Soaring Home (16 page)

She beamed, the same as she did every time he asked.
“Back to normal, and the baby is so beautiful. You must go see him.”

Jack wasn’t ready to see babies. He climbed up to the cockpit. “Hand me the next can.”

Darcy hefted it up the ladder, panting a bit from the exertion. “How many more test flights?”

“This full-load test and one distance flight.” He surveyed the nearly full plane and considered holding back a couple of hundred pounds to ensure they’d clear the trees. In Newfoundland, he’d take off from the cliffs, allowing for an initial drop and using the updraft to advantage. But here he had to rise a hundred feet in a relatively short distance.

“If only the rain would stop.” Then she abruptly changed subjects. “What’s your sister’s name again?”

“Cecelia Marie.” Jack slid the last fuel can into the space behind his cockpit. “Everything’s secured. What’s the total load?”

She picked up the clipboard. “Twenty-seven pounds over.”

“How can that be? Let me see.” Jack took the clipboard and reviewed her calculations. No error. They were overloaded. He tossed out the raft. He needed five more pounds. He crouched and reached along the inside wall of the fuselage toward the tail of the plane.

“Do you have a middle name?”

“Lindsey.” His fingers brushed the hatchet. Totally unnecessary, but she wanted it. “Mine’s Opal.”

“Like the stone?” His hand landed on the radio transmitter and dry cells. They wouldn’t need it for the full load test, just the distance test. He’d pull the equipment now and put it back after this flight.

“The stone? Of course the stone. Do you know another meaning for opal?” She laughed, clear and pure. “Darcy Opal
Shea. Darcy O. Shea.” She laughed again, like it was somehow the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “Aunt Perpetua said Mum chose the name just because it started with an O. You see, Papa’s last name used to be O’Shea, but he thought it sounded too Irish, so he dropped the O. Mum put it right back.”

A wave of jealousy swept over him. How wonderful if the most embarrassing thing was a name that sounded too ethnic. Darcy didn’t realize how blessed she was to have a father and a mother and a sister and a whole family that all loved each other. “What does
your
father do?” She hovered at his shoulder.

“Nothing.” He shuddered to think what her family would say if they knew the truth.

“How can a man do nothing?”

“Believe me, it’s possible. Enough chatter. We have more important things to do.” He cleared his throat. “Did you check the weather forecast this morning?”

“High pressure, clear skies, light southwest winds. Perfect.”

Promising. He couldn’t afford any more delays. He’d have to go, Pohlman or no Pohlman. He’d just lighten the load with Darcy. “If the weather holds tomorrow, we’ll make the test run. Be here at eight.”

“Yes, sir.” She offered a mock salute and laughed.

How he loved to see her happy, and nothing pleased her more than flying. Sissy and Simmons were right. He couldn’t stop her, even though he wanted to. She loved flying more than anything or anyone. Including him.

She stood so close, yet utterly beyond reach—like an expensive jewel on the other side of a shop window. He wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted to hold and protect her forever, but that would crush the very spirit he loved.

“You look worried,” she said.

“Twin motors have never been tried on this model.”

“We’ve made three successful flights.”

“One less than successful.” Her dark eyes nearly made him forget what he was saying. That’s why they couldn’t make the transatlantic flight together. That’s why he wished he didn’t have to fly with her. He pulled away.

A flicker of disappointment crossed her face. “But the last two went beautifully.”

“I still I wish I had the opinion of a good aviation mechanic.”

“Would an aviation engineer do?” said a very familiar voice.

Jack whirled around. “Burrows.” He couldn’t help grinning at the sight of his old friend. All his problems were solved. Burrows could check the calculations and tell him in an instant where to shave pounds. He could also navigate the last two test flights.

Darcy felt the chill the moment Jack turned away from her. Their connection had been so solid. They were working out the problem together, full partners in the venture. True, he hadn’t revealed much about his family, but she’d broken through a little. Before long they’d be telling each other everything.

Now Burrows claimed Jack’s full attention. She stood to the side, forgotten.

Jack grasped Burrows’s hand in a firm shake. “What brings you to this outpost of civilization? Hopefully it’s to drag Pohlman here.”

Darcy stiffened. She’d hoped Jack had ruled out the tardy navigator.

