Beyond the Horizon

by Ella Carey

  For what seemed like minutes, Eva followed Dan’s instructions while heaving and gasping, licking her lips, feeling a wet trail of perspiration flowing down her face, from her armpits, down to her sweltering, shaking hands.

  “The guiding beam will come on now. It will guide you to a safe landing when fog and darkness have obscured your vision. When you hear an interrupted note, that means you are coming into the path of the beam, and that’s when you are taking up the true course.”

  The only word she heard was landing, and relief hit her like a freezing wind against hot bricks. She moved the control stick, knowing that she was not supposed to be able to see anything, and in the pitch darkness, broken only by the relentless bright lights of the panel, she realized in a fog of sweat and shaking that she’d forgotten to take the altimeter into consideration. She’d forgotten it even existed.

  “You’re losing height too fast.” Dan sounded serious through the communication tube. “Get the plane level again. Try to gain some altitude for a moment, Eva.”

  But Eva’s ears started to buzz. She struggled to keep her eyes open. Finally, she closed them for one second, giving in to the relative bliss of blackness, of the dark.

  “You are way off course, Eva. Maintain some altitude and try again.”

  Eva’s entire face was wet. “Sorry, sir,” she muttered through the radio. She couldn’t keep control of her hands, and her head swam.

  “The pilot dies a horrible death.” Dan’s voice blurred.

  Eva slumped forward into her hands. When Dan lifted the door open, the little box of darkness was flooded with bright, stunning light.

  The taste of her own sweat exploded in her mouth. It was mixed, surely, with something else—blood. She’d been so distressed that she’d bitten her lip and drawn blood.

  Eva stared straight ahead as, gradually, her eyes adjusted to the light and her heartbeat settled down to a slower rate.

  She hated to think what she looked like, her face white as a sheet and her flight suit drenched with sweat. Slowly, she managed to ease herself out of the trainer, aware of Nina’s hands coming to help her, easing off her turban, helping her across the crowded room.

  Goodness knew she had to have washed out.

  What would she tell her mother, her father? Harry? She’d failed in the Link Trainer while Harry was training to join bomber command.

  “Eva.” Dan Parker rested a hand on her shoulder.

  Helena held out a glass of water for her. Eva felt the imprint of Dan’s fingers through her sweat-soaked shirt. After a moment, she risked looking up at his face. There was no point in hesitating. He had no reason to do anything other than wash her out.

  The expression on his face was kind.

  “You are not the first to have that reaction. What happened to you in there is common, Eva. We’ll get you to the point where you are confident in there and soon. The hot conditions today are something else. Your class is running at the most challenging time. It’s like an oven in Sweetwater, so I don’t think anyone’s getting a good night’s sleep. Being in that thing for the first time in this weather, in a hot tin shed? Well. You won’t be the only one today. Let’s put it that way.”

  Eva stared straight ahead. Even if he was being generous, the fact was she had failed an important exercise.

  What if the same thing happened next time?

  “Don’t panic, and don’t think about next time.” His expression was serious. “Go back to the barracks,” Dan went on. “Take a shower. Have a rest.”

  She stared at him.

  “Helena Cartwright next,” Dan called.

  Helena moved away from Eva and started to climb into the box.

  Eva walked silently out of class.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE COMMITTEE: Other WASP have told us that the moral expectations placed on you were different from those for male pilots. But how is that relevant to the government’s decisions for WASP militarization?

  EVA FORREST: I think it is relevant. The way we were expected to behave is indicative of the overall way in which women were treated differently than men. Our out-of-plane and classroom behaviors were scrutinized in a way men’s never were. Even though we did not really realize that in those days, we were treated differently in every way. We were told we would be assessed on the way we walked, moved, and thought. We were expected to carry out all the training that men did, but we had to follow rules they did not have to follow, such as dressing modestly when off base, not being allowed to smoke in town, not being allowed to socialize too much. But we were still expected to look pretty and glamorous when the press came to take photographs of us.

