by Ella Carey
Suddenly, Eva was fighting to breathe. Smoke filtered through the cockpit. A thick, rank odor spread through the air like an unwelcome ghost.
“Oh, Evie.” Helena’s voice was shaky. “Fighting to maintain airspeed. Emergency procedure.”
“Activating emergency ventilation procedures.” Eva reached up. She pushed her rear canopy open. Freezing air blasted and swirled around her. The wind roared. Rain pummeled her face, soaking her lap and the cockpit, saturating the spreading smoke. Eva’s arms shook and her heart thumped in time with the beat of the rain. She had to concentrate. Told herself how she’d flown open cockpit in the rain a thousand times during training out in Texas. Told herself how Helena was a good pilot. Told herself they were not going to die.
Eva forced herself to focus on the procedure that had been drilled into them over and over again.
“Keep the airspeed up to extinguish the fire, Helena.”
“Executing a forced landing as soon as we get beyond these trees.”
The plane heaved and shook like a bag of ball bearings over the forest. Helena fought to lift the ricocheting nose upward.
“We have to assume we could be glider pilots any second now, Helena.”
“Are we gonna make it, Evie?” Helena shouted the useless words.
“You need to come around by three degrees now, Helena.” They had to turn a little to move toward the base and not stay stuck above the trees. Eva forced herself to stare at the artificial horizon, a glimmering, tiny flicker of a beacon in the pouring rain.
“Roger.”
“Maintain altitude now. If you need me to, I’ll take over.” The plane bounced; it might as well have been a balloon filled with air. Eva cursed herself for all the jokes they’d made about planes falling into Dismal Swamp and never being seen again.
The props stopped.
Suddenly, the engine froze. Eva reached for the throttle and felt it flapping back and forth.
“Please,” Eva whispered into the screaming wind. “Please, save us now.”
In the distance, thunder growled.
“I’ll handle the radios,” Eva said. “You handle the aircraft. Switching to the tower frequency.”
“I’m slowing down a little. Turning off the ignition switch.”
Something dark spread through Eva’s stomach and hung there. “I’m switching frequency to the control tower right now, Helena. Give me one minute.”
Eva’s fingers were slick on the little knob. Rain pelted her hands. Her entire body felt like it was being melted by the rain. “This is Baker Forty-Seven. We’re at one thousand feet. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. We’ve lost oil pressure.”
“We’ll scramble the fire trucks and meet you there.”
“Roger.”
Eva fumbled with the controls, switching back to Helena. “Push the nose forward to keep the airspeed up now, Helena.”
The plane bounced upward. Suddenly, the air base spread below them. Eva clutched the sides of the plane.
“Put the landing gear down now, Helena. Unlatch your door prior to landing.” Eva reached out and unlatched hers. She saw Helena still fighting the steering controls. “Unlatch your door!” Eva shouted. “Brace for impact and run on landing!”
Helena yelled, “I have to turn the airplane on an angle!”
Eva saw Helena scramble for her door handle. Eva closed her eyes for one second, nausea surging up through her throat.
Helena pulled the nose up again, turning the plane sideways with the rudder. The plane skipped.
Eva grasped hard on her handle, ready to exit on impact, ready to run.
“Remember to run!” she managed to shout.
The plane crashed and skidded. A second, sickening crack ripped into Eva’s ears. Pain ricocheted through Eva’s body, up her side, searing into her head, tunneling deep into her legs.
She heard the wail of sirens.
She smelled the stench of smoke.
But one thought pushed her to yank on the door handle and get out of the plane. One thought kept her pulling herself across the tarmac, dragging her body along.
She had to save her friend.
Los Angeles, 1977
“Alex. I told you not to bring this up. Look at her. She’s spaced out again.” Jack’s voice sliced into the air.
“Sure, Dad.” Alex’s voice was small.
Jack shook Eva’s shoulders. Eva lost her balance and tipped off her chair.
