Chapter 8 - The Sky Heals
Three weeks later, the afternoon sun streamed through the large windows of the Bennett home in Columbus. The house was quiet, save for the cheerful ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the soft, rhythmic breathing of a child resting on the sofa.
Molly lay tucked under a handmade quilt, her stuffed airplane, Charlie, tucked securely under her arm. Her denim jacket hung in the closet, the silver pilot wings polished and shining. Her chest was covered in a clean, white medical dressing, but the doctors at the burn unit had assured Ethan that her young skin was healing remarkably well. There would be scars, but with time and proper care, they would fade into faint memories.
Ethan sat in the armchair beside the sofa, a book open in his lap, though his eyes hadn't left his daughter’s face for an hour. The airline had granted him an extended compassionate leave, a gesture he had accepted without hesitation. The sky could wait; his daughter needed him here, on the ground.
Molly stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She looked at her father and smiled, a genuine, happy smile that showed her missing front tooth.
"Hi, Daddy," she whispered.
"Hi, copilot," Ethan replied, leaning forward to gently smooth her hair back from her forehead. "How are you feeling?"
"It doesn't burn anymore. Just itchy."
"Itchy means it's healing," Ethan said, pulling the quilt up a bit higher. "The doctor said you're doing great."
Molly looked down at Charlie, rubbing the felt wing between her fingers. "Daddy? Is that mean lady going to come back?"
Ethan took her small hand in his, his grip warm and protective. "No, sweetie. She’s never coming back. The police took care of her, and she’s going to be away for a very long time where she can’t hurt anyone ever again. You don't ever have to worry about her."
Molly nodded, accepting the promise with the absolute trust only a child could have in a parent. She looked over at the kitchen counter, where a new, colorful calendar was pinned up, showing their upcoming trip to visit her grandmother by car this time.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Molly-bear?"
"When we go flying again... can we make sure you're the pilot every time?"
Ethan laughed, a sound that felt lighter and freer than any laugh he had managed since his wife had passed away. It was a sound that signaled the return of life to a home that had been dark for too long.
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"I tell you what," Ethan said, leaning down to press his forehead against hers. "From now on, wherever we go, I'll make sure I'm the one flying the plane. And you'll always have the best seat in the house."
Molly grinned, closing her eyes as she drifted back into a peaceful, safe sleep, knowing that no matter how high the plane flew, her father would always be there to bring her safely back to earth.
