Hearts in Flight

by Patty Smith Hall

  “No, thank you.” Her father took a seat at the head of the table and waited.

  Putting the cup and saucer down, she sat beside him. “I’m glad to hear Momma is finally getting out of the house.”

  “Me too. I was worried about her there for a spell, but she seems to be through the worse of it,” her father replied, studying her.

  Maggie lowered her gaze, blowing on her coffee, afraid her father would make out the tremble in her lips through the thin cloud of steam. She’d been worried sick about them both right after they’d learned of Jackson’s death, especially when her mother had taken to her bed. The news that Momma was again out and about again was a relief.

  “How are things going with you, Magpie?”

  “Swell, Daddy. Just swell,” she answered, quickly taking a sip of her coffee. A trail of fire scorched a path down her throat as if God himself was trying to burn the words she had spoken. Life was far from being swell, but she wasn’t going to give her dad something else to fret over. Grabbing the cream, Maggie added a generous amount to her cup.

  “I ran into your uncle when I was dropping your mother off this morning.”

  “How is he doing?”

  “His usual cheerful self,” her father answered dryly, his arms stretched out in front of him. “Said he was going over to the bomber plant to watch one of the pilots take his niece down a peg or two. He says it’s about time, seeing how she’s been running around here, stirring up trouble.”

  “That sounds about like him.” Maggie took a sip of her coffee. “Is that what you think?”

  “You know I take his word like a grain of salt. But I would like to hear your side of things.”

  Setting her cup aside, Maggie told him everything; about Merrilee’s tent camp and how Uncle James had caught her and Wesley coming out of the woods; about her uncle’s threats to take Merrilee’s house; and finished with Lieutenant Webber and the dare. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the note, not when he already had so much on his plate.

  When she was through, her father sat back, his mouth turning up into a slight grin. “That boy doesn’t know what he’s got himself into.”

  “That’s what Wesley said.”

  “I see.” Her father’s smile grew, leaving Maggie with the feeling that he possessed some knowledge she had not quite grasped. “Captain Hicks was with you when this happened.”

  “It wasn’t like he was my date or anything,” she stammered, staring at her cup, the pale blue in the flowery design a perfect match with Wesley’s eyes. “He just showed up.”

  And she had been so glad he had. One thing she had realized, laying in her bed last night, was that she was indeed developing feelings for him. Where they would lead, she wasn’t sure, but if she was going follow what she felt sure was God’s plan for her life, she had to give her growing feelings for Wesley to Him.

  “Margaret.”

  Her father’s use of her given name pulled her from her ponderings. The look of concern in his expression startled her. “What is it, Daddy?”

  “While I understand getting caught up in the moment, I can’t help what will happen when you beat this man.”

  Not if, but when. Her father’s confidence warmed her. “What do you mean?”

  “In the next few days, this lieutenant is going to be staring down his gun sights at an enemy with his sights on destroying the world as we know it.” His Adam’s apple bobbled. “What’s going to be going through his mind if he’s beaten by a girl?”

  Maggie wondered if she should mention the women pilots Wesley had talked about last night, but thought better of it. Daddy might be more progressive than most men in Marietta but even he would draw the line at women pilots in combat. She decided to go with facts.

  “Daddy, this is how we train the new pilots. We get them up in the air, in a controlled environment where there aren’t ground to air missiles coming at them and we practice maneuvers. If they win, then they build up more confidence for a real fight. But if they lose, they’re re-evaluated. They get some more practice in, then come back and try again.”

  “But Magpie, this isn’t a training exercise,” he reasoned. “This is two obstinate people out to prove their point at the risk of their lives and the lives of others.”

  Her father’s opinion cut her to the bone. “That’s not what this is at all!”

  “Isn’t it?” Her father leaned forward, blanketing her fingers in the warmth of his callous hands. “You and I both know that you’re fighting to be respected for who you are, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” He looked at her. “But at what cost? How would you feel knowing that you sent a man off to battle who has doubts about his abilities? That kind of thinking can get a person killed.”

  “What are you saying, Daddy?”

  He squeezed her hand. “Your time is coming, Sweetheart. This war is changing how people think about women having a career. But for right now, you need to build these boys up, not tear them down with silliness like this dare.”

  Maggie couldn’t believe what her father was saying. “You want me to forfeit?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of bowing out gracefully.”

  “But I can’t. The guys in my squadron are expecting me to go through with this.”

  “It’s never been that important what people thought of you before.”

  More important than she’d ever confess to anyone, especially to her worried parent.

  “Well, it is now,” Maggie said, pulling her hand out of her father’s grasp. She stood and pushed the chair in. “I’m finally making headway with some of these guys. Do you know how hard that’s been? And now, if I back out of this, these guys will have every reason in the world to not trust me with I take the helm of the fort.”

  “But there’s a man’s life at stake.”

  Maggie cradled her forehead in her hand. “You don’t think I know that, Daddy? Every time I climb into the cockpit of one of those plane, I’m slapped in the face with that knowledge.” She glanced up at him. “Have you ever thought I might be doing Lt. Webber a favor? Think about it. If he can’t handle me, how’s he going to handle the German army? And what about his squadron? Don’t they have the right to know what kind of pilot he is under pressure.”

