?"
"It's completely routine, honey, don't you worry. It's just because I'm gettin' old, you know. They want to check on everything." Helen's voice was light and dismissive, already moving past it.
Charlie held Helen's words in her heart but made a mental note to check in with Helen every day over the next week or so, until she received the results of all the tests.
"Okay."
"Okay, then," Helen replied. "Get Katie back on the phone. Let's tell her the good news."
Charlie smiled and beckoned Katie back to the phone, where she and Helen told her the plan.
At first, Katie reacted the same way Charlie had, but when Helen told her the same reasons for the decision, Katie nodded with understanding, then broke into tears as she couldn't contain her excitement and gratitude.
The moment passed, and their phone call ended.
Charlie debated telling Katie about the tests Helen was set to complete the next day, but decided to keep it to herself, at least for now.
So, instead, she let the thought settle behind the things that needed her attention right now.
She got up and stood by the window for a while, watching the California sky shift from blue to something darker, and she pressed her hand against the glass as though she could feel the distance between Pasadena and Shelbyville underneath her fingertips.
Helen's tests came back normal, and the Cub sold within a month. A pilot from Greencastle bought it, a man who came to the hangar and looked at the plane the way Frank used to look at it.
Charlie had flown back for the sale and was there when the man inspected the aircraft. She watched him run his hand along the fuselage, along that brilliant Lock Haven Yellow, asking all the questions she knew Frank would deem acceptable. Frank would have approved.
The money would cover all four years. Tuition, books, and enough left for Katie to eventually get a small car in good working condition halfway into her first year, especially with a fantastic resident mechanic as her roommate, to get her to and from school.
Katie started at UCLA in the spring and walked into her first anthropology lecture with the same look on her face that Charlie had worn walking into Caltech, that look of a person who had finally arrived at the place they were meant to be.
Charlie stood in the parking lot after dropping Katie off on her first day.
She leaned against the Plymouth and watched her sister disappear through the doors.
Katie didn't look back because Charlie had reminded her when she left the car that she was taking her first step forward into her new life, and she should always look where she's headed.
So Katie walked forward, and that was the direction the Cub had pointed her.
Charlie reached into her pocket and touched Frank's pin. The metal was warm from her body, the way it had been warm since the night he pressed it into her palm in the garage.
Lock Haven Yellow. The color of possibility to Charlie when she first saw it at twelve years old. It was the color of the sky opening, of Frank's hands on the cowling, of Katie on an overturned crate, and of the Continental A-65 that taught Charlie she already knew the language of flight.
And now, it was the color of what Frank Beckman left behind. Not a plane in a hangar, but a girl in a lecture hall, studying how people hold together when everything falls apart, funded by a man who never stopped believing that his girls could fly.