Lilly sank down on the metal lawn chair beside Moseby’s wheelchair, where Moseby sat basking in the sun, a bottle of lemonade sweating in her hand, her eyes closed, her dark hair pulled back in a rag headband. Overhead shone a glorious blue sky, one of the precious few before summer vanished into the sharp winds of autumn. Indeed on the August Minnesota wind, Lilly smelled the hubris of autumn, and a few of the early crimson maple leaves splotched the grass like droplets of blood. “Eddie asked, and I said yes. I figured, he felt so guilty about the accident that this might be the only time, so I took my chance.” She opened her eyes and glanced at Lilly. Held out her hand. “Go figure, he already had a ring.” A plain silver band encircled her left ring finger. “But what about your career, wing walking, the Flying Stars?” She leaned back. “The fact is, Lilly, once I said ‘I do,’ it felt right to give it up. I want to stay here with Eddie and make a life, have babies. I never thought I’d end up in Minnesota, but these are good people, and this is where I am, so I’m going to hold on for the ride, with Eddie.
