“That stinks. What about Catherine? Did you see her in London?”
“Yes. I attended her wedding. Viscount Merkley is a financier and is deathly afraid of airplanes. It’s a match made in heaven.”
“So you’re no longer an outcast and could go back if you wanted?”
“Theoretically, yes, but I choose not to.”
“I’m glad. There are surely some other things you’ve not taught me.”
“Celestial navigation for one. There’s nothing quite so spectacular as flying at night with only the stars as a guide.”
“When can we start?”
“Whenever you’d like.”
The promised instruction never came because exactly one week later, Mittie received an invitation from Elizabeth McQueen, president of the newly formed Women’s International Association of Aeronautics, to fly in the inaugural transcontinental women’s air race. In August. Just three short months away. Mittie didn’t even have a plane, and the race started in California. What were the chances? If it sounds too good to be true…
She tucked the envelope in the top drawer of her bureau next to Ames’ locket and went out to ride Gypsy. The hair had grown back over Gypsy’s injured knee, and only a discerning eye could detect the fine scar beneath it. Mittie’s fingers went automatically to her face. It would never be as smooth as it once was, but the fine blemishes were a reminder of the grace she’d been granted time and again.
Gypsy’s ears twitched, and Mittie relaxed the reins, the horse’s toned body gliding into a trot. Mittie’s thoughts drifted like the bits of cottonwood fluff floating in the air. California. Women’s air race. Beneath her, Gypsy picked up the pace, taking the hill with ease. Then a shift in the saddle and Gypsy arched her neck, the ambling rhythm of her hooves on the ground as she did what her breed was born to do—the magnificent rack. Mittie held her breath, thinking she’d imagined it, but there it was. One. Two. Three. Four. Each hoof in perfect time. Mittie’s heart swelled with the promise that, yes, one day Gypsy would enter the ring again and hear the applause.
When they returned to the stable, she told Toby that Gypsy was ready, that her training could resume. Mittie was ready, too. She took the letter from her bureau and showed it to Bobby when he came in for lunch the next day.
“I’ve just heard about it. You’re accepting, aren’t you?”
“The only obstacle I see is finding a plane. I was hoping you had some ideas.”
“I’ll give Victor a call.”
“I’ll talk to my parents tonight. And wire Ames.”
It was a mad scramble from that day forward. Mittie wired Ames at his hotel in San Diego and the next day received a reply.
ATTA GIRL STOP PLANT HERE STOP CUSTOM PLANE STOP WILL CALL DETAILS STOP AMES
Having a plane built in California made the most sense. Ames secured access to a hangar and offered to oversee building the plane. He suggested a two-seat mono-wing with adequate horsepower and safety features that Bobby agreed were excellent choices. Her dad consulted with his banker and offered to front the production costs. Almost weekly meetings followed. Her daddy. Bobby. Victor and others in the Aero Club who voted unanimously to sponsor Mittie’s expenses since her dad was paying for the plane.
They worked with the organizers of the air race in Cleveland who had partnered with the National Exchange Club. The race would coincide with the Cleveland men’s air race, but it was Mrs. McQueen who was the driving force with her declaration that “Women pilots are imperative to aviation’s progress.”
The names of those who had accepted the invitation were circulated, and no one was surprised to see Calista’s name on the list. Mittie sent her a note. California or bust. The ultimate challenge, dear Peach.
Calista fired back. This flapper is ready for you.
Production costs and tensions ran high as the heat of July bore down on them, and they tried to think of every eventuality. Mittie pored over maps, noting possible problem spots. Ames called with progress reports every few days. Mittie yearned for her dad to be on hand for the takeoff, but her mother, ever protective, was afraid the long trip would cause his back to flare up. He promised he would be at the finish line in Cleveland. Victor and Bobby, though, made plans to travel by car to California and follow the same itinerary as the women as they flew across the continent. Mittie would take the train a few days early to get used to the feel of the new plane before the race.
