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“What’s wrong dear?” asked Mum. “You look like you’ve gotten a terrible shock.”

Darcy pressed her lips together to squelch her fears. Jack gone. What would she do? Since the moment they met, she’d dreamed of flying with him.

“Darcy?” Mum rose, concerned.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry.” She turned to the window, which had fogged up again. This time she didn’t bother wiping off the steam. The answer could only be found within. As much as she hated to admit it, her dream didn’t require Jack. It required that she learn to fly. If Buffalo had been a center of aviation during the war, surely it would be afterward.

“Aunt Perpetua, do you know where the Curtiss aeroplane factory is located?”

“End of Elmwood Avenue, I believe. Why?”

Because they’d know where the flight schools were located. “Do you know if it has an airfield?”

That flummoxed her. “An airfield?”

Mum voiced her displeasure. “Darcy has been preoccupied with flying since she went to the Chicago air show with her father. That was how long ago, eight years?”

“Seven,” Darcy said. “And I’m not preoccupied. I want to learn to fly.” There. It was out. With the words came strength. The melancholy that had consumed her for weeks dropped away.

Mum’s lips tightened. “It’s not safe. Mott, didn’t you say that two fliers died at that meet?”

“Didn’t I what?” asked Papa from behind the newspaper.

Darcy corrected Mum, “Those pilots were attempting dan
gerous feats. Aeroplanes are much safer now, and I promise I won’t try any tricks.”

“Then do it, my dear,” said her aunt. “If that’s God’s purpose for your life, then surely nothing can stop you.”

Her words resonated in Darcy. God’s purpose. Hadn’t she known all along that God wanted her to fly? If it was God’s will, she shouldn’t let anyone stop her.

“Lessons cost a great deal,” said Papa, showing he’d been listening all along.

Perpetua raised a hand. “Money is a poor excuse when Darcy has an aunt ready to help.”

Darcy’s jaw dropped. “You will pay for lessons?”

“Of course. I can think of no better use for my money. Find a flight school, and I’ll fund the lessons.”

“Perpetua,” Mum cautioned, “this is not your affair.”

“Darcy is a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.”

“Thank you, oh thank you.” Darcy enveloped her aunt in a hug. “How can I ever repay your generosity? I will though. I’ll write articles about the experience and sell them to the newspapers or ladies’ magazines. Oh Aunt, how can I ever thank you?”

“This is not settled,” Papa said. “Darcy’s welfare is her parents’ concern, Perpetua, not yours.”

“Nonsense. This is a new era, Dermott. We must not hold our young people back. It may frighten us older folk, but the world is changing, and Darcy must change with it.”

Papa frowned. “Her safety—”

“Safety? That sounds more like the banker than the outdoorsman I remember.”

His color deepened. “Flying is a pursuit for men, not girls.”

“Women,” Perpetua emphasized, “drive motorcars. We ride bicycles and row skiffs. We play tennis and jump horses.
And yes, we fly aeroplanes. We have for nearly a decade. If it is God’s will…” here, she looked at Darcy, who nodded affirmatively, “then who are we to stand in the way?”

“I don’t see what God has to do with this.” He rose and threw the newspaper onto the vacated chair. “Flying is dangerous.”

“Please, Papa. I promise I’ll follow every safety precaution. I’ll check every wire and screw. I’ll never fly in bad weather. I’ll be as careful as Marjorie Stinson.”

His eyebrows rose at her mention of “the Flying Schoolmarm.” “Planning to open a flight school, are you?” he said with the faintest smile.

Darcy hadn’t really considered the result, but why not? Marjorie Stinson had run one. Why not her? “Maybe I will.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Perpetua.

Papa cleared his throat. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Promise you’ll give every man a fair chance.”

“At what?” Darcy instantly thought of Jack. “Marriage.”

It was the last thing she wanted now, but Darcy was smart enough to realize she wouldn’t get flight lessons without this promise. “I will.”

“Good.” He picked up the newspaper and shook it out. “You can begin by inviting Mr. Carrman to that dinner party.”

