A Flying Affair

by Carla Stewart

  Iris and Hayden breezed in three days before Christmas, their anticipated visit spurring Mittie’s mother into a whirlwind of shopping, decorating, and planning menus, her purpose renewed.

  They arrived in a shiny late-model automobile, a cloud of dust in its wake. When Mittie saw them coming, she flew from the house, and yanked open the passenger-side door handle almost before Hayden rolled to a stop.

  “How was your drive? I thought you’d never get here.” She took Iris’ hand and pulled her from the car, their arms around each other, both of them talking at once. Iris pulled back first and stood, arms wide open, looking toward the house.

  “Oh, how I’ve missed this. And you and Mother and Daddy.”

  “Merry Christmas, darling.” Their mother joined them. More hugs. A few tears. “Don’t you look smart? What a darling dress. I do believe married life agrees with you.”

  Iris smiled, her chin quivering a bit as she said thank you. “Where’s Daddy?”

  “I asked Bertha to fetch him from his study.” Her mother gave a finger wave and said, “Hello, Hayden. So glad you made it.”

  Iris said, “Tell me: How’s Daddy doing? Back still okay?”

  “A twinge here and again, and no matter how many times I urge him to rest, he just ignores me. It’s no secret who Mittie gets her stubbornness from.”

  Iris gave Mittie one of her knowing looks, one that said it would do no good to argue. And although Iris did have a glow about her and looked perfectly stunning, there were puffs, like tiny pillows, below her eyes as if she’d been crying. When their eyes met, Iris looked away quickly.

  “Where should I take our things, sweetheart?” Hayden stood like a porter in his starched shirt with a leather suitcase in each hand and a parcel under each arm.

  Mittie’s mother said, “Here—let me help you.” She relieved him of the packages and told him everything was ready in the guest room.

  Iris gave a start. “Oh, I thought we’d be in my room.”

  “You’d have to share a bath with Mittie. I thought you’d need more privacy.”

  Mittie said, “What Mother means is that she wouldn’t want me to see Hayden in his Skivvies.”

  “Good gracious, Mittie. Watch your tongue. You’ll have Hayden hightailing back to Birmingham before we’ve even had Christmas.”

  Iris shrugged. “Whatever you think about the room, but hon­estly, I’ve been looking forward to sleeping in my old bed.”

  Hayden said, “I’m sure your mama is right, sugar. Why don’t you get your hatbox and my valise from the back while we carry these things up?”

  Mittie said she’d help, and when her mother and Hayden were out of earshot, Mittie edged close to her twin. “What’s going on?”

  Iris’ eyes widened in a startling blue. “Nothing is going on. However do you come up with these silly notions?”

  She tossed the hatbox to Iris. “It’s not a notion. I can see it written on your face.” She grabbed the valise and a pile of coats from the rear seat and closed the door with her hip. “Don’t worry, Sis; I’ll get it out of you.”

  Iris, though, was halfway up the walk.

  It appeared that, indeed, nothing was wrong as Iris and Hayden were like lovebirds, holding hands, stealing kisses when they thought no one was watching. Mittie decided that Iris had only been weary from the trip or was an actress who had missed her calling. There was no time to dwell on it, as the next two days were filled with decorating the tree and last-minute shopping.

  Mittie stewed over the obvious fact that Ames wasn’t there, nor had he called in more than a week. His meeting in Wichita had turned out to be a dead end, so he was headed to Tulsa, where he’d heard that men who’d made it rich in the oil boom were turning their interests to the aviation field. Every time the telephone rang or someone came to the door, she jumped, hoping it was Ames.

  The only time she ventured from the house was for her daily ride on Gypsy. Mittie stayed out longer than usual on Christmas Eve, letting Gypsy race across the hills, their hearts beating as one.

  Like Iris and Hayden’s. And, she had begun to think, like hers and Ames’.

  Toby was ready for Mittie and Gypsy when she dismounted, and after wishing him a merry Christmas, she jammed her hands in her pockets and lifted her face to the sky. The wind roughed her cheeks as she marched back to the house that was filled with the aroma of fresh gingerbread and pine needles and Bobby York’s cologne.

