The Flight Path Less Traveled

by Leigh Dreyer

  Before she could blink the tears away, she found herself pulled to Darcy’s chest, shaking with sobs.

  After a few moments, Elizabeth sniffed and moved away from Darcy to wipe her eyes with her sleeve.

  “So, you are clearly not okay. All I have is French toast and an egg, but I can get you anything you need: coffee, tea, a good book, the remote. I don’t like seeing the woman I love cry, so let me help you dry your tears.”

  Elizabeth’s heart burst, and she looked at him and laughed, a sad, whimpering laugh. She did not deserve a man who would sit and hold her during embarrassing, emotional displays. Her father certainly never had, and this feeling of liking being taken care of was new and exhilarating. Darcy smiled down at her and then picked up the plate of French toast and waved it temptingly in front of her. He put the plate down, cut a bite of toast and then made an airplane noise while zooming the fork toward her mouth. She obligingly opened it and she chewed, giggling, and he laughed. They let the laugh die out naturally and then Darcy used his knuckle to lift up her face to look into his.

  “So, kid. What’s going on? Why all the tears?”

  Elizabeth looked away from him to the wall and contemplated the choices before her. She could lie, but that seemed relatively futile at this point. Or, she could be brave and tell the truth.

  “I walked in on you and Anne, and I thought you two looked perfect together, and I had to leave.”

  From behind her, she heard a tinkling laugh. “Will and I perfect together? Yikes. I’m glad you only saw us when you did. You missed all the bickering before over whether to use eggs or egg whites and whether French toast should use nutmeg or cinnamon. It got pretty heated in there. I was amazed neither one of us mentioned that he was emotionally unavailable or that I was a distracted workaholic.”

  “Anne is like a cousin. I love her, but believe me, it is only as a weird relative you see at Thanksgiving.”

  “A weird relative? How about a friend you fight with and only call on important holidays and see with your aunt?”

  “Okay, a weird cousin.”

  “You know, I spend most of my time with Mr. Collins and dealing with a politician’s social media page. If anyone should be having a breakdown on the couch, it should be me. I don’t really know you, but I know myself. Darce scared me too. Did he tell you what happened to us?”

  Elizabeth nodded her head. “Richard told me when we were at Rosings for the Base Closure Committee Hearings.” She felt Darcy squeeze her shoulders gently.

  “Of course. Will’s dad had just died. I had just started with Catherine and was getting a handle on social media marketing—it was a new thing back then—and I wasn’t ready for someone as intense as he can be. I couldn’t give him my attention. I called everything off, and he was amazing about it. That’s the only reason we’re still friends.”

  Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully.

  “If you give him up, you’re an idiot,” Anne said with finality.

  Elizabeth thought about her. Anne had shiny blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes, and a perfect build. She was stand-offish, and needed a tan, but for the first time she could see how Darcy could have loved her. A few moments passed.

  “Sorry for being so blunt,” Anne said in a rush as though she was loath to apologize.

  “No, actually, it’s a rare person who tells me what they really think. Well, and of course, my mother, but I don’t want to think about what she has to tell me.”

  “Listen,” Darcy said to Elizabeth, “I love you. I want to marry you, and I plan to wait around until you agree.” He moved his mouth to her ear and Elizabeth felt his whisper hot in her ear. “Also, you are much prettier in the morning than she is.”

  “I heard that.” Anne slapped Darcy’s shoulder, and he pulled away from Elizabeth who was left with a shiver running down her neck.

  “Now, Elizabeth, have some French toast with Anne and me to keep us from fighting each other.”

  Elizabeth nodded. She had more she needed to discuss with Darcy, but it would wait. She reached behind her and loved the feel of Darcy’s warm hand take hers. “I love you too.”