The army closed the training airfield when the war ended. It didn’t need aviators without a war. That left Jack unemployed, so he contacted his old buddy, Dwight Pohlman, who happened to have a job for him in Buffalo.

“Stay here,” Burrows urged as they left the Long Island plant.

“You know I can’t.” The icy breeze sent a chill down Jack’s spine. He wouldn’t miss the fence, the gate, the security. Dried
up leaves tumbled across the brick-hard ground. Lately he’d found himself longing for a simpler life, more like what he’d seen in Pearlman.

“There’s a big project underway,” Burrows said in a low voice, “exactly what you’ve been waiting for.”

“What project?” Jack hadn’t heard a thing about a new project.

Burrows grinned. “What’s your dream, old sport?”

For a second, Jack allowed himself to remember. Transatlantic flight. Claim the
Daily Mail
prize. Fifty thousand dollars and enough fame to put him on the lecture circuit for years. Until recently, only Burrows and Sissy knew about that dream. Then he told Darcy. Darcy. That gal would have attempted the crossing in a minute, ready or not.

He chuckled to himself. She had crazier dreams than he did. Worse, she actually believed they were possible. Fly over the North Pole. It was insane, but he remembered the sparkle in her eyes, the way she made him believe. Women like that were rare.

“Whoa.” Burrows yanked Jack sideways. “That’s one powerful daydream.”

Jack scowled. He’d nearly walked into the gate. That was precisely why he shouldn’t care about Miss Shea. Flying and romance did not mix.

They showed their passes to the guard. Considering the armistice, Jack was surprised the tight security continued. What had Burrows said? That something big was afoot? Suppose Curtiss was going for the big prize.

“Curtiss is attempting the transatlantic crossing?”

“Shh,” hissed Burrows. “Don’t go telling the world.”

Jack stared. “You’re not joking?”

“Never. Stay on here. I’ll put a word in for you. Just think, you’d be in on something big, and we’d be working together again.”

Jack couldn’t deny the appeal. It
was
his dream, but it came with a cost. A man taking such a risky flight should have no personal entanglements. That meant no girlfriend and no dependents. He could control the first but not the latter.

“I’ll think about it.” But he knew it was an impossible dream. Sissy needed him.

“Don’t think too long,” Burrows urged.

“I’ll give you my answer in a week.” That was long enough to determine if Pohlman’s offer was legitimate.

The next day, Jack flew his plane to Buffalo and landed at the flight school’s airfield. He roared down the field and pulled up to the building, without seeing another plane in the air. Odd. Even though it was late in the season, snow hadn’t fallen yet. Students should be practicing maneuvers.

Jack climbed out of his plane and looked around. No one. Not a sound. He had a bad feeling this was going to be the shortest job interview in history. He wandered into the hangar. “Anybody here?”

A tall, clean-cut man popped out of the office. “Jack Hunter? Imagine seeing your worthless behind here. I wondered who had the audacity to land on our field unannounced.”

“None other.”

Pohlman laughed and pumped his hand. “How’s it going?”

Jack met the question with a grin. “Never better.” There was nothing like a fellow pilot to raise a man’s spirits. “You said you had a position open?”

“Going straight to business, eh? Fine with me. Let’s talk. Coffee?”

“Why not?”

They strolled across the concrete-floored hangar to Pohlman’s office. Nearly all the training planes were parked inside, grounded. On past visits the place had buzzed with activity.

“Business slow?” Jack asked. If Pohlman needed an instructor, where were the students?

Pohlman poured a cup of muddy brew. “Up until last Saturday I had a full house. Then news comes in the Kaiser abdicated, and an hour later we get the wire to cut loose the recruits.”

“Tough luck. We didn’t hear until Monday.” Jack stirred five spoonfuls of sugar into the coffee to make it palatable. “What about civilians? Interest was wild before the war.”

“Four signed on, one a woman.”

“You’d teach a woman?”