Finally, with every detail in place, Mittie packed for the trip. Ames called to wish her luck and that evening, she took his grandmother’s locket from her drawer. She rubbed it on her cheek and slipped it around her neck.
Ames met her at the train station in Santa Monica with open arms. They took a taxicab straight to Clover Field, a sprawling airport buzzing with activity. Trucks hauling grandstands. Roped-off parking areas.
The reality of it began to sink in, and when she saw her new plane, Mittie’s eyes stung with hot tears. It was a beauty. Canary yellow with two black wavy stripes down the side and the flying school’s logo on either side. With the zeal of a puppy, Ames showed her all the features.
“Sweetest engine you can imagine.”
“One of yours?”
“Only the best for you, doll.” He kept his arm around her shoulders, kisses handy. “Want to sit in the cockpit?”
It was a perfect fit, and she was itching to fly it, but she needed to check in with the officials first and meet the other early arrivals. In the headquarters building, Mittie found the registration table and gave her information. She turned to see if she could spot any of the other pilots when a gregarious woman in blousy pants and short curly hair came up and introduced herself. “Pancho Barnes. And you must be the darling of Kentucky. Some peach from Georgia’s told me all about you.” The Pancho Barnes, one of the contestants and already famous for her outrageous behavior and wily good humor.
Mittie shook her hand. “I’m thrilled to meet you. I just got in and didn’t realize Calista—the one they call Peach—was already here.”
“She’s around here somewhere.” Pancho jerked her head and said, “Come on—I’ll introduce you to some of the gals.”
Mittie shrugged at Ames and asked if he wanted to tag along.
“It’s your party, doll. I’ll be around.”
Pancho lit up a slim black cigar and said, “Was that your mechanic?”
Mittie nodded. “And my best fella.”
“I figured from the way he was looking at you. Hey, Amelia, someone I’d like you to meet.”
Amelia Earhart. Mittie’s heart was in her throat, but Amelia was warm and welcoming as were all the others, the ones whose names were familiar from the newspapers—Ruth Elder, Louise Thaden, Bobbi Trout. They talked of the heat in the desert, the change of plans for one of the seventeen stops, and that there were more than a few men who were betting they would fail.
Pancho blew out a puff of smoke. “We’re going to show ’em. You know the race motto, don’t you? ‘A woman’s place is in the sky.’”
Mittie caught sight of Ames in the corner of her eye. He stood, arms crossed, talking to a man in mechanic’s coveralls, but his brows were scrunched together, lips pursed. When her eyes met his, he said something to the fellow and brushed past him. Mittie took that as her cue and told Pancho that the sky was where she was headed. “It’s lovely to meet you all.” She stepped back from the group and the chorus of “Good luck!” and told Ames she was ready. Outside the hangar, she asked who he was talking to.
“Can’t recall his name, but I’ve seen him around.”
“You didn’t look too happy.”
“Guess I was thinking about us getting away while there’s still plenty of sunshine.” He draped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a peck on the cheek just as Calista Gilson strode across the grass.
“If you two aren’t the lovebirds.”
“Hey, Peach. Sounds like you’re jealous.” Ames put his other arm around Calista.
“That’s a lau
gh and a half.” She leaned in front of Ames and looked at Mittie. “Which one is yours?”
Mittie pointed to the canary yellow plane and Calista pointed hers out—a new Brunner-Winkle Bird, pale orange with her signature “Peaches” on the side and the Roman numeral II.
Mittie’s eyes widened. “It’s a beauty. But can it fly?”
“Ha! We’ll see in two days.”
Mittie was getting itchier by the minute to get up in the air, but Calista pulled her aside and told Ames to scram, that she wanted to talk to Mittie.
“This better be short. We need to get in the air.”
“Short. Not so sweet, though. Listen—there’s some rumors going around about Ames.”
“I hope you didn’t start them.”
