The Flight Path Less Traveled

by Leigh Dreyer

  “Lizzy, these things take time,” Jane said, kicking her knee into a higher gear.

  “They have a lot of paperwork to go over,” Darcy said reassuringly, stealing a glance at Elizabeth. As he was on leave, he had chosen to dress as a civilian in jeans, boots, and a nice sweater. His severe posture looked distinctly out of place with his casual clothing. His hand hovered over hers, and she willed it to touch her and send a warm wave of comfort through her tightly wound frame. Then as if suddenly remembering where they were, his hand shot back, crossing his arms tightly.

  Ten more minutes passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. After an hour, Elizabeth was stalking back and forth over a small walkway like a wild animal, her eyes trained on the door, unwilling to move in case her prey moved and she missed her opportunity to pounce.

  An hour and a half later, Darcy joined her, the two of them rubbing a well-worn path in the unremarkable contractor’s grade office carpet.

  After two hours and twenty-three minutes, the door knob turned, the hospital commander stepped out, nodded to the group, walked down the hall, and entered the men’s room. Elizabeth collapsed into the chair, clasping the seat until her knuckles were white to keep her hands from removing her hair from the perfect knot at the back of her head. Darcy on the other hand did not stifle the same impulse and had hair pointing in various directions. Jane was now on her third magazine and while the nervous habit of lip-biting had continued, her knee was still. The physician re-entered the room, and Darcy and Elizabeth immediately stood and recommenced pacing.

  The third hour chimed irritating beeps on Elizabeth’s watch and a few seconds later, Darcy’s watch chimed as well. They both looked at their wrists to push the “alarm off” button, stopping the beeping at the same time as the knob on the door turned, and three laughing men walked out of the room.

  “See you next week, Two Ball!”

  “Absolutely. You going to the wing thing next Friday?”

  “Certainly going to try. I guess you have to be there.”

  “Boss doesn’t give me much of a choice. I had a sit down with him last week about sending one of my casuals over to help out.”

  “Maybe this one will be okay then. See you next week then, if not sooner.”

  Elizabeth, Darcy, and Jane watched the exchange; their sight focused on the laughing faces, and then the three craned their necks to look past them to see the case worker who stood alone in the doorway. Unlike the men, her face was vacant of expression.

  “Lieutenant Bennet,” the case worker said, then smiling―“come on in. I’m afraid your friends will have to wait here while I give you the results.”

  Elizabeth gave a nervous glance to Darcy and Jane. “Yes, ma’am.” She hugged Jane and touched Darcy’s hand, giving each a look of absolute love and devotion, and walked into the room past the case worker’s outstretched hand to a long conference table. Despite her petite frame, being in the oversized office chair made Elizabeth feel powerful. She was a leader, a pilot, an officer meant for making meaningful, war-time decisions at a table like this, and she soaked in the feeling like a sponge. She slid her hands up and down the arms of the chair in an attempt to appear nonchalant and waited anxiously for the case worker to begin speaking. The woman sat down in a chair near her, crossed her legs, and placed her folded hands on her knee deliberately as if this gesture had been practiced in a mirror.

  “Lieutenant, I’m sure you are anxious to hear the results of your board.”

  Elizabeth nodded enthusiastically. “Yes ma’am.”

  The case worker pointed to the men seated next to her. “I know you’ve met Colonel Forsythe, wing commander for Meryton Air Base, and here next to me is Colonel Metcalfe, the hospital commander.” Both men nodded politely, but neither man’s lips turned into a smile.

  “Good afternoon.”

  “Of course, you know me. I am Kini Kahale, and I am the case worker for you during the board.” She sat down and pulled a stack of paper toward her and began to read. “Lieutenant Bennet, the Physical Evaluation Board for the United States Air Force has deemed you unfit to fly and, at this time, is recommending your honorable medical retirement from the service.”

  Elizabeth heard the words but did not take in any information.

  “I’m sorry? I should probably get my hearing checked. All those plane engines, huh?” Elizabeth laughed frantically.

  The case worker smiled a sad, pitying sort of smile and then repeated herself. “Lieutenant Bennet, I’m afraid to tell you that the Physical Evaluation Board for the United States Air Force has deemed you unfit to fly and at this time is recommending your honorable medical retirement from the service.”

  This time, Elizabeth’s brain was racing too quickly through every possible scenario which the board might have been invited to vote upon but was unable to come up with a single piece of evidence which could possibly have been held against her in any sort of fair voting system. I prepared. I researched. I had stacks of notes and research—for what?

  “Lieutenant?”

  Elizabeth’s head snapped up, and she looked at the case manager and saw compassion. Elizabeth could handle careening through the air in a metal death trap and being blasted out of the cockpit with half a parachute. She could take hundreds of hours of painful physical therapy and exercising to recuperate to her current level. She could take giving up Darcy, giving up her family, her friends, her life looking for answers. She could take it all, had she only been asked to give it up, but she could not handle this new sensation of pity. I didn’t even get a chance to speak.

