Hearts in Flight

by Patty Smith Hall

  “I see,” Pops said quietly, scrutinizing her again.

  “I was grounded for a bit, and Wesley thought it would be a good idea if I got some practice at the controls.” The words rushed out before Maggie could stop them. “But I’ve got to tell you, I’ve enjoyed every minute of flying Old Betsy.”

  Maggie was surprised when the older man reached out and cupped her chin in the palm of his hand, his callous thumb gently scraping the tender skin of her cheek. “I’m glad, my girl. That plane was meant to be flown by someone who would appreciate her, not made into a memorial of what we lost.”

  “Then you’re not upset Wesley let some pilot in his squadron take Betsy up?”

  “Oh no, my girl,” He answered, his soft gaze resting on her. “But then, you’re not just another pilot Wesley’s working with, are you?”

  Maggie closed her eyes, the memory of that kiss suddenly playing like a movie across the back of her eyelids. No, she wasn’t another pilot in Wesley’s squadron. “We’re friends.”

  “I see,” he answered, the hint of laughter in his voice startling her. “Then as his friend, you need to know that I’m not giving up on my grandson.”

  She smiled up at him. Well, it was good to hear one of the Hicks men was willing to act sensibly. “What are you going to do?”

  “For one, I’m staying here until I can get through to the boy. Your aunt has been gracious enough to offer me a room for as long as is needed.”

  That was a good idea. Wesley had missed his grandfather terribly, and she was relieved to know that he would have Pops around.

  “Can I ask you a favor, Princess?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know what your relationship with my grandson is, but I can tell just by looking at the two of you together that you care about each other.” The old man swallowed, suddenly looking every one of his advanced years. “Will you help me?”

  “I’m not sure that I can do anything that will help,” she stammered uneasily.

  “Me either.” The man took her hand and patted it. “But I have faith that God will give us the wisdom to know the right thing to do when the time comes.”

  Most of the uneasiness she felt dissolved. “Me, too.”

  “Will you promise to help me?”

  Maggie rested her head against the back of the couch. How could she turn away from such a vow, especially when the promise was attached to a person in desperate need of reassurance, part of someone that you care for and love.

  She cared for Wesley and wanted to help him more than anything in the world. The burden he carried hurt her more than any cutting words her uncle had thrown at her. But could she chance the broken heart she knew waited for her at the end of all this?

  Pops must have taken Maggie’s silence for reluctance. “Please help me, Margaret Rose. I’ve already lost one grandchild. I couldn’t bear to lose another.”

  Maggie closed her eyes and nodded. For all her talk, she couldn’t stop herself from making this promise, even if there was a real possibility she wouldn’t keep it.

  20

  “Pops really enjoyed listening to the Grand Ole Opry last night,” Maggie said, pushing a tree limb back with one hand while adjusting a canvas bag loaded with groceries on the other shoulder.

  Since being rotated back into the flight schedule, she’d been too busy to visit Eliza Beth and the tent families as much as she would have liked. She was glad when Merrilee had invited her to come along this afternoon. “I guess they don’t get that kind of music over there.”

  “Well, he must have taken a fancy to it. I heard him humming one of the Carter Family’s songs this morning while we were in the garden. He’s got a good voice for a man his age,” Merrilee answered, holding on to a sack of freshly

  picked tomatoes and corn. “And he’s such a help. Did you know he’s already working on the menu for Donna’s welcome home party next week?”

  “Wesley told me Pops’ a wiz in the kitchen.”

  Merrilee nodded. “He’s a good man, just like his grandson.”

  “I like him too, Merrilee.” Maggie held the pine limb until her aunt had cleared it.

  “It’s easy to see where Wesley gets his looks from. He’s the spitting image of his granddaddy.”

  Maggie had notice the resemblance too, especially around the eyes. Donald Hicks had probably broken quite a few feminine hearts in his heyday.

  Just like his grandson will break mine.

  “I think he’s taken a shine to you too,” Merrilee said.

  “Who?” Maggie let go of the branch too quickly and got a light swat to her backside.

