Soaring Home (9 page)

Darcy knew she’d barged ahead too quickly. It was one of her worst flaws. She bitterly confessed as much in her nightly prayers. But she just couldn’t contain her enthusiasm. She wanted it all: flying, the transatlantic prize, and Jack. If she’d just stop rushing, she might stand a chance.

With the dinner party called off, her parents returned home. That left Darcy to fly and to write about the experience. Each morning she raced to the flight school. At night she wrote. Each day brought her closer to Jack. She kept her enthusiasm in check, and he warmed to her, at least in the plane.

She finished typing the first article the following weekend and brought it with her Monday morning. Jack would be pleased. She had painted the school in a very positive light.

With Pohlman gone, Jack was now in charge of the school. She entered the building, expecting things to look livelier, but the hangar was dark and deathly quiet.

“Jack?” The word echoed off the cold brick walls.

He didn’t answer, so she searched until she found him in the classroom. He stood at the front reading a piece of paper. He didn’t look pleased.

Darcy hesitated. “Is something wrong?”

He glanced up. “Oh. Darcy. No, nothing.” He shoved the paper into a folder on the battered oak desk. “Today we’ll cover the preflight check. We’re a bit out of order, due to the weather.”

She held out her article. “Could you read this first and tell me if there’s anything I should add or subtract?”

“What is it?”

“My story on the flight school. If it meets your approval, I’ll take it to
The Courier
tomorrow. They’ve already promised to print it.”

“The Buffalo paper? I thought you were writing for that Pearlman paper.”

She shook her head. “Mr. Devlin wasn’t interested.”

“His loss.”

Those two little words warmed her through and through. Jack believed in her.

While he read, Darcy took off her coat and tidied the room. Apparently, Pohlman had not been a stickler for neatness. The tables could use a good scrubbing. A hundred greasy hands had left black fingerprints on the light gray paint.

“That’s good.” Jack tapped the article. “Very good. Other than noting our hours of operation, I can’t think of a thing to add.”

Darcy was relieved to see him smile. He’d looked so worried when she first saw him that she wondered again if he was ill. That paper could have been a report from his doctor.

“Yep, this is just the thing to bring in new students.” His grin melted her fear. “I tell you Darcy, we make a great team.”

She could hardly believe it. He not only loved the article, he enjoyed working with her. “Then you accept that women can fly?”

“Whoa, don’t go that far. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t teach women, but I might not have a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

He opened the folder. “Seems the other students aren’t as dedicated as you. I’ve had two cancellations and one post
ponement. I suppose I should have expected that, with winter setting in.”

So that was all. Darcy could barely hide her relief. “I thought it was something serious.”

“It is serious. I can’t live all winter on one student’s tuition.”

She gasped. “Don’t you get paid?”

“That’s not your concern.” He slapped the folder shut. “Your task is to learn to fly.”

“I can rewrite the article to say that classroom work begins in the winter with flight training in the spring. That allows for certification by summer and gives the adventurous flyer the entire season in the air.” She finished with a flourish, trying to draw a smile from Jack.

She got only a shake of the head. “You’re not really going to write that. It sounds like an advertisement.”

“So it is. We’re selling the public on the glorious sport of aviation. You know it’s wonderful. I know it’s wonderful. We only need to tell the world, and they’ll come flocking to learn.”

“The world?” he said wryly. “I wish I had your optimism.”

“Why not? Who would have thought three months ago that I’d be flying an aeroplane, but here I am. Believe it and it will happen.”

He shook his head. “All right, Miss Optimism. It’s time to do some work. We’ll begin by examining every wire and screw on the plane.”

“Every one? There must be hundreds.”

“Every one. If it was good enough for your heroine, Miss Quimby, it’s good enough for you.”

They spent the next four hours in the cold hangar, checking every inch of the plane. Darcy suspected Jack had deliberately
loosened several screws and stays to see if she found them. When she did, she then had to tighten them properly. Jack demanded perfection when it came to planes. She suspected he demanded the same of himself, at least when he was flying. For a second she remembered his visit to Vanesia Lawrence’s saloon, but thank goodness she’d seen no indication of drink since.