  “Maggie.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, Dad. Really, I do,” she said, feeling as if she’d already gone a couple of rounds with the Nazis. “But I’m not going to let my squadron down.”

  “Margaret Rose!”

  The disappointment in his voice followed her out into the hall as she grabbed her gear and headed for the airfield.

  Wesley stared up at the pristine blue sky. The pounding rains that had cancelled flights less than twenty-four-hours before had blown out, leaving a perfect day for flying.

  Lord, You broke rank.

  He glanced down at the weather report on his clipboard. He would have never agreed to this stunt if he’d been in his right mind last night, but Maggie Daniels had a way of making his brain go to mush lately. And last night had been no exception.

  Why had he told her about Beth? A dull pain shot through his chest at the thought of his sister and what the aftermath of her death had done to his grandfather. No, he should have kept his mouth shut about the rift between him and Pops, though he was mildly surprised when Maggie hadn’t asked for details. But a part of him was glad she knew. Maybe now she’d understand why he was so protective of her.

  He stared up at the sky once more. For the moment, all he could do was pray for a cloudburst.

  Slapping his clipboard against his thigh, Wesley glanced at a couple of men he recognized from the plant floor walking past. A small group had begun to gather along the chain link fence, all staring at the woman standing near the P-47 at the end of the runway.

  Ignoring the growing crowd, Wesley walked toward her, watching as Maggie knotted one end of thick rope around the plane’s landing gear, then took the other end and loped it around the trunk of a nea
rby water oak. She tugged and pulled on the knotted cord, then seemingly satisfied, marched to the step ladder anchored at the wing of her plane.

  Wesley banged his fist against the wing. “Problems?”

  “No, I just want to see what she’s like full throttle,” Maggie answered, tiptoeing along the edge of the wing before shimming into the cockpit. She twisted around in the tight space as if to get comfortable before clicking the harness into place.

  The engine growled into a high-pitched whine, cutting off any further conversation. Wesley stood back, watching Maggie put the plane through its paces. He wished he could teach his men this aspect of her flying, this attention to detail.

  But he was still worried. If only he had had the opportunity to talk to her this morning, she might have understood the risks. But it was too late. Word of the dare had spread across the plant floor like kudzu. For Maggie to back down now would be a reflection on the Bell itself.

  Wesley took a step toward the plane when Maggie cut the engines. “She sounds good to go.”

  “She is,” Maggie answered, leaning back in the flight seat. “Now if Webber would show up, we could get this show on the road.”

  Wesley climbed the rings of the ladder. “Are you sure this is what you what to do, Ace? There’s still time to back out of this.”

  “Did Donna get off okay?” Maggie pushed herself up with her forearms before shifting her legs underneath her.

  So she intends to ignore me. “She got off without a hitch about an hour ago. Told me to tell you happy landings always, whatever that means. Now what about this dare?”

  “You’ve never head the WASP sendoff?” Maggie answered shortly, climbing out of the cockpit and on to the wing.

  Right now, he didn’t give two figs for the WASP lingo. Something was bugging Maggie, and as her commanding officer, he had the right to know what it was. “What’s wrong?”

  Her brows furrowed together in a painful expression. “Nothing.”

  Wesley didn‘t buy that answer for a second. “I’d say it’s something if your glum look of your face is anything to go by.”

  “It’s just.” Her mouth flattened into a grim line. “My father came by to see me this morning.”

  “And?” Wesley asked impatiently. Whatever had upset her could put her life at risk in the air. “You might as well tell me because I’ll scrub this flight if you don’t.”

  If looks could kill, the army would be notifying his next of kin. She lifted her chin up a notch. “Major Evans would be upset if you cancelled.”

  “He’d be a lot more than angry if the WASP under his command got herself killed.” Wesley glared at her, not willing to back down a second if it meant keeping her safe. “It’s your call, Maggie.”

  She lowered her gaze to the tarmac. “Daddy thinks I should bow out. He said that my winning this dare could cause Webber to put himself and others who go into combat with him in danger.” Her shoulders trembled slightly as she took a breath. “I tried to explain to him that this is how we train the guys, that it’s better for them to know what they’re getting into before they’re in the middle of a skirmish, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  Wesley thought for a moment. No, Mr. Daniels didn’t understand, but neither did Maggie. It was one thing for Webber to doubt his ability in the cockpit. Then this challenge would be just the exercise he needed to critique his shortcomings and make corrections. But this dare had been made out prideful anger, and nothing could get a good pilot killed faster than acting off some silly emotion. Wesley should scrub this flight.

  But he respected Maggie enough to offer her a chance. “You’re right. Your dad doesn’t understand. Webber is a jerk and he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

  Maggie smiled softly, completely unaware of the captivating impression she made on him. “Thank you.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t thank me yet. You let your emotions get out of hand. And that’s what gets people hurt.”

  “I see.” Her eyes snapped to attention. “And I suppose we girls are only emotional messes in attractive little packages, right?”