“She was really interested. Asked a hundred questions. Besides,” Pohlman rubbed his fingers together, “money’s money. Can’t afford to hang onto old prejudices.”

“But women aren’t suited to flying. You’d endanger her.”

Pohlman laughed. “Same old Jack. Haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

Jack ignored the jab. “Only four students? I thought you needed a flight instructor.”

“I do.” Pohlman raised his cup in a toast. “I’m off to Florida.”

“No kidding. The Curtiss school there, or some other venture?”

“School, naturally, and my girl.”

“You have a steady girl?” Jack was astonished. Dwight Pohlman had never dated seriously. Was the whole world turning upside down? “Two years.”

Two years. Jack felt a flash of envy. To have someone love you enough to stay with you two whole years. “Getting married?”

Pohlman nodded. “January.”

“You? Hooked?” He made a choking gesture.

“All the way. You should try it, Jack. Far better than we made it out to be.”

“Not for me.” Women were fragile. Women got hurt. Women had families and banker fathers. “You can have it.”

“Just you wait. The right one will come along and you’ll change your tune. It happened to me, it’ll happen to you. Which brings me back to this place. I need someone to take over. It’ll be slow at first, with winter on its way, but that’ll give you time to recruit students.”

“Recruit?” This sounded like a lot of work. “I’m not a recruiter.”

Pohlman thumped him on the shoulder. “You’re just the man to do it. Your charm will bring in the ladies, and your track record will grab the men.”

“Ladies?” Jack balked at the idea of teaching women.

“Paying customers.”

Burrows’s idea sounded better all the time. If the team accepted him, he’d have a steady income and a shot at fame…if he survived.

That was the problem. Sissy was his responsibility.

“What’s the pay?”

“Small stipend, plus a percentage of sales.” Pohlman outlined everything the job entailed. It would take a lot of effort, but with a good-sized class, he could make a decent living.

“Sounds workable,” Jack said, “though I’d rather not teach women. Unless her husband approves, that is.”

“You are so old-fashioned. Even the boss taught the gals.”

Though Jack knew G.H. Curtiss had taught women, he held his tongue. Once Pohlman left, he couldn’t tell him what to do. “There’s just the one, right?”

“One who’s already paid.”

“In full?” No one paid the whole fee in advance.

“In full. You’ll be living off that this winter, so you might want to reconsider.”

Jack set down the unpalatable coffee, his stomach soured.

“In fact, she might still be around here.” Pohlman motioned for Jack to follow. “Wanted to write a story about the school for the local paper. I told her to go ahead. It’ll be good publicity.”

Jack was getting a very bad feeling. “I don’t suppose she has dark hair and a pushy attitude.”

“Don’t know about the attitude, but you’re dead on with the hair coloring.”

They’d reached the hangar.

“Miss Shea?” Pohlman called out.

Impossible
. For seven weeks he’d tried to forget the woman.

“Yes?” She rounded the fuselage of the trainer, and the moment she saw Jack, she fumbled her notepad and lost her pencil. It clattered to the concrete floor.

Jack couldn’t seem to move. He wanted to run to her and sweep her into his arms, but Pohlman was watching. Jack ran a hand through his hair, unable to believe what he was seeing. Darcy. The fine ankles. The dark eyes that sparkled with life.

Every nerve ending sizzled. The propeller could have cut off Jack’s arm and he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Ja-ack,” she said with the slightest hitch.

That little break in her voice brought sense rushing back. She was vulnerable. She didn’t belong in a plane. His ears rang. His stomach churned. What had he gotten himself into?

He had to teach Darcy Shea to fly.

“Y
ou two know each other?” Pohlman asked.

“We’ve met.” Jack couldn’t take his eyes off her. The thick, dark hair. The curve of her jaw. The stark, almost masculine dress that managed to make her look more feminine. He drew in a ragged breath as she stooped to pick up the pencil.

“Allow me.” He touched the pencil first, and her fingertips grazed his. He handed it to her.

“Thank you.” She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, as if she were shy.

