The Flight Path Less Traveled

by Leigh Dreyer

  “Hmm?”

  “Want me to stay?”

  “Hmm…”

  “Nod or shake your head?”

  Elizabeth did neither as she nestled closer to his chest. Darcy felt her body relax against him and he smiled. He pulled her close and leaned against the headboard where he was found moments later by Jane. Darcy opened his eyes slowly and looked at Elizabeth’s sister as she walked clumsily into the dark room.

  Darcy pressed his finger to his lips and Jane nodded at him.

  “Is she back asleep?” she whispered.

  Darcy nodded.

  “Go ahead and lay her down. I’ll stay with her.”

  He moved Elizabeth’s sleeping form onto the pillow and maneuvered himself out of her embrace. They needed to figure out their relationship soon because he hated leaving her like this. He was sure the Air Force would have a reprimand for living in the same house, regardless of their intimate relationship or lack thereof. It was why he had proposed in the first place at Rosings during the hearing for the Base Closure Committee without so much as a first date! He did not want to tempt a court martial for either of them. She sighed and snuggled into her pillow, her hair tumbled over her shoulders. Darcy looked at her again before leaving the room as quietly as Jane had entered.

  Jane lay down by her sister, grateful that she had the next day off from work. She and Charles had only been home from their honeymoon for two weeks and, while Charles understood Jane’s need to care for Lizzy, it was difficult on their new relationship. Lizzy had come straight to Netherfield, not even stopping at home for clothes. Darcy had been insistent, and Jane knew Longbourn would drive Lizzy crazy within forty-eight hours.

  Jane closed her eyes and tried to relax by reviewing her list for the next day. Clean. As Caroline had refused to keep up with any task she thought below her. Sort out trimming the trees on the road to the house. Because Caroline had neglected them the fall before. Take Lizzy to the doctor. Get groceries… Caroline had not cooked a meal since the wedding! Jane added “speak to Charles about his sister—again” to her list.

  Lizzy must be in serious pain. Jane had never so much as broken a bone, but Lizzy had broken half of her body. Now with the nightmares, Jane had no idea how to comfort her sister. While Lizzy had been in the hospital and then rehab, Jane had been able to get things done for her job and around the house, but now she feared that Lizzy’s care would come with a list she could never accomplish. Her sister’s pain was not a line item she could simply cross off, and it was not something she could take away.

  Lizzy kicked Jane, and Jane grunted and rolled over. She had forgotten Lizzy kicked in her sleep, and the cast slamming into her shin was painful. Thank goodness, Charles slept like the dead. Jane did not miss this particular aspect of her sister’s many charms, but soon, Jane drifted off.

  The morning arrived soft and new. Elizabeth sighed deeply as she looked out the window at the bashful rays shooting through her curtains. Despite several casts and slings, she was able to sit up and, with assistance, move around the house. They were all to be removed in the next week and she was anxiously awaiting further independence. The doctors had told her it was good that she had been healthy and active before the crash otherwise she would have had a very different outcome. She would like to lie in bed for a few more hours reading a book but she desperately needed to go to the bathroom.

  Elizabeth turned her head and found Jane’s blonde hair sticking out from under the sheet covering her sister’s face. She looks like an especially comfortable pineapple. How anyone could sleep like that without being suffocated, Elizabeth would never know. She nudged Jane gently and startled when Jane sprang into action.

  “Lizzy! Are you okay? Do you need a drink? Should I get Will or Charles?”

  “Shh…” Elizabeth held her finger to her lips. Jane’s eyes were wide . “I’m fine. I just need to use the bathroom.”

  Jane relaxed and rolled off the bed, yawning and stretching. “I’m going to go back to Charles for a bit before he has to go to work.”

  “Okay. I’m up. Tell Charles thanks for letting me borrow you last night.”

  Jane scratched her head and stumbled sleepily out of the room, mumbling. “Sure thing.”