  “I don’t know about you,” Wesley started, offering his hand as she planted her foot on the first step. “But I don’t happen to think Webber is all that pretty.”

  She ducked her head, her mouth trembling whether from anger or amusement, he didn’t know. Maggie grasped his hand, her grip sturdy in his, the hard pads of her fingertips a reminder of her time behind the controls, flying over fields of green beans and corn, tomatoes and cotton. There was nothing dainty in her touch, yet his heart pounded against his breastbone. When she finally lifted her gaze, the laughter in her emerald eyes reminded him of an English countryside after a late afternoon rain. Maggie was growing on him. What that meant, he wasn’t sure.

  Maggie carefully tiptoed down the steps, then paused in front of him. “How do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “Make me laugh when I’m fit to be tied.”

  “I don’t know. Must be a gift.” He shrugged, then grew serious. “I don’t want to keep harping on this, but it’s your job to test the B-29 for flight, not help this boy improve his skills in the cockpit. You’ll earn the respect by doing just that.”

  Maggie’s mouth quirked to the side, her eyes wide and repentant. “I hate to admit it, but you’ve got a point.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “What do you think I should do?”

  Wesley tucked a stray curl back from Maggie’s face, his fingers tingling as he grazed the soft shell of her ear. He dropped his hand to his side. “Teach Lieutenant Webber a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

  Her face lit up, and she smiled. “Would you pray with me before I take off?”

  Wesley nodded as a warmth settled deep in his chest. Faith and courage. Maggie Daniels was becoming more than he could resist.

  15

  Wesley wants me to win!

  A slight thrill simmered through Maggie as she looked up at Wesley. She hadn’t expected him to be in her corner today, not after learning about his sister last night. But there he was, checking her plane, getting her focused on the true objectives of this mission. Being protective, yes but of both pilots taking to the air today, not just her. He was wrong though; it was part of her job to get the boys ready for combat.

  And she would do her job to her uttermost today.

  A cheer rose up behind them. Maggie turned slightly to see Lieutenant Webber stroll along the fence, waving to the crowds as if he were Charles Lindbergh after just landing in Paris. He took his time making his way across the tarmac. His cronies followed close behind.

  “I figured you’d be washing your hair or something, Doll,” Webber called out, strolling up to them. “Isn’t that what you girls do?”

  Maggie mashed her lips together. She wasn’t going to allow this man to get the best of her.

  “The day is young, Webber. Maggie’s still got plenty of time once she teaches you a thing or two.”

  Maggie stole a peek at Wesley. For a man who had spent the morning lecturing her on the ills of emotional flying, he seemed to know how to get on the lieutenant’s last nerve if Webber’s flushed face was anything to go by.

  The lieutenant sneered at her. “Been cuddling up to your commanding officer, huh? Well, that’s not going to win you any points up there.”

  Wesley stiffened beside her. If she didn’t stop this verbal war, a physical one might break out. Maggie took a step toward Webber. “Are you finished? I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get on with this.”

  “Fine with me, but I did have an idea.”

  The half-cocked smile he threw her way gave her a second’s pause. “Really, Charles? Is that a first for you?”

  The man smirked. “Very funny, Dollface. Why don’t we make this a little more of a challenge?”

  “What did you have in mind?” Wesley asked, his tone leery.

  “Nothing a good pilot shouldn’t be able to handle,” Webber answered, cocking a fist on one hip. “Just a h
ooded flight.”

  Maggie would have laughed out loud if the two men standing beside her hadn’t looked so serious. Webber had to be kidding. Hooded flight was like flying blind.

  And she held the record of a perfect score on her hooded flight exercises.

  Maggie extended her hand to the lieutenant. “You’re on.”

  “Good,” Webber answered, turned toward the flight tower then spun around. “Oh, for your information, Dollface, I ranked first in my class in instrument flying.”

  “Glad to hear it, Charles,” Maggie called out, her hand cupped around her mouth. “Nice to know I may actually have some competition.”

  Wesley spun her around to face him, his warm fingers burned through the thin cotton of her long-sleeved shirt, scalding the tender skin of her upper arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m giving Lieutenant Webber a lesson on instrument flying.”

  “I don’t like this.” A muscle convulsed at his jaw. “This guy’s bad news.”

  Lifting her eyes to his, Maggie started to tell him the truth then stopped at the anxious glare she found staring back at her. Oh, of course. Beth was flying blind when she went down. Why hadn’t she thought of that before she took Webber up on his challenge?

  Because she shouldn’t have to. Flying by instruments was part of her job, and hooded flight would keep her reflexes sharp for real time flights.

  Wesley should be the first to understand that fact.

  Lord, let me say the right words to give Wesley peace right now. Maggie laid her hand over his chest, the thumping of his heart beneath her palm soothing. “I know you’re worried, but don’t be. I’ve never scored less than perfect on my instrument flying, and have trained dozens of men in hooded flight. I know what I’m doing.”

  “But this guy,” Wesley started, shifting his eyes to stare at the man preparing his plane across the tarmac. “I get the feeling he’d go to any lengths to get back at you, Maggie.”