“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.
“Something is afoot, but it’s top secret.”
Sissy’s eyes widened. “I promise not to tell a soul, not even Nurse Margarete.”
“Not even Margarete?” he teased, remembering he was supposed to cheer her up, not vice versa.
“Cross my heart.”
He leaned close and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “Word is, the flying boat will make an attempt at the transatlantic flight.”
“Oh, Jackie,” she squealed. “It’s your dream!”
“Quiet,” he urged. “Top secret, remember?”
“Yes, of course. It’s just that I’m so excited for you.” She paused a second, long enough to see the holes in the plan. “But why wouldn’t they have had you make the test flight?”
Jack cleared his throat. “The navy hasn’t officially committed yet. It’s just speculation, now that the war is over.” Jack didn’t list the possible options. She would know. The project could be over. Or it might transfer to civilians.
“Oh, Jackie, I hope it happens and you’re the pilot. It has to be you.” Her eyes shone with tears. She wanted this flight as much as he did.
“It’s risky.”
“Of course.”
And you need me alive and well. He sent most of his earnings to her care. Without him, what would happen to Sissy? She was his responsibility. They’d played together that fateful day, but only Sissy got polio. He’d vowed to always take care of his sister. That meant giving up risky dreams. That meant staying in Buffalo.
He rose to say goodbye.
“Do you have to leave so soon?”
The words knifed through him. Bad enough that he visited so infrequently, but he seldom spent more than an hour with her each time. Coward.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. I promise.”
“You’re busy. Don’t worry about me.” She didn’t beg or try to hold him back in any way, though she, more than anyone, had absolute claim to his time.
“I’ll always take care of you,” he choked out. He would visit tomorrow, and for more than an hour.
“I know, Jackie. You always have. You and Dad.”
Jack’s gut wrenched. He didn’t know how she could be so loyal to the drunk.
“Love you, sis.” The words, though automatic, hurt.
“Do the transatlantic flight,” she said. “Do what it takes to follow your dreams. I’ll be right there with you. I will. Not in body of course, but in spirit.”
The pain wound its fingers around his lungs, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Oh, don’t be morbid—and give me a hug.”
He gave her a quick and admittedly insufficient embrace.
“Follow your heart,” she said. “Wherever it leads you.”
But of course he couldn’t. Not to Darcy and not across the ocean.
Darcy studied Jack’s drawings until she saw them in her sleep. She would pass any test he threw at her. She’d show him she belonged in the air.
The next morning she stood in the frosty hangar, wrapped in a thick sheepskin coat, wool scarf and gloves. Apparently, Pohlman didn’t believe in heating the vast space. She puffed little clouds of breath while Jack drilled her.
“In straight and level flight, where do you move the ailerons?”
“You don’t,” she answered. “You’re trying to trick me.”
He grinned just a little, marked something on his pad, and moved on to the next question and the next. When he finished, she waited for him to tally the results.
“Congratulations, you passed.”