A Flying Affair (15 page)

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.

Caroline planted her hands on her hips and huffed out a big breath. “I miss all the fun.” But she didn't argue.

Four hours later, Mira Josephine Bledsoe was born. “Tiny, but squalling,” Quentin reported on the telephone.

Mittie's mother, teary eyed, sat between Iris and Mittie with Caroline curled up on her lap. “Josephine was my mother, the grandmother you girls never knew. What a perfectly lovely tribute.”

And Mira was Nell's grandmother on her father's side. Lovely indeed.

When the house was settled that night, Mittie ran out to the barns and checked on Gypsy. The stable was quiet, the only sounds soft snorts from the horses and the rustle of straw on wood floors as the horses shifted lazily in their stalls. Gypsy lifted her head when Mittie drew near, no doubt hoping for a carrot nugget. Mittie didn't disappoint her. She rested her elbows on the ledge of the Dutch door and scratched Gypsy's muzzle, her jaw.

“Merry Christmas, girl. Sleep tight.” Gypsy. The one force in Mittie's life that remained the same. Somehow, she needed that reminder.

She slipped back to the house and was crawling into bed when there was a knock on her bedroom door.

Iris. “Can I come in?”

“You sure Hayden won't mind?”

“He's already snoring.”

Mittie waved her twin in, and the two of them sat cross-legged in the middle of Mittie's downy bed. Iris picked up a chenille throw pillow and twiddled with the fringe on the edge. “Just like old times.” Her voice was thin, uncertain.

“Only it's not. Is everything okay with you and Hayden?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just little clues here and there. I gathered he didn't want to come here, that he preferred duck hunting to our company.”

Her eyes glistened. “You noticed.”

“We all did. I mean who can compete with having your own private lake and the governor come for Christmas?”

Iris shrugged. “We did argue about that…all the way from Alabama. The governor's not actually coming until New Year's, so Hayden thought we should compromise and go back early.”

“And you didn't agree?”

“Yes and no. I desperately needed to be home with all of you and have been looking forward to it for months, but I also want to be a good wife and respect my husband's wishes.”

“So you had your first spat. He still seemed besotted with you if all those kisses under the mistletoe were any indication.”

Iris chuckled. “We thought no one was looking. And it wasn't our first spat.”

“I hope he's not mistreating you.”

“Oh goodness, no. He showers me with gifts and has let me decorate the house just the way I want it. But there are times when it's not how I envisioned being married. He works all the time, goes over to his parents' and forgets to call. If I say something, he reminds me that he has to prove himself so his daddy will give him the nod for vice president.” She heaved a sigh. “I miss you all more than you can imagine.”

“You'll get acquainted and make hordes of friends.”

“We do get scads of invitations, but I've not quite been accepted as a true Southerner, and a few have suggested that I might be a damn Yankee.”

“You sound like Calista.”

“Who?”

“The girl who beat me in the air race in St. Louis. A Georgia peach if there ever was one. I think I'll have a chance to beat her if I get my own plane.”

“You're taking this quite serious.”

“It's all I think about—that, and working on my international license so I can qualify for some of the bigger competitions.”

“And Ames? Are you serious about him, too?”

Mittie reached inside her nightshirt and pulled out the locket and told Iris about it.

“I saw that earlier and meant to ask you about it. It's his grandmother's necklace, huh? I would say that was pretty serious.”

“No commitments from either of us yet. Flying still tops everything.”

“You might consider getting to know his family before things get too far along. Things aren't always what they seem on the surface.”

“No worries there, sweet pea. With Ames, there are no mansions or houses by the lake. He only has a sister, so whatever future we have would just be the two of us.”

“And us. You can't forget that you have Mother and Daddy and me.”

“How could I ever forget that?”

Iris flopped back on one of the pillows. “Sometimes I wish I had your guts, your flair for the outrageous.”

“Are you coming down with something? You've never said that before.”

“I'm saying it now.”

