“Yes. Absolutely. I’ll be right there.” She scrambled to get her goggles while Jack took the plane out of the barn.
The man both frustrated and excited her, one minute saying no and the next changing his mind in the most unexpected way. She was still angry he hadn’t told her about Pohlman, but she had a few weeks to prove herself the better navigator, get her certification, and convince Jack to let her fly the transatlantic attempt.
She waited beside the barn until Jack stopped the plane. The coldness of the ground seeped through the soles of her boots. Spring showed no sign of arriving early. The dead, brown grass poked its spindly stalks to the bright sky.
“Sorry,” said Simmons, walking over to stand beside her.
“For what?”
He shuffled his feet. “It won’t work.”
“Sure it will. The plane’s running great.”
“Not the plane,” he said. “With him.”
Darcy felt a twinge of discomfort. Could Beattie have been right? No, not possible. She and Hendrick were chums. They’d always been chums. He couldn’t possibly think she felt something more. Yet he was acting jealous of Jack.
Simmons poked at the ground with his boot. “He’s not the only one. I—I would…you know.”
The words ripped through her. Poor Hendrick. How much had it cost him to tell her how he felt? She should have seen it. She should have listened to Beattie and set things straight months ago. She had been unfair to him. “I’m sorry, Hendrick.”
“Don’t say it,” he said. “Some things a man don’t want to hear, even if he already knows. Just, well, if things ever change, I’m not going nowhere.”
Darcy couldn’t look at him. She’d known Hendrick Simmons all her life. They’d played together as kids, gone to school together. She never meant to hurt him. “I’m sorry.”
He cleared his throat. “Yep, well, I should get back to the garage.” Without another word, he got on his motorbike and left.
Darcy walked to the plane, her feelings a jumble. Poor Hendrick had seen her hug Jack. He probably hoped for a split, but she couldn’t help how she felt. She loved Jack.
Concentrate. She had to forget her feelings and operate objectively. Flying was serious stuff, especially test flights. She couldn’t risk a mistake.
The motors sounded smooth, and she didn’t smell the heavy, burnt-oil exhaust anymore. The skies stretched wide above, painted with wispy high clouds that cut down the glare. The field was still a bit sloppy, but Darcy had seen Jack bring the plane down in worse. Everything lined up for a perfect flight, if she could keep her head.
“We’re flying empty so we can measure fuel consumption at light load,” Jack said as he helped her into the forward cockpit. “I want you to note any unexpected weather conditions and track the altitude and speed every sixty seconds. Got your watch?”
She nodded and belted in before attaching her watch to the clipboard. Every minute. “Including the ascent and descent?” she asked as Jack settled in behind her.
But the motors were too loud for him to hear. She’d take the readings. More couldn’t hurt.
Within moments, the plane leapt ahead and they bounced down the field. The takeoff went as smoothly as was possible from the muddy field. Darcy watched the instruments and the time, making sixty-second notations on the log sheet. Once the plane gained an altitude of three thousand feet, Jack flew straight and level for ten minutes, turned and flew back.
The flight had gone so quickly.
Darcy watched as they circled round and lined up for the landing. Funny, the pine boughs were waving. A breeze must have come up. She made a note on the log.
She watched the wheel move and tried to anticipate what Jack would do next. He hadn’t been pleased with her landings, and now she saw why. He eased into them at a lower altitude and much slower speed. She had come in too fast.
They neared the treetops then dropped a bit lower, just clearing the branches. She wouldn’t have cut the descent that close. Suppose they clipped a limb? Julia Clark, “the Daring Bird Girl,” had died when her plane hit a tree. First American woman to die in a plane crash. Darcy held her breath until they’d safely passed the trees.
They skimmed the field, passing a few snow patches and last year’s tangled weeds. Soon they’d touch down and bounce through the ruts to the barn. If she had her way, they’d grade the field come spring.
Suddenly the plane shot up and rolled wildly to the right.
Her stomach jumped into her throat. She grabbed the wheel. Her feet hit the rudder bar. The trees. The plane was heading straight for a stand of aspen.
She braced against the wheel.
Jack turned sharply left.
Her feet flew off the rudder bar.