The Flying Circus

by Susan Crandall

  Instead of returning to the Whicker farm (across the river from the Dahlgrens’) when a ship had delivered him back to the United States after the war, Phillip had stayed in New York City. He’d spent his time there “working on Wall Street.” His stories of elegant parties with tuxedoed men and a million dollars’ worth of jewels hanging on the women had “made Mother’s eyes turn practically green,” according to Sarah.

  “When his papa got sick,” Sarah had said, admiration coloring her voice, “Phillip said his ‘conscience demanded’ he return to Indiana and take over the farm.”

  Henry had been milking a cow at the time. For coming home to work the farm, Phillip didn’t seem to do much farmwork, but Henry kept his thoughts to himself. Especially the one how he suspected Phillip’s confident swagger hid a weak character. Why else did he prattle on so about himself?

  One night, Henry’s curiosity had gotten the better of him. He’d sat outside the open parlor window while Phillip visited with the family. Henry was able to get a glimpse into the room and saw that Phillip was seated next to Violet, the oldest, who looked at him as if he were Christ risen from the grave.

  Phillip was telling of his scar, which he’d received from a German knife with a nine-inch blade. “We were all asleep. This giant Hun must have belly-crawled into our camp with his knife in his teeth. He was working from foxhole to foxhole, silently slitting throats. He’d already gotten McPhee in ours. The instant the knife touched my skin, I sprang on him, sending the knife to make a jagged cut that missed the vessels. I wrestled him to the ground. He was a fantastic specimen of German brute strength. It was touch and go there for a while, but I finally overpowered him. Saved all but McPhee. That German never sneaked into another foxhole again.” Phillip paused. “I couldn’t leave my men behind on the lines while I went off to the hospital. I wrapped my neck and fought on until Armistice. They say if my wound had been tended properly, I might not have such a horrible scar.”

  “Filthy Germans,” Emmaline had said. “No more than animals. Sneaking up with no honor like that.”

  The next day both Violet and Emmaline had looked at Henry as if he’d been the one to slice Phillip’s throat. From then on, Henry had made sure to stay out of Phillip’s sight. But the man’s tales continued to feed the girls’ suspicion and disgust, making the war as fresh as yesterday.

  After that, they got busy recruiting anyone who would listen into their little band of loathing.

  Henry realized he’d drifted from the conversation. Cora was clearing her throat and saying to Reece, “Thank you for telling us. Gil is silent as a mummy when it comes to his past . . . or anything else, for that matter. Opaque as an oak door.”

  “Same old fellow, then.”

  Things fell silent. Henry’s thoughts were weighted as much by his own recollections as these new revelations about Gil. Plus he’d facilitated Cora’s quest as far as he was going to, so he kept his mouth filled with food, not conversation.

  He hoped by the time they got to the Jenny, Gil would be over whatever had made him want to cut ties with Cora. Even as he hoped it, he knew it was a waste of energy; this didn’t feel like any normal rift. Something significant had happened; something unalterable and course changing. Over the years, Henry had come to recognize the smell of it.

  “Well,” Cora said, “I’ve come with a proposition. I’m looking to get on with a bigger show, and Gil suggested yours would be a perfect fit.”

  Reece’s ginger eyebrows rose. “That so? What do you do with Mercury’s Daredevils?”

  “Stunts on the motorcycle.” She looked over and gasped. “Mercury!” The dog had jumped up on the table and had his head down in the pot of stew. “Get out of there!” She jumped up, and Mercury’s head came out of the pot. He looked at her, licked his gravy-covered chops, leaped off the table, and ducked behind one of the tents. “I am terribly sorry, Mr. Althoff.”

  “Meh.” He waved a hand. “The fellas will never know the difference . . . as long as he left enough to feed them.”

  She sat back down, her cheeks pink. “As I was saying, Mercury rides with me. He also does some very entertaining tricks on his own—”

  “So I see!” Reece jerked his head toward the outdoor kitchen.

  Cora managed an embarrassed chuckle. “I have a stunt where I ride through fire, I can do a ramp jump, and I’ve got ideas for lots more.”

