Hearts in Flight

by Patty Smith Hall

  “I’m sorry. Momma was crying and I got scared.”

  Claire’s contrite expression pulled at her heart. The poor little thing, worrying about her momma like that. Uncle James should be ashamed of himself, upsetting Merrilee and Claire so.

  “You don’t worry about it anymore, you hear me.” Maggie cradled Claire close. “Let the grownups deal with this.”

  Baby fine hair brushed across Maggie’s bare arm as her cousin’s head fell back. “So, we’re staying here?”

  “Yes.” Maggie kissed the tip of Claire’s nose, then shoed her off her lap. “Now, scoot or we’ll never make the train to Atlanta.”

  Claire headed for the door, then spun around. “Thanks, Maggie.”

  Maggie smiled. Boy, how she loved the little runt. “Close the door behind you, Squirt!”

  Once the door clicked shut, Donna twisted around to face Maggie. “You were hugging the captain?”

  “It’s not what its sounds like.” Leaning into the mirror, Maggie uncapped her mascara. “I was excited about getting my first flight assignment and ended up hugging Wesley. See, nothing to it.”

  “I don’t recall you ever giving Captain Harper a hug when he passed out flight assignments,” Donna said, chuckling softly. “But then you never were on a first name basis with him either.”

  “Look.” Turning to Donna, she pointed the mascara wand at her. “Wesley and I are friends. That’s all. Nothing else, okay?”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so.” The words left a disagreeable feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maggie snatched a bobby pin holding a pin curl in place and scratched her scalp. “What I’m worried about is my aunt. Why in the world would Uncle James fight her over this stupid house?”

  “Your uncle obviously doesn’t think it’s so stupid.”

  Maggie shook her head, her freed curls bouncing violently. “He can’t understand why Granddaddy left Merrilee the family homestead instead of him.”

  “But he did leave it to your aunt.” Donna traced the outline of her lips with her little finger.

  “With a stipulation.” Maggie explained the moral clause attached to her Grandfather Daniels’ will.

  “You’ve got to be kidding. Who thinks up that kind of stuff anymore?”

  “Granddaddy was very set in his ways.”

  “You mean, men are men and women should be out in the kitchen, talking about having babies.” Donna dipped a cottony puff into the perfumed dusting powder. “Are the rest of the people here as behind the times?”

  “No,” Maggie said, then clarified herself “At least most of them aren’t.”

  “And the ones who are?”

  “Cause as much trouble as they possibly can.”

  Donna eyed her warily. “What kind of trouble?”

  Thinking about the note, Maggie yanked at another curler but the thick teeth caught her hair in a tight tangle like vines in a briar patch. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know about the threat. After all, loose lips sink ships, and this particular vessel might be the entire WASP program. But Donna had a right to know what kind of danger she was flying into.

  Glancing toward the closed door, Maggie met her friend’s worried gaze in the mirror. “Someone at the plant threatened me.”

  Wesley bounded up the front stairs of Merrilee’s, dodging the last of the raindrops. Above, the gray clouds played peek-a-boo with blue skies. If the weather reports could be trusted, another storm system was on its way. Usually, that meant a quiet day around the airfield.

  He needed some peace after today.

  He closed his eyes and let out of long sigh. Another super fortress down. No reasons why yet, but an investigation had been launched. The news had left him stunned, pushing stacks of paper around his desk the rest of the afternoon and wondering why.

  Taking a deep breath, Wesley opened the door and stepped inside, the screen door slapping shut behind him. He snatched his hat off. The dampness of his clothes chilled him and he had to resist the urge to shake like a soaked dog. He hated being wet, despised it. Reminded him too much of the airfield outside of York, waiting to fly into the Blitz over London.

  “You’re soaked to the gills.”

  Wesley looked up. Claire stood on the stairs, her thin arms loaded down with several towels. “You wouldn’t want to give me one of those, would you?”

  Claire plunked one from the top of the pile and handed it to him. “This one’s clean.”

