Caleb was on the porch swing, kicking at the wooden planks while the sun dipped behind the trees. The mountain air had that crisp, late-fall feeling, and golden light spilled across the yard like warm honey.

Then he heard the crunch of gravel. A dusty blue car pulled into the driveway of the inn where Caleb lived with his parents.

Ben was home.

His older brother stepped out, stretched like he’d been driving for hours, and slung a backpack over one shoulder. He looked different—older, maybe. Or just more like someone who’d seen a lot in a short time.

Ben spotted Caleb immediately. “Hey, little man!”

Caleb stood up but didn’t run over. “You’re late.”

Ben jogged up the porch steps. “I know. Got slowed down at a gas station and then took the scenic route.”

“You always take the scenic route,” Caleb muttered, though he couldn’t help smiling a little.

Inside, their parents greeted Ben with long hugs and too many questions. Caleb hung back in the doorway, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. Everything looked like it was back to normal, but it still felt off.

After dinner, Ben came back out with two mugs in hand. “Cider?”

Caleb took the warm mug, the steam fogging up his glasses. “Thanks.”

They sat together on the porch swing, side by side, like they used to.

“So,” Ben said, taking a sip, “middle school treating you okay?”

Caleb shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. It’s a lot of homework.”

“You still building planes?”

Caleb looked over at him. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do. You had, like, five of them hanging from the ceiling last time I was here. Pretty sure one dive-bombed me in my sleep.”

Caleb chuckled. “That was the red biplane. Its string snapped.”

“You still working on new ones?”

“Sometimes. It’s not as fun by myself.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Ouch.”

“You left,” Caleb said. It came out flat, but not angry.

Ben took another sip of cider. “I know.”

“You used to help me with the glue and painting the details and stuff. Then you went off and didn’t really say when you were coming back.”

Ben looked out at the trees, thinking. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I disappeared. I was finishing school, trying to figure things out, and time flew.”

Caleb stared down at his mug. “Mom always said you were busy. But you could’ve called more.”

Ben nodded. “You’re right. I should’ve. I’m sorry.”

Caleb didn’t say anything for a moment. Then: “You missed the last model competition. I got second place.”

“No way! That’s awesome.”

“I messed up the wing measurements on the glider,” Caleb said. “But the judge said my design was creative.”

Ben grinned. “Creative’s the part that really counts.”

They sat quietly for a while, listening to crickets and the soft swing of the porch. Fireflies started blinking near the garden.

Ben leaned forward. “So… you think you’d want to work on a new one while I’m here? We could try something big. Maybe even motorized.”

Caleb looked at him. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I’ve been saving a kit in my car trunk for weeks. It’s got your name on it.”

Caleb smiled for real this time. “Okay. But I get to do the painting.”

“Deal,” Ben said. They clinked their mugs like a toast.

The sky darkened, and the stars peeked through the navy blue. The porch swing creaked, the apple cider cooled, and Caleb felt like the distance between them had finally disappeared—one wooden wing and brushstroke at a time.

_{“A Plane Away” by Nina D. Smith © 2025. Retelling of “His Hero” by Margaret Minor from Southern Stories Retold from St. Nicholas, 1889.}

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The story “A Plane Away” is best suited for students in grades 5–7, as it explores themes of sibling relationships, emotional growth, and reconnection through accessible language and relatable middle-grade experiences.