  15

  Soon after breakfast and the crisis with Elizabeth was over, Anne excused herself to a guest room to work. As a personal assistant and social media manager, she had a mountain of projects to complete. When Senator de Bourgh had kicked her out in her fury, which Anne knew would last less than a week, Anne had intentionally turned her phone off for the weekend. Catherine de Bourgh would be on the warpath, but Anne deserved a break. After one screaming phone call from the senator to Darcy during French toast and then later a calmer one to Anne, Anne knew that her break from work was over.

  Darcy sat across from Elizabeth who was still acting shy around him after her breakdown. Darcy found it strangely attractive that she was not only jealous but also willing to cry in his arms, and he subsequently was in a great mood. He reached across the table for Elizabeth’s hand and held it in his for a moment.

  “Are you feeling any better?”

  She smiled, blushing. “Yeah, I have this problem. Sometimes I get a few too many feelings, and they spill out my eyes. Unfortunately, it is genetic. My mom and sisters have the same problem. Just so you know, Jane may appear normal but under that façade is a crazy person, just like me.”

  “You’ve been under a lot of pressure. I’ve done worse, believe me.”

  “Right, the Fitz thing.”

  “Yes, the ‘Fitz thing.’ Thank you to the Air Force for turning the most humiliating moment of my life into a nickname that is on half my name tags and all of my flight memorabilia.”

  “At least I had the decency to have a breakdown at home.”

  “Well, not all of us can be you, Bennet.”

  She had brown eyes, at least that is what her driver’s license would attest, but Darcy knew better. Her eyes were a light, honey brown, an unusual color with flecks of deeper mahogany and gold. When her pupils were small, there was a halo of yellow around the small black pinpoint, like the sunshine peeking through the clouds on a summer day. When her eyes were dilated, the brown of her eyes pooled dark, the color of hot chocolate by a crackling fireplace. Her eyes were never brown; they were a whole world of color.

  “I’ve got to get to Longbourn. Mary said she would help today since I want to finish organizing my thoughts. Jane has today off and Kitty said she found some research online a couple days ago that she wanted to write up. Mom is making lunch so we can work straight through.”

  “Go ahead. I don’t have to go in until this afternoon so I’m just going to laze around, maybe catch up on some emails and call Mrs. Reynolds about Pemberley.”

  “Tell her I said ‘hello.’ Oh, and my mom said she wanted the recipe to those little spinach puffs you told me about.”

  “I certainly will. I’ll see about the recipe. Mrs. Reynolds guards stuff like that with her life.”

  Elizabeth gingerly rose from the table so that her legs and back did not seize up painfully and left the room, tenderly dragging her hand across Darcy’s shoulders as she moved behind him and out the door.

  Left alone, Darcy cleared the table and took care of the dishes. Once finished, he sat back at the table and pulled out his phone to call Georgiana and inform her of the consequences of her little prank. For punishment, she would have to call Aunt Catherine. He smiled a little just thinking of how that conversation would be for Georgiana—a fitting punishment for the crime.

  After Darcy hung up the phone, he called Mrs. Reynolds. He quickly spoke to her about the top therapists in the area to ensure Elizabeth would have what she needed. He also gave Mrs. Reynolds the final details for Elizabeth’s Christmas present. He had spoken to Jane and, after a lot of shopping, had finally settled on the perfect gift. Darcy did not know the outcome of the board, and needed to discuss the move with Elizabeth, but if she would come with him, he would move mountains to make her happy. He loved her and did not intend to give her up, regardless of what the Air Force dec
ided.

  16

  A week later, after Anne had departed, Elizabeth awoke, realizing that Darcy would still be flying across the country for over a week more with this round of combined trips, and she already felt his absence deeply. She craved his presence. She missed his shadow in the hallway and hearing his voice in the kitchen. She wondered briefly how the spouses she knew did it with their husbands and wives gone for weeks, sometimes months at a time when deployed.

  Elizabeth rolled out of bed painfully but with more grace than even a week before and padded to the bathroom. She had graduated from the crutches, but her surgically-repaired leg and back still gave her trouble. She worked through her morning routine and made it downstairs before Jane and Charles, an unusual event these past few weeks.

