“Okay, okay—I get it,” her father told her. He tried to wipe the tears off his face with the sleeve of his old flannel shirt. Ruth loved this particular shirt because her father had worn it when she was a little girl. Still, she was tempted to tell him to keep both his hands on the wheel. Instead she reminded him of what airline she was taking, and the terminal he should be looking for. “You can see, can’t you?” she asked.