  “Lieutenant,” Colonel Forsythe began, “I want you to know the board never takes such a decision lightly. We evaluated your determination to return, your rate of healing, your medical records, and your stellar reputation as a student before coming to this decision. Frankly, I’m disappointed to lose such a tremendous officer but, the fact of the matter is, with the injuries you sustained, another ejection could kill you, and that is a risk the Air Force simply cannot take.”

  The hospital commander nodded, pointed at a note on the pad of paper in front of him and spoke. “A compression spinal fracture will not only have lifelong consequences especially with lower back pain, nerve issues, and the like, but we worry about your ability to even pull up quickly while pushing the rudders and your ability to withstand the pain of simple g-forces in basic aerobatics. While I don’t believe this would stop you from flying in the civilian world, even a job as an air show pilot is most likely out of your grasp.”

  The case worker continued. “I want to emphasize that while you do have the right to appeal, the presence of two commanders during this initial board and the extent of your injuries gives you a less than one percent chance of success.”

  “But, there’s a chance?”

  Elizabeth watched as all three people across the table shook their heads. Where the hell is Willoughby? He can tell them how much I’ve improved—how far I’ve come. The case worker was the first to respond verbally. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant.”

  Tears filled her eyes and Elizabeth jumped out of her seat. The case manager’s hand shot out to support her and Elizabeth’s arms flew up to protect herself. Once she realized what she was doing, she pulled down her jacket and straightened her skirt, focusing on her uniform to calm herself. She was blinded by the water in her eyes which ran down her cheeks with every blink.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you want to speak to Dr. Browning, the operational psychologist?”

  “No.”

  “Can I get you some water or coffee?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “I know you’re going through a lot right now, however, I do need to give you some more information.”

  Elizabeth scoffed. She could handle college and ROTC and working herself half to death to get here. She could handle pilot training. She could handle a plane crash. She could handle the recovery. Of course she could handle some stupid one hundred-page brochure about “next steps” and “tra
nsition to civilian life.”

  “I’m good,” she said as she sniffed loudly and took a proffered tissue from the case manager to dry her eyes and blow her nose.

  “Should I grab your friends that are outside? I’m sure they would help you remember what is said today, and there isn’t anything confidential in the brief.”

  Elizabeth blankly nodded, governing herself into the mature, stable, upright soldier she had been immediately before the board had met. The case manager left to call Darcy and Jane in, giving Elizabeth time to regain her composure. Darcy spared no attention for the others in the room, but immediately came to Elizabeth’s side, neither one of them reaching for each other; Elizabeth out of respect for her airman’s uniform, Darcy out of respect for Elizabeth’s hands which were clasped tightly in her lap, clinging to the other for dear life. Jane looked back and forth between the case manager and Elizabeth and sat on the other side of Elizabeth, wrapping her arm tightly around Elizabeth’s shoulders and pulling her close.

  “The Air Force has a phenomenal amount of materials, aide, and programs to help airmen transition into civilian life…” The case manager was too damn perky for this job. She must have majored in tourism, maybe interior design or preschool teaching. Elizabeth spent the next few minutes not listening to anything related to the “transition” and instead imagined the case manager picking out some avocado curtains to match a hideous floral couch and wingbacks with throw pillows.

  A minute into the case manager’s monologue, Elizabeth stood up.

  “I have to go.”

  The case manager’s jaw dropped and Elizabeth could see her silver fillings in the back molars.

  “Yeah.” Elizabeth moved her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable in her low heels. Her legs beat painfully and she was exhausted. Her mind raced, attempting to discover how to make her escape.

  “I have to go.”

  She walked to the door, practically dragging her feet while ignoring the case manager’s mutterings about rescheduling a time to talk about things and her rights to an appeal and where to call JAG. The case manager even held out pamphlets as she spoke, intent on Elizabeth taking the information with her. She heard Jane speaking softly and quickly, gathering all the information. Darcy moved behind her and, once they entered the long hallway, gathered her arm into the crook of his elbow, feeling his strength as she leaned into him.

  “Take me home.”

  The next day was cloudy and cool. It was December, after all, and it finally felt like Christmas when Elizabeth heard carols floating up the stairs before breakfast. Bingley was home, and, most likely dancing with both left feet in the kitchen with Jane. Elizabeth shivered as she dressed in comfortable sweat pants and a hoodie—the uniform of the unemployed.

  She was not happy, not by a long shot, but the board from the day before had in many ways relieved her agony. She knew now. She might be able to fight the results with Willoughby’s slimy behavior and Caroline’s deception, but what was the point? There was nothing left for her here at Meryton, and it had been several years since she had a job worth her time at Longbourn. Maybe she would get a master’s. She was smart and young and capable. It was the perfect time to apply if she wanted to go the next school year, and she burned some time looking up graduate programs.

  Elizabeth sat in her room pondering her future, jotting occasional notes on a pad, and sending up fervent prayers to whatever god would listen to help her make a decision.

  The day passed in strange stretches of time that alternated between moving at an excruciatingly sluggish pace and speeding by. She had looked at school after school and multiple programs. Did she want to be a teacher like Jane? What about going back for a degree like electrical engineering? After losing pilot training, either path sounded about as fun as eating sand.