  After pouring herself a glass of milk and popping some bread in the toaster, she sat at the kitchen table and picked up one of Anne’s abandoned magazines. Celebrities had been married and divorced, miracle babies had been born, and Elizabeth could lose five pounds in three days if all she drank was lemon water with cayenne pepper. Her toast popped before she could read the best method for staving off the dreaded “mummy tummy.” She gingerly stood, in an effort to mitigate the shooting pains from her back, and grabbed her toast. She smeared peanut butter and honey over the top to create the perfect morning confection. She was skimming over an article describing a glamourous wedding when her phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning,” came the automated voice. “This is a reminder call from Meryton Air Force Clinic. If you are the person born on April twenty-seventh you have an appointment tomorrow at one o’clock p.m. at the Flight Medicine clinic. If you can confirm this appointment, please press one.”

  Elizabeth moved the phone from her face and pressed one drearily.

  “Appointment confirmed.”

  She hung up the phone. She was not looking forward to her appointment. Darcy hated her doctor and even Jane had questioned his sincerity. Dr. Willoughby seemed concerned and genial, and Elizabeth undoubtedly liked his casual manner and availability. His looks certainly did not turn her away either, as he was exceptionally handsome. His sky-blue eyes seemed to echo his obvious sincerity in his willingness to help her get back to flying…or was it because she was a skirt in a small town?

  She had been studying for three hours a day—mostly reviewing the T-6 in case she was expected to repeat her formation flight. She had also been studying instruments and systems for the T-38, her next plane if she had anything to do about it―they would never consider banishing her to the T-1 for a crash that was not her fault, would they? It did not matter. The important thing was that she was excellent: had had a great hand with the controls and had never missed a question during a stand up or in an exam.

  The important point was that Willoughby understood how important her recovery was and that he was doing everything in his power to return her to her dreams.

  Elizabeth looked down from her thoughts which had been occupying her whole mind and saw the toast sitting sadly on the table. She stood up a little too quickly and was instantly reminded that she had been in a plane crash. Her legs screamed painfully at her as her nerves shot through them from her back. She ignored them, clenched her teeth, and inhaled sharply. She forced herself to stay on task. She picked up the toast, honey stringing between it and the tablecloth. She threw away the food and began clearing the table of magazines, Bingley’s flight materials, and a book of Jane’s. She was in the middle of removing the tablecloth when Jane walked into the room and found her.

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Well, I dropped the buttered toast on the tablecloth, so I was just going to change it.”

  “Lizzy, you know you aren’t supposed to be doing any of this.”

  Elizabeth looked down at the tablecloth now in her hands. Of course she knew. Not only did she have the luxury of her family nearby to reminder her every minute of every day (although her mother drove her to distraction, Elizabeth knew her ministrations were kindly meant), but she also lived with three babysitters. Between Darcy, Bingley, and Jane, Elizabeth had never been so coddled in her life. It was always “Sit down, Elizabeth” and “I’ll get it, Lizzy” and “You know…” She would never get better, because they never let her.

  “It’s just a table cloth. I won’t get better if you won’t let me at least attempt simple tasks.”

  “That’s not what I am saying and you know it.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair,” Jane said maternally.

  Elizabeth snapped. She balled up the tablecloth and threw it against the wall. Her pride had been wounded and like a captured animal had bit the first hand that tried to feed her. “You’re telling me what isn’t fair? Me? I had my life stolen right from under me. I just found out Dad isn’t really my dad! Literally my life has been stolen from me in a big flaming pile of metal. Me? Who can only now barely walk without crutches and is stuck going to hours of appointments where I get poked, prodded, and stretched, rather painfully I might add, so that I can maybe fly again? Me, who has to rely on everyone around me for everything, and no one will let do anything? Me? It’s hilarious because I just want to study and fly. I want to finish my T-6 check and move on to T-38s. That’s all I want, Jane. I just want to fly. I know you’re happy with your husband, playing house, and being a cute little wife, but I have real dreams.”