“Did I pass?” she asked when finished.

Jack jumped off the wing. “The only way to know for certain is to survive the flight. No one’s going to take care of a plane the way you do. It’s your life. Never forget that, and you’ll live a lot longer.”

“You’re just trying to scare me.” At least she hoped he was. He was certainly succeeding. She checked a couple of stays again.

“I’m spelling out facts. Flying is dangerous. So far you’ve had me along, but that won’t always be the case.”

Darcy had never quite thought about Jack not being there. In her mind, flying and Jack went hand in hand, but of course, he was correct. Once she received her license, she would leave the school and fly alone. That idea had lost a great deal of its appeal.

They’d reached the dreary classroom where she’d left her coat and bag. The lesson was over, but she didn’t want to leave.

“Come to supper,” she said impulsively. “It’s just my aunt and me, but we’d love to have the company.”

He looked leery. “I shouldn’t.”

“I promise not to mention the transatlantic attempt.”

Still he hesitated. “I’m not certain it’s proper.”

“My family always invited teachers to supper to thank them.”

“Then this is nothing more than professional gratitude?”

“Right.” Though it hurt to say so.

“I wouldn’t want anyone to think otherwise.” Yet, he hadn’t stopped looking at her. Just like that night in the alley.

Her mouth went dry. Her fingers tingled. She could barely breathe.

“I promise,” she whispered.

“In that case…” His voice drifted off.

She wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him and feel his around her, but that would not only be far too forward, it was sure to fail. He’d made it clear she couldn’t rush him about anything.
He
needed to set the pace.

So she waited. And he stood silent, eyes locked with hers.

“Um-hum.” Someone cleared her throat.

Darcy jumped. Jack pretended to review the folder on his desk. It was Aunt Perpetua, dressed in black.

“Excuse the interruption.” Perpetua planted her cane on the concrete floor. “When no one answered the door, I came in, in search of my niece.”

Darcy inhaled deeply until her head cleared. “Why?”

Perpetua watched her carefully. “I just received a telephone call from your mother.”

“Mum placed a long-distance call? She never…” That was the problem. She never placed a long-distance telephone call. It must be serious.

“Your sister has taken a bad turn,” Perpetua said, “and the doctor ordered her to bed. Your mother needs your help with the children.”

But flying… And Jack. Darcy looked to him for support, but he agreed with Perpetua.

“Winter’s almost upon us. There’s not much more we can do before spring.”

“But what will you do?” He couldn’t survive with no students.

He waved off her concerns. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Go home to your family.”

“I know it’s a trial, child,” said Perpetua, “but Mr. Hunter is correct. Family comes first.”

Darcy’s thoughts tumbled. How, when she was so close to her dream, could it be snatched away? She thought God wanted her here. She thought this was His plan. If so, why call her away? And why did it have to be her sister?

Wasn’t this just like Amelia? If Darcy didn’t know better, she’d think Amelia had planned it. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t stop the rush of anger. Amelia had always managed to steal Darcy’s moment away. Darcy’s twelfth-birthday trip to Buffalo had to be postponed because of Amelia’s wedding. Her trip to San Francisco got changed to Chicago when Lizzie was born.

“When do I have to leave?” she asked, hoping for more time.

“I’ve packed your things and hired a cab. We can still get you to the station for the evening train. I realize this is a setback, but God always has His reasons, even if we can’t see them at the time.”

Darcy could see no reason. Charles could hire a housekeeper. His sister, Grace, could help. Why did it always fall to her? “But she’s not due until April.”

“I’m sorry, Darcy,” said Perpetua. “Your help is needed now.”

She had no choice. She had to go.

Darcy opened the heavy door for her aunt and took one last look back. Jack stood in the center of the hangar, hands in his pockets.

“I’ll be back in the spring,” she promised.

He nodded before walking back to the classroom.

She let the door swing closed.