  “Both of them,” Merrilee answered, trying her best not to smile. “Anyone with a brain in their head can see that there’s something going on between you and Wesley. Pops is just over the moon at the thought you might be his granddaughter.”

  “That’s just plain silliness,” Maggie admonished, the argument sounding weak even to her own ears.

  “Uh huh.” Merrilee walked on ahead.

  Maggie gathered the canvas bag closer to her side. She didn’t blame her aunt for not believing her, not when she couldn’t even convince herself. Truth of the matter was that she was confused. All of her life, she spent chasing the dreams God had given her. But recently, she’d found herself wondering if that was the only dream God had planned for her. Could Wesley be a part of another dream, something bigger than she had even imaged for herself? Only the Lord knew, and right now, He was being quiet on the subject.

  But Merrilee wasn’t.

  “I know you’ve always talked about flying planes and such, but I’ve got news for you, Sweetie. Love, especially when it’s with someone like Wesley, doesn’t come along every day.”

  “I know,” Maggie answered, stopping under the shadows of a massive oak to rest. “Things are in an uproar right now. Who knows how long I’ll be on the flight schedule before something else spooks Wesley into grounding me? And then there’s this whole situation with his grandfather.”

  “They seem to be getting along okay.”

  “You’re right. I’ve never seen Wesley so happy.” She dropped the canvas bag to the ground and leaned back against the tree’s trunk. “But they’ve still got a long way to go.”

  Merrilee rubbed comforting circles on her arm. “Maybe you can help them. I mean, you care so much for both of them.”

  “I know what you’re doing.” Maggie shrugged her aunt’s hand away. “But you’ve got to understand. This thing with Wesley, the timing just isn’t right.”

  Merrilee huffed out her disgust. “Nothing in life is perfect. Just think. If I had waited until Daddy got some sense in that stubborn head of his before I married John, I’d still be sitting here, by now an old maid.”

  “But you ended up divorcing.”

  The words were out of her mouth before Maggie realized it. Merrilee lowered her head, her blonde hair falling like a curtain over her face. Maggie cringed. She wouldn’t hurt her aunt for anything in the world, but she had. “I’m sorry, Aunt Merrilee. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Lifting her face, Merrilee pushed her hair back behind her ear and gave Maggie a brief smile. “We may not have lasted over the long haul, but he still gave me the most precious gift. He gave me Claire Bear.”

  Maggie draped her arm around her aunt’s shoulders and held her, more convinced now that had Merrilee been given the choice, she would still be John Davenport’s wife. Is this how it was when you loved a man, this feeling of being connected even when all hope of a life together is lost?

  Was this longing what was in store for her after her assignment at the Bell had been completed and she moved on?

  A faint chill ran through her and she shivered. I have a job to do. But even that thought didn’t warm her with excitement like it usually did.

  Picking up the canvas bag, Maggie slung it over her shoulder, the load bearable compared to the heaviness saddling her heart. Merrilee fell quietly in step behind her, and they wa
lked in silence until they reached the outskirts of the camp. Several piles of fallen leaves had been brushed along the lines of the camp’s perimeter, allowing for the additional of a few more tents since Maggie’s last visit. A variety of thread worn cotton dresses, torn jeans and undergarments dangled stiffly from a clothes line. Nearby, a black cauldron hung over ash remains of what once must have been a small campfire, the smell of lye lightly hanging in the moist air.

  Where was everyone?

  “Eliza Beth did know we were coming today?” Merrilee asked.

  Maggie nodded, studying the vacant landscape. “She mentioned it to me when I saw her at the post office yesterday afternoon.”

  Her aunt looked at her. “This doesn’t make sense.”

  A tent flap flew open a couple of yard in front of them and they waited. Seconds later, Eliza Beth stood in the doorway, fisting her hands into loose tent material. Her eyes closed, she drew in one breath, then another as if clearing her head of some poisonous image she’d left in the confines of the tent. No spark of the rosy color Maggie had noticed in recent days could be found in the young woman’s cheeks, replaced by a chalky paleness like those flashed across the movie screen at the Strand, footage of prisoners found in what the newsman called ‘death camps.’