  “Thank you.” Wrapping it around his shoulders, he pointed to the rest of her slash she’d dropped at the puddles around his feet. “How did you manage to get the rest of those dirty?”

  “Don’t blame me.” Claire leaned back to glare at him. “I’m not upstairs, primping.”

  “You mean Maggie and Donna?”

  “And Miss Edie.” Her head bobbed up and down as she wiped up the water on the floor. “It sure does take a lot of work to get ready to go to Atlanta.”

  So, Maggie was hitting the town with Donna and Edie. They’d probably catch a movie at the Fox before heading down the street to the Varsity. Good. She’d been working so hard here lately. It just seemed fair for her to get out and have a little fun.

  A door at the back of the house slammed shut. Within seconds, Merrilee came up the hall, the warm scent of starch radiating from the cloud of clothing piled high in her outstretched arms. She stopped in front of him.

  “My word, you’re drenched to the skin. Get upstairs and get out of those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia.”

  Wesley smiled. The woman gave orders better than most generals he knew. He scrubbed the towel through his hair. “Let me dry off some so I don’t puddle up the rest of your house.”

  “All right, but don’t take too long. It wouldn’t be very patriotic to start an epidemic at the Bell.” Merrilee glanced down at her daughter. “Claire Bear, would you go out to the kitchen and make sure I turned off the iron?”

  “Aw, Momma.”

  Even the matted curls framing Merrilee’s face couldn’t soften her stern look. “Right now, young lady.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Gathering the towels around his feet, Claire trudged down the hallway.

  Wesley pulled at his wet tie. “The girls are going to a lot of fuss for a night out.”

  Merrilee laughed as she started upstairs. “Well, you can’t expect them to wear those nasty overalls they work in when they’re going to the USO.”

  A dull ache settled behind his eyes. Maybe he was catching a cold after all. “Why aren’t they wearing their Santiago Blues.”

  “They’re going dancing, not reporting in to General Eisenhower.” Merrilee laughed. “Besides, the boys shipping out want to see the girls in all their feminine finery, not some horrible uniform.”

  “I guess you’ve got a point there.” Still, the whole idea didn’t sit well. Overalls looked swell, particularly on Maggie. Her dark red hair, her feminine curves in her blue uniform would turn enough heads. Why did she have to get all dolled up for a bunch of freckle faced GIs right off the farm?

  “I’ve got your dinner warming in the stove.” Merrilee started up the stairs. “That’ll give you time to change out of those wet clothes.”

  “No hurry, Miss Merrilee.” Wesley sat down on the bottom step and shut his eyes. It was the crash. It had to be. Nothing else would scramble his emotions concerning Maggie. He wasn’t here to fall in love. He didn’t have time. If he did, the girl in question certainly wouldn’t be a pilot.

  A quiet night at home was just what he needed. Time to focus on his priorities. Get his head back into the battle.

  “Are you okay?”

  Maggie’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of red-tipped toes peeking out from beneath a skirt the color of the heather that bloomed in the fields outside Pops’ house in the late summer.

  He looked up. Gone was the grease monkey who could fix a leaky oil line on a P-51 faster than any man on his squad. Instead, a beautiful woman stood be
fore him. Her hair had been freed from the confines of her snood, dark red curls tumbling around her shoulders in soft waves, her bangs pinned back from her face with a simple barrette. She wore little makeup, only a faint touch of lipstick.

  His heart skipped a beat or two. Wesley stood and stepped back. “Why would you ask that?”

  “I don’t know. You just seem. . .beaten.”

  He felt beaten. By the storm. By the crash. By life. He didn’t realize she was standing in front of him until her hand slid across his cheek.

  “You want to talk about it.”

  He studied Maggie’s face. He’d love to share this burden with her, listen to her sound advice. Why tell her about the downed B-29 when she bubbled with happiness? There would be plenty of time for discussions tomorrow. “Rough afternoon, that’s all.”

  She nodded and dropped her hand from his face. The warm tingle her touch had provoked lingered.

  “Is it still raining?” Maggie swept passed him, glanced out the window then looked back at him. “You’re wet.”