T
he following weeks passed in a blur of routine. Darcy rose before sunup and walked the quarter mile to Amelia’s house where she cooked breakfast and dressed the children for school. She brought Amelia’s meals upstairs and received unwanted instruction on how to properly fulfill every housekeeping task. Though her sister ended these directives with thanks, Darcy could not shake her resentment.

After the children left for school, she tackled laundry and ironing and cleaning and baking. Though Amelia had a motorized washtub, Darcy still had to crank the wringer. Then the clothes had to be hung and taken down and pressed with the electric iron, which was more trouble than it was worth, since it tended to scorch collars and handkerchiefs.

When the children returned, she had to feed them, bathe them and put them to bed. By the time she returned home, she was so exhausted that she fell into bed, too tired to undress.

“I’m not made for this,” Darcy complained to Beatrice. She’d taken the afternoon off to help her friend tie bows for the wedding. After the last of dozens, Darcy never wanted to touch satin ribbon again. She lay on Beattie’s bed facedown, stretching her aching muscles. “I don’t know how Amelia manages. All right, I do know, because she tells me how
every single day. But I can’t seem to make it work. Freddie and Lizzie won’t listen, and Helen refuses to come out from under the stairs.”

Beatrice placed the last of the bows into a big basket. “Remember, they’re her babes. It’s always different with your own.”

“Well, you can have married life. It’s not for me. After this is over, I’m going back to Buffalo to finish flight lessons.”

“What if your mother still needs you?” That was Beattie’s delicate way of asking what she’d do if something happened to Amelia.

Darcy refused to consider that possibility. “Everything will go fine. It always has in the past. By April, I’ll be back in the air.” She pantomimed steering a plane with the pillow as the wheel, but Beattie snatched the pillow from her.

“Stop being silly,” she huffed.

Darcy sensed trouble. “What’s bothering you? The wedding?”

Beattie traced the embroidered flowers on the pillowcase. “Do you think of Jack often?”

A sharp pang shot through Darcy. Hearing his name aloud somehow hurt worse than thinking about him. “Sometimes.”

“And you miss him?”

Darcy couldn’t acknowledge her feelings, not when he’d made it clear he didn’t want to get involved. “He’s my flight instructor, nothing more.”

“Then there’s nothing between you.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m so glad. I was worried you’d pine for him. When Blake was at the university, I could hardly get through a day. Even now, when we’re together, it’s never enough. I always knew he was the one, and I was so afraid you felt that way about Jack.”

Darcy swirled Beattie’s veil, edged with satin rosettes that
her mother had made. “Don’t worry about me. I have plenty to keep me occupied.” She placed the veil on Beattie’s head and spread it over her shoulders. “Gorgeous.”

Beatrice examined her reflection in the mirror. “Don’t misunderstand me, I hoped you’d fall in love. It’s wonderful and amazing and life-changing, but when you had to return, well, I worried.”

Darcy hugged her from behind. “Don’t. Flying comes first for me. There’s no room for romance.”

“I can’t imagine Jack believes that.”

“It’s true. If we were romantically involved, Jack would refuse to teach me. He said so. He claims women don’t have a strong enough constitution.”

“Maybe we don’t.”

“Beattie! I’m every bit as capable as a man, and so are you. I flew well. Jack said I did. But if we were involved…” she paused, mind whirling at the thought, “he could forbid me to fly. That’s why romance is impossible.”

“Isn’t romance better than flying?”

“Romance leads to marriage, and marriage to husbands making every decision.”

Beattie clucked her tongue. “What odd ideas you have. Marriage is a melding of two into one, a sacred union. If the woman follows her husband’s guidance, it’s only because both have agreed it’s the best course. You can’t possibly have two persons acting independently and call it a marriage. It would be like the lower half of the body deciding to walk somewhere that the upper half doesn’t want to go.”

Darcy shook her head. “If the lower half walks, the upper has no choice but to follow. I believe you’ve confirmed my point.” Beattie looked so shocked that Darcy had to laugh.

After a pause, Beatrice began to giggle, too. Then Darcy joined her until they both collapsed on the bed in a fit.

“Wait, wait, you’ll ruin your veil.” Darcy helped untangle the delicate fabric.

