Hearts in Flight Page 2

  Merrilee fussed with the tablecloth, straightening one corner then another. “How is Maggie?”

  She’s stubborn and insubordinate and . . interesting. “Why didn’t you tell me she was your niece?”

  A slight movement at the door drew Wesley’s attention. Balancing a ceramic pot in one hand and looking very uncomfortable, Edie Michaels stood just inside the doorway. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No, dear. Wes and I are just flapping our gums.” Merrilee bustled around the table, anxious eyes watching Wesley. A dense cloud of steam rose like a smoke signal as she lifted the pot’s lid. “What have we got here?”

  “Black-eyed peas.”

  “Why don’t you put them right here?” Merrilee pushed a pitcher of tea aside and pointed to a doily near the end of the table.

  Wesley quietly observed the latest addition to the Bell Plant as the women fussed over the dinner spread. While Bob Carson, the operational engineer, spoke highly of his new secretary, something about Edie Michaels just didn’t add up. True, she kept to herself most of the time so he didn’t know her very well. But she carried herself with a dignity more befitting a debutante at a cotillion, not a girl in the typing pool at a bomber plant.

  “Edie, could you check on the cornbread for me?” Merrilee walked with the young woman to the doorway. “I’ll be just a minute.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Edie’s footsteps faded out of earshot and his landlady piled the cloth napkins on the edge of the table. She faced him. “I know I should have told you about Maggie, but I’d hoped you might be able to talk some sense into her.”

  So Maggie’s family isn’t completely sold on this WASP business like she’d led me to believe. Wesley grabbed one of the napkins and worked it into a neat fold. “Miss Merrilee, F.D.R himself couldn’t talk that woman out of this assignment.”

  “Maggie’s always had a stubborn streak a mile wide.” Pride shone from Merrilee’s gray eyes as she chuckled. “Guess it runs in the family.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” He lifted another napkin from the pile. “That’s just the kind of attitude that’ll get her in trouble.”

  “Oh, Wes, I hope not. Her momma and daddy have already dealt with some much, losing Jackson.”

  “Wasn’t Jackson Mrs. Daniels’ kid brother?”

  Merrilee nodded. “But they took him in after his momma died in childbirth. Mr. Clark couldn’t handle a baby, and Mae Belle and Jeb had given up hope of ever having one of their own. Then Maggie came along. I don’t know if they could take it if something happened to. . .” The tone of her voice rose a step, as if twisted in pain. “I normally wouldn’t ask this, you not being family and all.”

  “Miss Merrilee, you know I’d do anything to help you out.”

  The woman rested her hand on his forearm, much like his mother did whenever she needed to ask something of him. “Then watch out for our girl, Wesley. Keep her safe.”

  Wesley swallowed hard. Anyone who had ever climbed into the cockpit of a plane, felt the rumble of the engine as they catapulted down the runway knew that death was an occupational hazard. Maggie had faced the realities of this truth in her uncle’s death and accepted them anyway. Wesley had dealt with it too.

  Beth.

  He shook the memory away. How had he found himself in this situation again? War wasn’t the time for piecrust promises Pops had warned him against making. Easily made, easily broken. Wesley glanced at his landlady, the worry lining her face giving him pause. It wasn’t like the girl would be flying into a fire fight. If he had anything to do with it, she wouldn’t be flying at all.

  Regret rifling through him even as the words formed on his lips. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to your niece, Merrilee. I promise.”

  2

  Maggie’s eyelids fluttered open as the old buckboard jerked to a halt. She rolled onto her back and stretched, the fresh cut hay crunching beneath her, it’s unique scent filling the air with memories of playing hide and seek with Jackson in the barn. Above her, tuffs of white formed abstract images on a canvas of blue sky.

  As a child, she’d spent hours looking to the heavens, thinking that death meant sitting on a cloud with the Lord. She extended her hand toward heaven, her fingers tracing the imaginary lines of God’s masterpiece. If that were the case, Jackson must certainly be enjoying the view.

