It was an innocent question, one that Maggie had asked her self time and time again. Since she’d been old enough to understand, she noticed the keen differences between her parents and most everyone else in town. Maggie spooned a glob of honey yellow jelly on the slice of bread and spread it evenly across the surface. “Well, my mother was barely twenty-one when she married my daddy, but everyone in the family considered her an old maid.”
“And yet your dad took a chance on her. That was very good of him.” The lighthearted humor in Wesley’s tone melted away any reservations she may have had about discussing the subject with him. “What are they’re saying around town about you?”
Maggie pieced the two slices of bread together and cut the sandwich in half, aware that Wesley was watching, waiting for an answer. Well, let him wait. She didn’t have any intention of telling him that for as far back as she could remember, she been looked on as a curiosity, as if she belonged in one of those sideshows she’d seen at the county fair.
“Why not leave here? Go somewhere that’s might be more accepting of what you do?”
That he understood didn’t surprise her as much as his suggestion that she leave in order to pursue her dreams. Maggie shook her head. “I can’t leave my parents. I‘m the only kid they‘ve got left.”
“So you’re going to stand your ground here.”
She nodded, picking up each section of the sandwich and putting them on the plate in front of Wesley. “Momma and Daddy have been great about it. They’ve been a big encouragement even with all the gruff they get.”
“Your Uncle James?” Wesley picked up one wedge of his sandwich.
“And everybody else outside of Merrilee. Most people around here are convinced that it’s a waste of time to send a girl to college or prepare her for a career or teach her . . .”
The sandwich hovered in front of his mouth. “How to fly?”
“Yeah, that really scambled their eggs.” Maggie wiped a dishrag across the countertop, concentrating on the bread crumbs left behind. “I keep hoping people will get use to the idea, but so far that hasn’t happened.”
“Why is what these people think so important to you?”
Because they’re my kin, my blood. If they don’t accept me, who will? That’s one of the reasons she’d volunteered for this assignment, to prove to everyone in her hometown that she wasn’t such an oddity, that God had a definite plan for putting her in the cockpit. But so far, things hadn’t worked out the way she’d planned. “They’ll come around when I’m piloting the Super Fortress.”
But Welsey didn’t looked convinced. He’d seemed ready to say so when the kitchen door opened. Edie peeked around the corner of the wooden frame, glancing at Maggie before focusing in Wesley with a look of uncertainty and concern.
“Wes, there’s a man in the parlor waiting to see you.”
Putting his sandwich down, Wesley wiped his mouth before laying his napkin to the side. “Must be someone from the plant.”
But Edie shook her head. “I don’t recognize him. And he doesn’t talk like anyone I know from around here.”
Little warning bells rattled inside of Maggie’s head. “What do you mean?”
Edie bit her lip as if in thought. “You remember when we went to the movies a couple of weeks ago and saw that news reel on the Royal family?” She glanced over at Wesley. “He sounds a lot like them.”
Wesley stopped in his movement to push away from the table, his brow furrowed together in a pained expression of recognition. “Is he an older man, kind of looks like a leprechaun if he wasn’t so tall?”
Edie’s face broke out into a soft smile. ‘Now that you mention it, he does look like the type who’d be holding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Do you know him?”
A sorrow that was past anything Maggie had ever witness haunted Wesley‘s expression. Something about this man’s arrival hurt him. Without thinking, she settled on his shoulders. Each muscle and tendon flexed and tightened beneath her suddenly trembling fingers.
Wesley reached up and clasped her hand beneath his, his fingers cold against the tender flesh of her palm. “I’m pretty sure Edie just met my grandfather.”
“Why would Pops come here?” Wesley said to no one in particular, hurrying across the backyard.
“I don’t know,” Maggie answered, her voice low and breathless, her fingers tightly wound within a knot with his own as if holding on for dear life.
Which she was, he realized, almost running along side him to match his long strides. He slowed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her close until she was neatly tucked against his side. Her reddish gold hair, now dry from the warmth of the kitchen, brushed against his arm, the soft curls teasing his forearm.