  Elizabeth got herself to and from the bathroom with the aid of her old lady cane and the handicapped bars in the hallways that Darcy had installed before she came home. After what seemed a painful eternity, she made her way to the living room where she reclined on the couch and read.

  Within the hour, Jane bustled in the kitchen; Charles joined her soon after, laughing and talking about his plans for the day. Caroline stalked into the room, shot darts at the happy couple (and Elizabeth), retrieved her coffee cup, and slinked back up the stairs away from the felicity flowing about downstairs. Elizabeth watched all from a spot on the couch, grateful she was not at Longbourn, listening to the screeches of her sisters. She closed her eyes and soon fell asleep, lulled by the sounds of utensils on plates and conversation humming from the kitchen.

  2

  Beep-beep-beep-beep. Whack! After turning the alarm off, Darcy’s hand stretched over the sheets to find them empty and came to the sad reminder that he slept alone. His midnight interlude with Elizabeth had made him long for more. He wanted to wake up every morning with her in his arms. Their kiss in the hospital had happened a little more than a month before and he patiently withstood the instinct to carry Elizabeth off and marry her. Elizabeth had resisted any attempts at another kiss while Darcy smothered his frustration.

  Darcy sat up, stretched, and began his morning tasks. Shower, shave, flight suit, and then breakfast. Today’s flight should be short and simple, although the student he would be flying with did not have a reputation for thinking through a task. Lieutenant Anderson had made himself known to instructors as one to watch. He thought himself a hot shot flier and flew by the seat of his pants. This made him arrogant at best and downright dangerous at worst. The saying “There are old pilots and there are bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots” was frequently flung around when discussing his flights. Luckily, Darcy knew to take him in hand and ensure their safety. Darcy knew to evaluate and emphasize the flight plan―and the follow through. At least he should be home early.

  Although he would never admit it to Elizabeth, her nightmare had alarmed him. Darcy had watched his cousin Richard struggle through the emotions of being in dangerous situations in the Army, and Darcy had no desire to observe the same in Elizabeth. He would simply have to find her the best counselor. Money, of course, was no object. Elizabeth would have the best that Pemberley’s money could find and that was all there was to it. He added “call Richard” to his checklist for the day.

  Darcy descended the stairs, strode into the kitchen, popped some bread in the toaster, and pulled up a chair.

  “Honey, you need a new flight suit,” Jane said, wrinkling her nose behind Bingley and placed a plate of eggs before Darcy.

  “What? Why?” Bingley grabbed the front of his suit and sniffed.

  “It reeks.”

  “It does not. It’s only a week old.”

  Jane and Bingley locked eyes, Bingley still gripping his flight suit.

  “A week is long enough,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  Bingley looked down at his plate and ate three large bites of eggs. Standing up, he grabbed a piece of toast and shook it at Jane, smiling.

  “Fine. I’ll go change. I want you to know though, this flight suit is just fine. You know how long pilots go without changing? Weeks, I tell you. Weeks. I’m not bringing tons of laundry with me on a cross-country. I’ll just wear the same flight suit. It’s fine,” Bingley said as he exited the kitchen and ascended the stairs, arms swinging wildly as he demonstrated his argument. “If you think this is bad, you should smell the T-38 guys. They only have room for a tiny little bag. Guess who isn’t bringing an extra flight suit on their flights? And they have to taxi with the cockpits open because it’s too hot to sit on the runway with
the canopy down.”

  Jane laughed and looked at Darcy for confirmation. Darcy shrugged and mumbled, “It’s horrible,” between sips of coffee.

  She put her hands on her hips and called across the living room: “Charles, you aren’t on a cross-country and everyone will think me a poor homemaker if you wear that to work.”

  Charles stopped at the top of the stairs, then leaned over to peer through the bars at Jane in the kitchen. “Homemaker? What is this the 1950s?”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “Feminism happened, Jane!”

  Jane rolled her eyes and looked at Darcy with an expression that said what am I going to do with him? and then she followed Charles up the stairs.