  He’d definitely caught something serious. Maybe scarlet fever or polio. This weakness in the knees feeling couldn’t have anything to do with the concern he saw in Maggie’s eye. Wesley cleared his throat. “I got caught in the last of the rain on my way home.”

  “Then what are you doing down here? You should be upstairs changing in to some dry clothes.”

  He felt a smile tug at his lips. He liked when Maggie took charge. To a point. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

  “That’s got a familiar ring to it.” Her laughter faded into a husky murmur. “No wonder you’re dead on your feet. You’ve been putting in enough time at the plant to kill a man.”

  What would if feel like to trace his fingers along the gentle slope of her jaw? To tilt her determined little chin back and . . . He shook his head. “There’s a war going on. Everyone’s putting in long hours.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Her expression softened. “I should be thanking you for giving me the afternoon off. I haven’t had this much fun since my first furlough at Sweetwater.”

  He smiled. The thought of Maggie enjoying herself made him feel lighter, almost happy. “You’re welcome.”

  “Maybe you need some time off to forget your troubles.”

  His spirits dampened to match the uncomfortable feel of his clothes. A lifetime might not be long enough to forget his troubles. How he had failed his sister. How, if he wasn’t careful, he might end up failing Maggie too.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs and he looked up. Donna and Edie floated down the steps in a sea of blue and white, Merrilee close behind. While her friends looked nice, neither woman could hold a candle to Maggie.

  “We’d better get going if we’re going to make the train.” Edie handed Maggie her purse.

  Snapping open her bag, Maggie seemed to study the contents. “We don’t want to keep Bill and his friends waiting.”

  Bill?

  “Have you got a nickel in case you need to call home?” Merrilee fussed with the collar of Maggie’s dress.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Wrapping her arm around her aunt, Maggie gave her a quick kiss on her cheek that left a faint imprint. “We won’t be too late.”

  The women were out the door and down the front walk before Wesley finally recovered from the shock. “Who’s Bill?”

  Merrilee shut the door and turned around. “He’s Donna’s beau. His squadron is flying out next week so they’re in town for the next couple of days.”

  “He’s a pilot?”

  Merrilee nodded. “Donna trained him herself.”

  A slight sense of relief flowed through Wesley. A man could do worse than having the company of three lovely ladies. Not exactly the way he’d say goodbye to his sweetheart but to each his own.

  “It was particularly nice of him to bring along two of his friends to keep Maggie and Edie company. Guess he just wanted to be alone with Donna for a while.” Merrilee glanced at herself in the hall mirror and stopped. “My word, why didn’t you tell me I had lipstick all over my cheek?”

  He didn’t see it until she leaned into the glass. A bright cherry stain. Maggie’s lipstick.

  “I swear.” Merrilee pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and blotted at the mark. “That girl ruined her makeup before she even got out of the door”

  The other ways a girl could mess up her lipstick spurred him toward the stairs. “Miss Merrilee, I’m going out for the evening.”

  “But you just got home. You haven’t even had your dinner.”

  “Could you save it? I’ll take it for lunch tomorrow.” He took the steps two at a time. Maybe Maggie was right. He needed a couple of hours to unwind after the stresses of his day.

  And what better place to relax than the USO?

  12

  The Forsyth Street USO was packed tighter than a jar of Aunt Merrilee’s homemade pear preserves. Local girls in the finest war rations could provide were scattered around the gymnasium turned dance floor. Every branch of the military was represented in the hall with replacement troops lining the walls, hoping for a chance to find love before shipping out.

  Maggie smiled. Hitler didn’t stand a chance against the good ole USA.

  She stole at sideway look at her date. All she could hope was that there wasn’t any more back home like Lt. Charles Webber. He was okay in the looks department, even had some of the girls given him the once over when he’d walked her to their table. But whatever interest she might have had took a nosedive the minute Charles started complaining about the fueling system on the B-29.

  Hadn’t he even read the briefings? Wesley would have chewed any of his pilots out for not keeping updated, and with good reason.

