Spencerville

thought, how certain place names could be so evocative in a person’s personal history. He felt a little twinge in his heart and turned to say something to her and saw a tear run down her cheek. He put his hand on her neck and massaged it.
    She said, “You know… if my daughter is half as happy there as I was with you, she’ll have good memories to last her for the rest of her life.”
    “I’m sure she’ll be happy, if she’s like you.”
    “I hope so… this country has changed so much… I can’t tell if it’s better or worse than when we were kids.”
    “I can’t either, but to tell you the truth, I don’t care anymore. I’m ready to live a private life, and I hope the world leaves us alone.”
    “You must have seen too many bad things in the world, Keith.”
    “I have. And to be honest, I’ve contributed my share to the world’s problems.”
    “Have you?”
    “Maybe not on purpose.”
    “Tell me a good deed that you’ve done on purpose.”
    “Oh, I don’t know offhand… I’ve seen good deeds… it’s not a bad world, Annie, and I don’t mean to suggest it is. For all the bad things I’ve seen, I’ve also seen the most extraordinary acts of courage, kindness, honesty, and love.” He added, “And miracles—like finding you again.”
    “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard words like that.” She glanced at him and said, “Keith, I know your life wasn’t all glamour and excitement, and that there must be some scars, some heartbreak, some disappointments, and some things you’d like to forget, or maybe need to talk about. Tell me as much or as little as you want to. I’ll listen.”
    “Thanks. Same here.”
    A big, overhead green and white sign came into view:
Toledo Airport—This Exit.
    Annie said, “We’re close.”
    “Yes.” They just needed one or two more miracles.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
    K eith drove into the small airport, which lay southwest of Toledo. He hadn’t seen any aircraft coming in or taking off as he approached, but this didn’t overly concern him because it wasn’t a busy airport, and he seemed to recall there were only six gates.
    They pulled up to the terminal entrance, which was both arrivals and departures.
    There were no skycaps around, and in fact Keith saw no other cars, no taxis, no people. He said to Annie, “Wait here a minute.”
    He went inside the small, modern terminal and saw it was nearly empty and all the concessions were closed except the coffee shop. This didn’t look promising.
    He found the departure monitor. Seven airlines serviced the airport, mostly commuter links, according to the monitor. He kept staring at the departure schedule, refusing to accept the information that the last flight, an American Eagle to Dayton, had left over an hour ago. “Damn it.”
    He went to the nearest ticket counter, which was USAir. A solitary woman stood at one of the stations doing paperwork, and he asked her, “Do you have any flights leaving for anywhere?”
    “No, sir.”
    He looked at the other six airline counters, all of which were deserted. He asked the woman, “Are there any flights leaving here tonight?”
    She looked at him quizzically and replied, “No, sir. Where did you want to go?”
    He didn’t want her next phone call to be to the security police, so he said, “I thought there was a late flight to Washington.”
    “No, sir. The last flights out of Toledo are usually about seven forty-five. Can I book you to Washington in the morning?”
    “Maybe.” He thought a moment. “Are the rental car companies open?”
    “No, sir. The last arriving flight landed forty-five minutes ago.”
    He was stuck with the Blazer, and he wasn’t going to get too far with it.
    She said, “I have a seven-fifteen A.M. to National Airport. Arrives at eight fifty-five. Seats available. Can I book that for you?”
    Keith knew better than to leave a paper trail, and, in any case, by morning they’d have Annie Baxter’s photo, if not his, in the hands of every ticket agent.
    “Sir?”
    “No, thanks. Is there an air charter service here?”
    “Yes, sir. Over there. They’re closed, but they have a phone.”
    “Thanks.” He went to the charter service counter, picked up their telephone, and dialed the indicated number. It rang, and a recording told him to leave his name, number, and his message. He hung up, remarking to himself that getting out of Saigon with communist tanks approaching the American embassy had been easier