  Darcy smiled at the exchange and shook his head. He was grateful Elizabeth would understand his life as a pilot. Jane and Bingley did not have fights, of course; they barely had misunderstandings. Darcy and Elizabeth would fight but never about a simple flight suit. He spent a long moment pondering what they would fight about. Money, maybe. Darcy had never shared with Elizabeth the numbers of how much he made from Pemberley or anything about the Fitzwilliam side of the family; she was sure to get a bit of a shock there. Maybe she would balk at the way he tied his shoes―always in a double knot―or squeezed his toothpaste―always from the end; only a heathen would squeeze from the middle. His mind wandered further to Elizabeth’s passion when making up after a fight, but he squelched those desires by standing up and getting himself a glass of orange juice.

  Darcy’s toast popped and he buttered it, returning to focus on the tasks at hand. Jane returned to the kitchen, sat across from him, and began to eat her own breakfast.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “She slept well. Got up a little early, but she’s in the living room, asleep on the couch.”

  “I’m glad she’s sleeping. I’m sure she already took her pills this morning, which is probably the only reason why.”

  “I’m kinda anxious though. I’ve heard that flight doctors can be the enemy of pilots. I know every pilot is assigned to a flight doctor to ensure there is always care for pilots from routine colds and flu to much more substantial primary management. And in Elizabeth’s case, flight doctors act as her specialized primary care manager. The flight doctor’s entire job is to assess her health and can deny her the right to fly if deemed she’s not healthy enough—regardless of how well she may be able to pilot an aircraft.” Jane frowned. “Colds with stuffy noses ground a pilot because they are not allowed to take an antihistamine or other cold medication while flying. A stuffed head can lead to vertigo, clogged sinuses, or ruptured ear drums while antihistamines react to pressure changes and affect the blood stream, in addition to slowing cognition. This act of human charity is beneficial when someone is indeed sick but don’t you think extreme and occasionally life-altering when they are not?”

  Darcy said, “Yep. Flight docs are the reason Elizabeth is in the precarious position she’s in with pilot training. After her body heals, she will have to wait for her medical review board and hope against reason, and chance, to be let back into training. The odds are high, however, that some doctor who meets her precisely once and knows nothing of her passion, her intelligence, or her abilities in the aircraft could take the privilege of continuing training away from her―because it would take her too long to recover.”

  They ate in companionable silence, Darcy remembering his time standing vigil over Elizabeth in the hospital when she had seemed so frail. Though she was still weak and fatigued, she was cleared for outpatient therapies to begin, and some of the old Elizabeth’s vigor peeked through her dark-rimmed, tired eyes.

  Recalling an odd incident from weeks before at the hospital―“Jane?”

  Jane looked up from a magazine, still chewing her toast. “Hmm?”

  “Do you know anyone named Phillip?”

  She looked at him questioningly and shook her head, wiping her hands on a napkin.

  “No family or anything?”

  Jane shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s only… Well, one day your mom came in to talk to Elizabeth in the hospital, and I don’t think she saw me. Anyway, she mentioned someone named Phillip, but I’ve never heard you or Elizabeth talk about him, and the name doesn’t seem familiar to me at all.”

  “No… No, I don’t believe I’ve heard of anyone named Phillip. Are you sure it wasn’t ‘Phillips’? My aunt and uncle’s last name is Phillips. He’s an attorney in the area. I think you met them at the Lucases’ party or maybe a Drop Night.”1

  “I don’t think so.” He shook his head, with one hand behind his neck. “It sounded more like an old friend that she hadn’t seen in a while. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. I was just wondering about it while I sat here. Apparently toast makes me think.”

  “So does coffee…and eggs…and yogurt,” Bingley said as he returned to the room. He put his arms out and turned in a circle. “Does this work better for you, my love? Nice, clean, fresh flight suit.”

  Jane stood, holding her empty plate in her hand, and ignoring his outstretched arms, sniffed at his chest. “Works for me.” She began to walk away before being embraced in a bear hug.