“I know this has been difficult,” Beattie said after they stopped giggling, “but think of all you’re learning.”

“Like how much I despise housework.”

“Like what you really want.”

Darcy had always known what she wanted, but she hadn’t foreseen how much she would feel for Jack. Unfortunately, she couldn’t have both. Flying had to come first. She’d remember that when she returned in April.

She plucked a white satin bow from the basket and plopped it on top of her head. “This is as close as I’m going to get to a bridal veil. Do you like it?”

Beatrice’s wedding day arrived bright and sunny. Though Christmas had passed, the ground remained bare. Darcy knew her friend had hoped for snow, but if Beattie was disappointed, she didn’t show it. The way the bride and groom looked at each other struck a chord of regret in Darcy. As the two spoke their vows before God and the congregation, she wondered what it would be like to have Jack standing beside her at the front of the church. How would it feel to have him slide a wedding band on her finger, to hear him promise before God to love and protect?

She bowed her head. That would never happen. Even if the impasse between them cleared, Jack had never mentioned a church home. He’d scoffed when she told him God led her to fly. A match with him was impossible in every way. So why did she still think about it?

The wedding dinner took place at the grange. The old hall had been transformed into a fairy-tale land, festooned with pine boughs, holly and mistletoe. Yards of white lace hung around every window and doorway, topped with the ribbon
bows. Beatrice glowed in her ivory satin gown, overlaid with French batiste.

Darcy, on the other hand, had to endure George Carrman, who’d been paired with her at both the ceremony and reception. The poor man had bravely endured her family’s constant attempts to match him with Darcy. Bland and doughy, with a crop of brown curls, he simply didn’t suit her. No humble scholar for her. She preferred the adventurer.

After dinner, George led her onto the floor for the ceremonial dance. He proved a good dancer, but that didn’t make this any more comfortable. Of all the dances Beattie could have chosen, why did she pick a waltz? Darcy kept as much distance as possible.

“How are your journalistic endeavors faring?” he asked.

“Not well, I’m afraid, not since Buffalo. Did you see my article about the flight school in
The Courier
?”

“Ah, yes, Blake told me you’re learning to fly. I even looked into taking lessons myself.”

“You? When? How?” Darcy could hardly believe her article had worked. She hoped Jack had signed dozens of students, and the school was now profitable. Then she realized dozens of students meant Jack would spend more time with them and less with her. It wouldn’t be just the two of them anymore.

“I start in the spring,” George was saying. “I don’t intend to actually fly, but I wanted to learn the principles.”

Darcy scrunched her nose. “You’re not going to fly? Then why take lessons?” But she had a bad feeling she knew. He wanted to impress someone. A woman, most likely. A woman who wanted to fly. She changed the subject before he could answer. “Have you finished your studies?”

“I complete my internship next month, and then I’ll be able to write the license examinations.”

“Then you’ll start a practice?” Darcy would rather endure
the boring details of medical education than hear whom George wanted to impress by taking flight lessons.

“No,” George said, sweeping her toward the corner. “I’ve decided to pursue research in polio. They’re close to finding the cause. I want to be in on it and make sure no one ever has to suffer again.” His passion surprised her. The cherubic face glowed with excitement, and for the first time she realized an intellect hid beneath the shy and pudgy exterior.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked. “Was someone in your family afflicted?”

“No, but I met someone.”

She could not believe the man was blushing. “You like her?”

He suddenly halted, and she nearly tripped over his feet.

“Why did you stop?” Then she noticed his attention was fixed on the doorway. She turned and caught her breath. A very familiar man stood in the entrance. Brown leather jacket. Sandy hair. Brilliant blue eyes.

Jack.

She stumbled toward him. He’d come back to her. He’d traveled all the way from Buffalo to see her.

She waved, but he didn’t see her. He kept scanning the crowd. She waved again, but he started walking toward the opposite corner. She wove through the dancing couples, struggling to reach him.

“Jack.” She stood just ten feet away. “Jack, I’m here.”

He must not have heard her, because he kept walking away, directly toward Hendrick Simmons.