  Maggie flung the groceries to the ground and ran toward the woman. “Eliza Beth?”

  The younger woman’s eyelashes flew open, her mouth gaped in pained disbelief. Maggie was close enough now to notice the bloated veins making inroads in the whites of her eyes. “Thank God.” she whispered, her voice hoarse, barely registering in the silence. “Thank God, you’re here!”

  Maggie reached out to Eliza Beth as her knees gave way. Sliding to the ground, she took the brunt of the fall, using her body to cushion Eliza Beth from any further trauma.

  Merrilee held a bell jar of water she’d recovered from Maggie’s bag to Eliza Beth’s lips. “Should we call a doctor?”

  Eliza Beth shook her head violently. “No, please don’t!”

  Maggie pushed back the woman’s matted head. “But, sweetheart, you’re sick.”

  But Eliza Beth continued to shake her head. “I’m just tired from seeing to everyone over the past couple of days.”

  “You’re as weak as a kitten,” Merrilee replied. “Maybe the doctor. . .”

  “Please don’t,” Eliza Beth cut her off. “I’m just tired from seeing to everyone the last couple of days.”

  “Why didn’t anyone come and get one of us?” Maggie asked.

  Eliza Beth shook her head. “Didn’t see no point in getting your people sick, not after everything you’ve done for us.”

  “Next time, you come and get me, you hear. Can’t be having folks under my care taking sick.” Merrilee admonished gently, silencing Eliza Beth with a sip of water. “Do you have any idea what you have?”

  Eliza Beth shook her head again. “Two of my sister’s girls came home from school with a fever a couple of days ago, and by nighttime, they couldn’t breathe for the coughing, and several more in the camp were coming down with fevers. Then the little ones started getting sick to their stomachs. They haven’t been able to hold anything down since.” She dropped her chin to her chest, her shoulders heaving as a sob tore through her. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I swear I didn’t”

  Merrilee cupped the girl’s chin in her hand and lifted her head. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

  Tears pooled in the corners of Eliza Beth’s eyes. “We didn’t know what the girls had, and none of us have the money for the doctor to come calling. So I mixed up Grandma’s cough recipe, and everyone took a dose. It was after that when everyone got violently sick.”

  “What does this remedy of yours have in it?” Merrilee asked.

  “One part lemon juice, one part honey . . .” Eliza Beth’s voice drifted off as she hugged the jar of water close to her and took another sip.

  Maggie noticed a dark cloud envelope her aunt’s face. “What?”

  But Merrilee’s focus was on the young woman. “Did you use any spirits in this cough medicine of yours?”

  Spirits? Maggie blinked hard at her aunt’s question. Sure, Eliza Beth wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but she’d been thrown in this situation and had a lot to learn, but even she wasn’t silly enough to feed hard liquor to a bunch of sick kids.

  “It wasn’t much, Miss Merrilee, I swear. Just a third of the mixture.” Eliza Beth blurted out, her eyes lowered as if in shame. “Same as my Grandma Farland’s.”

  If Eliza Beth’s answer shocked Maggie, her aunt’s question befuddled her. “Did you buy it at the store?”

  “Where else would she get it?” Maggie asked.

  Both women shot her a look that made Maggie feel as if she had a lot to learn about the ways of the world.

  Eliza Beth finally turned back to Merrilee, shaking her head. “No, I couldn’t afford it.”

  Maggie glanced at Eliza Beth. “Then where did you get it?”

  “I don’t think that matters right now.” Merrilee answered, patting Eliza Beth’s hand gently. “If these folks have been poisoned by bad batch of corn liquor like I think, they’re going to get worse before they get any bettter. We’ve got to move all of them up to the house so that we can keep a close eye on them for the next couple of days.”

  Eliza Beth tugged at Merrilee’s sleeve. “Mr. James isn’t going to like that, ma’am.”

  Merrilee leaned toward her, her blue eyes soft with understand and sadness. “Probably not, but it’s my house, and I’m not about to leave your people out here. I’m sure even James will understand that.”

