Soaring Home (14 page)

“Maybe,” Darcy seized her friend’s hands, “but don’t you see? This attempt isn’t just for Jack and me, it’s for Pearlman. Hendrick can work on the motor. We can get Mrs. Baumgartner, at the upholstery shop, to sew the wing coverings. Lyle Hammond could shape the wood at his shop.”

One by one, Darcy ticked off how the townspeople could help. “All we need to do is organize them. It can be done, Beattie, and think how Jack will feel when he sees his plane back in one piece. We can do it.”

It took no time at all to convince Pearlman’s craftsmen to help out. Blake and Beattie canvassed the town, and by the end of the following day had lined up enough materials and workers to get the repairs underway.

The following morning, Darcy surveyed the plane with Blake and Hendrick’s assistance. They took measurements from the good wing and located unbroken pieces from the wrecked wing to use as forms for the new pieces. The carpenter, the upholsterer and the welder took the measurements and pieces back to their shops. Simmons began to fix the motor and Darcy worked with the rest of the crew to disassemble the broken wing.

Darcy returned home at dusk to find both Mum and Papa home. Mum seldom ate supper with them anymore, so something must be wrong.

“Who is with Amelia?” Darcy asked as she took off her coat.

“Her sister-in-law, Grace, stopped by.” Mum nudged Darcy toward the parlor. “We’d like to talk with you, dear.”

Now what? She hadn’t done anything wrong. “Doc Stevens said I could get out of bed today.”

“Out of bed, yes.”

“But?” Darcy sensed a lecture.

“Sit down, Darcy.” Papa set aside the newspaper and folded
his spectacles. His grim expression sent her high spirits plummeting.

“Yes, Papa?” Darcy balanced on the edge of the sofa, her chest squeezing tighter every moment. Mum held her hand.

Papa frowned. “I understand you’ve instigated work on that aeroplane.”

The pressure tightened. “Yes.”

“Do you think that wise?”

The invisible corset squeezed tighter, but she wouldn’t back down. “Of course. The faster we repair it, the quicker we’ll be back in the air.”

His eyebrows rose. “We? Do you think you should be flying after your accident?”

“George said I’m fine.” That assertion did not bring the desired results. “Oh, you want me to help out at Amelia’s house. Of course. I’ll be there tomorrow morning. I’ll put in extra time if you need me.”

“I’m not talking about your time. I’m talking about your safety.”

She’d heard that argument on the night of Beattie’s wedding. She’d won him over then. She could do it again. Only this time, she had a crash to overcome. “I’m perfectly safe. That bad landing was a fluke.” She didn’t want to mention that she’d held onto the wheel while Jack tried to steer. “Jack said he’d never had an incident before. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

Papa’s frown deepened. “You can’t predict that.”

“No one can predict the future, and no one can be totally safe. Why, any one of us could have died from the Spanish influenza. Flying is where I belong, Papa. As soon as I get enough flight time, I’m taking the license test.”

He tapped his fingers on the end table. “Do I understand correctly that you were in that plane of your own volition?”

She slipped her hand from Mum’s. “You said I could resume lessons.”

“After Amelia delivered.”

Darcy’s cheeks burned. “Why do I have to wait for Amelia? Why is it always what Amelia wants? Why can’t I have this one little thing? I still help out at her house. I’ve never neglected my chores. Taking lessons doesn’t affect a thing.”

“Until you were injured. That changes everything. No more flying. Do I make myself clear?”

In that instant, Darcy knew why Jack had left. “You told Jack to leave, didn’t you?” Angry tears nipped her eyelids. “You made him quit. How could you? That was
his
project,
his
dream.”

“Darcy, you’re being unfair,” Mum said gently.

“I’m unfair? I’m not the one trying to control other people’s lives.”

Papa’s face had turned dark red. “The man made his own decision.”

But she knew better. Papa had said something to him. Jack wouldn’t have left otherwise. Every muscle vibrated. “All I wanted was my own grand adventure. You had yours when you shot the grizzly. Why can’t I have mine? Is that too much?”

“Darcy, we love you and only want what’s best for you.”

“Then why take away my dream? Why deny Jack his?” She hiccupped, the tears close. “Even if you deny me, you can’t take away Jack’s dream.”

“Deny you?” Papa gripped the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. “How can I deny you? You’re grown now, and it’s apparent you do precisely what you want, with no consideration for others.”

