Broken Wings, Soaring Hearts

by Beverly A. Rogers

  “No, actually I thought we were going to your uncle’s place.”

  Opening the tailgate she reached for one of the baskets sitting in the truck bed. “Jack, you are so funny.” She pointed to the farthest basket from his reach. “That’s the heavy one.”

  He reached in and retrieved the lighter one first and handed it to her, then he grabbed onto the heaviest one for himself. “What’s so funny about me thinking we were going to your uncle’s place?”

  “We are. Wanna hand me that quilt?”

  “You are so totally confusing me right now.” He draped the colorfully patched quilt on top of the basket in his hand.

  She wrapped both hands around the wicker handle of the basket she carried. “Ready?”

  He nodded and circled his arms around his cumbersome load. “Your uncle has the only diner in town. We’re going to your uncle’s place. But we’re here? With food?”

  “This is my uncle’s farm. My favorite place to eat. The diner’s great, but this place … ” She stepped around a patch of brown grass. “Yikes, stickers.”

  Jack followed close behind as she led him around to the side of the barn. “This belongs to your uncle with the diner or is this another uncle?”

  “Uncle Frank. The one who owns the diner. My only living uncle. Great, huh? I’m afraid they’ll sell it one day, but for now … ” Happiness covered her face. “It’s all ours!”

  His eyes roamed their surroundings. “I like it.”

  She knew her smile radiated her pleasure. “Just wait. You haven’t seen anything yet. Remember, I told you I was going to show you more of Barnes. You’re in for a real treat.” She led him forward a few steps further until they reached a faded red wooden door. She halted and set her basket on the ground.

  Jiggling the doorknob, she cast a confident look over her shoulder at him. “There’s a trick to this,” she said, leaning her right shoulder against the door, twisting and lifting the knob with her left hand, and pushing up on the door as she pushed it open against her weight. The door flew open with a bang against the barn wall.

  Jack shifted his load in his arms. “Nice move.”

  “Thanks, it’s all in the wrist. And the shoulder.” She reached for her basket. “I come here all the time,”

  “That’s too bad. I was hoping since you’re such a wallflower … I mean, wildflower, that I’m the only man you’ve ever brought out here. Bradley and Father Mark ever get to see this favorite place of yours?” His brown eyes teased her mercilessly.

  She stepped away from him and into the shadowy barn. “Nope, as a matter of fact, you are the only male to darken this door. But don’t let that go to your head.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  As intrigued as he was with Miss Hailey Holman, Jack had no intention of letting this excursion go to his head. The open doorway cast just enough light for him to detect the image of a steep set of stairs several feet into the barn. “Is there a light switch around here anywhere?”

  “What do you need a light switch for?” She propped the wooden door open with a brick resting just inside the door.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s dark in here.”

  She disappeared beyond some thin streams of light filtering through the barn and shortly after, the distinctive sound of match striking against wood met his ears. A gentle flickering glow filled the barn and she reappeared, brandishing a kerosene lamp. “Is this enough light for you, Mr. City Boy?” Her voice held good-natured teasing.

  “It’s enough if we’re able to see where we’re going.” He walked back into the daylight to retrieve the picnic basket she’d deposited in front of the door. “Even city boys like to see where they’re walking. Hate to run into an unwelcome surprise.”

  “I understand. We are in a barn, after all.” She transferred the lamp to one hand and gathered a handful of skirt in the other. “Thanks for getting that other basket. Come on, you’re gonna love this place.”

  They made their way across and she started up the steps, stopping to stomp the dusty earth from her bare feet. “And to think the pioneer women wore eighty pounds of clothes every day. This get-up is heavy.”

  He chuckled as he halted a step below her. “If they could do it, I have absolutely no doubt that you can, as well.” They proceeded up the stairs. “So you say they serve good food here, huh?”

  “The best.” She didn’t look back, but continued making her way up the steps. “When we were growing up, my sisters and I, and our cousins, spent a lot of Sunday afternoons out here. We’d play up here for hours while the grownups played dominoes out under the trees and Uncle Frank barbecued. Pretty much every Sunday after church.” She reached the top step. “I can almost taste that sweet mesquite sauce now.”

  His mouth started to water. “That does sound good. I don’t suppose you have any of that barbecue in one of these baskets.” As heavy as his basket was, he figured she must have a little bit of everything in it. It wouldn’t totally surprise him to find all of those sisters and cousins she’d mentioned, waiting beyond the top of these steps to join them. He’d already learned that nothing — absolutely nothing could surprise him where she’s concerned. He climbed the last step and anticipated her next move.

  She dropped the folds of material from her full skirt and strode ahead to stand before two enormous windows covered by thick wooded shutters. She extinguished the lamp and set it on the window frame. “I don’t think you’ll be too disappointed about missing Uncle Frank’s barbecue this evening.” She clasped her hands in front of her like a small child readying herself to unwrap a Christmas present. “I promised to show you more of Barnes. Ready?”

  He relieved his arms of the weighty baskets and quilt and headed toward her, watching as she flipped the latches on the shutters and pushed them open with a burst of delight.