  Reece looked intrigued. “We could use some ground entertainment, keep the folks happy while they’re waiting their turn for a ride.”

  “Exactly! And being a woman working with a dog, it makes us more unique. It’s all about the draw.”

  “That it is.” He studied her for a moment. “You do any wing walking?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have . . . although I only started recently.”

  Henry’s spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. A chunk of potato plopped back onto his tin, splattering gravy on his pant leg.

  “I quite like it. And have a million ideas for air stunts. I honestly don’t know how you pilots can just sit there for hours on end flying a straight line. I suppose I’m truly a daredevil at heart.”

  Henry closed his eyes as his dinner turned in his stomach. It was all becoming clear.

  When they got on the motorcycle to leave, Henry asked her, “Do you really want this, or are you just doing it to prove to Gil someone else wants you?”

  “It’s good business to have options.” She’d cheered up considerably.

  Henry was quiet for a minute. “He wants you to go, you know. He’s not just trying to punish you, or prove a point.”

  “Punish me? For what?”

  “Seriously, Cora? When was your first opportunity to climb out on the wing of a flying plane?”

  “That did make him mad . . . really mad. But he’s been mad before.”

  “Not like this.”

  When she looked at him, Henry could see she knew it, too. “His loss.” She tried to make it sound glib, but Henry heard the hurt underneath. “This act is well funded. They have contracts for work through most of the winter down South. I’ll be able to implement all of the stunts I’ve been thinking of. And the crowds! Did you hear how many people they average per show? ”

  “I did.” It was a significant operation, no doubt about it. And Gil was right, it was perfect for Cora, no matter what her motivation. But an undercurrent to all of this remained unexplained. Her climbing out of the cockpit might have been the fuse, but there had been plenty of fuses over the past weeks. Where had the gunpowder come from for the explosion?

  What Reece had told them cast a new light on Gil’s personality; Henry now knew Gil’s flirtation with death wasn’t in Henry’s imagination. And it wasn’t new. Did Gil push because he felt invincible, bulletproof? Or was it darker? A true open invitation? Henry suddenly wondered if the escape from the prison camp had been just another way of waving a red flag at death.

  Gil was complicated for sure, but everything Henry learned only raised more questions. He owed this new life to Gil, no matter how reluctantly he’d offered it. What they’d heard tonight had doubled both Henry’s admiration and his worry. He was going to do his damnedest to keep Mercury’s Daredevils together. But if keeping Cora was going to push Gil over the edge he seemed to be teetering on, Henry would have to stop fighting.

  When Jake Hoffman had returned from town, he’d been surprisingly receptive to the idea of Cora’s joining the air circus. She’d gone right to work on selling Henry, too, “a crack mechanic, inventor, and a pilot to boot.” Hoffman wanted to see what Henry could do and asked them to come back tomorrow. The air circus was about to lose a pilot; Hoffman explained it was too hard to fly all over the country year-round when you’re attached to a ball and chain. Reece had chimed in saying it was a rare woman who’d tolerate a man in this business; he’d been lucky enough to find one of the few.

  “Since you two wo
uld both be with the circus”—Reece had eyed Henry and Cora—“it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Cora had said, “Oh! No. We’re not . . . together, at least in that way.”

  Her forcefulness more than her words cut Henry to the core.

  At that point, Jake Hoffman had raised a brow. “Not married? Or not . . . romantic?”

  “We’re strictly professional colleagues,” Cora said, and Henry felt an inch shorter.

  “Well, this show’s got no room for romantic hoo-ha distracting the concentration and the trust. If there’s any history between you two, I don’t want to know about it. Be clear on this,” Hoffman had said. “I got no tolerance for man-woman drama. None. As long as we all got that straight, we should do fine. If we agree tomorrow, there’ll be a probation period, in case either party changes our minds in a few weeks.”

  “Well,” Cora sounded flustered, “I still need to confirm things with Gil.” She brightened. “Perhaps I can convince him to bring his Jenny on board, too. Then you’ll have five planes and pilots.”