  Darcy knocked on her door. “Elizabeth? I’ve got to leave for the Drop Night. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Water? Something to eat?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “You haven’t eaten all day. Just a sandwich or something? Some crackers?”

  Elizabeth put down her pen and sighed. She was not hungry or tired or happy or sad. She just was. She could feel herself sliding up and down the stages of grief, but mostly lingering between depression and denial. She had started her research in hopes to just accept what she now knew. She was out of the Air Force for good and she had to push forward.

  “No, I’m not hungry. Thanks though.”

  “Okay. Jane already called your parents to let them know everything. I hope that was okay. She thought you would rather have it be over than rehash it a thousand times. I think she is putting up the Christmas tree now if you need anything while I’m gone.”

  “Jane is always very sweet. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “Let me know if I can pick up anything for you, love. Anything at all.”

  “Okay, thanks. Have a good time tonight.”

  She felt her eyes well with emotion. He would watch students accomplish what she could not and then come home. The question that drove Elizabeth was what will he come back to?

  Darcy’s interruption shook her out of her stupor and thinking with a clarity that she had been absent since the crash, she looked at her notes and began evaluating her options. She saw commonalities between them and pushed on the margins of her mind to imagine the creative possibilities before her.

  During an astronomy class in college, she had been told that when looking at stars with the naked eye, she should look slightly to the side of the star instead of directly at it in order to see it better. She thought about the dreams that had ended and the endless eternity of options before her and tried to look at them sideways rather than straight on. How could she continue forward and begin to achieve the things she had dreamed about? She scribbled more in her notebook until she finally began to feel again.

  22

  Darcy was sitting on the couch holding a book when Elizabeth walked in the living room. The sun had gone down, but the light from the ceiling fan above her and the lamps on the side tables made beautiful highlights in her deep brown hair. “Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were at the Drop.”

  “Been. Now back.”

  Pouring a glass of water, she asked, “How was it?”

  “Uneventful. I left right after the announcements, and Ghost said she would cover for me if anyone asked. Why? Did you want to come with me?”

  “No. I think listening to everyone talk about getting their wings might be too depressing.”

  “Maybe we could watch a movie or play a card game. I feel like I’ve been gone so much we’ve barely had time together. To relax.”

  She then sat down on the other end of the couch and began writing eagerly on a pad of paper. It was covered in her small, neat handwriting broken into columns.

  “What are you doing there?”

  “Making decisions.”

  “You make decisions by writing ten pages of little columns.”

  “Yup.”

  “All the time, or is this a special occurrence?”

  “Most of the time. I take it you’ve not seen my grocery lists.”

  “I’ve never seen you cook, other than with Jane.”

  “Well, you will be in for a treat then. I normally don’t burn stuff.”

  “I don’t know if I should take that as a vote of confidence or be concerned.”

  “My mother and sisters would tell you to be concerned. My father”—Elizabeth scribbled on the pad, and then continued—“my dad, he would tell you that my experimentation is demonstration of my creative genius.”

  “Creative genius, eh? What else are you good at?”

  “Fighting, or so it would seem. Especially with you.”

  “You have every right—”

  “Let me finish. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you after the board. I know how patient you’ve been with me, and I love you for it. I just needed to apologize.”
>
  Darcy moved next to her and placed his arm across the back of the couch cushion behind her. He took the notepad from her hands. “Let me see what you’ve been doing all day.”

  “Well, I’ve been trying to make some decisions and evaluate what I want. I wrote down a page for each dream I had: flying, Air Force, travel, marriage, you. Then I made a list of what I wanted.” She pointed to the columns on the pad. “Flying, for example, I want to go fast. I want to fly formation. I want to fly acrobatics. So I can’t just be an airline pilot. I’ll need to find another job that does those things, so from here I can research positions. There’s racing like the Air Race Classic. There’s instructor pilot at the little town airports―”

  “Crop dusting…?” Darcy read from her list of options and she giggled.

  “Exactly! They told me I could still fly in the civilian world, and it seems fun. I drove through Nebraska once and it seemed nice.” Darcy laughed. “So, I went through everything that I could think of; all my major goals. Honestly, I kind of think everyone should do this regularly. It’s been pretty awesome for nailing down some real ideas.”

  “I wish I had thought of that after my dad died. I didn’t even think of what I wanted. I just up and joined the Air Force. You have such an exceptional ability to meet challenges head on. That is a quality I admire about you.”

  “Really, is there any other way? Challenges will be there; might as well face them.”

  “I apparently prefer to run away. I ran away from Pemberley and Georgiana. I left Pemberley with Mrs. Reynolds and Georgiana with my aunt Peggy—Richard’s mom. I ran from Anne. I ran from Aunt Catherine. Hell, I ran from you. It’s been a long time, and it’s only now since I lost you and somehow found you again, that I finally feel like I can go back and beat my demons.”

  “You were always strong enough.”

  “I don’t think that I was. I think you’ve made me strong enough.”

  Elizabeth inched closer to Darcy, relaxing into his chest as he pressed into the couch, laying her head back comfortably.