“Don’t know about Pohlman,” Burrows said. “After I found out about the crash, I had to come. See what was really going on here.”

“Where did you hear about that?” Jack actually looked affronted.

“How are you, Miss Shea?” Burrows shot a smile her way. “Just as lovely as I remember.”

Darcy knew flirting when she saw it.

“How’s
your
girl doing?” Jack said a little too pointedly.

“My girl?” Burrows screwed up his face. “Oh, you must mean Beulah. That was never serious.” He smiled again at Darcy. “There are fun women and then there are serious women. I can tell Miss Shea is the serious type.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. This was ridiculous. “Serious enough to know you’re nothing but trouble.”

Jack grinned broadly at her response. His cornflower-blue eyes fixed on her, and she felt that wonderful glow deep inside.

Burrows cleared his throat. “Shall we get back to business? Is it true that you’re considering the transatlantic attempt in this old crate?”

Jack’s attention went back to the plane. “Can’t see why I should be talking to the competition.”

“No competition here, sport. The navy isn’t going for the prize. Besides, they’re still finishing the NC-4.” He leaned against the worktable. “I can bring you up to speed on the competition, though.” He pulled a newspaper from his inside jacket pocket and spread it out on the table. “Look at this.”

Jack bent over the paper.

Darcy could sense Jack’s growing anxiety. He glanced at Burrows. “I’m figuring Hawker, with the Sopwith group, has the best shot.”

“Don’t count out the Martinsyde fliers. They’re already there, Jack. Both groups.”

“In St. John’s?”

Burrows nodded. “According to this, Hawker and Grieve planned to take off on the twelfth, the day after Raynham and Morgan arrived with their Martinsyde.”

Darcy sucked in her breath. This was terrible news.

“They’re already gone?” Jack looked panicky. “By now Hawker and Grieve will be sipping Champagne in England.”

Burrows shook his head. “Called it off due to bad weather, but they’re ready.”

Jack looked sick.

Darcy felt for him. “Maybe they won’t make it. Anything could happen.” Again she was ignored.

“I gather you’re not ready to go,” Burrows said.

Jack silently reread the article.

Darcy had to save him. He couldn’t give up now. “We will be. Just a couple more test flights, and we’ll be there.”

Jack raked a hand through his hair. “Then we need to ship the plane, get a decent place for takeoff.” He groaned. “I’d like to have an expert on my team to check the engines—here and in Newfoundland.”

“I can take a look here,” Burrows obliged, “but not in Newfoundland. You know I’m tied to the NC project.”

“And if they take off from the same field, what’s a little assistance here or there? You said the navy wasn’t going for the prize money.”

“Just like you to show up without a mechanic and hope someone will donate time. First things first. How soon will you be ready to ship?”

Jack ran through the remaining steps before departure. “If the weather holds,” he finished up, “I should be able to ship around the twenty-third. Get there in a couple days. Reassemble, test and be ready to fly around the end of the month.”

Too late. Even Darcy knew it. “You could save time if you flew to Newfoundland. Just send the supplies ahead by train, so they’re there when you arrive. That eliminates the reassembly time.”

Jack scoffed. “No one flies his plane to a major record attempt.”

“Why not?”

Burrows supported her. “Actually, it’s not a bad plan. That’s what we’re going to do with the NCs.”

“See? It’ll work.”

Jack resisted. “The NCs are flying boats and can land on water if they have a problem. I’d have to fly over Canada and some pretty remote terrain.”

“Then follow the St. Lawrence.” Months of staring at the map had taught her something about geography.

“I suppose you’d have me make a landing on Niagara Falls?”

Darcy refused to give in. “You’re being silly. I agree with Mr. Burrows. It’ll trim days off our plan. Let’s do it.”

“Just like that.”

“Why not?”

Burrows laughed. “Two against one. You lose, Jack.”

Darcy wished Jack didn’t look as though he’d lost the transatlantic prize. “We can do it. I know we can.”

Jack folded the newspaper and handed it back to Burrows. “Could you fly the last two test flights?” He didn’t even look at her when he asked him.

Burrows? He asked
Burrows? How could he?
He’d only been there ten minutes. She wanted to pound her fists against Jack’s thick head, but it wouldn’t do any good. Once Jack set his mind, he didn’t retreat. She had no choice. She watched as Jack Hunter threw away her dream.