No consideration? He was the one who showed no consideration. All she wanted to do was fly. Well, he was right about one thing. She would do what she wanted. She would fly.

“You’re dismissed,” he said. “Go to your room, child, and ponder where your loyalties lie.”

She didn’t have to ponder. She knew. Papa was the one who didn’t understand. Trembling, she ran from the room.

T
he snow was still piled high in Buffalo. It drove a chill deep into Jack’s bones, a chill that St. Anne’s Hospital certainly didn’t thaw.

Sissy looked up from her book the minute he walked in. “What happened?”

“I should know I can’t hide anything from you.” He pulled the chair close to her bed and sat, elbows on thighs, twirling his cap.

“That bad?”

Jack set his cap on the bedside table. No way around it. “The transatlantic attempt is off.”

“Oh, Jackie. I’m so sorry. That was your dream. What happened?”

“Plane crash.” Even the words hurt.

“Thank God you’re not injured. That’s the most important thing. What will you do?”

He shrugged. “Reopen the flight school, I guess.” He stared at the linoleum flooring. Yellow with flecks of gray. Ugly. He wondered how Sissy stood it. “Finances will be tight for a while.”

She nodded solemnly. “I will move to the ward.”

That’s not what he wanted. Why should Sissy suffer for his
error? Yet, that’s what happened to the women he loved. In the end, they were the ones that bore the cost of his mistakes. “It won’t be for long.” His voice clotted. “I’m so sorry.”

“Jackie.” Her light touch was meant to console, but it only reminded him of what he’d lost. Darcy. If she died… A tremor shook him.

Her eyes flew open. “You are hurt.”

“No, I was just thinking about…” He couldn’t even speak her name.

Sissy pursed her lips, deep in thought. “You weren’t alone in that plane, were you? Someone else flew with you. It was her, wasn’t it?”

Jack had no idea how Sissy read his mind. He tried to bury his guilt behind an impassive mask, but he was failing badly.

“Was she hurt?” she asked.

Jack couldn’t sit anymore. He walked to the window. “The doctor says she’ll recover.”

“Thank God.” She heaved a sigh. “Oh, Jackie, you must have been terrified.”

She didn’t know the truth of it. She couldn’t. Even now, his stomach tightened at the memory of Darcy’s limp form.

“She’ll recover,” he repeated. At least he hoped she would. A brain hemorrhage. He didn’t know what he’d do if she died.

“Shame on you.”

“What?” Jack snapped to attention.

Sissy sat with arms crossed, glaring at him. “Why are you here, when she needs you?”

Her condemnation scorched his brittle soul. “She doesn’t need me. She has a good family. They’re taking care of her.”

“But she loves you.”

Jack tried to stomach that idea. She did hang on his every
word, but that could be because she wanted to fly. “I don’t think she does.”

“Oh.” Her sharp intake of breath meant she was back on his side. “Unrequited love. Oh, Jackie, how sad.”

This whole conversation was unsettling. He didn’t want to think about Darcy. He certainly didn’t want to talk about her. “Would you like to take a walk?”

She nodded. “I saw a robin yesterday.”

Jack glanced at the window, frosty at the edges. The sunshine offered little warmth. “Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. It’s cold out.”

“That’s why we have coats. Not to mention mittens and hats and scarves.”

The next several minutes involved the necessities of dressing for the cold. Jack lifted her into the wheelchair and tucked a blanket around her legs.

“I don’t need a blanket,” she protested. “My legs can’t feel cold.”

That stubbornness reminded him of Darcy, but he could be stubborn, too. “That’s exactly why you need it. I won’t go outside unless you cover your legs with a blanket.”

“It makes me look like an invalid.”

Though she grimaced and called him a tyrant, she finally acquiesced. Once outdoors, Sissy directed him to the little courtyard garden she loved. Its sheltered southern exposure melted the snow. Here, the sun warmed. Hyacinths poked their fragrant purple heads through last summer’s rubble. A chickadee hopped from branch to branch, tilting its head inquisitively.

Sissy pulled off a mitten, reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of sunflower seeds. “Tweet, tweet,” she mimicked, drawing the bird close.

“You’ve done this before.”

“Hush.” She persisted until the bird ate from her hand, plucking a seed then nervously hopping back to the branch.