  A sudden explosion of light filled the dimly lit loft and his eyes beheld a healthy view of the Barnes countryside. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come right away. “This is incredible,” he finally managed in an awestruck whisper.

  She stood beside him, hands clasped beneath her chin. “Welcome to the loft. My other secret hiding place.”

  He was struck by the beauty stretching before them, and beside him. A tranquil awareness washed through him. “This is amazing. Miles and miles of just … wow. Those oak trees are huge. The pastures go on forever. It’s all so green.”

  He couldn’t say anything else. All he could do was let his eyes drink in the scene. The wide open pastures, the grazing livestock dotted along the roving land. He nodded his head toward one of the fields. “Are there any fish in that pond?”

  She craned her neck. “In Mr. Jackson’s pond? Best catfish Uncle Frank’s ever fried up in his diner.”

  “Look how the sun reflects off the water, it’s almost too brilliant to look at. Like millions of diamonds flashing at the same time. And the sky … the bluest I can ever remember.”

  She gazed through the big double windows with him. “Didn’t I tell you you’d love this? I come here when I want peace and quiet. I can hear God better.”

  He wanted to ask what she meant, but he didn’t want to risk giving her a segway into a theological sermon right now. “I thought you thrived on the roar of planes and stirring up a fuss with your mom.”

  She smiled. “I obviously do, right?” Her eyes were on him for a moment before turning her attention back to the Barnes countryside.

  “Do you ever do any fishing down at Mr. Jackson’s pond?” he asked.

  “Some.”

  He willed himself to keep his gaze straight ahead on the scenery beyond the massive windows.

  “I can take you there sometime, if you’d like.” She looked away from the view long enough to push a strand of hair from her eyes.

  He gave her a brief nod. “I haven’t been fish
ing since … I don’t know, since before I started shaving. I doubt I’d know how to bait a hook anymore.” He hadn’t done anything just for fun in so long, he doubted he truly knew how to do much of anything along those lines right now. Not that he wouldn’t welcome the challenge of relearning.

  She tossed her head and laughed. “It’s sort of the same as roller skating, I suppose. You never really forget how, you just get sort of rusty at it.” She gave him a lighthearted pat on the back. “Don’t worry. I could always bait your hook for you.”

  “No, thanks. I’d never hear the end of that one.”

  A contented smile settled across her face.

  The two stood side by side, watching the fiery sun leisurely vanish to the other side of the earth. Both seemed enraptured by the scarlet glow lingering in the sky, and by the display casting a tranquil hue over the countryside.

  Jack finally broke the silence. “Tell me more about your dad,” he asked quietly. He found himself intrigued by the man this daughter loved so completely. The man who, in this daughter’s eyes, was as near to perfect as a human got. The man who obviously influenced her and left such an indelible print on her heart. Perhaps a print in the shape of a comet racing across the sky.

  She didn’t hurry her answer, but seemed to linger, still captivated by the view. When she answered his question, her voice was filled with tenderness.

  “This is one of those places where I feel closest to God. And to my dad. I can almost see him soaring in the Skycat. Like a silver and red decoration in the sky.” She offered him a soft smile. “What do you want to know about Web Holman that you haven’t seen of him around our home?”

  “I guess what it is that makes you want to be so much like him.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “That’s pretty easy to answer. I’ve always wanted to be like him. Always. He was just so full of life. And God’s goodness and love and … everything. Everything that anyone would ever want to be or want the person they love to be.”

  “Your mom has a lot of that life in her. Don’t you think?”

  She drew her lips in. “Somewhat. Sometimes. Ok yes, of course she does. Don’t get me wrong, my mom’s precious. Other than her obvious one big flaw,” she half kiddingly exaggerated the word.

  “Flaws.” He kept his eyes on the fading horizon. “We all have ‘em.”

  “To one degree or another, we sure do.” She smiled at his profile before returning her own gaze to the scene before them. “I know I do.”

  Her posture relaxed and she attempted to tuck her hands into pockets that weren’t there. She tossed him an “I miss my blue jeans again” look and continued, clasping her hands behind her back instead, and returning her gaze to the now graying sky.

  “Dad even knew how to make everyday chores a celebration. He was always good-natured, always joking about things other people got high blood pressure over. His whole life, everything he did seemed sanctioned somehow. As if God Himself ordained this man to be the rock of this little piece of earth.” She turned her eyes to him. “He loved everybody whether they loved him or not. He sure didn’t wait for anyone to deserve to be loved before he loved them. I wish you could have met him, you’d know what I mean.”

  It stung a little. His own dad required proof of worthiness in triplicate and notarized before anyone passed the Marshall Stinson test. And then you were never sure whether his good graces were going to last a minute, an hour, or a day and a half.

  Jack felt as if he almost did know Web Holman. That was, if Hailey’s view of him was accurate. If she wasn’t just making a hero out of him, forgetting the imperfections as humans do after a death “So you’ve patterned your life after your father’s.”

  “And fallen about two hundred miles short. Few people were like my dad, Jack. He believed in asking himself what Jesus would do in every situation. That’s why I believe with all my heart that I must continue his dream. If it was the right thing for him, then I know without a speck of doubt that someone must continue on.”

