He actually laughed.
“It’s not you they’re going to string up,” she cried. “I’m the one from Pearlman. I’m the one who said it could be done. I’m the one who got people to invest, who convinced my parents. Oh, dear.”
“Pearlman!” the conductor called out.
She felt ill. “I’m going to faint.”
“Take deep breaths,” Jack said, rubbing her back. “You’ll be fine.”
“No I won’t,” she sobbed. “I can’t face them. I can’t face Papa. Can’t we just go on to Buffalo?”
“Don’t have the money. I’m afraid you’re going to have to face the music.”
The train screeched to a halt, and ironically, Darcy heard music. Sousa, to be precise. She raised her head. “What’s that?”
Jack was grinning. “I never knew you were so yellow, Darcy Shea. All this time you had me convinced you could handle anything, but throw a few local townspeople your way, and you fall apart.”
“Wait. Listen.” Darcy leaned over Jack trying to see, but their car was too far back. “What’s going on?”
“You two getting off?” asked the conductor. “We don’t have all day.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jack, helping Darcy to her feet while he fetched her crutches. “We’re definitely getting off.”
No getting out of this. She’d have to apologize to every craftsman who helped rebuild the plane, every merchant who donated materials, to Blake, Beattie, her parents and a hundred other people. She’d repay every cent, if it took the rest of her life.
Jack helped her down the aisle and lifted her onto the platform. The music was louder. She raised her head and blinked at the astonishing sight before her.
Practically all of Pearlman stood on the platform clapping and hooting. The civic band blared an off-key Sousa march. A huge banner hung from the station and proclaimed CONGRATULATIONS ON RECORD FLIGHT. Red, white and blue bunting. Cakes, pies and bowls of punch. It looked like Independence Day.
Devlin took their photograph with a bright flash, and Darcy blinked, spots before her eyes. “What is all this?”
“Looks like a celebration,” said Jack.
“I know, but why?”
Beatrice rushed toward her, arms outstretched. She wore the same ridiculously flowered hat she’d had on the day Jack first flew into town.
“Darcy, Jack, welcome home,” she said, giving Darcy a kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re safe. I have such news.”
“Me, too.”
“I want to hear everything, but I’m just bursting to tell you. I’m going to have a baby.” Beattie practically hopped up and down. “Blake is so excited. He’s told everyone in town at least a hundred times. I want a boy, but he’d like a little girl.”
Darcy hugged her friend, all the time eyeing that congratulatory banner. “But Beattie, what is all this hullabaloo about? There must be some mistake. We didn’t set any record.”
“Yes, you did.” Papa beamed at her and clapped Jack on the back. “Longest over-water flight in North America. Between two countries, too. Congratulations.” He gave her a bear hug and whispered, “I’m proud of you, Darcy.”
She could have cried. It was preposterous, and quite likely incorrect, but as in gifts, it wasn’t in good taste to question the giver.
“Thank you, Papa.”
That hug was quickly followed by one from Mum, Amelia with baby John, her nieces and nephew, Prudy, Terchie and everyone she’d ever known in Pearlman, all offering outlandish accolades for the failed flight.
Jack stood to the side, feeling awash in this tide of congratulations. Sure, Blake had offered a handshake and a startling proposition, but the rush of goodwill was directed at Darcy. He was just incidental. At least her father hadn’t had him hauled off to jail. Yet. That might change when Jack asked for Darcy’s hand.
He looked to the station to see if any law enforcement was waiting, and that’s when he saw her. Sissy. In a wheelchair and smiling broadly. The sun glinted off her hair.
Jack stumbled forward. Sissy hadn’t left St. Anne’s since her accident. How had she known about the test flight? Not from him. And how had she gotten here?
Then he saw how. George Carrman stood behind Sissy pushing her wheelchair. The doctor. Darcy had said Carrman worked at St. Anne’s, but Jack hadn’t made the connection until now. This was the man Sissy loved.
An icicle stabbed Jack’s heart. Everything that had seemed so right moments before dived into the ground.
“Jackie,” his sister called out, arms held wide.
He went to her of course, knelt and embraced her. “Sissy.”
She laughed, clear and sparkling as a spring stream. “You’re going to have to stop calling me that. I’m a grown woman, you know. I’m so proud of you, Jack.”
“How,” he stammered, standing back up, “did you know?”