Toys and Baby Wishes by Karen Rose Smith Page B

jacket out of the closet and went outside.  His
car was a hybrid.  Josh was gathering cellophane packages out of his trunk that
looked as if they contained pieces of long white Styrofoam.
    He tucked the packages under one arm and slammed the trunk. 
When he saw her, he smiled--one of those devastating smiles that weakened her
knees.  She felt inordinately happy to see him.  "What do you have?"
    He draped his arm around her shoulders as if he had been
doing it all his life and walked beside her.  "They're gliders.  They
operate on a boomerang principle.  If you fly them correctly, they come back to
you."
    She could feel the strength in his arm, the strength in
him.  "How far do they fly?"
    "Twenty or thirty feet.  At least that's what the
instructions say.  We'll see."
    They crossed the front yard and walked along the side of the
house to the back.  Lexa glanced at the packages under his arm. 
"Instructions.  Does that mean we have to put them together?"
    He shrugged.  "They're supposed to be easy to
assemble.  We don't have to paste on the decals before their maiden
voyages."
    Josh and Lexa sat on the back porch steps and ripped open
the packages.  Lexa watched Josh maneuver the wing across the body of the
glider.
    He glanced at her and asked, "How was your visit with
your sister?"
    "It was fine."  Lexa wished she could tell Josh
all about it.  It would be wonderful to be able to confide in someone like Dani
confided in her, but for now...
    Josh didn't press her further but assembled his glider.
    "How's yours coming?"
    She wiggled the wings of the plane into the body.  "It
looks like yours."
    They stood and walked to the middle of the yard.  Autumn
danced all around them from the orange and crimson leaves on the tall maples to
the brisk breeze that hinted at a November wind.  The low riding sun was
blocked by Josh's shoulders, broad in his denim jacket, and outlined him until
he took on a fairy tale quality.  But Lexa had learned long ago that life was
no fairy tale.
    He held up his hand, crossed his fingers, and gave her a
heart-stopping grin.  Then he sent the glider on a test run.
    A gust of wind made it veer crazily and crash.
    "This is going to take practice," he called as he
chased after it.
    Lexa tried to follow the directions, to fly the plane in a
certain arc, but hers too fell on the grass.  She and Josh chased back and
forth for a half hour until Lexa found exactly the right combination of wrist
movements.
    When the glider arched, dove and came back to her, she
caught it in one hand.  "I did it!"
    Josh approached her and stood at her elbow.  "Now you
can teach me."
    Josh watched Lexa's face instead of her hands.  He seemed to
be trying to see into her soul.  When he reached out and ran his thumb along
her cheekbone, she trembled.  She'd never reacted like this to a man and it
scared her to death.
    She backed up and he dropped his hand.  With a gentle smile,
he asked, "So what do I have to do?"
    He meant with the glider, of course.  She showed him a
second time.
    Josh sailed the glider again unsuccessfully.  Looking up at
the sky, he said to no one in particular, "Do I have patience or
what?"  He jogged and retrieved the plane that had crashed.
    Lexa launched her glider once more and it came back.  Josh
watched carefully and when he let go of his, it sailed forward, dove and came
back.  "Now I've got it.  Maybe I should set up a section in the store so
we can give instructions." Suddenly he gestured at the sky.  "Look at
that."
    The sun was setting and the shadows were long.  The blue sky
had become shot through with purple, rose and orange.
      "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she murmured. 
"Sunsets are like the ocean.  When I look at them, feel surrounded by
them, in awe of them, I get chills and almost feel like crying."
    "It's the expansiveness, the miracle of creation."
    Instead of the sunset, she looked at him.  "I'm
surprised you understand.  Men usually scoff and call