  The comment slapped at Jack’s heart. I wish I could say that about my own father. “That’s admirable. Who wouldn’t want to believe they were doing something that someone else saw as so valuable they’d want to follow in your footsteps?”

  He thought back to how it was when his great-granddaddy died several years ago. His passing left only his granddad to try to keep Marshall in line. When granddad passed away nine months ago, that left the brunt of it on Jack. The last person Marshall would ever listen to.

  For as long as he could remember, his mom had done her best to make Marshall see that he was alienating his own family as well as anyone associated with Brown Aeronautics. She was always the glue holding it all together. Nurturing and openly praying for them all. The word vibrated in his ears and his thoughts stood still. Praying. For the entire family. And now with him away from home, she must be praying even harder.

  He searched Hailey’s face. “I can’t fully grasp what you’re telling me. What about your mom? Your parents’ dreams seemed as completely opposite as anything I can imagine. You’re saying one was one hundred percent right and the other, one hundred percent wrong?”

  Even as he heard himself say it, he knew that was the case in his home. The warmth of his mother; the coolness of his father. The goodness of his mother; the hardness of his father. Still, there had to be something good that he’d forgotten, something that made his mother fall in love with his father in the first place. And something that kept her with him.

  “The only absolute I know,” Hailey stated with conviction “is God’s love. No matter how much my mom fumed or feared, Dad’s joy was flying. He still took me flying. He still allowed me to have flying lessons. He still encouraged me in the business. If I didn’t believe with all my heart that my mom’s fears were unreasonable, I’d question myself just like you’re questioning me now. She’s always been this way.”

  Her shrug was resigned. “More so now, since Dad’s been gone, but I suppose that’s part of her grieving for him.”

  Jack still had his doubts. “Even the short while I’ve been around your mom, I don’t think she’s the type of person who particularly enjoys conflict. Especially between the two of you.”

  “Of course she’s not. But when it comes to flying, she loses all reason. She kinda’ goes overboard. The past is the past and we grow from it. Know what I mean?” Without waiting for his answer, she turned from the window and reached for the quilt draped over one of the picnic baskets. “I’m starved. Let’s eat.”

  He stood a moment longer, not ready for the conversation to end. “Don’t you think you should have more of an open mind toward your mother?”

  “My mind is open, hers isn’t.” She held the quilt in her arms, ready to spread it over the straw covered floor. “Now, are you going to help me, or are you going to stand there beating a dead horse?”

  He hesitated for a moment before reaching for the baskets and holding them up while she lowered the colorful covering to the floor. He set the baskets to rest on the quilt and waited for her next move.

  It was obvious she was tired of discussing her mom’s reservations, but somehow, before the evening ended, he was going to interject some thoughts on compromise into her one-track mind.

  Hailey reached for the kerosene lamp on the window ledge and set it between the two baskets, easing herself down onto the quilt and arranging the acres of skirt out of her way. She opened the basket closest to her and peered inside. “I hope you’re as hungry as I am because we have a mountain of food here.”

  “I know. I’m the one who hauled that one up those stairs.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be glad you did.” Her mouth curved into a radiant smile. “This is the basket with the cold stuff.” She reached in and named each item as she extracted it from the basket and set it before them. “Cantaloupe. Strawberries. Grapes. Tossed salad.�
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  She removed a Thermos and handed it to him, then continued with the parade of food. “Iced tea. Sliced limes. Butter. And of course,” she pulled out a small white bottle, “my famous buttermilk ranch poppy seed dressing.”

  “Sounds amazing.”

  Pushing the first basket aside, she moved the second one closer and peered in. “And here are,” she reached inside. “The rolls, which I remember you said were your weakness.” She smiled. “And jalapeño pie.” She waved the plate of pie under his nose, obvious pleasure covering her face.

  He smiled at her childlike enthusiasm and wondered if Web Holman had been aware of how much his daughter actually did take after him. She seemed a perfect replica of the things he’d heard about Web. Smart, lively, talented, caring — stubborn.

  Hailey had a way of making the name “Dad” synonymous with words like honor, adoration and love. Jack knew deep in his heart that he loved his own dad. Hopefully, time and distance would dull some of the anger he felt. But he had to wonder: Was it really anger? Or just disappointment? His father simply hadn’t been someone who Jack felt he could pattern his life after. Or sadly, even look up to.

  He watched intently as Hailey emptied the rest of the basket onto the quilt, arranging a setting for each of them. Finally, she placed two heavy wooden candlesticks between the settings and handed him a box of kitchen matches. “Would you do the honors?”

  He took the matches from her hand. “This really is an impressive spread,” he said, striking a match and touching the flame to the white wick of each candle. He waved the match out. “You certainly thought of everything.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised.” She took the cooled match from his hand and dropped it into the basket. “I do love to cook, that’s the one thing I got from Rinnie that my sisters didn’t.”

  He pointed to the pie. “That looks good. What exactly is it?”

  “You’ve never had jalapeño pie? Oh, that’s right, I forget. That’s country folk food.” She unwrapped the pie. “Just jalapeños, eggs and cheese baked together. Help yourself.”