  “Isn’t it just the dearest thing for Bobby to come out and join us?” Mittie’s mother intercepted Mittie on the stairs as she went to change for the luncheon her mother was having for a few close neighbors who were anxious to see Iris.

  “Of course. Did you call him or did he need something?”

  “He said he had some news for you, so I invited him to stay for lunch. Run along and get ready. Iris and Hayden are keeping him company until you come down.”

  Half an hour later, Mittie entered the parlor, where Bobby was having tea with Iris and Hayden, the three of them standing near the warmth of the fireplace. “So guess you all have been introduced.”

  Iris gave her a questioning look. “We’ve met before. At least I remember Bobby from the time we visited London. The posh party one of Daddy’s friends invited us to.”

  “I remember no such party.” Mittie turned to Bobby. “Do you remember it?”

  “Vaguely. Not that I could recollect your names. It wasn’t unusual for my dad to pull me along to his social gatherings, hoping that some of his interests would rub off on me.” He gave a sly grin. “To no avail, I’m afraid.”

  Iris nodded. “Sounds like someone else I know.” Her pointed look at Mittie was mischievous.

  “You do me a great disservice, sweet Iris. I adore my Gypsy and everything to do with the show ring. I just love flying more.”

  “You and Bobby should be quite a pair, then.” Honestly, Iris sounded more like her mother every day.

  Mittie turned to Bobby. “Mother said you have news. Are you going to tell me or am I going to stand here all day guessing?”

  Iris took Hayden’s arm and said she’d like to show him the party favors they’d made for Nell’s baby shower. Bless her; she always knew when to make a graceful exit.

  When they’d gone, Bobby asked if she’d like some tea.

  “Not right now.”

  “Let’s sit down, then.” He moved to a wingback chair and waited for her to take the one opposite before he sat down.

  “It must not be good news if you’re having me sit. I hope it’s not Weaver. Oh, that would be awful if he was sick or something terrible happened to him at Christmas.”

  He tented his fingers, letting his chin rest lightly on their tips. “No, Weaver’s tip-top as far as I know. I’ve just come as a messenger.”

  Her stomach sank, a light-headedness coming over her, and she knew it was something to do with Ames even before he continued.

  “Ames stopped by this morning. Said he’d been driving all night and needed to get home to Iowa. He picked up Trixie and wanted you to know.”

  “He was here? In Louisville? Why didn’t he call?” Her hand went instinctively to the locket on the chain around her neck.

  “He was in a bit of a dither—something about his sister taking ill—and he needed to get in the air while the weather was amiable.”

  “I bet he didn’t say amiable.”

  “Not his exact words, no, but he wanted me to give you his regrets and tell you he would call when he got there.”

  “Call me or the airfield?”

  “You, I assume.”

  A mix of emotions and questions roiled in her stomach. Why hadn’t he just driven from Oklahoma to Iowa? And what if the weather turned nasty? Bobby had no answers to her questions but said that he, too, was sorry.

  “Was he going to be here for Christmas?”

  She shrugged. “Best-laid plans.”

  Her mother stuck her head in and said it was time for lunch. “Everything all right?”
<
br />   Mittie nodded and took Bobby’s arm. “Hungry?”

  Her own appetite had fled.

  Ames still hadn’t called when it was time to leave for the Christmas Eve service. Candles flickered in the tiny sanctuary where Mittie sat between Iris and her Daddy. Her thoughts were a jumble, her neck tense, but as they sang “What Child Is This?” a calm fell over her. Christmas and the Christ Child. She slipped her hand in the crook of her daddy’s arm and said a silent prayer for someone she didn’t know in Iowa. When they stepped out into the frosty night air, snowflakes as big as quarters fell silently from the heavens, blanketing the ground, the trees, the rooftops. The earth was hushed on a starless night, lit only by gas lampposts and the glow of a long-ago night in a lowly stable.

  Mittie gazed into the sky and prayed that Ames had made it safely to his sister’s side, that he wasn’t grounded somewhere, alone in a strange place.