“No. I was having a little chat with some of the mechanics yesterday. Somehow your name came up, which led to one of them saying he’d heard of you, that Ames mentioned you in a poker game. I asked how much they took him for, and they all clammed up. But it was written all over their faces.”
Mittie’s face grew hot, but it wasn’t from the sun that was bearing down. Calista always made such a drama out of everything. “They probably clammed up so they wouldn’t have to admit that he beat them. Not that I condone poker playing for anything more than match sticks, but why are you telling me this?”
“It just got me thinking that there’s a lot I haven’t told you, and now I’m feeling guilty after hearing that.”
“What else?”
“San Antonio, for one, when the Patriots broke up. Do you know the real reason?”
Mittie glanced at Ames, who tapped his wristwatch and made a rolling motion with his hand to hurry. “Ames said it was a misunderstanding. Why are you even bringing this up now? Can’t it wait?”
Calista grabbed her arm and looked her square in the eye. “Ames lost the entire cut of our San Antonio gig in a lousy club that had a little game going in the back. Every dime.”
Mittie’s head scrolled back to the conversation with Ames. “He said the group there wouldn’t let the Patriots fly, only you.”
Calista laughed as Ames came up. “It was great seeing you, too, Kentucky. May the best girl win.”
“Let’s get together before the start of the race, okay?”
Calista said, “Sure thing,” and scampered off.
Ames asked what the big secret was. “Just telling me the latest about her love life. Let’s get going.”
“You know I think instead of flying just around here, you should get some experience in the desert.”
“As long as I get to fly over the ocean at least once.”
He outlined a plan on the map that would take them to Temecula, which had both small mountains and desert terrain. “There’s no airfield, but a fella there has a makeshift runway and a fuel station. You okay with that?”
She nodded and buckled up, oriented herself again to the differences from other planes she’d flown, and studied the map one final time before takeoff.
Once they were in the air, turquoise blue water swirled below them, waves sweeping in all the way from China and dashing against the rocks. Mittie hugged the Los Angeles shoreline for a good twenty miles, soaring and dipping like she’d only dreamed, pushing the conversation with Calista to the far corners of her mind. She nosed up and headed southeast toward the desert and the parched brown hills. Two hours later, she landed on the bumpy turf Ames pointed out.
When they got out, Ames draped his arm around her shoulders. “What did you think?”
“There’s more vibration than I’m used to.”
“Bigger engine and more power is what you’re feeling.”
A couple of other things had come to her attention, too, that she hadn’t noticed at first. The gauges didn’t have a shiny new look to them, and the seat was a good fit, but not new. When she asked Ames about them, he shrugged. “I put the bulk of the money into the parts that would count. Aviation prices are skyrocketing with all the interest, and we were working on a short deadline.”
“And I appreciate every bit of what you’ve done. Truly I do.” She took off her helmet and shook her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. “Jeepers, it’s hot.”
“Nothing like it’s going to be in Arizona. That’s why I wanted you to get some desert experience. Let’s get a couple of rooms here and let you fly over the San Bernardino Mountains tomorrow since that’s the first leg of the race.”
“Bobby and Victor have already booked me a room in Santa Monica. They’re coming in tonight. If we left now, we’d make it.”
“You’d be flying into the sun. I think it’s too risky. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
They walked the few blocks into town where she found a pay phone and called the hotel to leave a message for Bobby and Victor that she had a change of plans. That night, they ate burritos in a cantina downtown and afterward strolled under a star-speckled sky past a Spanish mission. They ended on a high ridge that looked across miles of moonlit mountains and a vast sparse land whose mounds of prickly cactus resembled a host of porcupines. Ames pulled Mittie into his arms, his kisses warm, the rigors of the past two months melting between them. They sat on a rocky ledge where she nestled against his shoulder.
“This was a good idea, getting away from all the people. Did I ever thank you for believing in me?”