“Maybe your grandfather decided it was time you talked.” Her green eyes shined with that eternal optimism he’d come to appreciate daily. He prayed that this time Maggie was right.
But he couldn’t deny the cold reality of the situation. “He said he never wanted to see me again.”
His words made her gasp. “He said that? To you?”
“He felt I didn’t do enough to keep Beth safe.”
Whatever aspirations she held for a surprise meeting flicker, then flare to life again. “Maybe he’s here to say he’s sorry.”
“I doubt it.”
She glared at him. “It’s hard to admit you’ve made a mistake. I mean, just look at you.”
That stopped him in his tracks. “What does that mean?”
Maggie lifted her chin with an intent that told him she was going to have her say. “You make promises you can’t keep.”
Heat flooded his face. “What are you . . .”
“Let me rephrase that,” Maggie interrupted. “You allow the people you love to corner you into situations you have no control over.”
Wesley crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” Maggie glared at him, jamming her finger into his chest as if charging him with a crime. “Did you or did you not just promise my aunt that you would keep me, a test pilot on the B-29, safe?”
“Stop it,” he commanded, grasping her accusing fingers in his hand.
Maggie glared up at him, her fingers relaxing in the warmth of his grip. “Every pilot, male or female, knows the challenges they face when they climb into that cockpit. We can only prepare the best we know how and leave the rest up to God.”
Wesley knew she was speaking the truth, understood that as a pilot, he would be offended if someone felt responsible for his safety. But it didn’t’ stop the question that had been hounding him since he had stepped inside his commanding officer’s tent and heard the news.
“Why Beth?”
“Why not Beth?”
Wesley narrowed his gaze. “Why would you say that?”
“Was Beth any different that the rest of us who are giving ourselves as payment for a purpose we truly believe in?” Maggie’s voice had softened, the silver sparks in her eyes dulled by apprehension. “Don’t you see that taking responsibility for her death tarnishes the sacrifice she was willing to make?”
Wesley tilted his head back. The last rays of early autumn sunshine heated his skin. He hadn’t seen Beth’s death as anything but a horrible accident, hadn’t thought of it as a courageous act for values she so deeply loved.
But Maggie always made him think. Yes, Beth knew what she was doing in the cockpit, probably better than most of the men first drafted into the RAF. And she had more than once said she would died for the freedoms that Germany and Japan wanted to destroy. As understanding began to sink in, the strands of guilt that had tied him into knots seemed to loosen.
Wesley looked toward the house. He may have started the journey to give Beth her due, but what about his grandfather? “What am I going to say to Pops?”
“You won’t know until you talk to him.” Wesley looked down to find clear green eyes the color of English moss staring up at him
.
Maybe Maggie was right. Maybe it was as simple as accepting the past and moving into the future. A future he was beginning to believe had to included Maggie.
Wesley lifted his hand to her face, his fingers tracing the soft line of her jaw before tilting her head back. He took a breath, the scent of Ivory Soap and rainwater reminding him of the first time she’d been in his arms, the day James had discovered them coming from the tent camp. Her lips parted slightly, whether in surprise or welcome he wasn’t sure. He bent his head, watching as her eyelids fluttered closed before pressing his mouth against hers.
An engine backfired in the distance, and they jumped.
Dazed, Wesley stepped back and glanced at Maggie. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought she swayed slightly. “Thought your Uncle James might have taken a shot at us.”
“He wouldn’t have missed if he had,” Maggie replied, taking a shallow breath before straightening. “Don’t you think you’ve kept your grandfather waiting long enough?”
Ah, that ramrod determination that he had grown to love had kicked in again. “Will you come with me?”
“Are you kidding?” His heart tightened as she slipping her hand into the bend of his arm. “I wouldn’t miss meeting someone who studying under the Wright Brothers for all the tea in China.”
