Kathleen Y'Barbo (18 page)

She grinned. “How thoughtful of you.”

“I am.” He paused just long enough to make sure his casual demeanor had not slipped. “So, about flying with me one last time?”

“Yes?”

He lifted one brow and gave her a no-nonsense look. “Let’s go.”

“That is not a question.”

“No, it’s not.” Kyle gestured to the window. “And thus I have relieved you from answering it. After you.”

“Out the window?” She crossed the room to join him and then leaned past him to peer outside.

She smelled of something floral, feminine. Beautiful.

And then she turned those eyes on him. Her smile had broadened. It was all he could do not to trace the line of her jaw with his knuckle. To lean down for just one more kiss.

And yet there would be no more kisses. He had determined this when he bargained with himself to justify tonight’s adventure. They were just two people watching an eclipse of the moon together. Nothing more.

And yet she seemed to be made for him. The why of it was still a matter to wrestle with God for an answer. And thus far, God was not offering any clear responses. At least He had allowed them one more evening together. For now, that was enough.

“Your flying machine is tethered to my roof.” Her voice held a lilt of amusement.

“It is.” Kyle reached past her to grasp the rope and pull the device down within reach. “Shall we?”

He assisted her out of the window and into place on the flying machine. Then he held up the spare coat he had brought for her and helped her slip it on.

“You have thought of everything,” she said as she leaned back against him.

Everything except how to say goodbye.
“I do my best,” he said instead. “Now hold on, and we are off.”

A few minutes later they were rising above the treetops on Adams Street. The night air was crisp, but there was no wind to impede them as Kyle set a course for the river.

The lack of wind was exactly what he needed to test the tweaks he had made to the steering system after recalculating for fuel use and wind speeds. If his theories were correct, he could vastly improve on his most recent test flight and, he hoped, provide the final numbers to the patent attorney next week.

Though the watch in his pocket read half past eight, it felt much later. Rooftops and buildings glittered beneath the half-moon, but those
few persons still about kept to themselves and never noticed the flying machine above them.

“It’s lovely,” his companion said when they reached the river. “Look at how the moon shines so prettily on the water.” She snuggled closer against
him. “I have lived in Memphis all my life, and I must confess I have never thought of the Mississippi River as anything other than a muddy mess to be avoided at all costs. But it is just lovely.”

“Lovely,” Kyle echoed, but his attention was not on the river. Between the nearness of the woman and the importance of keeping track of the gauges and meters, the scenery below was not important.

“Look how many boats are down there,” she said as he urged the device higher. “I never realized how busy the port was. It just seems so...” She let out a sigh. “I could do this all night.”

He chuckled. “Hardly,” he said, though he allowed the thought for just a moment longer than he ought. “We have enough fuel to power the device an hour, maybe slightly more. Like it or not, I should have you back home well before your bedtime.”

“And what if I don’t wish to return quite so quickly,” she said with a teasing tone. “Perhaps I would like to fly somewhere far away. Would you take me?”

“My schedule will not allow it. Not today.”

“Why not?” she demanded as she attempted to swivel to look up at him. “Do you have other plans?”

“Be still,” he demanded as he corrected the tilt she had caused and righted their course. “You cannot just move at will up here. And, as to your question, I actually do have other plans.”

“Oh.”

Did he actually hear disappointment in her voice, or was that a trick of the altitude and wishful thinking?

“As do you,” he said as he glanced down to see her hand, so small and lovely, casually draped atop his arm.

“I do?”

“Your wedding,” he forced himself to say.

“Yes,” came out barely loud enough for him to hear. “It is to be next week,” was a bit louder, though no less tentative.

“Next week?” Kyle felt the air go out of him. He reached up to take a reading of the gauges, not because they needed it but because he did.

“I know. It’s barely been time enough to announce the engagement. But I suppose that is for the best.”

He removed his focus from the equipment. “Is it?”

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He paused. “It seems pretty quick, considering you kissed me two weeks ago.” Too late, Kyle realized he had said the words aloud. “So,” he hurried to add, “I have to admit to an ulterior motive for flying tonight.”

“That has nothing to do with my wedding?” He heard the teasing tone in her voice and grinned.

“Exactly. I wonder if you are aware that a lunar eclipse will occur.”

“No. How wonderful.” She lifted her head as if to study the sky. “What time?”

“According to my calculations, the moon has already entered the penumbra. See how it appears just a little darker than before?”

“I suppose,” she said tentatively.

“The process takes hours, so it is not truly noticeable to the human eye until it is well underway.” He went on to tell her what the article in the
New York Times
had said on the topic and then paused. “What am I saying? You know all this.”

“I know some of this,” she corrected, “and I do not mind hearing the other parts again.” It was her turn to pause. “And I can assure you if the article appeared in the
New York Times
, I have not had the opportunity to read it. Papa would not hear of having a New York newspaper in the house. For him, the War of Northern Aggression did not happen so long ago. Do continue, sir, to enlighten me about the moonlight.”

Light. Enlighten. Did she realize she was making a pun?

“Light? En
light
en?” His companion fell silent. “Hmm, I guess that was too silly for a man of your intelligence.”

“Actually, I was going to say the same thing but figured you would think I was...” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Of course you were.”

“I was.” Again they shared a chuckle. “So,” Kyle continued. “We cannot possibly fly until it disappears and returns again. We will have a bird’s eye view for part of it, though.”

She tugged at his sleeve for a moment. “Did that article in the
New York Times
mention what time the eclipse might peak?”

He glanced up at the moon again. “Half past eleven. And it’s only a partial eclipse.”

“I would like to see it all the same.”

“I told you, we do not have enough fuel to—”

“Just set this thing down somewhere and I will be content to watch from the ground. Or a rooftop. I do not care.” She gasped. “Oh, look!”

