The Wings of Morning by Murray Pura

exclaiming, “My goodness, it’s warm.”
    “Shall I fetch you some cool water, Miss Zook?”
    “You don’t need to fetch Miss Zook anything. Remember, you must call me Emma now. Just take a seat beside me here.” She patted another chair.
    “Well—I should be getting back—”
    “Only five minutes. I have something for you.”
    Jude took the seat and she pulled a card out of a pocket in her light green dress. It was covered with lines and her neat hand printing. She gave it to him.
    “What’s this?” he asked, turning the card over.
    “Among the English, the girls have a card when they attend a dance,” she explained, “and the boys fill in their names so they are sure to have the opportunity to dance with the girls they like the best. So this is your card for your dance—in the clouds.”
    “My dance? You mean taking people up in the aeroplane?”
    He looked so surprised she laughed. “Of course.”
    “How did you know about that?”
    “Oh, my goodness, I live in the same house as my father.”
    “But we only just discussed it. How did you know I’d say yes?”
    “Why wouldn’t you say yes? You love to fly, don’t you?”
    “Sure, but suppose there were no planes available?”
    “My Jude would find a way, he’d always find a way.”
    Jude was quiet.
    “I’m sorry, Jude,” she said. “Am I being forward?”
    “It’s all right. I should go.”
    “How are things with you and the Kurtz family?” she said teasingly. “Is it true you’re not able to see Lyyndaya anymore?”
    Jude stared at her, his lips in a straight line.
    “Well,” he answered, “the whole colony knows her mother and father do not approve of flying, so she is forbidden to meet with me.”
    “It must be very difficult.”
    “Yes, and confusing. Lyyndaya is a pleasant young woman.”
    “Of course, a very pleasant girl, we were great friends when we were younger.”
    “But we cannot be together, we cannot exchange notes, so—so I don’t know what will happen now.”
    Emma nodded. “God will open a door.”
    “Do you think so?”
    “He always opens a door. It’s just we don’t always recognize right away which door it is he has opened.” She touched him gently on the arm. “Do you pray up there?”
    Jude half-smiled. “No one’s ever asked me that.”
    “My father said it made him feel closer to God to be so high in the sky with the wind in his face.”
    Jude had been making the motions to rise, but now he sat back. “I do pray. Yes, I do.” He gave a small laugh and his eyes fastened on the horizon between sky and earth. “Sometimes it’s in my head. Then I might mumble out loud. Or just move my lips.”
    “What do you pray about?”
    “Well—it’s not prayer like when you’re asking for things or for help. I guess it’s mostly—happiness. It’s too big and bright and beautiful up there to be thinking of any problems you might have on earth.”
    Emma gave Jude a slow, gentle smile. “I like to listen to you talk.”
    Jude felt a warmth in his face and chest. She touched him on the arm and got up. “I suppose your father will be wondering what happened to you. He’ll think the pastors had you for dinner. Which reminds me. Don’t be late for supper. I look forward to seeing you tonight and chatting some more.”
    Jude stood. “So do I.”
    “Would you like a ride?”
    “No, no. It’s not far. I’d like to stretch my legs.”
    She walked with him as far as the road. “Don’t lose the July seventh ‘dance’ card. I spent a half hour getting it just right.”
    “I won’t.”
    “I hope you don’t mind, but my father was so enthusiastic, I had to make sure I got up at least twice. So I signed myself in at the top and at the bottom. The first and the last.”
    She was at his eye-level again. He still couldn’t get used to it. Smiling, he planted his hat firmly on his head. “Sounds like a great idea to me. So long.”
    He started along the dirt road baked hard and dry from the sun.