Shy!
Jack could safely assume that term had never been applied to Darcy Shea.

“Then you won’t have any problem teaching her,” Pohlman said.

Jack glared. “I certainly do.”

“He’s already given me a plane ride,” Darcy offered.

She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that.

“He did?” Pohlman chuckled. “Seems our Jack has dual standards.”

“Is that anything like dual controls?”

Pohlman laughed at her joke, which only irritated Jack more.

“Flying is dangerous,” Jack insisted. “I’ve seen students lose nerve and crash.”

She set her jaw. “I have strong nerves.”

True, she’d been eager to continue after his attempt to frighten her. He tried again. “A student needs a fearless disposition.”

“That’s me.”

“Along with an even temperament.” He had her there.

She cocked her head. “You don’t think I can keep my head, do you? Well, I’ve grown a bit since you last saw me, Jack Hunter. Trust me, I can keep my head.”

“I recall you screaming in terror.”

She crossed her arms. “I might have screamed, but it wasn’t in terror. Even if I had, no one would blame me. You put the plane into a spin.”

“A spin?” Pohlman said. “That would frighten anyone, me included.”

Jack knew he would ultimately lose this argument, at least with Pohlman, but Darcy wasn’t an ordinary student. She was a woman, and, well, she was Darcy. Her father would have his head if something happened to her.

He lobbed that bomb. “Does your father know you’re doing this?”

“Of course.”

Jack didn’t believe that for a minute. “And he approves?”

“He agreed.” She tapped her toe impatiently. “Are we going to begin or not?”

“Now?” Jack wasn’t certain he was officially hired. He certainly wasn’t ready to teach her.

“No time like the present.”

Jack looked to Pohlman, who struggled to suppress a grin.

“Go to it, old chum. It’ll give me an opportunity to assess your abilities.”

Pohlman had to be joking. “I’ve been teaching for years. More than two hundred recruits passed my course.”

Pohlman clucked his tongue. “But no women.”

“Last I checked, there are no women in the military.” Jack looked to Darcy. “Though I suppose you’d like to see them there.”

“If they want to join, why not?”

He had to be attracted to a feminist.

She tucked the pencil behind her ear in a very alluring way. “So where do we start?”

Jack stalled. “Ordinarily, I begin by having the student disassemble and reassemble the motor.”

“But I’ve already done that.”

“You have?” Pohlman looked impressed. Apparently anything Darcy said impressed him. “She
helped
disassemble a motor and had nothing to do with reassembling it,” Jack clarified. “Motor disassembly is where we’ll start.”

“Can’t we do that once the weather turns? There’s so little time before winter.”

Her reasonable request put him in the gun sight.

“She has a point,” said Pohlman.

Jack gave his friend a “don’t interfere” look. “It’s too windy today.”

Darcy looked to Pohlman, hoping for more support, but this time the man backed him. “I’m afraid Jack is right. No student flying at ten knots or higher.” As her smile fell, he added, “but it could die down. I’ll keep an eye on it for you.”

“You do that,” Jack said. At least that would get one troublesome person out of the way.

Pohlman laughed. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

Jack waited until Pohlman walked into his office before addressing Darcy. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Taking flight lessons.” She stuck out that determined little chin again. “And you?”

“That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect to see you. The last I knew, you were on Long Island. Of course that was ages ago, and I never heard from you in between.”

Jack recognized an accusation when he heard one. “I didn’t hear from you, either.”

“How was I supposed to write when I didn’t even know what city you lived in? Long Island is rather large.”

Jack crossed his arms and headed for safer ground. “I meant, other than flying, what brought you to Buffalo?”

Her expression softened a bit. “I’m visiting my aunt. And you?”

“A job. As you see.”

“You said you were from here. I thought you might have family.”

“Just a sister.” He wished he hadn’t said that. It would only lead to more questions.

“Where does she live?”

Jack needed to change the topic and quick. He knew only one way. “There’s enough time to show you the aeroplane controls.”

She bit off whatever retort she was going to toss at him, and said gently, “I’d like that.”

