“Then how are you making do?” Her voice hummed with alarm.
“I pick up jobs here and there.” He couldn’t tell her the truth, that he was looking to fly exhibitions in Texas for the winter.
“Is that enough to live on?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“And of course you live with your sister.”
Jack started to correct her but got caught by those deep, dark eyes. They reflected a full moon that peeked out from between the snow-laden clouds. They also reflected him.
A snowflake landed on her lip and melted. Another stuck on her lash. She blinked. Another clung to her brow. Carefully, he brushed it away.
It was dark. Late December. Snowing. He should be cold, but he wasn’t. Not a bit.
He combed the snowflakes from a strand of her hair.
“You’re beautiful,” he said in far too throaty a voice. How he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her forever. How he wanted to protect her from everything bad that could ever happen. How he wanted to kiss her.
Her eyes reflected the same desire. Her lips softened, accepting him. He leaned closer by small degrees, gauging her willingness.
Her lids slowly drifted shut, and he brushed his lips across her cheek. She drew back.
He flinched. What now?
Her attention focused on the street, where a motor car sloshed through the snow. “You’re getting covered in snow,” she laughed. “Come with me.” She grabbed his hand and led him down the street to a park with a little wooden pavilion.
His initial shock subsided into pleasure at her touch. Her cold fingers could turn cream to ice cream, but the place where their palms met radiated warmth. He raised her hand to his mouth and blew to warm her fingers. She giggled and tugged him toward the pavilion.
“What is this used for?” he asked as they climbed the steps to stand under the roof. It was open on three sides and stacked with rough wooden benches.
“Speeches or rallies or revivals,” she said, still holding his hand. “We had a big suffrage rally here last summer, before you dropped out of the sky and graced us with your presence.”
She might have said they slaughtered pigs there. It wouldn’t have mattered. She had a sparkle and a way of talking that reminded him of a time long ago, before all the pain had begun, a time when he still had parents and his sister could run, a time when he still believed in God and miracles.
She was talking, but Jack didn’t hear a word. He reveled in the timbre of her voice, the way her hands constantly swooped open in a gesture of inclusion, and the delicate tendrils of dark hair that fell loose. He wished it would never end.
Darcy Shea was not like any woman he’d ever known. She had courage. She was strong. She inspired him.
And yet she was reckless and vulnerable and so much in need of someone to take care of her.
She paused a moment, and the moonlight revealed her rare beauty. Lips slightly parted. Hair spilling to her shoulders. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to hold her close and kiss her, but that was the worst thing he could do. She wasn’t ready.
Somehow he had to stop this attraction. He had to break the thread that connected them. The truth would do it. It had always worked in the past.
“I don’t live with my sister, because she’s an invalid,” he blurted out. “Polio. She’s at St. Anne’s Hospital. That’s why I was there, to visit her.”
Jack waited for the usual signs of emotional withdrawal. He’d seen them often enough. The flustered exclamation of sympathy, the darting gaze, the tiny step back as if he was contagious. He waited, but it didn’t happen. Yes, she looked surprised, but not horrified.
“Oh, Jack.” She clasped his hands, and he just couldn’t pull them away. “Is she in pain?”
“No, not at all.”
“Thank the Lord,” she sighed.
The old anger and resentment started to bubble up. His mother’s church friends had said exactly the same thing, but God didn’t deserve thanksgiving. He’d abandoned them.
“That doesn’t mean she isn’t suffering,” he snapped. “She can’t do what you do. She can’t walk around town. She can’t fly.”
Darcy tilted her head. “Why not?”
“Didn’t you hear me? She can’t walk.”
“That doesn’t mean she can’t fly. The controls in the trainer are all operated by hand. And even if she can’t use her hands, you could fly for her. It’s not holding the controls, you know, it’s experiencing the wonder, seeing God’s world spread out below.”
Jack was stunned. He’d never considered taking Sissy in his plane. Too risky. Something might happen, and he could never live with that. “You have the most outrageous ideas.”
Instead of being affronted, she laughed. “Like attempting the transatlantic crossing?”
He concentrated on the swirling snow. If he looked at Darcy, he’d be lost. “That’s just plain foolish.”
“Is it? You own a plane built for distance flight.”