Gradually, the sounds of the market grew louder and louder. A stall owner shouted about potatoes. The roar of the burning plane receded away into the distance. Eva put her hands out on the asphalt floor of the market. She started to push herself forward, to crawl along the ground. The noises around her came into focus. People talking. Laughing.
It’s not the tarmac.
It’s the market.
“Mom, Mom, where are you going? Let me help you up. I can’t believe you pushed her, Dad. You knocked her out of her chair.”
“She tipped, Alex.”
“I’ll go get the car.” Alex again. “Mom, you don’t need to walk home.”
She felt Alex place his hands under her arms, hauling her up to a chair. In front of her, a glass of water sat perfectly still. Alex held it up. Gently, he guided the glass to her lips.
“She can walk, Alex.” Jack glowered in the background.
“Alex, please stay with me.” Eva’s hand shook as she rested it on the table.
“I’m out of here.” Jack turned and disappeared into the busy street. He sounded as mean as he had when Alex had stayed out too late and broken curfew when he was sixteen.
Alex pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. I just . . .” She could still hear the prop engine, but it was only faint. “There was an accident back then. I was involved. It came back just now. It was like it was haunting me.”
“You never talk about the war. Are you sure you’re okay?” Alex leaned forward, his eyes running back and forth over her face, filled with love.
“One of my close friends was killed in the accident. I was her copilot.” Her words would come only in bursts.
“Oh, Mom. I didn’t know.”
“I have trouble recalling the details. I tried so hard to remember the accident after it happened, and over the years, I guess I just gave up.”
“That’s so sad.” Alex looked down, darkness haunting his face.
Shadows of her own past seemed to linger between them. Eva’s heart still beat fast with the memory of so long ago.
“Just now, I finally saw something new. I was crawling to the plane, trying to save Helena. I was so worried that I hadn’t done enough to help, that my copilot’s death was my fault.”
“That’s horrible.” He drew a hand up to his face.
Eva looked down at her hands. They sat folded neatly in her lap on her dark-blue skirt. It was the same color as the official WASP uniform, the Santiago-blue fitted jacket and skirt she’d been so proud to receive for her graduation, such a gorgeous outfit to wear after months in flight suits, broken only by beige pants and white shirts for ground school.
Alex leaned forward. “All you’ve ever told me is that you don’t keep in touch with your old friends from the war. That you lost touch.”
“I tried. I wrote letters, and they never wrote back.” Her voice sounded distant, lost now. It was as if she were trying to recall some stray note.
“They must have moved away.”
“We’d all been so close.” Eva felt for the familiar comfort of her scarf and ran her fingers down its soft length. “Eventually, I blocked out the war like it never happened. We were told to pick up our lives and never talk about it. I never knew what really happened that night.”
“Jeez. Mom.” His voice shook, and her heart lurched out to her son.
“This ex-WASP. She told you they were getting together again? Now?”
“She was so great, I wanted to tell you,” Alex said.
“When we joined, they told us we’d be made military. Our leader, Jacqueline Cochran, fought Congress back in ’44. We were disbanded at the end of that year. They wanted the returning men to have jobs. We were all sent home.” Her voice filtered off again.
“Mom, you’ve got to go. The reason they’re fighting again now is because the government just announced that the air force is going to train women as pilots for the first time.”
“Well, it’s not the first time. We already flew air force planes and lived on air force bases back in World War II.”
“Don’t you think that the WASP deserve to be recognized? And don’t you think you deserve some answers about your accident?”
Eva’s heart contracted at the dearness of him, but she heaved out a sigh. “I’ve promised your father. I’m done with the past.”
“Don’t listen to Dad. He doesn’t get it.” Alex’s expression tightened. And Eva saw all the complexities of his relationship with his father in that one look. All the times she’d tried to stand up for Alex, all the times she’d tried to step in and put a stop to the conflict that Jack caused with their son. All the times Jack had turned on her and told her to keep out of it.
“Women died.”
“What, Mom?”
“Women died while flying for the United States. All of them had undertaken military training, and they died doing their duty for their country.”