  Maggie dropped her arm to her side. Was that why she always loved being in the air, so that she could feel the mist of God’s handiwork against her face and hands, breathe in the fresh scent of His presence? Soaring high above the clouds, she felt closer to Him there than she ever did here on earth.

  “We’re almost there, Magpie.”

  The wagon lurched forward as Maggie struggle to stand up. Wrapping her arms around her father’s lanky form, she hugged him close. “Don’t you think I’m just a bit old for that nickname, Dad?”

  He shook his head, a smile playing along the corners of his mouth. “Nope.”

  She pressed her head against her daddy’s back, the steady rhythm of his heart in stark contrast to her own. In a few more minutes, she’d start living her dreams.

  “Worried, baby girl?”

  Daddy knew her so well. Lifting her head, she looked at him. “Do you think I can do this?”

  “I think you can do anything you put your mind to doing.”

  “Really?”

  Her father’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down the tan line of his throat. “Keep your eyes on the Lord, and all things are possible.” He gave her a half-hearted smile before turning his attention back to the road.

  The air squeezed out of Maggie’s lungs. Jackson’s death had affected them all, but no one as much as their father. The lines around his eyes and across his forehead had deepened, as if a sharp blade had plowed through the steadiness of his world and broken his spirit. Maggie closed her eyes.

  Lord, use me as you will but please keep me safe for my parents’ sakes.

  The steady beat of horse hoofs against the red clay ignited a crimson fog around them that left Maggie sticky and hot. The smell of yesterday’s turned soil hung in the air, the fields quiet. Even with the war going into its fourth year, no God-fearing farmer would be caught working his spread on a Sunday. As they entered a lush parasol of water oaks, a gentle breeze rippled through the leaves, cooling Maggie’s face.

  “She’s here!”

  Maggie broke into a smile as she caught sight of her aunt stepping out onto the whitewashed porch. With a grace that would have put Scarlet O’Hara to shame, Aunt Merrilee hurried down the steps, her lace handkerchief waving like a flag on the Fourth of July. Her dad’s low ‘whoa’ brought the buckboard to a fitful halt at the foot of the staircase.

  Maggie scrambled to the edge of the wagon. “Hi, Merrilee!”

  Before her saddle shoes could touch mortar, she was surrounded by Merrilee’s warm embrace, the scent of magnolias and yeast bread engulfing her in a homey welcome. She relaxed into her aunt’s arms, already homesick for the feel of her momma’s velvet cheek against her own.

  “Don’t coddle the girl.” Maggie looked over her aunt’s shoulder to see Uncle James descending the stairs. “After all, she wants to fly in this war like a man.”

  “More reason to show her how much we love her.” Merrilee loosened her hold, draping one arm around Maggie’s waist. “So, if I want to spoil my only niece, I don’t need any comments from an old stubborn headed coot like you, big brother.”

  “All I can say is that if she were my daughter, we wouldn’t be talking such nonsense.” James crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’d have her married off with a house full of youngins.”

  “But she’s not your daughter, now is she?” The buckboard creaked as her father jumped down beside her. “As far as I’m concerned, anyone who says a thing against her is as bad as those fellows we’re fighting over there in Europe and in the Pacific.”

  “Well done, Jeb.” Merrilee’s mouth spread into a victorious smile and fo
r one moment, Maggie wondered if she would stick her tongue out at her elder brother. There had always been bad blood between the two for as long as Maggie could remember, but things had taken a turn for the worse in the year since Granddaddy Daniels had died and left the family homestead to Merrilee. Uncle James hadn’t taken too kindly to being a squatter in the home he believed he rightfully owned.

  “How are you doing, big brother?”

  Tiny plumes of dust rose as Maggie’s father slapped his old straw hat against his dingy overalls. “Fine.”

  “Where’s Mae Belle? I thought she’d be coming with you.” Merrilee searched the area behind him.

  “She’s keeping close to home right now.”

  Uncle James leaned against the handrail, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Mae Belle would be a sight better if her daughter stayed at home, minding the house where she belonged.”