  A few hours after the Link Trainer fiasco, Eva sat on her bed with her legs crossed. Her ground school notes were spread around her—navigation, the theory of flight, weather, mapping, and math. She’d showered in cold water, washing the hot sweat from her body, but she hadn’t been able to stomach dinner. The other girls were unusually quiet in the bay, some of them resting, some of them studying too.

  “Mission accomplished.” Rita burst through the door and threw herself down on her cot. She folded her arms behind her neck and stared up at the ceiling. “Plan A with Instructor Dan worked to a T.”

  Beatrice sat up on her bed. “Dating an instructor is a crazy idea. Dating is crazy, period. That’s why I’m studying to be a librarian. I think I can avoid the likes of trouble if I avoid the likes of men. Don’t do it, Rita. It’s not worth it. You love flying too much. And we need you—the country needs you.”

  Rita lay on one side and propped herself up by one elbow. “Helena isn’t the only one who was a flying instructor in our group, honey. Most of my students were men. I’ve met plenty of them before. I can handle this.”

  “Yes, but the rules have been spelled out.” Helena looked up from the letter she was writing home. “We’ve been warned time and time again not to break them, that if we socialize with instructors, we’ll be washed out. And we are at war. This is no time to mess with instructors. We’re here to train for a serious job.”

  “Oh my.” Rita sighed. “We’ve all packed up, left home, and come together in the middle of this godforsaken desert plain while our men are out there killing men from other countries who are doing everything they can to kill our boys—our brothers and our sweethearts. Boys we might never see again. If this isn’t a time to live, then when is a better time?”

  “But we are living,” Bea pointed out. She frowned at her notes.

  “I don’t know whether I’ll survive the war.” Rita lowered her voice. “Apart from that, I don’t even know whether my little brother will live. Jake is eighteen, for mercy’s sake. Every time he flies, my heart is in my mouth. He’s gone and become a bomber pilot. Fudged his age and enlisted. He’s gone to Florida.”

  “We have a friend who’s training to be a bomber pilot,” Nina said. “Eva and I worry about him every day.”

  Rita sat up on her bed. “Look, girls, if I was killed tomorrow, would I regret not seeing this man tonight? I felt something the moment Dan walked into the room.” She gazed toward the open door as if to check that no one was within earshot outside. “Flying for my country comes with a risk, going out with Dan comes with a risk, but not doing either of those things just seems to me the dullest way to live. We could be killed any day up in those ratty old airplanes, and I for one never want to die with regrets.”

  A hot breeze ruffled the air outside, sending a brief shiver through the quiet bay.

  “She’s got a point. This whole thing is risky, and if we girls don’t stick together now, what happens when we are out flying on military bases? What then?” Nina spoke softly.

  “I’m with Nina,” Nancy said. “We have to support each other. Judging each other is not the way to get through. We are going to have men coming into the equation during the course of the war. And in my opinion, the rules about dating them are too harsh.” Nancy leaned on her elbow, her red hair falling down around her face.

  �
�Well, all I can say is that I’m nervous for you right now, Rita.” Helena stood up in her thin cotton dress. “The rules might not be fair, but Mrs. Cochran obviously feels they are necessary. Deedee won’t listen to our opinions if you get caught.”

  “I won’t get caught.” Rita went to the showers.

  Later, Rita stepped out of the bathroom, her beautiful face made up with a little powder and a touch of rouge. Her blond hair was pulled up into a French twist, and she tucked a gold lipstick into the pocket of the light belted trench coat that she’d put on over her dress.

  “Girls.” She glanced out at the quiet area between the barracks and the hangars outside. “A thought came to me while I was in the shower.”

  Eva lay on her bed, writing to Harry. She was certain she’d hear from him soon. At home on a Saturday night, she’d be going out to a dance hall. She’d be mooning over Harry. She put her pen down while Rita spoke. The girl had gumption, Eva would give her that.

  “I think I need your help.” Rita stood there, hands on her hips.

  The girls looked up at her. The only sound was the hot breeze whistling outside the door.