Jack hated to hurt Darcy that way, but Burrows was the answer to all his problems. “Stay the week,” he begged his friend after they retired to the boardinghouse.

“Sorry, we’re getting close to launching the NC-4. She has four Liberty motors, Jack,
four
. Sixteen hundred horsepower.”

Jack could see the sparkle in Burrows’s eyes, but he couldn’t
resist comparing, even though his paltry two engines and four hundred horsepower could never top the NC. “My girl’s a Curtiss, too.”

Burrows laughed. “Your girl’s a Shea.”

Jack squared his shoulders. “I meant the plane.”

“Just like you to keep your eyes on the machine and not the woman.”

“Women only bring trouble,” Jack pointed out as he unlocked the door to his room. If Burrows didn’t know that, with his string of failed relationships, no one would.

“Ah, but what sublime trouble it is. The French sing of it. The Italians romance it.”

“And Dick Burrows jumps in with both feet.”

“Watch that tongue of yours,” Burrows said, laughing.

“Got a minute?” Jack nodded toward his room. “I’d like to talk.”

“Me, too. If you’ve given up Miss Shea, is she fair game?”

“Who said I’ve given her up?”

Burrows whistled. “Jack Hunter is snared.”

The words made Jack flinch. “Let’s get serious. I meant what I said back at the barn. I could use your help for the last two flight tests.”

“I thought Darcy was flying navigator?”

“She’s not experienced.”

“Sounds to me like she is.”

“This isn’t a little hop across farm fields. This is deadly serious—emphasis on deadly—which she doesn’t understand. To her it’s a lark. She thinks she’ll be just like her heroine, Harriet Quimby, but we all know what happened to her. Darcy doesn’t realize the risk.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

“This has nothing to do with what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?” But Burrows was grinning too broadly for Jack to think he didn’t understand.

“You know.”

“I don’t suppose this little reluctance has anything to do with the fact she’s a woman?” Burrows suggested.

“Of course not,” Jack snapped. “You know how dangerous this attempt is. I don’t want her hurt or…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the last word.
Dead.
Jack couldn’t live if Darcy died.

“Is that so?” said Burrows. “Or is the danger just an excuse? Darcy’s not your wife, she’s your student. I doubt you cried over the army pilots you sent to Europe.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it? Yet you trained her, despite insisting women shouldn’t fly.”

Jack shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Suckered you into it, eh? Well, well. Don’t feel bad. Happens to the best of us. Besides, if there ever was an even playing field for the sexes, aviation is it.”

“I don’t want to debate.” Jack had to drag this conversation away from Darcy and back to the problem at hand. “My point is she’s inexperienced. Whether male or female, a transatlantic attempt takes enormous experience. These last two test flights are the riskiest. Either one could go wrong in a hurry. I need experience in the other cockpit.”

“Didn’t you read in the
Times
that Grieve only has four hours dual flight experience?”

“I’ll bet he didn’t crash a plane on his first attempt.”

Burrows hooted. “Like Jack Hunter did?”

Jack, red-faced, protested, “I didn’t wreck the plane.”

“Semantics. Tell the truth, old sport, that’s what you love about her. She’s got the chutzpah to succeed. Mark my words. She’ll be great someday, maybe in a few weeks.”

This was not going the way Jack wanted. He’d counted on Burrows to support him. “Then you won’t step in?”

“You don’t need me. I wouldn’t, even if I could, but you know I can’t. I’ll look over your engines tomorrow. That’s it. I need to get back to Rockaway Beach for the launch. Then we head north.”

“You’re flying?” Jack couldn’t keep the envy from his voice.

“Ground support. The necessary and unheralded part of any successful journey. See you in St. John’s.” He reached out a hand.

Jack reluctantly shook. He’d pinned his hopes on Burrows, feeble though they were. “Maybe.”

“Miss Shea’s not a maybe kind of woman.”

“Miss Shea doesn’t understand the danger. She doesn’t know how far we are from going and how close the others are to success.”

“Then you’d better get busy. First thing in the morning, unless you want to work tonight.” Burrows patted his jacket pockets. “Almost forgot. Saw Cecelia on my way here. She wanted me to give you her best.” He pulled out an envelope.