“The woman today said they’ve got the bill approved by the Senate.” Alex’s voice was soft, filled with the sympathy she knew was imbued in him.
“So it’s gone to the House.”
“The reps are proving a much harder battle, she said.”
“How long did you talk to her?” In spite of everything, Eva felt warmth flicker through her insides.
“The line for tickets was very long. It’s a very big movie, Star Wars.”
“Oh, Alex!” Eva caught his dancing brown eyes with her own.
“Go for it, Mom. For you and Granddad.”
“Granddad?” Eva’s voice came out solid and strong now.
“Granddad.” Alex was firm. “He used to tell me how you loved nothing more than to fly when you were young. That Grandma tried to convince you not to fly for the air force, but you were headstrong and you wouldn’t listen to her. He would want you to fight. I know it.”
“Oh, I was a bit determined back then.” Eva chuckled.
Alex dropped his voice. “Sounds kind of familiar.”
For a brief moment, Eva shared a smile with her eighteen-year-old boy.
“Dad will be here in two minutes. I have to ask, wouldn’t they tell you about your accident?”
“The WASP records have been hidden for over thirty years.”
“You’ve got to go to Washington. Promise me you’ll go.” His eyes searched her face, his expression so vulnerable that Eva’s heart wanted to break in two.
“I’m saying, supporting some movement to militarize women pilots is not a good idea.” Jack stood framed in the doorway of their bedroom in the house in Hancock Park. They’d lived there all their married life, and they’d raised Alex there. Alex would most likely move out when he went to college next year, but for now it was still their familiar nest, even though it had become riddled with arguments during the last three months over Eva’s decision to go to Washington and help fight for her sisters in the WASP when the bill went to Congress. Eva folded the last sweater from the pile of clothes on their bed, its everyday pale-green quilted cover smooth as always. She zipped up her small red leather suitcase.
“I doubt I’ll be gone long.”
“Look how crazy the past makes you. You space out, have these episodes where you just sit and stare. You don’t need that. Stay home.”
Eva sighed. “Jack, for over thirty years, I’ve done what you said. For the first time, I’m doing what’s right.”
Jack took a step toward her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, standing over her.
Eva took a step to the side. Mimicking her, he took a step too, blocking her way.
“Really? You’re going to stop me?”
“You gave up flying. I gave up acting. That was the deal. I’ve kept my side of the bargain.”
Eva looked up at him. She focused on the expression on Alex’s face when he had urged her to go, remembered the unfathomable determination that she’d so admired in those fellow WASP of hers, remembered that girl who’d marched out the door with her suitcase in her hand and a whole pile of confidence back in 1943.
Eva felt her lips forming a strong-willed smile. “I’m not going flying. Yet.”
CHAPTER THREE
Washington, DC, 1977, Congressional Hearings
THE COMMITTEE: Mrs. Forrest, can you give us a summary of the Women Airforce Service Pilots during World War II?
EVA FORREST: During the Second World War, 25,000 women applied to be members of the Women Airforce Service Pilots; 1,830 were accepted, and 1,074 passed flight training. We filled the need for more pilots to do noncombat duties at home, freeing up the men to fight overseas. We flew over sixty million miles for our country, bombers and fighters and every other type of plane. We started in 1942, and for the next two years, we ferried planes across the country from factories to airfields. We towed targets so that young men could learn to shoot at enemies. We test-flew new airplanes and planes just back from repairs. We served as flight instructors for the military, and we test-flew radio-controlled planes. Thirty-eight of us were killed in the line of duty. Men weren’t the only pilots in World War II. There was a group of women, us flygirls, who were ready and willing to do our part too.
Los Angeles, July 1943
Eva stretched her legs across the sofa in the little house in Burbank, resting her feet in Harry’s lap. Nina sat on a cushion on the floor. Benny Goodman played on the gramophone, and every now and then, the crash of Eva’s mother’s pots and pans rang from the kitchen in back.