  “Thing is . . .” Rita hovered for a moment. “Well, thing is, Dan said there was a small gathering at one of the instructors’ houses tonight. Would one of you girls be game enough to come out with me?”

  Eva stared at the letter. What was she doing? Harry would be writing to Lucille.

  “If I go on my own, you see, it would raise suspicions. No WASP is going to wander around Sweetwater by herself on a Saturday night. They could catch on to the fact that I’m meeting someone. We don’t know whose eyes are watching us when we go out.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Eva said all of a sudden, before she could second-guess the crazy instinct to take such a risk.

  “Evie?” Nina’s brow creased into a frown. “Why?”

  “’Cause, like you said, if we don’t support each other, what’s the point of this stupid war, anyway?” And it’s Saturday night, and I can’t stand lying here. I may as well do something useful to help out a friend.

  Nina stared at her, but after what seemed an eternity, she reached out her hand across the cots.

  “Give me ten minutes, Rita.” Eva stood up. She opened her wardrobe and pulled out her favorite soft-green dress. “I’ll be ready real fast.”

  When she came out a few minutes later, Eva fought a stab of conscience. The girls looked so innocent lying about in their pajamas and dressing gowns, their faces washed and free of makeup. Rita looked utterly out of place in her lipstick and high-heeled shoes.

  But she was standing by the door, waiting, and Eva had made her a promise. So.

  “Rita, Eva,” Helena said, “remember that the gates to Avenger Field are closed at midnight, and you’ll be washed out if you miss curfew. You don’t want to have to climb back in over those cyclone fences.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Rita said. “You girls go to sleep, and in the morning, you won’t even know we were out.”

  Eva sent Nina one last hesitant smile. Nina blew her a kiss and smiled at her. Eva could tell that her dearest friend was trying to be brave.

  They stepped out into the warm night air, Eva following Rita up the long driveway that led to Fifinella and the entrance to Avenger Field.

  “Rita,” she said finally, her voice filtering into the darkness.

  “Uh-huh?”

  “About your brother. The bomber pilot?” The need to talk about bomber pilots seemed overwhelming right now. It was as bad as the need to stop thinking about Harry, but that was impossible, no matter what she tried.

  The boundary of the airfield loomed in front of them, the tall cyclone fence as formidable as a barrier around a prison.

  Rita paused at the gateway. Even in the dark, Fifinella looked so young and cute and innocent that Eva had to turn away.

  Rita went out the gate first. It wasn’t until they were on the highway, moving toward the small cluster of white houses where the instructors lived, that Rita finally started to talk.

  “I know why my little brother’s off flying bombers, Evie. I know why he’s up there doing the riskiest thing you can do in this war.”

  Eva sighed. She knew why Harry was doing it too. It was because he wanted action. It was because he wanted to do something real. “You do?” she said.

  “Well, when it comes to my family, the story goes back to the Great War. My dad came back from the Somme a changed man, or so my mom always said.”

  Eva stayed quiet, the sound of their dressy shoes clipping against the road the only noise in the dark. She was glad Rita was opening up to her. She’d always seemed a bit of an enigma—glamorous, adventurous—but Eva had no idea about her family life.

  “My dad drank. At night, he used to be visited by these terrors. He’d flip. I used to think there was a demon inside him.”

  Eva had heard stories of shell shock, but she’d never seen it playing out.

  “Thank you for taking this risk with me,” Rita said suddenly, veering off topic. “I appreciate it. You know, sometimes, there’s a special closeness of the confessional when folks are in cahoots and putting themselves at risk.”

  Eva stopped on the edge of the dry, dead stretch of grass that passed for a lawn in front of the instructors’ houses. “It’s no problem at all, Rita. I try to be a good listener, especially when it comes to my friends.”

  Rita’s fair hair was illuminated under a streetlight. “Please don’t tell the other girls, not Helena or Bea, in particular, what I’m about to tell you. Not that I don’t trust them, but I sense that you and Nina might be a little less judgmental than Helena, and maybe Bea. Nancy is okay, but she’s thick as syrup with Bea.”

