She shrieked and danced and nearly hugged him, but the expression on his face told her that that sort of contact would not be acceptable. But a little old hug couldn’t be that bad, could it?
“Passed, but not perfect. You missed two questions on rudder and elevator function.”
“Ugh.” She couldn’t believe she missed them. “Show me what I got wrong.”
He rubbed his chin. “Maybe a demonstration would work better.”
“We’re going to fly?”
“I am going to fly,” he said, “and you are going to listen. Understand? And we’re not going very high. Everything you need to learn can be demonstrated ten feet from the ground.”
“Oh.” She bit back her disappointment. Though she wanted to learn everything right away, she had to trust Jack’s method. He’d trained dozens and dozens of pilots. He must know what he was doing.
She tried to concentrate while he explained the controls, but he sat so close. His legs nearly touched hers, and the petticoats and bloomers weren’t quite thick enough today. The smell of leather. The warmth he generated. She could barely keep her mind on his instruction.
In the air, she fought the urge to hold onto him. She could see the ground between her feet. Only a few strips of wood stood between her and the ground. The engine kept splattering oil on her goggles.
“Are you paying attention?” he chided.
She snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.”
“Then tell me what this lever does.”
“Um, when I pull back, the plane lifts into the air?”
He then demonstrated, bringing the plane up a short distance then taking it down for a landing.
After the machine rolled to a stop, she tried to demonstrate that she’d heard some of his instruction. “That stick controls the elevator and that one the ailerons.”
He hopped down. “Exactly.”
She sat stock-still. “We’re not done, are we? That was only a few minutes.”
“All initial flights are short. I demonstrate one control or maneuver, which you then practice until you get it correct every time.”
“May I practice now?”
“Not today.” He held out his hand. “Watch your step. The oil spray from the motor can make the frame slippery.”
Even through the gloves, the touch of his hand gave her shivers. She pulled away the moment she reached solid ground.
“What’s next?” she asked as they walked to the classroom.
“That depends on tomorrow’s weather. If it’s not good for flying, we need to familiarize you with every inch of the plane.”
“Tomorrow? But it’s only one o’clock.” Somehow, she’d thought the lessons would last all day. She had so little time before winter set in, and she didn’t want to waste a perfectly good afternoon.
“I have someplace I need to go,” he said.
“An errand? I can go with you.”
The shutter he pulled closed whenever she got too close clapped shut again. “It’s something only I can do. Study up, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dismissed. And without a reasonable explanation. She didn’t believe his excuse for a moment. She’d done better than he expected, and he didn’t want to teach her more. At every step, he fought her. She thought maybe he’d changed. Apparently not.
She grabbed her handbag and walked out onto the street. A chill breeze slid its icy blade down her neck, but she was too hot to care. If Jack Hunter wanted professional, she’d be professional.
She’d reached downtown before she quite realized where she was walking. People hurried down the sidewalk, intent on where they were going. Unlike Pearlman, no one greeted one another. They kept their heads down, eyes averted and mouths closed.
Darcy dawdled in front of shop windows. Better than afternoon tea with her aunt and mother. They’d pepper her with questions about her lessons. Things would be easier after her parents left on Saturday, following the dinner party.
The dinner party. Oh, dear. She was supposed to deliver the invitation to George Carrman yesterday. It was still in her bag.
After asking directions to St. Anne of Comfort Hospital, Darcy rode the streetcar to within a block of the huge, stone edifice. The hospital’s manicured grounds invited strolling, but the weather kept most patients indoors.
Darcy walked up the sweeping approach lined with parked motorcars and bare oaks. Acorns crunched underfoot while leaves skittered along the ground on the breeze. An ambulance raced past, drawing only the slightest notice from visitors with dark coats and even more somber expressions.
She stopped to determine the best entrance, and a familiar figure caught her eye. Brown leather jacket. Sandy hair. Brown cap. No, it couldn’t be. What was he doing here? He drew closer, shoulders hunched and head down. Jack.
Her heart stuck fast in her throat. People only went to the hospital for illness, so why on earth had Jack Hunter just walked out of St. Anne’s?
Chapter Six