Jack watched the small miracle, his heart breaking. How could she be happy in such a place? How could she delight in the tiniest pleasure that came her way? How many hundred chickadees had he ignored, always striving for the big goal, the grand gesture. And now he couldn’t even do that. He took a ragged breath.

The chickadee flitted away.

“That’s it,” said Sissy, flinging the rest of the seed on the ground for the sparrows. “Now tell me exactly what happened.”

Jack dug into the softened earth with the heel of his boot. “There’s nothing to tell. We were making a test flight. An updraft caught the wing during descent, and the plane crashed. There’s not enough time to salvage the transatlantic attempt. It’s over.”

Sissy listened carefully. “What’s her name?”

“Kensington Express.”

“Not the plane, silly, your girl.”

His girl. Jack had never had a girl before. “Darcy.”

“That’s a pretty name. Different.”

“Irish, I think.”

Sissy’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, the Irish have spunk. That’s a good match for you.”

“Are you saying I don’t have spunk?”

She laughed. “I’m saying the woman who loves you
needs
spunk. What’s she like?”

“About your size. Brown eyes. Dark brown hair.”

“That’s not what I meant. What’s she
like?
What are her passions, her interests? Does she have brothers and sisters? What does her father do? What are her dreams?”

Jack stopped listening when he heard the word
father
. That was the whole problem. Darcy’s father would never accept
him, and even if Darcy went against her father’s wishes,
he
couldn’t. She had the most important thing in the world: a family. He couldn’t let her throw it away.

“Her father’s a banker,” he said.

“So she’s severe and unsmiling.”

“No!” Darcy was anything but. “She’s bright and sure of herself, even when she’s wrong.”

“That’s a good quality. Is she pretty, Jackie? Tell me she’s pretty.”

He remembered Darcy from the day she told him her dream of flying: the shining eyes, the excitement, the dots of color in her cheeks. “She’s beautiful.”

“I’m so glad.” She clasped her hands to her breast. “And she likes to fly.”

The pleasant memory crashed. “That’s over.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t you hear me? The plane is wrecked. The transatlantic attempt is off.”

“There are other reasons to fly.”

He hated when she got rational. “No good ones.”

She didn’t reply at once. Judging by her expression, she was considering whether or not to speak. Naturally, she did. “Stop playing God.”

“What?” He didn’t even believe in an intervening God. He sure wasn’t playing Him.

“Stop playing God.”

“I’m not.”

“Aren’t you?” He heard the wheelchair creak as she moved, felt her grasp his hand. “You’re deciding for her, telling her she can’t fly. Well it’s not your decision. It’s hers.”

“But she’ll get hurt.”

“You don’t know that. No one does. None of us can know the future. We can only enjoy the present. Love her. Enjoy your
time together, and then you will have no regrets. And when you’re afraid, turn to God. He’s the only true protector.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with God.” Jack shook off her grasp. He didn’t want to explain how God had let them both down, how
he
hadn’t answered Jack’s most desperate plea.

She sighed. “You can’t escape the risk, not if you want the prize.”

Jack knew she meant marriage, not flying, but he couldn’t face that topic. “I know flying is risky.”

“I’m not talking about flying, and you know it. I’m talking about love. You’re willing to risk your life for that transatlantic prize, and it’s only money. Love is so much more.”

Sissy knew nothing about love. How could she, when she was confined to an institution?

Yet she smiled at him, urging, “Go ahead. Take the risk.”

Jack frowned. She didn’t understand. She was safe here, protected, surrounded by nurses and doctors. Real life wasn’t like that. Real life was filled with danger and heartbreak and loss.

“It’s worth it Jack.” Sissy squeezed his hand.

“You don’t understand,” he said, pulling away again. “I won’t be responsible for another person getting…” He stopped before he said the fateful words. “Getting what?”

He turned away so she wouldn’t see his face.

“Answer me, Jackie. Getting what? Sick? You can’t help illness.”

“Not illness,” he said angrily, whirling around to see the wheelchair and her withered limbs.

It should have been him. He shouldn’t have agreed to go to the river. He shouldn’t have suggested they build a mud dam. He knew better. He could still hear his father’s rebuke.

“How many times have I told you never to go to that germ-infested place? Mud carries disease. This is your fault. You’re responsible.” He’d shaken his finger in Jack’s face, had stuck it in his chest.

Then Sissy never came home from the hospital, Mom died and he was sent away to school, never to return home.