  Reece Althoff chimed in, “He’s a damn fine pilot, Jake. Most naturally gifted I’ve ever seen.”

  Hoffman had nodded slowly. “We might work something out with Gil. Really good pilots are hard to come by. Have him come by tomorrow.”

  Cora had beamed as if all problems were solved.

  Henry had kept his mouth sealed. Gil’s coming “on board” was beyond unlikely. It would completely defeat the man’s purpose for getting Cora on with the circus. Henry tried to untangle the hurt and the gloom of the situation from the possibilities and hope. Cora had just insinuated her being with Henry romantically was laughable. There was no getting around it. Even so, no matter how she felt about Gil, she would probably go with Hoffman, it was everything she wanted right there for the taking.

  How much of a heel would Henry be if Hoffman offered him a job and he accepted? It would be good for hiding; he’d be even more invisible than he had been with Mercury’s Daredevils. Even if he flew, with four other pilots and Cora, he could slip by virtually unnoticed. His conscious piped up, Admit it, you think you might have a chance at Cora with Gil out of the picture.

  He closed the door on that voice; no need to put up with the self-shaming and guilt, because it wasn’t going to happen. The very idea of Gil knocking around there all alone, courting death instead of living his life, with no one to pull him back from the brink . . . Henry had a sick feeling that Cora’s leaving was not going to set Gil on the road to recovery.

  No. Henry couldn’t leave Gil. No matter what.

  Now, as they left the fairgrounds, Henry put his arms on either side of Cora and started the motorcycle. Oh, yes, everyone was excited—except him. As he pulled away from the fairgrounds, his insides were full of slithering black snakes of dread.

  Cora directed Henry out from Spring Street to the field where Gil had landed the Jenny. Henry half suspected Gil had lied about how much fuel he had left and had taken off just as soon as he’d left the courthouse lawn. Henry’s heart beat like overworked pistons, only slowing when he saw the Jenny still sitting in the dusky light, looking as if she floated on a low cloud of awakening fireflies rising out of the grass. Gil, however, was nowhere to be seen.

  “Let’s go into town and find him,” Cora said, just as brightly as if she and Gil had parted on the best of terms. “I want to tell him the news.”

  “I don’t think either one of those things is a good idea.”

  “Fine. You don’t have to go. I’ll take the motorcycle.”

  Henry stayed put on the seat, blocking her from getting off with his arms by gripping the handlebar. “Tell me what happened.”

  “You already know. He didn’t like me getting out of the cockpit.”

  “There’s more.” Henry wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, but all of their futures were at stake.

  She shrugged and looked away.

  “If you want my help in convincing him to pitch in with Hoffman, you’re going to have to tell me.”

  “Why would I need help? It’s a great opportunity!”

  “For you. For me, maybe. For Gil . . . you know that’s not what he wants.”

  “Gil doesn’t know what he wants! Believe me.” Only her stubbornness kept those tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes from falling.

  “What happened?” Henry wasn’t going to make it easier on her by voicing his suspicions.

  “I got bored. Really, Henry, how do you stand just sitting there? I decided to try riding out on the lower wing for a while. I was perfectly safe, holding on to one of the struts. It’s not like I climbed up on the top wing or hung from the landing gear. . . . I wasn’t actually wing walking. I was just sitting. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “To you. But to Gil?”

  “He needs to get over being so protective. I choose the risks I take. Not him.”

  “You could have hit an air pocket. You’re not used to making adjustments for that kind of movement.” Although if the girl could do a handstand on a moving motorcycle, her balance and reflexes had to be extraordinary. Still, encouragement was the last thing she needed. Fearlessness was useful, foolishness deadly. He worried Cora didn’t know the difference. “You need to prepare for stunts. Plan. You do know that moving your weight around on the airplane requires corrections by the pilot, don’t you? You probably scared the crap out of him.” Henry could only imagine how he would have felt sitting in the cockpit, unable to stop her as she unexpectedly climbed out on a wing. Scared didn’t come close.