Maggie tightened her fingers on Wesley’s arm as they took the last step up to the front porch, her insides still pleasantly shaking. He shouldn’t have kissed her like that, not that she was complaining. She would at least have those moments in Wesley’s arms in the years to come.
But she had a purpose, a God given gift for her life. Falling in love with Wesley Hicks wasn’t part of the plan.
I know the plans I have for you.
She stumbled through the screened door that Wesley held open for her, refocusing her thoughts on the man waiting in the parlor. Why had Wesley’s grandfather come here after all this time? She lifted up a silent prayer. Please, Lord. Please heal this family’s broken heart.
A slight movement to her right caught the corner of her eye and she turned her head. Standing in the center of the parlor’s double doorway stood a man, his snowy white hair slicked to the side, his brushy eyebrows arched over bright blue eyes he’d obviously passed on to his grandson. She noticed him studying them intensely before his face lightened with she would describe as approval. He moved then, quite sprightly for a man of his considerable years, not stopping until he stood in front of Wesley.
“My boy!” The man clasped his arms around Wesley’s wide shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace.
“Pops.”
“I’ve missed you, boy,” Pops said, the tenderness of the words softened his clipped English accent.
Maggie glanced down at the floor, embarrassed at the emotion clogging her throat. Her family, save Merrilee, didn’t believe too much in public displays of affection. She wasn’t sure why, only knew that the rare occasions when they happened felt awkward and forced. Maybe that’s why Maggie often found herself at her aunt’s house. Because she knew Merrilee would love her like Pops loved Wesley.
Unconditionally.
“Where are your manners, boy?” The older man glanced over at her. “Introduce me to your lovely young lady.”
Pops’ presumption made Maggie’s heart thump hard against her ribcage. Wesley stepped out his grandfather’s embrace and turned toward her. “Pops, I’d like you meet Margaret Rose Daniels. Maggie, my grandfather, Donald Hicks.”
Maggie held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hicks.”
“Likewise.” The sliver white head bowed over her hand, the gesture reminding her of Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood bowing over Olivia De Havalin’s hand. “Margaret Rose,” he replied, each syllable rolling off his tongue like a lullaby. “Just like our little princess?”
“Yes, Pops, just like our little princess,” Wesley answered, his mouth turned up in a crooked smile.
A hint of Pops’ native accent had crept into his voice, something she’d never noticed before. She tried to dismiss that it added to his charm, but failed miserably.
Maggie waved a hand toward the couch. “Please, have a seat.”
“Why, thank you.”
Maggie followed Pops to the couch, with Wesley close behind, his hand gently resting in the curve of her waist. Though he’d been welcoming, she sensed his worry, as if he was walking on eggshells, wondered when the other shoe would drop.
“What are you doing here, Pops?”
Couldn’t Wesley let his grandfather man get settled on the couch before dividing in head first? Maggie glanced at Pops. If the older man thought Wesley’s question was out of line, his expression didn’t show it.
“Thought it was time I came and saw you. How have you been?”
“Okay, I guess,” Wesley answered. “What about you?”
“Fine. I hear you’ve been taking Old Betsy up quite a bit recently.”
How did Pops know about their evening flights? Maggie almost asked but Wesley beat her to it. “Keeping tabs on me, old man?”
“Clyde Ellerbee is an old friend of mine,” Pops answered. “Why do you think he offered to store the plane in his barn?”
Wesley blew out an exasperated breath and relaxed into the cushions. “Why Churchill hasn’t enlisted you to be a spy for the Allies, I’ll never understand.”
“Churchill is a fine fellow, but he’s not my flesh and blood.” The lines of the older man’s mouth straightened into a very familiar grimace “Not like you are, my boy.”
Maggie blinked slowly, the love and concern in Pop’s words causing the bright yellows and cheery blues of Merrilee’s drapery to blur into a watery abstract. Couldn’t Wesley hear the love this man had for him, see the pain this man felt over the misunderstanding between them?