Demands could make a man do things he must, but a soft voice led him to do things he resisted. Jack took her to the nearest trainer, an older model with minimal horsepower and tremendous gliding ability. He started students on these. They couldn’t climb far, and forgave many errors.

“Unlike the prototype you saw, this model has stick controls.”

“And the cockpit is different,” she observed.

“Tandem, so the instructor can work beside the student.” He helped her into the cockpit. “Take that seat, and I’ll familiarize you with each control.”

It didn’t take long for the old banter to return. By the time he was demonstrating how to move the ailerons, she’d made him forget that he didn’t want to teach her.

“How are ailerons used?” she asked.

“For turns, in conjunction with the rudder,” he patiently explained, and when she screwed up her face in puzzlement, he asked for her pad and pencil and drew pictures demonstrating the airflow for the various maneuvers.

“But the best way to learn is to do it.” He regretted the words the minute they left his mouth. “Sorry. I forgot about the wind.”

“It’ll calm down.” Her eyes glowed the way they had when she talked of that crazy North Pole flight, and for a moment he thought she was going to grab him the way she did just before he left Pearlman. “
If
the wind calms,” he said stiffly.

She must have recognized his discomfort, for the soft reticence returned. “I’m so glad you’re teaching here.”

Her words sucker-punched him. He didn’t want to teach her. He couldn’t let her take the controls. With her impulsive nature, it would end badly. He should have taken Burrows’s offer: stay on Long Island and hope to make the transatlantic team, if there was still room for him.

“I might not stay,” he cautioned.

“Why not?” A shadow crept across her face.

Though it hurt to crush her hopes, he had to do it. “I have a chance at the transatlantic attempt.”

She gasped, eyes widening. “Where? When?”

“I can’t give details.”

“Do it.” She grabbed his hand with unexpected fervor. “Whatever it takes, be on that flight.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than—”

“Why? Anything is possible if you try hard enough.” She bubbled with excitement. “Oh, Jack. God brought us back together for a reason. I know it.”

God had nothing to do with it. Fate, maybe, but not God.

God had abandoned him long ago. Jack reiterated the part she seemed to be forgetting, “I might not stay.”

Her smile never wavered. “I know.”

It took a moment, but Jack was no fool. He saw clear through her. She thought she was going, too.
Never.
He shook his head, ready to correct that misunderstanding, when Pohlman interrupted.

“Tell me, Miss Shea, should I give him the job?”

Darcy looked startled. “Jack doesn’t work here?”

“He will, if you give him a good recommendation.” Pohlman sounded entirely serious, though Jack knew better.

“Of course,” she said. “He’s the best instructor in the world.”

“Well then,” said Pohlman, “the lady makes the call.”

No, she doesn’t.
Despite the wild desire to be near Darcy, Jack was going back to Long Island. He couldn’t watch her fail. He couldn’t let her get any closer. He would take his chances with Curtiss, if Sissy agreed.

St. Anne of Comfort Hospital looked grand from the outside, with its turreted stone edifice, but the interior reeked of vomit, urine and bleach. Jack didn’t know how Sissy stood it. The colorful pictures she pasted on the wall and the flowers he sent each Monday couldn’t mask the scent of disease.

“What happened, Jackie?” Her pinched smile revealed concern.

“Nothing.” He settled into the chair at her bedside.

His sister appeared normal, except for the withered, stiff
legs. Polio. It hadn’t taken her life, but it might as well have. It had crept far enough up her spine that she had to live in the hospital. Jack wished he could buy her a home and full-time nursing care, but that would cost tens of thousands of dollars. He had less than a hundred dollars.

“You can’t fool me, big brother.” Fragile and pale as a porcelain doll propped on pillows, she smiled readily. Cecelia—“Sissy” to him—loved to laugh.

Jack did not want to talk about Darcy. That impulsive woman would rush into the most dangerous ventures without so much as a backward glance. He couldn’t talk, so he gave Sissy his gift.

