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A week passed before Dorothy was well enough to return to the little prairie house she had briefly called home.

Adelaide sat with Emily that evening as they watched the sun slip below the horizon, the ambered light turning everything to gold.

“It was the prettiest place on earth when the wheat was ripe and swaying like a great golden ocean,” Emily said. “We hoped for so much when we first came here. Now it’s like we were never here at all.”

Adelaide turned to her. “But you tried, Emily. And for a while, you succeeded. I admire you for that. Besides, this place doesn’t define you and Henry. You’ll build a new life together, someplace else. Succeed again.”

For so long, Emily had felt defined by what they’d planned to build here, as if this were the only place they could ever be happy.

“I hope you’re right, Adelaide.”

“I know I’m right.”

They watched the broad strokes of light that fanned out from the sun. An invitation, a golden path urging them on.

“I reckon it’s time for me to move on,” Adelaide said. “I’ll start growing roots if my feet stay on the ground much longer.”

“Where will you go?”

“I’ll catch up with Ringling’s circus troupe and perform with them for a while.

Then make my solo attempt across the ocean.

See if I can’t earn myself a bit of Earhart’s fame and fortune.

And I’ve been thinking about teaming up with someone after all.

Two women breaking men’s records. Now that would give them something to fill their column inches! ”

Emily smiled. “I like the sound of that. When will you leave?”

“First light.” Adelaide turned to Emily. “You fancy coming along for the ride? Watson and Gale has a nice ring to it!”

Emily let out a small sigh. “I’ll be up there with you in spirit. And Dorothy will miss you terribly. You’ve been like a fairy godmother to her. I think she saw something of her mother in you.”

“I’ll miss the kid, too. I’ve promised I’ll write.

Send a postcard from wherever the wind blows me.

” Adelaide stood up and raised her glass.

“To you, Emily. I’m glad to have traveled some of my road with you good people, and I’m glad to have shared one last Kansas sunset with you.

A reminder that there is beauty in endings, as well as beginnings. ”

Emily smiled and knocked her glass against Adelaide’s. “Amen to that.”

—

She heard the plane at first light.

She crept to the door and watched as Adelaide steered the Jenny out to the landing strip in the field, pushed the throttle, and accelerated across the dusty ground before lifting the nose and sending the plane airborne.

Emily placed her hands to her chest and mouthed a silent thank you as she watched the plane turn to the east.

She sat alone for a while then, listening to the sounds of the prairie. It was strange to feel such stillness after everything, and everyone.

She made grits and fed the animals, taking a moment to rest her head against the warm muzzle of the old mare. She drew water from the pump and took eggs from the hens, working her way around her familiar routines, saying a goodbye of her own.

When Dorothy woke that morning, she found a notebook on the foot of her bed. Inside was a short message.

To my dear Dorothy,

I hope you have the most wonderful adventures among these pages. Keep telling your stories. People come and go in life, but stories last forever.

Thank you for being part of my adventure. I will see you again, when the wind blows me in the right direction. Think of me when you look up at the sky and I’ll be thinking of you. Maybe one day, you’ll see me flying right back.

Your dear friend,

Adelaide Watson

There was a note for Emily too, beside Annie’s hourglass.

To dear Emily,

You can know some people your whole life and never really know them at all. I’ve known you for a fleeting moment, and it’s like you were always there.

Thank you for reminding me that it’s okay to stop and look around every once in a while. I hope, in return, you will remember to let go, and leap.

Here’s to flying high, and to those who pick us up when we fall.

Your friend, always,

Adelaide