Her spirits fell the rest of the way. “What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer at once. That told her all she needed to know. He was going to leave Pearlman and join Burrows.
He ran his hand through his hair. “If I read it right, even though the navy is attempting the crossing, they’ve sworn off the prize.”
Darcy could hardly believe her luck.
Jack tucked the cable in his pocket. “I need to place a long-distance telephone call.”
“But why, if they’re not going for the prize?”
He didn’t answer.
Her panic grew. “You are still going for the prize, right?”
Jack extinguished the heater. “Let’s call it a day. We’ll tackle the motor tomorrow.”
“But—” He hadn’t answered her question. Were they still making the transatlantic attempt? “No buts.”
She could tell by the set of Jack’s jaw that he wasn’t going to answer her. That meant just one thing. He was leaving. He intended to join Burrows in New York. That’s why he had to place the call.
“I—I,” she stammered, but she had no power to stop him.
Chapter Ten
She wasn’t proud of it, but Darcy followed Jack. He went directly to the post office, where he attempted to place a call and ended up sending a wire.
“Where did he send it?” she asked Cora after the office had emptied.
“Humph.” The postmistress and telephone operator continued to sort letters into the little wooden cubbyholes that corresponded to each Pearlman family and business. “That’s confidential.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
“Well I never.” Cora tossed her short ringlets. “Take that back, Darcy Shea.”
Darcy wouldn’t take it back, because it was true. Unfortunately, her words had ruined any chance of getting information from Cora.
She gnawed her lip. How could she find out if he was leaving? A train whistle sounded the afternoon departure. Of course. Dennis Allington, the train depot manager, would know if Jack had purchased a ticket.
The walk across town took twenty minutes. She had to detour around muddy puddles and avoid the dwindling snow banks that had softened so much in the rain that her feet would have sunk clear to the bottom.
No one lingered at the train depot, and Allington had nothing to offer. “Nope. Haven’t seen ’im since the last shipment come in Tuesday.”
Darcy prayed that meant he was staying, but she wouldn’t know for sure until morning. The ringing of the school bell brought an end to her free time. She spent the rest of the day cooking and cleaning and putting her nieces and nephew to bed.
After a dreadful night’s sleep and a painfully slow morning getting the children to school, Darcy raced to the barn. Had he gone? Would she find the barn empty? She threw open the door and stepped into the dim light. Simmons stood on a ladder propped beside the troublesome motor, and Jack hung on another.
“Jack. You’re here,” she gushed.
“Shea. You’re late.”
She laughed from pure relief. “You didn’t leave.”
“Where’d you expect me to go?”
“The telephone call you were going to make yesterday.” She pulled off her gloves. “I thought maybe you were going to New York.”
“Not at present.” Jack refocused on Simmons. “What do you think? Shall we give it a try?”
“What do you mean, ‘at present’?” Darcy demanded, but he either didn’t hear her or didn’t want to answer.
When Simmons agreed that they should try the motor, Jack swung into the cockpit. The engine started, revved, decelerated and ran smoothly for several minutes before Jack shut it off.
“Is it fixed?” Darcy asked as the propeller slowed.
A grin crept across Jack’s face, and then he nodded and whooped. “Open the doors, I’m taking her up.”
Darcy grabbed her goggles from the worktable.
“Whoa. Not this time,” said Jack. “Let me test her out, make sure everything is running properly.”
“But don’t you need someone up front for weight?”
He winked. “This girl’s not tender. Did you get those calculations done yesterday? I’ll check them when I get back.”
Her disappointment ebbed with the roar of the engines. Jack had stayed to fix the motor. That meant he was still attempting the transatlantic crossing. Soon she’d be in the air again. Then she could make history.
Darcy covered her ears as Jack coasted down Baker’s field. The wheels bounced on the half-frozen turf. The plane rose gently: five feet; ten feet; and then it curved upward. Oh, he could fly: tight spirals and huge arcs across the blue sky, but Darcy’s favorite was the slow, simple turn, curving elegantly like a hawk on an updraft.
How she longed to be at the controls or even riding in the other cockpit. Instead, she finished the navigation calculations. He would need a navigator, and she intended to fill that position.