  The overnight snow made it a white Christmas, but the accumulation was slight, and the day dawned with bright sunshine. Mittie’s mother was elated because it meant that everyone would be able to make the drive over from Louisville, including Bobby, who she’d insisted come and share Christmas with them. Nell looked as if she’d swallowed a watermelon as she sat contentedly beside Quentin. Caroline giggled and showed Bobby how to make a Jacob’s ladder with a length of string that had been knotted into a large circle. Every time he put his fingers through the wrong slot and ended up with a tangled mess, she howled with laughter and called him a silly goose. He teased her back and showed her that he could make a cup and saucer with the string, which earned him a round of applause.

  The laughter was good and took Mittie’s mind off the worry she had for Ames. Iris cast reassuring looks at her, telling her everything was going to be fine. It didn’t feel fine, even though the air sparkled with the chatter of family gathered around the fir tree that stretched nearly to the drawing room’s ceiling. Tiny candles, strings of cranberries, and satin bows graced its branches while bright packages nestled beneath them.

  Bertha appeared in the doorway and motioned for Mittie. Ames. Her heart pounded as she followed Bertha to the ladies’ parlor and, with trembling fingers, picked up the telephone and spoke into the bell. Relief rushed out when Ames said hello on the other end.

  “How are you? Or maybe I should say, where are you? Did you make it?”

  The telephone receiver crackled like the logs in the fireplace, but she thought she made out the word Iowa.

  “Fern? Is she better?”

  “…doing…soon…Christmas.”

  “I’m having trouble with the connection. Can you hear me?”

  “…love…make it…wish…”

  “I love you, too. Merry Christmas.”

  The line went dead. Had he made it? It sounded like he might have. No way to know how his sister was, but Ames sounded very much alive. Relief skated along her bones, her steps light as she went into the drawing room and joined her family in a toast. Peace on earth. Goodwill to men.

  Bobby eyed her from across the room and stepped quickly to her when the toasts were finished. “Ames?”

  Mittie nodded and gave him a brief report as they went into the dining room. When they were seated, Mittie’s dad asked Quentin to return the blessing, and while her dad carved the turkey, Mittie’s mother asked who was on the phone.

  “Ames. He made it home safely. At least I think he did. We had a bad connection, and I couldn’t make out much.”

  “What was the poor man thinking taking off in an airplane in the dead of winter?”

  “His sister needed him. I’d want to be there if Iris needed me.”

  Iris nodded. “And I’d do the same for you. Ames must be a good man to sacrifice and be with his family when he would rather be somewhere else.” She patted Hayden’s hand. “Right, honey?”

  Hayden answered with a tight-lipped, “Of course. Although it’s rather difficult to give an opinion about someone I’ve never met.”

  “Ames was at our wedding, dear. Remember the one who wore the cream-colored suit that your mother went on about?”

  “I know who you’re talking about; I just don’t believe we were introduced.”

  Iris gave him a half frown, like something was brewing between them. Mittie hoped it was just her imagination, but Hayden had been rather sulky all morning, now that she thought about it.

  Then Hayden’s face brightened. “Poor guy doesn’t know what he’s missing. I know I’m tickled to death to spend Christmas with all of you.” He stabbed a piece of turkey with his fork. “Mrs. Humphreys, everything is right tasty.”

  Mittie’s grandmother started to answer, then realized he was addressing Iris’ mother, who said, “For pity’s sake, Hayden, you’re part of our family now. Please call me Sarah.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll try to remember that.”

  Mittie’s mother asked how his family celebrated Christmas.

  “We go to a lake that my family owns. We’ve all got cabins there.”

  “All?”

  “My folks and both my uncles. Someday Iris and I hope to build there, too.”

  “That sounds lovely. So quaint and surely not your normal Southern tradition. You are a man of constant surprises, Hayden.”

  Iris nudged him. “Tell her who was going to be there this year.”

  Hayden scowled at Iris, then sighed and said, “The governor and his wife.”

  Mittie’s mother’s eyes widened. “Oh dear, and you had to miss that to come here. You should have said something. I’m sure Iris would’ve understood and wanted you to stay there.”