“Maybe you're pregnant and it's affecting your senses.”

“I'm not pregnant—just a teensy bit jealous that you're going to blow your trust fund on an airplane and mine's tied up in stocks somewhere.”

“I'm not blowing it. It's an investment the same as yours.”

“I still think leaving it safe, even with a small amount of interest, is smarter than taking a chance.”

“You don't make any sense. You say you wish you were more daring and then bemoan that you're taking a risk by investing.”

“I don't think it's the money or even the risk. It's that it was one small piece of me that was mine, that if something happened to Hayden or, heaven forbid, if our marriage didn't work out, I'd have a shred to fall back on.”

“Like you said, we'll always have each other.”

Iris sat up. “Not if you get yourself killed in an airplane crash.”

“You're starting to sound like Mother again. Go on—get back to your husband before he wakes up and finds you gone.”

At breakfast the next morning, Hayden said that if he and Iris left straightaway, he might arrive at the lake in time to bag a few ducks. Iris kissed him on the cheek and said she'd be ready in an hour.

Mittie rubbed the gold locket between her thumb and forefinger.
Things aren't always what they seem.
Were Iris' words a confession or a cautionary tale?

Ames called with news that his sister was improving, and he was waiting for clear weather to return to Louisville. It was a small consolation. Mittie busied herself with visits to Nell and Quentin and marveled along with the rest of the family at how quickly the tiny bundle named Mira had completely captured all their hearts.

On the last Monday in January, Mittie had just come in from her morning ride on Gypsy when Ames called. She held her breath, hoping he would say he was back. Instead, he was in Lincoln, Nebraska. And he had found her a plane.

“What? Nebraska? Whose plane?” Her heart raced, but it was confusing and she thought there must be something wrong with the connection.

“A single-engine Curtiss that runs like a top. I think it's just what you're looking for.”

When reality began to sink in, a knot coiled in her stomach. She hadn't asked or expected Ames to take the lead on her search. Was it the nudge she needed?

Her business sense took over. “How did you happen to find it?”

“I was in Lincoln on business, talking to some of the fellas at the flying school, and heard about it.”

Stay calm. Don't go flipping over something that might be a wild goose chase.
Still, Ames had thought of her, and that sent goose bumps rippling down her arms.

She quizzed Ames about the plane, its track record, performance, the price—everything she could think of. It had to be a business decision, not an emotional one. She had her daddy to thank for that and her years of working among saddlebreds.

“One other question: Why is the owner selling?”

Ames chuckled. “His wife has her eye on a new house. I can pay him if you wire me the money, but we'll have to figure out how to get it to Louisville.”

The operator came on the line for the one-minute warning.

“I can't buy it without testing it. What's the weather like?”

“Bright blue skies. Frosty mornings. Perfect flying weather.”

“Let me do some checking here. Call me tomorrow, and I'll let you know.”

“A couple of other fellas have been looking at it, and he's anxious to sell, so timing is a factor.”

“See if he'll hold off until I get there.” The line went dead.

Ames would call tomorrow. Either way, she needed to be prepared. She went to the bank that afternoon and got the money, and after dinner told her parents she was going to Nebraska.

Her daddy remarked that it was rather sudden.

“You know I've been anxious to do this, and it's a spectacular opportunity.”

Her mother pinched her lips. “Forevermore, Mittie. What about the weather? It's so unpredictable this time of year.”

She hated when her mother adopted that tone, addressing her as if she were ten years old. Mittie held her tongue. “Ames assured me the weather was fine.” She gave them the details of the plane, but her daddy shook his head.

“I'm aware that you are anxious to get your own plane, but I had rather hoped you would go through Bobby York or Weaver.”

“You don't think Ames knows his business?”

“I'm sure he does, but the distance concerns me, and like I said, it seems too spontaneous.”

“I've already been to the bank and checked the train schedule.”

