“That’s it,” said Sissy, flinging the rest of the seed on the ground for the sparrows. “Now tell me exactly what happened.”
Jack dug into the softened earth with the heel of his boot. “There’s nothing to tell. We were making a test flight. An updraft caught the wing during descent, and the plane crashed. There’s not enough time to salvage the transatlantic attempt. It’s over.”
Sissy listened carefully. “What’s her name?”
“Kensington Express.”
“Not the plane, silly, your girl.”
His girl. Jack had never had a girl before. “Darcy.”
“That’s a pretty name. Different.”
“Irish, I think.”
Sissy’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, the Irish have spunk. That’s a good match for you.”
“Are you saying I don’t have spunk?”
She laughed. “I’m saying the woman who loves you needs spunk. What’s she like?”
“About your size. Brown eyes. Dark brown hair.”
“That’s not what I meant. What’s she like? What are her passions, her interests? Does she have brothers and sisters? What does her father do? What are her dreams?”
Jack stopped listening when he heard the word father. That was the whole problem. Darcy’s father would never accept him, and even if Darcy went against her father’s wishes, he couldn’t. She had the most important thing in the world: a family. He couldn’t let her throw it away.
“Her father’s a banker,” he said.
“So she’s severe and unsmiling.”
“No!” Darcy was anything but. “She’s bright and sure of herself, even when she’s wrong.”
“That’s a good quality. Is she pretty, Jackie? Tell me she’s pretty.”
He remembered Darcy from the day she told him her dream of flying: the shining eyes, the excitement, the dots of color in her cheeks. “She’s beautiful.”
“I’m so glad.” She clasped her hands to her breast. “And she likes to fly.”
The pleasant memory crashed. “That’s over.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you hear me? The plane is wrecked. The transatlantic attempt is off.”
“There are other reasons to fly.”
He hated when she got rational. “No good ones.”
She didn’t reply at once. Judging by her expression, she was considering whether or not to speak. Naturally, she did. “Stop playing God.”
“What?” He didn’t even believe in an intervening God. He sure wasn’t playing Him.
“Stop playing God.”
“I’m not.”
“Aren’t you?” He heard the wheelchair creak as she moved, felt her grasp his hand. “You’re deciding for her, telling her she can’t fly. Well it’s not your decision. It’s hers.”
“But she’ll get hurt.”
“You don’t know that. No one does. None of us can know the future. We can only enjoy the present. Love her. Enjoy your time together, and then you will have no regrets. And when you’re afraid, turn to God. He’s the only true protector.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with God.” Jack shook off her grasp. He didn’t want to explain how God had let them both down, how he hadn’t answered Jack’s most desperate plea.
She sighed. “You can’t escape the risk, not if you want the prize.”
Jack knew she meant marriage, not flying, but he couldn’t face that topic. “I know flying is risky.”
“I’m not talking about flying, and you know it. I’m talking about love. You’re willing to risk your life for that transatlantic prize, and it’s only money. Love is so much more.”
Sissy knew nothing about love. How could she, when she was confined to an institution?
Yet she smiled at him, urging, “Go ahead. Take the risk.”
Jack frowned. She didn’t understand. She was safe here, protected, surrounded by nurses and doctors. Real life wasn’t like that. Real life was filled with danger and heartbreak and loss.
“It’s worth it Jack.” Sissy squeezed his hand.
“You don’t understand,” he said, pulling away again. “I won’t be responsible for another person getting…” He stopped before he said the fateful words. “Getting what?”
He turned away so she wouldn’t see his face.
“Answer me, Jackie. Getting what? Sick? You can’t help illness.”
“Not illness,” he said angrily, whirling around to see the wheelchair and her withered limbs.
It should have been him. He shouldn’t have agreed to go to the river. He shouldn’t have suggested they build a mud dam. He knew better. He could still hear his father’s rebuke.
“How many times have I told you never to go to that germ-infested place? Mud carries disease. This is your fault. You’re responsible.” He’d shaken his finger in Jack’s face, had stuck it in his chest.
Then Sissy never came home from the hospital, Mom died and he was sent away to school, never to return home.
“I’m not talking about illness,” he said, fighting past the memories. “I’m talking about injury. I don’t want to see anyone get injured or die.”