  “Not really, Mother. They were going to spend the entire time duck hunting.”

  “Not the entire time.” Another dark look from Hayden.

  “That’s not the way your mother tells it.”

  Mittie glanced at her dad, who looked like he’d rather be duck hunting. He took a deep breath. “Evangeline, could you pass the gravy? You know, there’s nobody makes giblet gravy like our Ruby.”

  An awkward silence ensued. Bobby turned to Quentin next to him and asked if he and Nell were planning to take the baby to England to meet his family.

  “I’m afraid not. My congregation is small; there isn’t much in the way of extras.”

  Nell rubbed a hand over her stomach and winced. “We know the Lord will provide when the time is right.”

  Aunt Evangeline asked if she was okay and Nell nodded, her cheeks pinking up at the attention. Mittie wasn’t so sure. Perspiration bubbled along Nell’s hairline.

  Quentin draped his arm around Nell and said to no one in particular, “We’re trying to put a bit back in case there’s a financial disaster as everyone is predicting.”

  Hayden lifted his chin. “I wouldn’t pay attention to all that babble. Steel and construction are at the highest levels they’ve ever been. Matter of fact, I’ve had Iris invest her trust fund in Wainwright Steel.”

  Iris looked apologetically at her grandmother. “I wanted to ask you first, but Hayden insisted, said the time was right.”

  Grandmother said, “Gracious, it’s nothing to do with me. Your grandfather wanted you girls to have the money, to give you a little nest egg to use however you wanted.”

  Hayden said, “Why leave it lying around gaining a pittance of interest when it could double or triple in a few years?”

  A cloudy look had settled on Iris’ face. “But what if Quentin is right? I could lose it all.”

  “Trust me, sugar. Nothing against the reverend, but I believe my father, who’s been at the helm for twenty years and knows what’s going on in his own industry.” Hayden looked at Mittie. “I’d be happy to set you up an account to invest your portion as well. It would certainly be a wise move.”

  Mittie’s jaw dropped at the audacity. “How sweet of you to offer, but I’ve already made plans for what I’m doing with my portion. And I’m not investing in steel.”

  “To your peril, I would kindly suggest.”

  Silence fell
around the table. No clattering of forks. No murmured conversations. All eyes were on Mittie.

  “Mother actually gave me the idea…”

  “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Steel doesn’t interest me except the part that is used for nuts and bolts and engine parts. I’m going to buy an airplane.”

  “Good heavens!” Mittie’s mother huffed out a breath. “I thought you were trying to exasperate me when you mentioned it.”

  Bobby’s hand slid over to Mittie’s lap. He took her clammy one in his and gave it a soft squeeze. Mittie thought she saw a twinkle in her daddy’s eye, but it was her grandmother who reached for her water glass and lifted it. “Good for you, darling.”

  Hayden had a five-year-old pouty look. Iris looked like she might cry. Caroline wiggled in her seat and asked if Mittie would take her for an airplane ride. Mittie started to answer, but from the corner of her eyes, she saw Nell clutching her abdomen, her face twisted in a look of agony. Quentin’s brows were scrunched together, his arm tighter around Nell’s shoulders as he whispered something inaudible.

  Nell pursed her lips and blew out short breaths. She gave a weak smile and spoke softly. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

  Mittie’s mother lifted her chin. “You poor dear. If you’re not feeling well, you should go lie down. The excitement of the day has probably worn you out.”

  Nell nodded in agreement and pushed back her chair, but when she stood, she gasped and clung to Quentin with one hand, clutching her abdomen with the other.

  General chaos erupted with everyone talking at once, telling Quentin they needed to get to the hospital, that it was too early for the baby to come, and better to be safe than sorry. And with that, Quentin took the coats Aunt Evangeline shoved at them and helped Nell into hers.

  Bobby said he would drive them to the hospital so Quentin could attend to Nell. Aunt Evangeline said they would be right behind them. Caroline wailed that she wanted to go, but her mother told her they didn’t let children into the hospital, and maybe Aunt Sarah would let her open a couple of gifts.