“What do you mean?”
The mechanic squared off before Jack. “Darcy’s got a mind of her own, and she’s gonna do what she wants, no matter what you or anyone says.”
“I’ve discovered that.”
Simmons didn’t look convinced. “This flying is what she’s wanted for a long time, and she ain’t gonna give it up. If you won’t teach her, then she’ll find someone else.”
The man was dead right, but he didn’t have to deal with her father. Jack stood in an impossible place. She would demand to fly, and her father had made him responsible for ensuring she didn’t. He should have stayed in Buffalo.
Darcy preferred any amount of work to staying home. Papa barely spoke to her. They studiously avoided any talk of the plane or flying, though Papa must have known Jack was back.
Mum surprisingly took her side, even offering to get the children ready for school so Darcy could work more on the plane. “Give your father time. He’s a bit set in his ways, but he’ll come around.”
Darcy wasn’t so sure, but she wouldn’t let Papa stop her. The plane was nearly ready. Soon they’d be back in the air, resuming the test flights.
When morning dawned bright and clear, without a breath of wind, she hurried to the barn. This might be the day.
She found Jack on a ladder checking the left motor. “Is it working?”
He looked up, startled. “Didn’t hear you.”
“Sorry. Did Hendrick get the motor running?”
“First thing this morning.” He scurried down the ladder. “Started and ran a good twenty minutes. I was just checking the spark plugs.”
“And?”
“And they’re still clean.” The old lopsided grin flashed across his face for a moment.
Her heartbeat escalated. “Then it runs.”
He wiped his hands clean, leaning against the wing strut the very way he had the day she met him. “I thought I just said that.”
“Can we take it up? On a test flight?”
He shook his head. “I want to do these with Pohlman.”
She clenched her fists. He didn’t even look at her when he said that. “If we start now—”
“Too late.”
“What do you mean, ‘too late’? You’re waiting for Pohlman.”
He wiped the wrench for the tenth time. “There’s no need to rush, because we’re already too far behind. Hawker and all the others are weeks ahead of us.”
“So? That’s no reason to give up.”
“I’m not giving up,” he said curtly. “I’m facing reality.”
“Reality is an excuse for pessimists.”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Miss Optimism. It’s one of your more endearing qualities. But the fact is, I have at least five test flights before we can ship the plane. By then the prize could be claimed.”
“Perhaps.” Darcy gathered speed. She could convince him. She knew how. “But what if it’s not? What if none of the teams succeeds, and we didn’t even try? This isn’t about only you, Jack Hunter. This attempt is for much more. It’s for Pearlman. It’s for the little guy, the unheralded, the unknown. It’s for every person who volunteered his time to repair your plane. It’s for every person who believes in miracles. It’s for all of us. No matter who you have in that cockpit with you—and yes, I accept that you want Pohlman—we’ll all be there, cheering you on. Don’t give up on us, Jack.”
His expression never changed. Grim determination. He looked over the plane, wing tip to wing tip. “What does your father say?”
So that was it. Jack feared her father. Not her. Trials had forged her tough. “My father knows I am going to fly. Whether or not it’s with you is your call.”
He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache.
“I am a grown woman, and perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”
He jerked and stared at her. Then at the plane. Then back to her. “So—if I understand correctly, you’re saying it’s a perfect day for a test flight.”
After all that hesitation, she wasn’t ready for this response. “A what?”
The grin exploded across his face. “Are you ready?”
“Of course I am.” She bounded to get her goggles.
“I’ll pilot. You handle navigation. I want exact figures, speed, altitude, noted every thirty seconds.” He launched into the full explanation while she jotted it down on the clipboard.
It felt good to have him bark orders at her again.
It felt even better to be in the air. She attached the watch to the clipboard and marked the required readings he wanted. The flight lasted an hour, the most she’d ever been aloft. As they approached Baker’s field, she couldn’t help tensing, but this time Jack touched down perfectly, with only a few jolts and bumps from the rough terrain.
“What does this test tell us?” she asked as they climbed down.
“Fuel consumption for a light load. By the time we reach England, we’ll be empty.”
“We?”