  Wesley. He’d looked so tired tonight, as if he had the weight of a B-29 on his shoulders. If she hadn’t promised Donna she’d keep Charles company, she would have begged off and spent a quiet evening at home.

  What was she thinking? She couldn’t afford to dwell on the feelings Wesley evoked in her, not when it put her dreams at risk.

  Then why am I looking at every man who walks by and comparing them to Wesley?

  “The army’s training me to fly B-29s. You know, the flying coffin.” Charles leaned toward her, the wolfish gleam in his eyes caused a slight shudder to race down her spine. He must have mistaken her repulsion for a chill and draped his arm along the back of her chair.

  She leaned forward, glancing across the table at Donna and Bill. Poor things looked so uncomfortable. Not exactly the romantic evening they’d probably pictured for their last night together. Well, she’d dealt with worse situations and it was only for one night.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “I’m sorry, Its been a long day,” Maggie took a deep breath to clear her head. “Please go on.”

  The lieutenant eyed her warily. “Like I said, those guys in Washington are willing to risk good pilots on that piece of junk.”

  “Come on, Charlie,” Bill interjected, a smile dancing on his lips as he rose and held his hand out to Donna. “Why talk about planes when you could be out there on the dance floor with a beautiful woman?”

  “It’s okay. I’m not much of a dancer.” Maggie rested her chin in the palm of her hand, watching Donna take her fiancé’s hand and lean into him. “I’m very interested in what Charles has to say.”

  “Are you sure?” Donna asked, her brow wrinkled in disbelief.

  Maggie nodded. “Go. Have a good time.”

  The couple drifted toward the dance floor, Donna turning around once to mouth a quick apology. The muffled sound of the trombone announced the beginning of a Glenn Miller song. Couples swayed to the slow rhythm of ‘Moonlight Serenade.’

  Maggie reached for her lemonade and took a sip. The cool drink did nothing to sweeten her sour mood. “So, Charles. What do you think about the Super Fortress?”

  “Really?” The man curled his hand around Maggie’s shoulder and pulled her back against him, the overwhelming s
mell of hair balm and diesel fuel burning her nose. Obviously, not many people asked for his opinion.

  She peeled his fingers from her shoulder. “Yes.”

  “Well, the things a huge mess, a design flaw. But do those guys in Washington care?” Webber shook his head; his lips draw up in a tight smirk. “Those suits just want us up there, bombing the crud out of the Japs.”

  “Isn’t that your job?” Had the sour lemonade turned her voice so tart? Or the company she was keeping.

  Well, sure it is, honey, but within reason. This country can’t afford to lose our best up there, hoping on a wing and a prayer. And the test pilots have counted the bodies, they’re wising up. So guess what the boys in Washington are going to do?” He began to laugh as if ready to let her in on the punch line. “They’re going to give those girl flyers a chance at the B-29.”

  Wonder where I can find those ‘boys’ and thank them. “Maybe having a girl fly the thing would prove to the other pilots it’s safe.” Maggie balled her fist into the skirt of her dress.

  “Everybody knows the mechanics of flying is too hard for the female mind to grasp.” Charles lifted the Coke bottle to his lips and took a sip. “Yeah, there are a few that manage it but they’re oddballs. Throw in all those feminine emotions and you’ve got a real recipe for disaster.”

  Lord, You promise I can do all things through You, but I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out with this guy. Maggie worked to keep her voice even. “But didn’t Eleanor Roosevelt say that women are the untapped resource with the capacity to free up more men for the front?”

  “She’s as odd as those girl flyers. What would she know about fighting a war? But that’s enough about that.” Webber took one last slug of his coke before shifting to face her. “I’d rather spend what time I’ve got left getting to know a pretty girl like you, Margaret.”

  Maggie flinched when his fingers made contact with her bare arm. “You sound like you’ve been handed a death sentence, Lieutenant.”

  “Maybe I have.” Before Maggie could move of his reach, the man grasp her arm and dragged her to him. She squeezed her hands between their bodies and pushed gently, but he tightened his grip around her.