  Guilt tightened its fingers around Maggie’s heart at her father’s attempt to withhold the truth. Since news of Jackson’s death, Momma hadn’t left the house, not even for Sunday morning services. But this afternoon, she had stood on their front porch, waving her encouragement until her petite figure disappeared from Maggie’s view.

  “Ignore him,” Merrilee whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. “James barely made it to Europe before President Wilson declared victory.”

  Jeb bowed his head, his soft chuckle causing a smile to tug at Maggie’s lips.

  “You are going to stay for supper, aren’t you, Jeb?” Merrilee smiled, effectively changing the subject. “I made your favorite, peach cobbler.”

  “I need to get goin’ if I want to make it home by dark.” He shook his head, his eyes skirting the perimeter of the yard. “But I could do with a piece of that cobbler.”

  “How about some tea?” In two shakes of a pig’s tail, Merrilee was up the steps, pulling Maggie along with her. As she opened the screen door, Merrilee turned and called out to Uncle James. “I’d appreciate it if you’d take Maggie’s things up to her room.”

  “No,” he answered, spraying black-brown tobacco juice onto the ground. “If she’s goin’ act like a man, she can get her own bags.”

  “I’d be happy to get that for you, Miss Merrilee.”

  Maggie glanced down the length of the porch. Wesley Hicks, his shirt sleeves neatly rolled up over tan forearms, sat in the far corner just within Maggie’s view. He rose, sending the rocking chair into a frenzied dance that matched the sudden beating of her heart.

  She cringed. How long had he been sitting there, listening to her uncle belittle her? Too long, if the tight pull of his month and furrowed brow was anything to go by. Well, this just wouldn’t do.

  Maggie bounded down the stairs. “I appreciate the offer, Captain, but I can manage on my own.”

  She leaned against the dilapidated wagon, silently praying that her one good dress would survive its brush with the splintered wood siding. The split leather cracked beneath her touch as she grabbed it and gave it a tug.

  “Around here, the name’s Wesley.” The captain’s voice tickled her ear as his hand closed over hers. A slight shiver traveled up her arm in a pleasant sort of way. Maggie slipped her hand out of his grip.

  He gave the suitcase a tug. “What did you pack in here? A bag of rocks?”

  “Betcha diamonds to donuts my girl brought her books with her.” The pride she heard from her father tempered her frustration. “You see, Margaret Rose wants to go to college.”

  “Margaret Rose?” The captain’s eyes--Wesley’s--danced with laughter. “Like the little English princess?”

  “Yes, but Maggie had it first.” Merrilee smiled from the top of the stairs. “We like to think King George borrowed it from her.”

  Uncle James snorted. “She don’t look like no princess to me.”

  Heat shimmied up Maggie’s neck and across her cheeks. No, regal wasn’t exactly the word she’d use to describe herself at this moment. She itched from the sprigs of hay that clung to the faded cloth of her dress, and her hair swirled around her face as if she’d flown through a windstorm. A pig in mud looked a sight better than she did. Why hadn’t she followed Momma’s suggestion and sat up front with her father?

  Too late for that now. Why should she care how she looked to Wesley Hicks or any other man for that matter? She had a job to do, and she intended to do it to the best of her ability.

  “You’re the new squadron leader over at the airfield, Captain Hicks?” Daddy leaned against the porch railing.

  She didn’t think her cheeks could grow any hotter. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Captain Hicks, this is my father, Jebadiah Daniels. Daddy, this is Captain Wesley Hicks.”

  Wesley extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” Jeb shook his hand. “I hear you saw some action over in England. Where about?”

  “Around London mainly, through I did get into some skirmishes over the Channel.”

  Daddy nodded, his stance straightening. He’d always had a deep respect for the soldiers of the armed forces, but it had grown even more in the time since Jackson’s death. “We need a few good men, both here and overseas, if we intend to win this war.”

  “And a few good women too, sir.” Wesley glanced over at her.

