“Yes.” Judging by his expression, he wasn’t pleased.
“I can do it. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Of course I worry about you.” His jaw had tensed so much that the muscles stood out. He cared enough to worry. Only Mum and Papa had ever worried about her.
“I can do it.”
He swallowed hard. “You don’t realize how dangerous this flight is.”
Though a nervous flutter teased her stomach, she kept up the confident front. “Burrows said it would go fine.”
“In theory. Practice is another matter. We’re carrying hundreds of gallons of fuel. The weight might be too much for us to lift off. One mistake, one updraft like the one that wrecked us in February, and we’ll go up in a ball of fire.”
Fire. Her flesh prickled as if seared. “I know the risk.” No adventurer let fear stop her. She took precautions, yes, but she plowed ahead. Darcy reached for her goggles, but Jack stopped her with a touch to the arm. The old electricity still arced.
“If anything happens…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the meaning was all too clear.
“Nothing will.” She gently removed his hand. Strong, slightly callused yet warm, and capable of such gentleness. He would hold her for all of time if she let him. But if she let love get in the way, she’d never get off the ground. “This transatlantic flight is what I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Living without ever having tried isn’t living at all.”
Instead of the encouraging response she expected, his expression hardened. “Then let’s get going.” What cost? A large part of her cried out, preferring love to adventure, but she’d set her sights on the horizon years ago, and she wouldn’t be dissuaded by an overly cautious man.
They climbed into their respective cockpits and within minutes were taxiing to the far end of the field at slow speed. Darcy swiveled around to glare at him. What was he thinking? They needed a lot more speed to lift off.
As Jack turned the plane, Darcy realized he’d chosen to take off in the opposite direction. She also saw why. A longer runway stretched south, away from the barn and toward a gap between clumps of poplar. With the heavy load, they needed the extra distance.
The pounding in her ears intensified as the plane gathered speed. What if it didn’t lift off? Would Jack be able to pull out in time? Her earthbound bravado vanished. She clutched the clipboard as the bushes and trees whizzed past.
They weren’t rising yet, and the treeline was getting closer. They’d nearly reached the end of the open runway and still no elevation. She stared ahead, willing the plane to rise. She bounced in her seat, trying to be lighter.
Go. Go. Up.
The motors howled on either side of her. At last the plane left the ground. A little. The bumping stopped, but they weren’t rising quickly enough. The trees loomed. They were going to hit them. She shut her eyes.
A thwack made them fly open. They’d hit a tree. No, they were still in the air and buzzing higher. She glanced to the left and saw a twig caught in the undercarriage. They’d made it. Barely.
“Wheee.” She reveled in the victory and the sense of freedom that only flying gave her. The wind rushing over her skin, the air so clean it left her breathless, the drone that proclaimed to the whole world that Darcy Shea could fly. Fly!
A tap on the shoulder ended her celebration. Jack pointed to her clipboard. Back to work.
She noted the time and altitude. Again when they reached cruising altitude, she noted the time, weather conditions and speed. Then Jack took the plane due west, away from the sun.
In thirty minutes, they reached the Lake Michigan shoreline. A necklace of white sand rimmed the sparkling sapphire-blue waters. From three thousand feet, she couldn’t distinguish the mounding dunes that formed the shore.
Years ago, just after Amelia married, Papa and Mum had taken her there for a picnic. They’d strolled the beach, collecting pink granite and taffy-colored jasper. They ate roast chicken and chocolate cake with quite a bit of sand mixed in. They waded in the lake and laughed when a wave wet their skirts and Papa’s trousers. It had been a blissful time.
Just like today. She could have flown on forever, but Jack turned the plane back east, jerking her to the present. Time, altitude, revolutions per minute. All went onto the clipboard.
They landed too soon, dropping heavily into the whip-like grass. After the plane rolled to a stop in the barn, she cast off the seat belt and threw her arms around him. “We made it.”
Just like the very first time, he resisted. “Darcy,” he cautioned as he unwrapped her arms. “We have work to do.”
Couldn’t the man celebrate? “Aren’t you excited? It was a success. Exactly what you wanted.”
He jumped to the ground, his face grim. “Not exactly.”