“You could teach me to fly.” Eva nudged Harry with her foot. “After all, you’re a certified instructor. I know we’re friends and all, but you’d be a grand teacher.”
Harry took a sip of his beer, tipping his blond head backward in that slow, sexy way that Eva loved, not that she would ever confess as much to him.
“Every time I take you up, Evie, you’re the pilot. You take control of the plane. So why bother with your certificate? You’ve already done hours and hours of flying with me. I know you haven’t taken off or landed a plane on your own yet, but you’re on your way to being a very good pilot already. You’ve logged up good hours so far, just by being up there with me.” He tapped her leg with his tanned hand.
“I’ve heard talk of a callout for women to take over ferrying airplanes so the men can go off to war,” Eva said.
Harry stayed stock still, his free hand still resting on Eva’s leg.
“If I don’t teach you, then you’ll get your certificate yourself.”
“That’s right.”
Nina leaned on her elbow, her long dark ponytail swinging behind her head. “If you get your certificate, I get mine too.”
Harry stood up, his six-foot frame dwarfing the small room. “How about we start right away. I’ll give you lessons.”
He moved toward Eva’s dad’s desk. “Mind if I borrow a couple pieces of your dad’s paper, Evie?”
Eva nodded, her gaze flicking to Nina. “My mom’s not going to like this.”
Nina shrugged. “How can we stay here doing nothing when we both know we could be doing something? When we both love to fly and women are being recruited.”
Harry sat back down on the sofa. “Let’s see what you two know already. Then we can build on it all from there.”
Nina moved up to sit between him and Eva, and Harry started sketching out a neat diagram.
“Remind me what you need to check for landing?” He pointed the tip of his pencil at his drawing of an instrument panel.
“Fuel pump on. Mixture rich, check doors and harnesses,” Nina said.
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“At five hundred feet, you set the flaps, and slowly decrease the speed. You need to be at a landing speed of eighty miles per hour.” Eva had flown enough with Harry that she could recite most of this by heart.
“Impressive. Nina, what next?”
“Pull back the throttle, left hand on the stick, right hand on the throttle, carefully juggling both so you are controlling them just as they need to be. You’re a born teacher, Harry. You could go teach grade school.” Nina winked at Eva.
Harry raised one eyebrow in an imperceptible move. “Don’t push it, Nina. I’ll find a second instructor for you at the airport. I’ll teach Evie. You’re gonna be way too much hassle.”
“Oh, we all know how you love Evie best.” Nina leaned her head back against the sofa, but she giggled. “I’ve long become used to being third fiddle.”
Eva felt a flush spread up her chest and through her cheeks. She pressed her hands into the sofa and sat on them.
Next to her, Harry drew a picture of a fluffy cloud.
“You’ll both love being alone in the sky. The excitement of going up solo for the first time is something else. And, Nina, there are some great instructors. I’ll find one for you.”
“I’ll probably sing to myself,” Nina said.
“And as you go over the hills,” Harry whispered, drawing his arm up into the air in a smooth arc, “the updraft will pull you up, and the downdraft on either side will pull your little plane down. You’ll learn to trust your instincts up there, just like you do on the ground.”
Eva’s instincts were telling her only one thing, and that was that her crush on Harry just got a thousand times stronger at the sound of the lilt in his voice.
“How about you and I go up for a fly tomorrow after our shifts end, Evie?” Harry straightened out his piece of paper. “I have to take a plane up for testing, and I need a copilot. Someone who can take over the controls. After that, I’ll sort out formal lessons for you in a real training plane.”
“I’d love that. I just . . . you know, I wish Dylan could be doing this with us. I wish he could fly too. I want to fly for him, and for all the others like him,” Eva said.
Eva had tried so hard not to be furious about their friend, the boy who used to hit home runs and fix broken-down cars and throw popcorn at the back of her head at the movies. Now, all that was left of Dylan was a vacant shadow of the boy who’d grown up alongside them, after being hit by a shell in Tunisia, with no doctor to come quickly enough to save his leg.