“I’ve always believed in you. In us. And I hope that you’ll fall in love with California as I have.”
“I won’t be here long enough to do that, but I have been wondering if you’d heard from Lester and Shorty lately.”
“What made you think of them?”
“Seeing Calista again reminded me of the good times we used to have, the poker games you guys used to play. Where are they now?”
“Can’t say as I know. And I’d prefer to think only of you for now.” He nibbled her ear. “Where were we?”
She didn’t answer, Calista’s revelation grating in her bones. A twinge of something niggled at her, and she remembered the guy in the welcome hangar that made Ames scowl. Was something brewing that made him suggest bringing her to the desert? She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, gazing at the shadowy cacti, which now looked like purple and blue bruises on the desert floor.
Ames ran his hand along her cheek. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“Just thinking about the race. I’d like to get to Clover Field by noon tomorrow, if that’s all right.”
“Sure, doll. Probably best for me, too. I’ll have to catch a train back to San Diego and get the car.”
“I thought you had someone helping you with that beforehand.”
“Didn’t work out, but you’ll be busy mingling and won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“You’re probably right. When will you get back?”
“Early evening, I hope.”
They walked back to the center of town to the small flat-roofed inn where Ames gave her a lingering kiss at the door and said goodnight.
Once in the room, Mittie remembered she hadn’t called her parents to tell them she’d arrived. She didn’t relish going out on the street alone to the phone she’d used earlier, but the clerk had told her it was the closest one. It was past midnight in Kentucky, and she wanted to slap herself for not remembering to call earlier, but her daddy picked up right away.
“Are you all right, sugar?”
“I’m fine. It’s sunny and warm here, perfect for trying out the new plane.”
“Any problems?” His voice held an edge of caution.
“Not a one. I met some of the other women and am looking forward to seeing Bobby and Victor tomorrow. You have the schedule, and you know I’ll call whenever I can.”
“I do, sugar. The reason I ask if there were any problems is that I got an unusual call this afternoon from the assembly plant.”
Mittie’s neck hairs prickled. “Oh?”
“Ames cleared out his personal things and took the plane before settling
up on the bill.”
She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting Ames to be standing there. “Should I ask him about it?”
“I’m sure it’s an oversight, but I thought you should be aware. I don’t want anything to get in the way of your being in the race.”
“Ames is going to San Diego to get the car tomorrow so he can follow the race, so I’m sure he’ll clear things up then.”
“Good enough. Your mother and I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Back in the room, Mittie slipped out of her flight pants, the feel of them still sticky from the heat, and got ready for bed, uneasy and uncertain about many things.
Chapter 29
Mittie awoke from a heavy sleep and couldn’t shake the groggy feeling or the weight of her uncertainty about Ames. More than once during breakfast, she almost mentioned her conversation with her dad, but an urgency churned in her gut to get in the air and back to Clover Field. Flying cleared her head, and they arrived just after noon to a complete transformation from only the day before. The grandstands were set up, the grounds swarming with people. Workers. Newspaper reporters with cameras. Mechanics. Men in suits and hats. Men in coveralls.
Ames sent her off alone to look for Bobby and Victor while he took the little canary plane to do some fine-tuning and ready it for the race. Mittie wove through the crowd toward the race headquarters, where it was just as frenetic inside as out with a bank of phone lines set up, wire strung everywhere. How would she ever find Bobby and Victor in such a throng?
They found her first, Bobby coming up on her right, Victor in tow. After the good to see you, glad you made it, how’s the plane banter, Victor said, “Can’t get over what a madhouse this is. Are you all set for tomorrow?”
“I will be. I’ve signed in and have all the instructions—just waiting on the welcome dinner tonight. Come on; you need to see the plane.”
Once outside, Bobby said, “We saw Peach earlier. She’s so excited I don’t think her feet ever touched the ground. Quite a machine she’s got.”
“Gee, that’s a real confidence booster.”
A Flying Affair Page 24