One minute inside the grange hall, and Jack knew he shouldn’t have come. He’d spotted Darcy the moment he entered, and it had nearly undone him. She sparkled in her emerald-green gown and rhinestone-studded hairpins. The faraway look and flushed cheeks stole straight to his heart.
Even though she danced with another man, he could see she wasn’t interested in him. Too much space. She was too eager to break away. The old attraction raged back full force.

He forced his gaze from her and searched for Simmons. Business only. That’s what he’d told himself the entire train ride, though he didn’t know a soul who would believe that excuse.

He spotted the kid and walked straight toward him. She followed. He tried to ignore her presence, though it was already clouding his thoughts. Business first.

He cleared his throat. “Mr. Simmons. Might I have a moment of your time?”

The kid looked agitated, but he greeted Jack politely. Jack stuck to his plan. The moment Simmons stood, he launched into the speech he’d rehearsed dozens of times en route to Pearlman.

“I’m the new manager of a flight school in Buffalo. We have twenty trainer aeroplanes and no mechanics. I’ve seen your work and can think of no one I’d trust more to maintain the fleet. If you’re interested, we can discuss details tomorrow, but I wanted to give you the offer tonight so you can think it over.” He could feel Darcy behind him, drawing closer like iron to a magnet.

Simmons looked to Darcy. Jack should have known. It had always been Darcy for the kid. Had they connected while he was gone? Had he lost his chance?

“I, uh,” Simmons stammered, “…dunno. I like it here. Pearlman’s a good place.” He said it fiercely, as if protecting his homeland from invaders.

Jack didn’t care anymore. He just had to get out of there. “I understand. Take time to think it over. The position doesn’t start until spring. If you have any questions, we can talk in the morning. I’m staying at Terchie’s.” Jack extended his hand.

Simmons limply shook. If Jack hadn’t known the kid could
work wonders with motors, he’d have misjudged that lack of firmness in his grip.

“Terchie’s. Room six.” Jack deliberately turned to his right, away from Darcy, as if he didn’t know she was there. Coward. He should say something. He should at least greet her, but he knew that once he began, he’d never be able to stop. He wanted to be with her so badly, but that relationship could never be.

“Is that all?” She followed him to the door and wiggled in front of him.

The hurt in her eyes tore through him. He never wanted to see that look again. Ever.

“You could at least say hello,” she said.

No, he couldn’t. If he greeted her, it would all be over. He didn’t have the strength to walk away. He burst past her onto the stoop and breathed in the icy air.

“Stop pretending I don’t exist.” She struggled to put on her coat, but she had the arms all mixed up. She finally gave up and wrapped it around her shoulders like a cloak. “Worthless coat.”

He took pity. “Allow me.” He motioned for her to give him the coat.

“Oh, now you notice me. What is going on, Jack Hunter? You didn’t come all this way to ask Hendrick Simmons to be your mechanic.” She untangled the coat and shoved her arms into it.

Jack held up his hands in surrender and stepped backward into the street, his breath rising in a light cloud. She was right of course. He couldn’t explain away his bad behavior. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You did a poor job of it.” She fought tears, which only made him feel worse. “I thought we were friends.”

Friends. The word didn’t begin to address what he felt inside, but it did cover the safe ground he’d sculpted for himself. “We are.”

“I want to be in Buffalo. I want to continue lessons. I’m sorry I had to leave. But I can’t return yet. N-not now.” Her breath caught, like she couldn’t bear to say why, and Jack instantly thought of her sister.

He should have asked. Any decent, caring man would have asked. “How is Amelia?”

“Fine.” The word came out choked. “Still in confinement. Your sister?”

In confinement.
“She’s well.”

The pleasantries over, they stood in awkward silence, the cold creeping into fingers and toes. “You said you’re coming back. When?”

“After the baby is born in April.”

“If it’s too early to fly, you can tear that motor apart and reassemble it.”

She laughed and his heart soared. “I can hardly wait.” Just as quickly she turned serious.
Her sister’s condition must be graver than she let on.
He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to say everything would work out the way she wanted, but he couldn’t. Hold a glass ball too tightly and it shatters.