  Don’t be too sure about that! A fission of apprehension skipping along the nerves down Maggie’s back. Compassion wasn’t Uncle James’s strong suit, not even to his own kin. She didn’t what to think how the man would take this invasion on the Daniels’ family home.

  Hopefully, Wesley would be there, remembering the day he’d stood up to Uncle James when he’d aimed a gun at them in the backyard. Wesley wouldn’t put up with any of her uncle’s nonsense.

  Merrilee grabbed a couple of bell jars filled with water and rose to her feet. “I’m going to check on everyone and see what we’re going to need to get them moved up to the house. Maggie, if you could, would you gather all the food and supplies you can get our hands on? We’re going to need it to feed this army.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Maggie smiled at her aunt’s retreated figure. Merrilee was as strong a woman as she’d ever met, the kind of woman Maggie hoped to be if she had any hopes of living out all the dreams God had given her. Please, Lord, please help Merrilee. And please heal these sick ones, Lord.

  “Maggie?” Eliza Beth stirred, pulling her legs under her as if to stand.

  Maggie circled the girl’s slender waist with her arm and following Eliza Beth’s lead, slowly rose into a standing position. She tried to take a step, but Maggie tightened her hold of her. “Let’s give it a second so you can get your balance.”

  Through the circle of her lips, Eliza Beth drew in a deep breath. Her cheeks, while still pale, wore the faintest shade of pink. “I’m sorry about all this. Y’all have been so good to us, and look how we repay you.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Yes, it is,” Eliza Beth answered, her fingers gripping Maggie’s hand painfully as she took a tentative step. “I should have never used that shine Jimbo brought to me.”

  Maggie stared at the girl. “Jimbo?”

  She nodded. “He was in camp when our nieces came home sick the other day. I swear I would have used store bought spirits if I’d had them, but we didn’t have enough money. When Jimbo said he knew where he could get a bottle, I told him to get it.” Eliza Beth lowered her chin to her chest. “I know I shouldn’t have ask him for help, but I was desperate! I thought the girls might have diphtheria.”

  Maggie put her arm around the girl and hugged her close. No telling what she would have done in that situation, so who was she to judge? “Did you see
where Jimbo got it from?”

  Eliza Beth gave a slight shake of her head. “He headed off into the woods before I could ask him any questions. A while later, he was back, handing me a shoebox. I’d barely pulled the jar out when he was gone again.”

  Maggie sighed, letting Eliza Beth go. “So we don’t have a clue where he got that poison from.”

  “Maybe one,” Eliza Beth answered. She snaked her free hand into the front pocket of her dress and pulled out a slip of paper. “I thought this was funny at the time, knowing how your aunt is about these things and all. But now. . .” Eliza Beth handed it to her.

  Maggie unfolded the paper. It was a receipt, written the afternoon she and Merrilee had went shopping, right before Donna’s crash. “Where did you get this?”

  The pale color in Eliza Beth’s cheeks retreated again. “It was in the shoebox Jimbo gave me.”

  21

  The next few days consisted of sponge baths and spoon feedings as first the children, then the women fought the ramifications of the poisoned cough remedy. Maggie had requested an immediate temporary leave from her duties, a move that was met with understanding approval by Wesley.

  She only wished she could say the same for her Uncle James. His sharp words and outright threats to throw Merrilee out on the street could be heard by almost everyone in the house, even Maggie as she gathered blankets and pillows with Claire from the attic. She’d prayed that Claire hadn’t heard any of her uncle’s rumblings but any hopes of that were lost in the taunt look stretched on the girl’s childish face. Maggie had a good mind to go downstairs and give that uncle of hers what for, but the slamming of the front door as she had crested the top of the stairwell told her he had gone.

  And good riddance! Maggie sat on the front porch swing, leaning into the solid wooden slants as she retrieved the folded piece of paper from her pocket. The last two children had finally found the strength to escape from their beds this afternoon before Maggie thought about the receipt Eliza Beth had found with the tainted moonshine. Merrilee would be abhorred at the thought that such a personal piece of information had found its place alongside the illegal mixture. But how had moonshiners gotten a hold of Merrilee’s shoebox? And why?