“I see.” Her daddy's jaw twitched. “Very well, then. You're a grown woman, and if you've made up your mind, there's no sense trying to convince you otherwise.”

 “I guess I'd rather hoped you would be happy for me.”

She spun on her heels and left the room, tears stinging her eyes.

The next day when Ames called, she told him when she would be there the following morning. That evening, she boarded the train for the twelve-hour trip. Sleep was elusive even with the curtain drawn around her berth in the Pullman coach. As the wheels clattered on the track beneath her, she wondered if she was being rash. In the next instant, she imagined herself soaring, climbing higher as she nosed through the clouds and came out above them at heaven's footstool.

Stiff and achy, she stepped onto the platform in Lincoln and breathed in the crisp winter morning, the skies wide open.

Ames waved from the rail, and she ran to his outstretched arms. He picked her up and swung her around, then kissed her, his aftershave fresh with a hint of spice.

She leaned back and looked at him. “You must've just come from the barber.” She tracked her finger along his smooth cheek, his neatly trimmed sideburns.

“Spiffed up just for you, doll.” He picked up her suitcase with one hand and hailed a cab with the other. “Nance—he's the fella selling—doesn't expect us for another hour. How about some breakfast?”

“I'm too nervous to eat, but I'd love a cup of coffee.”

Ames told the cab driver the name of a diner close to the Lincoln Flying School where the plane was kept. Twenty minutes later, they sat side by side in a booth, and while Ames ate, Mittie asked him to tell her again about the plane.

“You just need to see it for yourself.”

“Should I change into flight gear for a test flight?”

“There's a locker room at the field.” He put an arm around her and nuzzled her ear. “I can't tell you how much I've missed you.”

“Me, too. And if this works out, is there any chance we might fly back together?”

“There's nothing I'd love more, but when I flew
Trixie
down here, I hadn't reckoned I'd find you a plane. All my gear is back home in Iowa.” He squeezed her hand and leaned in close, his breath warm on her cheek.

Something niggled in her brain—Iris' words about getting to know Ames' family. “Wait! I have an idea. Why don't we fly to Iowa together, and I can meet your sister and see where you grew up? I'm in no rush to get back—”

He held up his hand. “Fern would love that, and so would I, but the doctor still hasn't given her clearance to be around people. The pneumonia's put quite a strain on her lungs.”

“So she's still under a doctor's care?”

“For now. I'm just relieved she's made as much progress as she has.”

“It's good of you to be so attentive. Is her husband able to help?”

“That lowlife? He wouldn't even if he was around. There's just Fern and Lela.” He shuddered as if the subject was distasteful.

“Lela? Who's she?”

Ames' hand went to his chest. “I've not told you about Lela? Ah…” He took a deep breath, his lips curving into a smile. “She's my niece. Three—no, wait—four years old with big brown eyes and long eyelashes.” He widened his eyes in exaggeration.

“Sounds like she got her looks from you.”

Ames shook his head. “That train ride must've addled your brain.”

“I don't know. I think you're pretty cute.”

He drained the last of his coffee. “And with that, I think we should be on our way.”

They could see the hangars of the Lincoln Flying School a few blocks away, and since they were still early, they walked, Ames carrying Mittie's bag, the bright clear morning full of promise.

Mr. Nance had clipped hair, graying at the temples, and wore coveralls with a grease rag in the back pocket. When he saw Ames, he wiped his hands on the rag and came to greet them, a curious look on his broad face.

“I see you've brought the missus.”

Ames chuckled. “No, this is Mittie Humphreys, the one who's interested in buying the plane.”

Mittie offered her hand. “I appreciate you waiting until I had a chance to get here.”

Mr. Nance nodded, a look of puzzlement on his broad face. “You're the buyer?”

“I hope to be…after I've had a chance to try out the plane, of course. Ames tells me it flies like a dream.”

He nodded toward her and turned to Ames. “Could I talk with you privately?”

“I'm sure that anything you have to say, Mittie would like to hear.”