  Graceful Jane who normally emitted a certain cool, demure, calmness, gazed intensely at her. Elizabeth stumbled clumsily into a chair. Jane did not move an inch.

  “That was uncalled for! I’m sorry your plane crashed, Lizzy. I’m sorry you’re hurt and shocked about this news about Phillip. We all are. And I’m sorry you’re physically hurt, but you know what I’m not sorry about? I’m not sorry you’re stuck at home. I’m not sorry everyone takes care of you. I’m not sorry you have to go to therapy. You know why? Because you’re here. You are my sister. No matter what. So why don’t you shut up, quit complaining, and face your situation.”

  Jane walked past Elizabeth and poured herself a cup of coffee, leaving Elizabeth to stew in her own humiliation at the selfishness she had just displayed. Jane picked up her cup and turned to leave then quickly twisted back on her heels to face her sister.

  “As for Charles and me, Lizzy. No one is asking you to go back in time and lose yourself as the little housewife, but Darcy loves you. And right now, you are pushing him and happiness away with both hands. He is willing to give you everything. Everything, Lizzy. Quit being so damn stubborn. It’s your own prejudices getting in the way of joy, and no amount of me pushing you is going to make you move. I only wish that you learn to enjoy the burden of happiness that Charles and I have to bear. It is by far too much and maybe I don’t deserve it. Everyone should be as happy as we are, and you have that chance if you, for once in your life, would just accept it. My life isn’t a backup plan, Lizzy.”

  Jane smiled sweetly and a little sadly at her sister who sat stunned at the most honest, yet politely delivered, speech ever. Jane was certainly on a roll lately.

  She watched Jane’s blonde hair turn the corner before she felt like she could breathe. She stared after Jane and tried to understand what she had been told. Was it that she should marry Darcy? Was it that she should keep trying but relax a little? Elizabeth was not sure she understood which bothered her more. Lately, she felt like she did not understand her own character, let alone anybody else’s.

  Elizabeth needed to get out of this house. She looked around the room with the dismantled table, bunched tablecloth having fallen to the floor, magazines, and assorted stuff on the counters. The room looked like they had been burgled. She heard the door slam and the sound of a car on the gravel drive and realized she was alone. Elizabeth had no means of escape. She racked her brain. Her mother, of course, could come get her. Breakfast had already been served at Longbourn by now and she would have time before the lunch hour, but Elizabeth did not think she co
uld handle her mother right now. Her dad kept strict hours during which he did not leave the confines of his office; he rarely worked anymore except in fits and spurts to meet procrastination-driven deadlines so he was not an option. Lydia would leave for school soon, which added another solid reason to avoid home.

  Elizabeth’s thoughts retreated to the road leading to Pemberley where earth and man had combined to create the perfect vision of an oasis. Uncle Gardiner! Of course, with day trading, Uncle Gardiner would have to keep his phone on and around, but he was available at any point. As an old friend of the family, Elizabeth knew he would not care if she just watched TV at his house instead of her own. Perfect.

  It was common knowledge that “Uncle” Edward and Madeline Gardiner had wanted children. Every year they had waited for the moment their family would grow, and every month that moment passed childless. They filled their time with travel, work, and volunteerism. Madeline had thrust herself into charitable causes and, without her, the Rotary Club and Lion’s Club of Longbourn City would have been non-existent. Edward, meanwhile, had substituted pilot training students for their longed-for children. Soon he had earned the appellation of “Uncle” from the reputation for caring for his students like family, providing specific, considerate instruction, and doing everything he could, off the clock, to support the students who came into his sphere. After active duty, he transitioned to the Reserves and continued to encourage his students. As a day trader, he had working knowledge of the stock market and was willing to share what he learned. He had the heart of a teacher, but, more than that, he treated everyone he came in contact with like his own and, as a result, people felt comfortable with him. Elizabeth grabbed her phone and dialed the Gardiner’s home phone. She listened to the dull ringing on the other end of the line.

  “Come on. Pick up. Please pick up.”

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Madeline! How are you?”