“Pops.” The edges of his voice had been filed away, replaced with an air of uncertainty.
“The truth is I figured it you were flying Old Betsy, you might be ready to talk about what happened.”
It was as if the blackout curtains had suddenly been drawn. “It’s pretty straightforward, Pops. Beth’s gone” Wesley shrugged. “Not much to talk about.”
The older man’s face blanched at the Wesley’s words. “You’ve had a chip on your shoulder for long enough, boy, and it’s time we settled things.”
“What’s there to settle, Pops?” She felt the cushions beside her move as he stood. “You told me to get out of your sight.”
“I had just lost my granddaughter.”
“And I’d lost my sister,” Wesley backed toward the door, his spine rigid, his gaze combing the room as if on a search and coming up empty. A few seconds later, he stood in the doorway. His shoulders were slightly rounded, and the slash of his mouth mirrored the expression on his grandfather’s face. “End of story.”
A moment later, the front door banged shut in Wesley’s wake, the paned glass rattling in his wake.
An uncomfortable silence enveloped the room. Maggie wasn’t sure what to make out of the scene that had just unfolded. No use going after Wesley, not when he needed some time to cool down. She glanced over at Pops. His silver brows conjoined into one straight line over darkened blue eyes, shining softly with what Maggie suspected were tears. Deep lines slashed his forehead and his mouth, giving her the impression of a weary solider who had seen one battle too many.
Drawing up one knee, Maggie gently touched his arm. “Are you okay?”
After a brief hesitation, Pops nodded. “Nothing less that what I expected.” He crossed his arms as if to study her closer. “So tell me, Princess, how did you meet my grandson?”
“I fly planes over at the Bell. He’s my commanding officer.”
His eyebrows rose in disbelief. “You’re a pilot?”
Maggie nodded. “I’m with the Women’s Army, Special Pilots.”
The older man let out a sharp chuckle. “I bet my boy wasn’t too keen about that assignment.”
“You can say that again,” M
aggie chuckled, relaxing against the back of the couch. “He spent the first week trying to keep me on the ground.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
Maggie hesitated then thought better of it. “You mean, because of Beth?”
Pops blew out a long sigh. “Wesley has always been overprotective of his sister.”
He spoke in the present tense, as if Beth was still alive. The muscles in her chest tightened, ribbons of grief compressing her heart into a painful knot.
Maggie wondered whether to ask the question on the tip of her tongue then decided that knowing the answer might be the only way to understand what Wesley was going through. “Do you really blame him for Beth’s death?”
A spark of something--maybe regret?--flashed in Pops’ pale blue eyes. “He told you?”
Maggie shrugged one shoulder weakly, suddenly feeling as if she had walked into an active mine field. “It came up one evening.”
“My boy isn’t one to be sharing such things.” Pops took a deep breath as if to steady himself. “But to answer your question, no. Not really. Both of us were devastated to lose Beth the way we did, but I didn’t realize how much Wesley held himself responsible for Beth’s accident until he was leaving to come here. By then, nothing I could say would convince him otherwise.”
“But you haven’t spoken to him in months.”
“A bad decision on my part.” Pops rubbed the tops of his tights as if the chill of his grandson’s reception had sunk clean to his bones. “I thought if Wesley had some time to work through it, get past what happened, he’d understand that he wasn’t to blame. When I heard he was flying Old Betsy, it gave me hope.”
Cocking her elbow on the back of the couch, Maggie rested her head in her hand. “Your Betsy’s a beauty.”
Pops glanced back at her, one fuzzy eyebrow cocked in interested surprise. “My boy has shown you his sister’s plane?”
Beth’s plane? A sudden awkwardness tangled like a knot in her stomach. Maggie mashed her lips together nervously. Would Mr. Hicks be put out that Wesley had let her fly his granddaughter’s plane? Maggie sat up straight, waiting for the hitch of emotions to unsnarl. “Wesley let me fly her, sir.”
Hearts in Flight Page 17