  Eva frowned at Rita. “Of course, Rita. You can talk openly with me, and I promise it won’t go any further.”

  Rita lowered her voice. “Eva, my dad murdered my mom when I was thirteen years old.”

  “Rita!” Eva reached out and pulled her into a hug.

  “It was eight years ago today.” Rita’s words were muffled into Eva’s shoulder.

  “Oh. Oh my.” Eva held her friend close.

  “The only way I could deal with it, you know, the only way I could cope, was to get out of this world. Off it.”

  “Yes, I understand that . . .” Eva wanted to close her eyes and have this earth swallow her up. But she took a step backward. “Rita, I don’t know what to say.”

  Rita’s mouth was working into a small smile. “You know, Eva, sometimes, I imagine when I’m flying up there, my mom is waving at me.”

  “I lost a sister,” Eva murmured. “My twin. And I do exactly the same thing when I’m flying. I wonder what it’s like where she is now, up there. You can’t help looking at the sky and thinking about folks you’ve lost, Rita.”

  Rita knotted and unknotted her hands by her side. “I’m awful sorry about your sister.”

  Eva reached out and rested her hand on Rita’s arm.

  “Jake is flying to get to fight about our mom’s death, while I do it to be closer to my ma.”

  “Oh, Rita.”

  Rita’s mouth worked. She caught and held on to Eva’s gaze. “I hope you can see why I want to live my life as if every day matters, to follow my heart when it calls me. For my ma. Because you never, ever know when the life of a person you love is going to be cut short.”

  “You’ve experienced the very worst of loss. You understand it. You know how important living is.”

  “Thank you, Eva. For understanding.” Rita turned toward the group of houses. “This is it, just how Dan described it.” Suddenly, she patted a hand over her hair. “How do I look?” Her eyes swept over Eva.

  “Stunning. You’re a real stunner,” Eva said.

  The sounds of music drifted out of the house in front of them, and lights shone from the windows.

  Rita knocked.

  “You worked out your whole date over the communication device while you were in that horrid little trainer?” Eva
hovered under the porch light. She was of a mind to lighten the topic before they went into the party, and to alleviate her nerves. The sounds of jazz filtered out onto the lawn.

  “You bet we did.” Rita cracked a wide grin.

  “Well, you achieved a whole lot more than I did in that thing.”

  “You’ll crack it. Don’t worry about it,” Rita said.

  The front door swung open, and Eva’s own heart skipped a beat at the sight of Dan Parker, even though his eyes flew straight to Rita, lingering on her and hardly noticing Eva at all. He raised a tanned arm up to lean on the door frame.

  “Can I help you?” he drawled. “Are you girls by any chance lost?”

  “Why, we were just passing through town.” Rita put on a Texan accent too, as if she’d grown up the daughter of a rancher herself. “And y’see, y’all, we heard there was a party going around these parts, so we thought we’d knock on this here door. We heard the music, and we couldn’t pass on by without checking this here hootenanny out.”

  Dan scanned the dark grassy area behind Eva, his eyes turning serious for a moment, honey colored in the light.

  Eva forced herself not to turn around and check the road out too.

  “Well, I don’t like to leave a couple beautiful girls like you two standing out on my front porch. It wouldn’t be the right thing to do, now would it?”

  “Nooo . . . ,” Rita said. “It would be ungentlemanly. A sin, in fact.”

  Dan stepped aside, and Rita walked right into the house.

  “Come on in, Eva,” Dan said. He frowned for a moment. “You feeling better now?”

  “Yes, sir,” Eva said, then threw her eyes to the sky at the way she’d addressed him. What was she supposed to call an instructor when she was at his house for a party that was strictly against the rules?

  “Wouldn’t want strangers to think that Southern hospitality didn’t extend to these here parts,” he said, following Rita inside.

  “No, we would not.” Rita turned and grinned up at him.

  “Would you like to dance, beautiful girl?” Dan asked. He pulled a cowboy hat off a table and put it on her head.