“Yes, but the weather.”
“Is awful right now in Newfoundland. Remember, they have our weather from two days ago. Rain and wind. Maybe even snow at that latitude. No one’s flying. See you in the morning.”
Darcy could not quell the flutter of foreboding in her stomach. Was she wrong about Jack, or didn’t he realize the implications? She gently said, “But, we shouldn’t fly on the Sabbath.”
“This is no time to get superstitious.” He climbed into the cockpit.
He didn’t believe. Darcy had told herself he must belong to another denomination, but she’d never checked with the other churches. She’d never asked. She was afraid of what she might find out. He couldn’t be a nonbeliever. She couldn’t fall in love with a nonbeliever. The tiny pit of emptiness inside swelled and swelled until she ached all over. She could never seriously consider a man who didn’t believe in God. But she loved Jack.
She made a final attempt to convince him. “Harriet Quimby wouldn’t fly on Sundays.”
He glared down from the cockpit. “I don’t care what she or anyone else did or doesn’t do. We need to go tomorrow, so do whatever you have to do to make peace, and be ready at dawn.”
Darcy felt sick. She had never missed Sunday worship, except for illness. It was a special time, a sacred time. It wasn’t superstition. If Jack didn’t understand that, how could they ever be together?
“You do believe in God, don’t you?” She held her breath, hoping and willing the right answer.
Jack rummaged in the space behind his seat where they stored the extra fuel and oil.
“Did you hear my question?” she called up.
“I heard you, but you don’t want to know my answer.”
“Yes I do,” she insisted.
Jack looked pained, but he didn’t hold back. “Why should I believe in God when God doesn’t believe in me?”
The rancor made her gasp. “You can’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. No matter what ministers say, I know for a fact that God doesn’t answer prayers.”
“But he does,” she cried. “He hears all prayers.”
“Not everyone’s.”
She wanted to know what unanswered prayer had turned him from God. She wanted to plead for his soul, but his tensed jaw told her to say no more.
“Be here an hour before dawn,” he said. “If you won’t go, tell me now. The transatlantic attempt is on the line.” The blue of his eyes had turned to ice.
She couldn’t bring herself to say no.
Darcy tossed and turned that night, unable to reconcile her desire with what was right. She wanted to make the transatlantic attempt. She believed God had given her the opportunity. Then why this test? Why bring Jack into her life? And why was he an unrepentant unbeliever?
She could no longer deny that she felt something for him. Beattie might call it love, but to Darcy it was the most horrible pain imaginable. She couldn’t imagine not being with Jack, yet she could have no future with a man who refused to acknowledge God. He both encouraged and held her back. He delighted children, yet angered her father. He could be tender or cruel. If this was love, why did anyone want it?
She tried to pray, but his denial, crackling with hurt and anger, rang in her ears. He acted as if he’d been personally injured. What had he said? That he had proof? Something had happened to shake his faith. If only it could be regained. She had to pray it could. The Lord said He would go after every lost sheep. Lord, please help Jack. Please bring him home.
She felt a little better after that simple prayer, but the choice still remained: deny her faith or give up her dream and lose Jack. The dilemma churned in her stomach. She threw the covers off one minute and yanked them back up the next. What to do? What to do? Try as she might, she couldn’t find a solution that allowed her to choose both. Either way she lost.
Darcy didn’t think she’d fallen asleep until the alarm rang at five. Groggy and numb, she splashed her face with cold water. She could put off the decision no longer. Pushing aside the thick sweaters, jacket and riding breeches she’d set out the night before, she took her navy gabardine dress from the closet.
After dressing, she pulled up her hair. Her eyes looked puffy and her complexion wan, but her family and her church would still accept her.
She located her father’s tissue-wrapped bear claw in her dresser drawer. She should have given it to Freddie when Papa first asked, but she’d had this foolish idea that giving up the claw would somehow mean giving up her dream. Well, claw or no claw, her dream was shattered.
She breathed deep for courage and went downstairs.
“Darcy?” Mum stood in the kitchen doorway. “I’m surprised to see you up so early.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Mum looked her over, doubtlessly noting the dress. “Does that have anything to do with a rumor I heard that Mr. Hunter intends to fly today?” She nodded.