  Another compliment? Heat flushed across her chest. She almost opened her mouth to thank him, but caught herself as he moved away. Had there been a hint of sorrow in his expression? Maybe his statement wasn’t necessarily meant for her. Did the captain had someone else in mind? Could it be that he hadn’t been honest with her about a girlfriend back home?

  Or maybe he had. Maggie grasped hold of an idea. No man would ever admit that their girl was serving overseas while he waited at home. She glanced at him. It made sense. She could respect the position he was in, but he should have been up front with her.

  “Which room should I put her bags in, Miss Merrilee?” Wesley asked.

  Her aunt waved a hand in the air like an airman guiding a plane in for a perfect three-point landing. “The one directly above yours.”

  “It ain’t proper, Merrilee!” Uncle James hissed. “What will people around town think?”

  “It can’t be helped. Major Evans came around last week and asked if I could make every room available for all the folks coming into town to work at the Bell.” Merrilee winked at Maggie. “I’m just glad I still had enough room for Maggie.”

  “All the same. People are goin’ to talk. Unmarried folks living in the same house might be all right in the big city but this is Marietta.” James’ eyes bored into her. “We’re God-fearing people.”

  “Then maybe you need to start spending some time with Him, James.” Jeb made his way down the brick steps. “If Mae Belle and I trust our daughter’s judgment, I don’t see where this is any of your business.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, little brother. As the eldest son of Jacob Daniels, it’s my responsibility to see that our father’s will is followed to the letter of the law.” Uncle James hardened his jaw so tight, Maggie thought it might snap. “And we all know that Daddy held very high standards. Co-habitation is not an immorality that he would have taken lightly.”

  “James, I’m raising Clara in this house. I wouldn’t think to offer anything less than a respectable and decent place for my daughter as well as my boarders.” Merrilee answered. “Stop talking such foolishness.”

  “Why?” Her uncle pointed an accusing finger at Maggie. “She’s the one making a fool out of herself with this flying nonsense.”

  Everything went suddenly quiet around Maggie. Is that what her family thought, that her dreams were nonsense? She didn’t dare look at any of them, couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the answer in their faces. A heavy weight settled over Maggie’s shoulders. Would she ever be able to prove to the people she loved the most in the world that flying was God’s plan for her life?

  “I’d think you would be proud of her, Mr. Daniels,” Wesley pulled even with Un
cle James on the stairs. “It’s not just anyone who gets selected to join the WASP.”

  Maggie swallowed hard. What was Wesley Hicks doing?

  Daddy glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” Wesley shifted her suitcase from one hand to the other. “It’s my understanding that only eleven hundred women were accepted to serve in this civilian program.”

  Uncle James smirked. “So what?”

  “Your niece was picked out of over ten thousand women who applied, and of them, only eleven hundred got their wings.” Wesley nodded toward Maggie. “If anything, her selection should make your family proud.”

  Maggie lowered her chin to her chest, her heart hammering against her breast. Wesley Hicks had stood up for her. But why?

  He took the brick stairs two at a time, the suitcase in his hand as if it weighted nothing. One day, he brow-beat her with questions about her flying abilities, the next, defending her against her uncle’s outdated views on women. If she didn’t watch it, she might grow to like the captain. That wouldn’t do, not when she was on the verge of realizing her dreams. So many questions regarding the man, but one thing she knew for certain.

  Serving under Wesley Hicks’ command would be like running full-throttle into the stratosphere.

  Wesley chanced a glance at the woman coming up the stairs behind him. Maggie had been deathly quiet since her uncle’s outburst. So much so, he had hoped she might turn tail and run. But she hadn’t. With a look of the resolve he’d caught a glimpse of yesterday at her place, Maggie had snapped to attention and climbed the stairs to her temporary home.

  At the landing, he turned and headed for a freshly painted white door on the far end of the hall. He turned the knob, pushed open the door, and stepped back. “Here you go, Ace.”

  She stepped passed him into the room, the scent of sunshine and freshly cut hay trailing after her. Wesley checked the hall before following her inside, leaving the door wide open. No sense giving people something to talk about, especially after the way James Daniels had voiced his concerns to anyone who would listen.