“For me?” Her eyes lit up as she tore open the paper. Sissy always acted as if every trinket was the first gift she’d ever received. She held up the silk shawl. “Oh, Jack, it’s beautiful.”

The dark blue silk glimmered in the light, the lavender flowers bright against her pale skin. Sissy loved anything colorful.

“I’ll wear it all the time.” She wrapped it around her shoulders and held out first one arm then the other to see how the light reflected off the fibers.

Shame rippled through him. Sissy had nowhere special to wear such a shawl. No trips to the theater or opera. No concerts or lectures. It was a thoughtless gift.

“Now, don’t think you can distract me.” She shook her finger. “I can tell something’s bothering you.” She leaned forward, her eyes animated. “Is it a woman? Have you met someone?”

He forced a laugh, trying to appear nonchalant. “Maybe little sis is wrong for once.”

She countered with the light and tinkling laughter that made everyone love her. “Little sis is never wrong. What is it?”

Jack looked at his dusty boots. The toes were nearly worn
through, but he couldn’t afford new ones. Neither could he afford to tell her about Darcy. He knew what Sissy would say: “Spend time with her, see if she feels the same way, marry her. If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out.” Sissy was such a romantic.

“Nothing. Would you like your hair done? I could have someone arrange it, or whatever you ladies have done. Put it in the latest style.”

“The latest style?” She laughed. “Why would I need the latest style? There isn’t a patient or nurse who cares one whit what I look like.”

Another thoughtless comment. Jack scrubbed his chin. He needed a shave. “I thought maybe you’d like it.”

“I know when my brother is avoiding something. What happened?”

He rose and opened the window blinds. “You should look out more. There’s a fine view of the lake.”

“It’s gray and dismal and I don’t want to look out.”

She sounded just like Darcy. Headstrong. Stubborn. Jack pressed his face to the cold windowpane. He’d come to get Sissy’s permission to run back to the Island, but it didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.

“Stop trying to hide things from me,” Sissy said. “You know I always worm it out of you.”

“There’s no reason to worry you—”

“There’s no reason not to.” Like always, Sissy persisted until she got what she wanted. “I’m a good listener.”

Jack sighed. He might as well spill everything. She would keep at it until he told her. Given the choice between Darcy and work, he chose the latter. “I’ve taken a job at the flight school here.”

“Here?” She clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”

“It has its drawbacks. Lack of students, for one. Income will be a little tight this winter.”

“I see.” Worry furrowed her brow. “I don’t need a private room. And Dad might do more.”

Dad would not do more, but he couldn’t tell Sissy that. “Don’t worry, I have prospects. There’s someone—” this was getting dangerously close to telling about Darcy, “—who is going to write some newspaper articles. Hopefully, they’ll spur business. If not, I can always go back to exhibition flying.”

“No Jack. Not stunts. They’re too dangerous.”

“They pay well.”

She pursed her lips. “There must be another way you can use your skills. Surely people won’t stop flying.”

“They might. The army closed the airfields. The flying boat I told you about ran its distance test last week, but no news on what’s next.”

“It did? That’s wonderful. What was the flight like?”

“I didn’t fly it,” he said carefully, steering clear of his resentment.

“Why not?”

“Not my project. Mine was the long-range scout plane. Now there’s no need for it.”

Sissy was quiet for a long while, and he could tell by her expression that she was working out a solution. “Surely, peacetime commerce has a need for long-range aeroplanes. They could transport businessmen between cities, carry packages.”

Jack sighed. “No one wants to look ahead. I don’t know if it’s due to the war, but they’re just not interested. Not the military. Not civilians. Not anyone.” Except Darcy.

She tilted her head. “It will work out. God always works things out for the best.”

Jack choked back a retort. Sissy clung to faith like a bit of wreckage in the wide ocean, but God wouldn’t save her. He hadn’t cured her when He had a chance. He’d left her an
invalid. If that was how God worked things out, Jack wanted nothing to do with Him. But he couldn’t sink her faith, so he broached the possibility of returning to Long Island.