  Darcy stood after a moment. “All right, you love birds, cut it out. Bing, you riding to work with me?”

  “Let me just grab my flight bag and I’m ready to go.”

  “Bye, Jane. Tell me how Elizabeth’s appointment goes,” Darcy said as he left the room to the newlyweds and made for the living room to say his own goodbye to Elizabeth.

  He found her sprawled on the couch as comfortably as she could manage, bandaged the way she was. He kissed her forehead, loath to wake her, and whispered, “Goodbye, love.” She stirred slightly at his touch, but her deep breathing did not falter and her eyes remained closed. He looked at her once more and thought she looked so young, almost a girl instead of the woman he loved. He vowed once more to help her in any way he could.

  Charles caught up to him in the entry way and they both left for the short drive to the base. They talked amicably on the drive, comparing their schedules for the week ahead, and separated at the squadron building, Charles heading left to the T-62 wing and Darcy right to the T-38s.

  Darcy stopped at the scheduling desk, muttered a brief “hello” to the student on duty and looked through his schedule for the week. Of course, it would change as it always did, but he liked to start out with an idea of what it might be. Today, he had his flight with Anderson (groan), and then he would teach academics. In the afternoon, it looked like he had a four-ship flight with the new flight doc, a Captain Willoughby. Why this guy could not do his hours on the T-13 like all the rest of the doctors, he would never know. The T-1 flew six to eight hours in one go where the T-38 only had one to two, meaning that Darcy would probably be forced to tolerate this flyboy for more flights than strictly necessary. Heaven help his temper today.

  After her nightmare, Darcy was also concerned that Elizabeth might not be honest with her psychologist. He knew she was laser focused on her goal and PTSD symptoms would not make that easy. He had several friends with symptoms treated by medication who were permanently rejected from flying because of their mental status for a few months. For obvious reasons, Darcy was not a great fan of the entire flight medicine staff and now he would be chauffeuring one around the operating area. Well, that would be later. He would focus on making it through his flight with Anderson before whining anymore about that flight with Willoughby.

  Darcy made his way to his cubicle, checked his email, and waited for Anderson to show with his flight plan. As he did every time he instructed, he checked the syllabus to ensure he knew exactly what they would be doing on this flight. He wrote bullet points on how to help Anderson and then began tapping a pen as the time ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace. He looked at his checklist of tasks to accomplish that day and began to put it in priority order when his phone vibrated on the desk. A text from Richard flashed on the home screen
:

  Have news

  Darcy picked up his phone, punched in his passcode, and responded, kicking his feet out and crossing them in front of his desk.

  I’m at work.

  Darcy smiled and waited for the return text.

  So?

  Darcy could practically hear Richard’s scoff through the small, impersonal cell phone font.

  What news? Or do you plan on just irritating me?

  Hmmmmmm

  Not funny

  Ok, fine. Heard about the Guard4

  Darcy placed the phone on the desk, sat up, and stared at it, willing another text to appear. After Wickham had died, damn the man, Richard and Darcy had discussed what to do with the favors that had been called in to get a transfer slot for an active duty officer to the National Guard. Originally, that spot had been meant for Wickham to get him away from the Bennets while they pursued legal options for their difficulties with Lydia. At the time, the quickest option that the cousins had found was to set Wickham in a Colonel Brandon’s squadron, a friend of Richard’s, who could keep his eyes on him.

  Darcy had seen Elizabeth’s injuries and knew from experience and several phone calls to friends in safety offices around the country that the likelihood of her return to the pilot seat was slim to none. He had privately told Richard that he wanted to pursue the slot for himself. Colonel Brandon’s unit was in New York, which would mean a return to Pemberley, Georgiana, family, and home. It would mean that he could take Elizabeth home too and have a real place for her to live, not drag her from base house to base house, forced to live as an Air Force wife when she had dreamed of so much more. Darcy was positive that she would not be able to answer benign questions about whatever she did without feeling cut to her very core that she was not doing what she wanted so badly to do.