  “It scared him all right. Scared him enough to give me a good shake when we got on the ground. Scared him enough to admit his feelings for me.”

  Tingles shot over Henry’s skin. His mouth went dry. He’d suspected. But hearing it made it sickeningly real. “He told you?”

  “He kissed me.” Her cheeks flamed uncharacteristically red. “Or maybe I kissed him. It all happened so fast. Things got out of hand.”

  Henry didn’t want to know how far “out of hand” things had gotten. He dropped his hands from the handlebars and let his arms fall to his sides. “Get off.”

  “Why are you so mad?”

  “Because Gil’s already a fucking mess. And you killed our show.”

  “I did?” She jumped off the motorcycle and shoved her hands on her hips. “It’s not like the kiss wasn’t mutual! Besides, I can help him stop being a fucking mess.”

  “Pack up your stuff.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? Gil needs me! I just have to convince him to go with us.”

  “Us? Hoffman hasn’t officially offered me a place. And I won’t leave Gil unless he forces me to.”

  A new worry bloomed in Henry’s mind. What if Cora did convince Gil to go with Hoffman and then the air circus decided they didn’t need Henry? He’d be left out in the cold.

  Gil never showed up that night, or the next morning. Henry scouted around town but didn’t find him. He hadn’t held much hope that he would. So he and Cora finally went to talk to Hoffman without him. Henry only agreed to interview, as Cora called it, to ensure that she left with them. No matter what the offer, he wasn’t taking off and leaving Gil behind. The man’s absence had cleared any doubt. There was no way he’d agree to bring the Jenny to the circus. He had to be away from Cora. That was all that mattered now.

  When they reached the fairgrounds, the show was over, the camp packed up. While Cora went off with Hoffman, Henry spent some time talking to Reece Althoff about the mechanics of the machines. Occasionally Henry would catch sight of Cora climbing on one of the tied-down planes—doing a handstand on the upper wing, dangling from the half circle of a lower wing skid (no danger at the moment as she was lying on the ground, but Henry’s gut twisted when he thought of her doing it several hundred feet in the air). He had second thoughts about declining an offer to join the circus, should it come. He wanted
to devise some safety devices for Cora’s wing-walking stunts. He was sure he could reduce the risk without tipping off the spectators.

  After Reece was convinced of Henry’s competence, the two of them walked over to Hoffman and Cora.

  Hoffman said to Althoff, “We’ve got one here near as crazy as you.” To Cora he said, “Reece left space on the truck for the motorcycle. We can load it up and be on our way. Need to use all the daylight we can, get some miles under our belts toward the next stop.”

  Cora looked a little panicked. “We have to find Gil and talk to him. We can’t just leave.”

  She thought her committing to go would force Gil to join up, too. But she was wrong, so very wrong.

  “I understand your loyalty,” Jake said. “Admire it. But we’ve got a schedule. We’d be happy to have you and Henry on the team, but would understand if you decide to stay here with Gil.”

  “What if we come along in a day or so?” she said.

  “Monday we order new posters. If you’re on board, now’s the time. No sense in adding a woman if we can’t advertise it.”

  Henry grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. “This is what you want. Go. I’ll get a schedule from Hoffman. If I can convince Gil, we’ll catch up to you. If he won’t agree to join up, I won’t either.

  “But, I can’t just leave him.”

  “He just left you. He doesn’t want you around him, Cora!” Her startled expression made Henry soften his words. “Maybe he needs time to come around. Give it to him. If you’re gone, he’ll get a new perspective.” The thought of being away from her nearly brought Henry to his knees. The idea she’d be taking on wing walking without him to help guide her preparation and minimize her risks was enough to turn his stomach. But he couldn’t abandon Gil, and Cora was better off with the circus. Henry wondered if caring for a woman this deeply always caused this much pain. “Mercury’s Daredevils can’t make it against shows like this. You know it as well as I do. Don’t tie yourself to a sinking stone. If you want to keep being a daredevil, go with Hoffman. Gil and I can always find you.”