“I’m not talking about illness,” he said, fighting past the memories. “I’m talking about injury. I don’t want to see anyone get injured or die.”

“Like Darcy? Oh, Jack, no matter how hard you try, you can’t protect those you love. Illness, injury and death happen. That’s why we need God so desperately. He grants us the strength to go on.”

He turned away to hide his bitterness. “How can you talk about God, when He took away your life?”

For a long time Sissy didn’t speak. He’d finally gone too far. Even the squirrels scolded him. He began to apologize, but she spoke first, and with a quiet assurance that stunned him.

“I have my life. This is where I’m meant to be. I’m surrounded by people, many of them dear friends, and yes, I have a purpose here. I’ve spent long days and nights with the inconsolable. I’ve prayed with families at bedsides. I do my best with what God has given me, and He has rewarded me richly.”

Jack struggled with her words of faith. He could understand it. He could admire it. But he couldn’t summon it in himself. “I don’t know how.”

“Go to her. Go to Darcy. God put her in your life for a reason. See where that path leads. And trust, Jack. Trust.”

Jack trudged across town from the Pearlman train depot, shoulders hunched against the wind. The last of the snowbanks
had melted, and the sun shone, but it wasn’t warm by any definition of the word.

“Hello there, Mr. Hunter,” someone said in passing.

“Same.” Jack glanced up to see the newspaperman, Devlin, coatless and in shirtsleeves. Clearly, the people here were made of tough stuff.

So was Jack Hunter.

It was time to assess the damage to his plane and figure out what, if anything, could be salvaged. He owed a fortune to the Kensingtons. If the plane could be repaired, he could fly exhibitions. It’d take years to pay off his debt, but he’d do it.

He’d also have to face Darcy. She wouldn’t be happy with his decision. She’d try to talk him out of flying exhibitions, or even beg to go along, but he’d made up his mind. Despite Sissy’s arguments, he was flying solo now.

He bitterly kicked a stone along the dirt road. He’d need to convert the plane to single engine. It would take time, but it could be done.

The breeze chapped his cheeks. Jack huddled deeper into his jacket and headed across the field to the barn. Strange. Half a dozen motorcars were parked between the barn and the house. Baker must have guests. Odd for a Monday.

When he drew near, he noticed the barn door stood ajar. What on earth would guests be doing inside the barn? In a flash he put it all together: Kensington was salvaging Jack’s plane and selling off the pieces to the highest bidder.

Jack barged through the door. “What do you think—?” The sight made him freeze. A dozen people worked on, around, and alongside his plane. Some he recognized, like Blake Kensington and the Simmons kid, but most he didn’t. Moreover, they weren’t disassembling the plane, they were rebuilding it.

The people of Pearlman had stepped up to help
him,
Jack
Hunter, a man who had given them nothing. He rubbed his eyes. He must be dreaming.

“Jack! It’s about time.”

Darcy. His gut turned over.

“Everybody, it’s Jack,” she called out. “He’s here.”

The work crew all stopped and looked at him. Some nodded or waved. Everyone smiled.

“Uh, hello.” He waved awkwardly. “Thank you.” He struggled against emotion. “I’m, uh, overwhelmed.” He sounded like a fool. Why were they doing this?

He searched for Darcy. The dark-haired beauty, dressed in greasy overalls, stood in the rear cockpit. He went to her.

“You’re not shipping this plane to Buffalo,” she said as he drew near. She had a pencil shoved behind her ear and a dab of grease on her nose. She’d never looked so beautiful. “Excuse me?”

She cocked her head in that wonderful way. “Considering the cost of repairs and all the time we’ve put into it, the citizens of Pearlman have decided that the plane is ours.”

Jack could find no rational response.

“Meet your new partners. Blake and Beattie and Simmons you know.” She then proceeded to introduce him to everyone there. Each smiled and nodded at him.

What was he supposed to do now? “I…” His voice trailed off as he surveyed his machine. He could barely tell it had been damaged. The twisted left wing had been replaced with a brand new one, gleaming with fresh paint and pungent from doping compound. He ran his hand along the smooth leading edge.

Simmons was reattaching the engine. Scraps of wood, old canvas and wire sat in a pile to one side, along with sawhorses, saws, nails, screws and tools.

“What did you do?” he said, unable to comprehend what was happening. Why would they help him? These good people
had taken time from their work and families to help him on a desperate venture certain to end unsuccessfully. “Darcy, what? Why?”