He followed the direction where she pointed and saw that the edge of the moon was now obscured by a fingernail-sized shadow. As the partial eclipse proceeded, that shadow would grow larger and then eventually wane away to nothing again.

“It is brown. No purple. Or would you say it is mostly brown with a shading of purple at the edges?”

He agreed with her, not because he had any sort of opinion on the color of the shadow crossing the moon. Rather, he was considering where to land and how to explain to anyone who might come upon them exactly what they were doing sitting outside on a chilly January night with a partial lunar eclipse and a strange flying machine for company.

Going back to the Cotton Exchange was not an option. That area of the community was too densely populated, and the lights of downtown Memphis would likely obscure the view.

Taking her back home was an option, but he certainly could not remain there with her. Good sense told him that was the logical option.

“I must see this in its entirety. Or at least until the eclipse reaches its peak. I have never seen one, you know.”

“Ever?”

She shrugged. “I’ve not had an opportunity until now.”

“You will get a decent view from the city, but to really see it well, you will need to find a place where there are no city lights. Perhaps the next time one occurs you can arrange to be in the country.”

Kyle stopped himself from asking where her fiancé’s home might be. Better not to imagine her in city or countryside.

“Who knows when that will be? I want to see this one.”

“Well, there it is.” He nodded toward the sky above. “Look all you want. Until we run low on fuel, that is.”

“I have a better idea. I know the perfect place. It’s not far from here,
and we can watch the whole thing from the upstairs porch. It has a lovely view of the sky, and the last time I visited, two porch rockers were still there, though the home has been empty for years.”

“And what of your father? And your fiancé? Won’t they miss you if I keep you away for hours?”

Her shoulders shrugged. “My fiancé has no way of knowing I might be absent from the house, and I am rarely missed by my father even when he is home, which tonight, once again, he is not.”

And yet I will miss you terribly.
“Tell me where this place is. And understand I make no promises.”

She gave him directions.

“Near the Davies home, then?”

“Very near. Do you know the area?”

“I do,” was his truthful response. A half-dozen pieces of property encircling the Davies home had been possible sites for hidden gold, though nothing had been found. He recalled this from the notes in the folder Henry had given him.

Kyle had followed up with several days of checking potential hiding places on the properties with his detecting device, confirming the previous agent’s supposition that if any gold had been buried in that area, it had long ago been found and deposited elsewhere.

He turned east to follow a road cut through the trees and then veered to the south. Beyond a stand of pines was a clearing, and in the center of that clearing stood what appeared to be a dwelling.

In all, the trip had been brief. Less than ten minutes would be his guess.

“There.” She pointed to the home. “That is the place.”

Kyle guided them just close enough to see the house in question. Yes, he remembered this one.

The funds associated with the upkeep of the home and its surrounding lands had been deposited well before the Civil War began, thus eliminating them from the list.

“How do you know about this place?” he asked as he debated what to do next.

“It’s mine, of course.” She paused. “Technically, it belonged to my grandparents, though no one has lived here in ages.”

“A pity. It seems like a nice enough place.”

“I always liked it, as did my mother.” She shrugged. “Because my father wants nothing to do with the country life, he rents out the pastures and pays to keep the home from falling down around itself. I think he does it all for Mama’s memory.”

After a trip around the perimeter, Kyle was satisfied the area could be considered safe enough for landing. “Hold on,” he said as he adjusted the gauges and brought the machine down gently on the front lawn a few feet from the house.

He released the straps and then helped his companion to step carefully onto the grass. “Stand right there while I get this secured.”

She did as he asked and then allowed him to lead her up to the front porch by the light of the personal lantern he always carried with him. Silence had fallen around them, punctuated only by the chorus of frogs and chirps of nighttime creatures off in the distance.

The wide porch boards appeared to wear a fresh coat of gray paint, while the home’s log-and-chink exterior showed no need of repair. A smaller version of this porch ran half the length of the second floor and appeared to be in similar shape.

Kyle rested his palm against the worn wood and wondered how long a home of this type had stood in this peaceful place.

“Early eighteen hundreds,” she said. “Maybe before that.” At his astonished look, she continued. “You were wondering how old the house was, were you not?”

Without waiting for his answer, she turned to walk the length of the porch. After shuffling around a bit, she returned to the door and produced a key that she used to let them both inside.

The front door swung open on hinges that could use a decent oiling. Following her, Kyle lifted the lantern to get a look at the interior.

A staircase of average size and design marched up the wall on the left side of the room and disappeared onto a second floor hallway. Doors on either side of the room were open, revealing two more empty rooms.

“Wait right here.” Kyle pressed his palm to his revolver and did a quick check of the premises. When he was certain no one was about, he returned to his flying companion.

She moved toward the stairs, beckoning him to follow. “I thought we could watch the eclipse from the second-floor balcony.”

He glanced at his watch. Almost ten. Ninety minutes of waiting time lay ahead, and that was only if they stayed until the midpoint of the eclipse.

It would be interesting to see if his companion could sit still that long. Kyle sprinted to the top of the stairs. By the light of the personal lantern, he made a thorough search of the two rooms on this level, all empty.

“Satisfied?” she asked and then nodded toward the balcony. “Follow me.”

A moment later he extinguished the lantern and then stood still until his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. The moon was almost half covered in shadow now, the lawn shrouded in deepest black. Only the slight movement of the silk told Kyle his flying machine was still safely tethered below.

“Come and sit.” She settled onto a cane-seat rocker painted brilliant white. He complied, resting his arms on the wide slats.

“We have a bit of a wait, do we not?”

“An hour and a half, or thereabouts.” He slid her a sideways look. “Would you like me to take another look at that wheel cypher of yours?”