“There's been a misunderstanding. You led me to believe you were buying the plane for yourself, not…” His look soured when his eyes met Mittie's. “I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name.”

“Mittie Humphreys from Louisville.”

“Mr. Dewberry didn't say anything about no dame.”

Ames drew in a deep breath. “You were quite eager to sell yesterday. Has someone given you a better offer?”

His jaw twitched. “I'm sorry for your trouble, miss, but the plane's no longer available.”

Ames' face darkened. “What do you mean? I thought we had an understanding.”

“I beg to differ. There was never any mention of selling to a woman who is young enough to be my daughter. That Earhart woman should be ashamed putting ideas into girls' heads.”

Mittie felt like she'd been hit with a shovel. Who did Mr. Nance think he was? And why hadn't Ames told him she was the buyer? Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Calm down. All is not lost.

She made a feeble attempt at chuckling. “I admire a man who has strong opinions, and I'm sure you want the best home for your plane. You no doubt wonder if I'm capable. If it's any consolation, I've been through a flying program and have a pilot's license.” She walked over and looked at the plane, ran her fingers along the nose. “She's quite a beauty. I hope you'll reconsider. And I'm prepared to pay cash if that's a concern.”

Mr. Nance looked from Ames to Mittie. “The plane is not for sale.” He turned on the heel of heavy boots and marched toward the hangar, leaving Mittie with her mouth gaping open and fury pulsing through her.

She turned to Ames, trying to control the growl crawling up her throat. “I can't believe he would be so close-minded.” The taste of acid came in her mouth. Her eyes narrowed. “Why didn't you tell him I was the buyer?”

Ames held up his hands and took a step back. “I had no idea he would be so pigheaded. He was more than eager yesterday.”

“When he thought he was dealing with you…a man.”

“I may have let on that I was the buyer. I honestly didn't think it was important. What I suspect is he had a better offer and just used you as an excuse.”

Mittie gritted her teeth. “You had me come all this way and only told him half of the truth.” She picked up her suitcase and walked toward the hangar.

Within seconds he was beside her. “I was only looking out for your best interests. I thought you'd be pleased. Besides…” He stopped, a scowl knitting his dark brows together.

“Besides, what?”

He gave her a sheepish look. “Look, Mr. Nance's opinion isn't all that uncommon. I've run into quite a few who share his outlook. You have to coddle people sometimes to bring them around to new ideas. I was only trying to protect you. I felt certain that once he met you, he'd have no objections.”

“It looks like your brilliant plan backfired.”

“You're not sore at
me
, are you?” The pleading look in his eyes almost melted her resolve.

She raised her eyebrows and looked steadily into Ames' deep brown eyes. “I'm not sure what I think. Disappointed about the plane, but upset with you, too. All this way for nothing.” The heat in her face wasn't just disappointment or anger, although she did feel those things. Mr. Nance was entitled to his opinions, small-minded as they were, but the gnawing in her stomach told her she'd been foolish to have acted so impulsively, a pattern in her life she thought she'd improved on. Apparently not.

Ames tilted her chin with his index finger. “I'm sorry. Let's go somewhere and enjoy what's left of the day.”

Mittie shook her head. “There's a train that leaves in two hours. I plan to be on it.”

He blew out a breath and shrugged. “Have it your way. I need to be getting back home myself.”

A cloud hung in the air between them, one that neither seemed to break through. Ames called a cab to take her to the station and told her he'd call. It sounded hollow.

Halfway to St. Louis, it started snowing—not big, fluffy flakes like they'd had on Christmas Eve, but blinding curtains of snow and sleet. Weather she might very well have been flying in had Mr. Nance granted her ownership of the plane. Her protection hadn't come from Ames, but from a source much greater.

She didn't need Ames Dewberry or anyone else to find her a plane. If she was going to make it in a profession ruled by men, she would have to depend on herself. And maybe a little help from above.