Love by Design

by Christine Johnson

  “I’m here to fetch some special steel that Simmons needs to make new valves for the motors.”

  She tried to wrap her mind around the project that had once been so vital to her. “The expedition motors? Are you still having problems?”

  “On that left engine.” He grinned. “I think you rubbed off on us. Hunter said he could hear that something wasn’t right, so he ran another test and a valve broke. Simmons figures the new alloy will be stronger.” His voice flowed over her like a gentle brook.

  Compared to illness, injury and death, a little engine trouble was blissfully easy. “That engine had problems from the start. First the cowling. Now this. If Hendrick hasn’t done it already, have him check the cylinders for abnormalities.”

  “That’s my girl.” He grinned.

  She checked the chalkboard menu. “I’ll have a bowl of soup.”

  “What? No retort that you’re not my girl? Or that you’re not a girl any longer?”

  “I’m too tired to argue.”

  “That’s a shame.” He leaned back in that casually dashing manner of his, as if he owned the entire world. “I rather enjoyed our sparring matches.”

  She looked down at her water, both overcome by Dan’s appearance and still reeling from the tragedies of last night. Had Marie teased the man who’d fathered her baby? She was one of those women about whom polite society does not speak. No one had visited her, and no one would mourn her burial. Tears welled. She blinked them away as the waitress arrived to take their orders.

  Dan took the lead. “We will have your split pea soup and roast beef sandwiches. And bring my girl here a cup of hot tea.”

  Jen glared at him but spoke only after the waitress had gone. “Why did you do that? I only wanted soup.”

  “Then take the sandwich back with you for supper. It has to be better tasting than what they’re feeding you, judging from the number of nursing students here.”

  Jen stared at her water again, overcome by his consideration. She hadn’t been eating well. It wasn’t the food, which was nourishing if plain. It simply didn’t comfort like her mother’s meals. The hospital wasn’t home. Most days her roommates talked late into the night. Loralee dreamed of nursing overseas in the military. Norma longed to save lives like Florence Nightingale. Evelyn had the most practical reasons for becoming a nurse. Fourth daughter of nine in an impoverished family, nursing was her best hope for a better life. Jen was no longer sure why she had joined in the program.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Dan covered her clenched fist with his hand and absently stroked her chapped knuckles with his thumb.

  She shook her head, unable to speak without bursting into tears.

  “If you don’t want the sandwich,” he said, “I’ll take it with me.”

  Again she shook her head. What was it about men that they always thought they’d caused the problem? She cleared her throat. “A man died last night.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  “He didn’t have anyone. No next of kin. No friend. I sat with him until he went.”

  “That must have been difficult,” he said softly.

  She shook her head. “It was peaceful, actually.” She had to blink hard to keep back the tears. “But while I was gone, Marie died.”

  “Marie?”

  “A woman in the maternity ward. She didn’t have anyone, either. I visited her every day. But I missed yesterday.” All the blinking in the world wouldn’t stop the tears. She pressed the napkin to her eyes, ashamed that she’d broken down in public but no longer able to hold herself together. “I’m sorry.”

  She heard a scraping and shuffling sound, and then he put his arm around her shoulders. He didn’t say anything, didn’t claim it would get better, didn’t try to fix things. He just offered his unspoken support and let her finish.

  It took a lot of effort to calm down enough to speak. From the security of his presence, she could finally say what had been in her heart since the day she’d arrived.

  “Please take me home.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dan couldn’t leave Jen there. He couldn’t walk her back to that forbidding hospital and return her to a life that didn’t suit her. So he waited for her to pack her belongings and sign the papers that marked her official withdrawal from the program. Then he carried out her small piece of luggage and helped her into Hunter’s car.

  She looked exhausted. Her shoulders drooped, and her gaze was hollow.

  He said nothing as he cranked the car to a start and began the long drive back to Pearlman. He didn’t question her decision. He waited for her to speak first.

  She stared blankly out the side window, clutching her handbag as if it would fly away with each bump or jolt.

  He had been appalled by her appearance. Yes, her dress was neat, if wrinkled, and she was well scrubbed, but her expression matched that of the soldiers marching back from the front. Shell-shocked. Her cheekbones were more prominent than before, and her cheeks had hollowed. She’d been there less than a month. One more and she would end up in the mental ward.

  She needed to go home.

  When that tremulous voice had begged him to take her, it took every ounce of restraint not to sweep her out of the restaurant and put her in the car that moment. Instead, he had promised to bring her home if she ate the soup and drank the tea. Though she’d struggled to down it all, the desire to leave the hospital overcame her apparent queasiness. Though he was famished, he had the sandwiches wrapped in paper for the ride home. Once he’d situated her in the front seat, he had pulled the thick wool blanket over her lap. The old Jen would have snapped at him for coddling her. Today, she let him tuck the blanket around her.

  The change made him furious. He wanted to blame someone—the school, her family, even himself—for letting her go. The next moment he wanted to hold her tight and promise she would never have to endure this again.

  But he couldn’t. He was making an attempt to fly across the North Pole. He might not return alive.

  He could make no promises.

  So he waited for her to speak first.

  * * *

  Jen stared dully at the bustling city. When she’d first arrived, she’d found it fascinating. After all, she had never been to a city, but the novelty soon wore off. The noises and fumes and overpowering grayness left her longing for Pearlman’s quiet streets and tidy yards.

  Dan was taking her home.

  Her heart quickened. Never had home meant so much, even though that house would soon be put up for sale. Home wasn’t a house. It was something more—a comforting mother, sisters’ teasing and a bond that could never be broken. Home meant love and acceptance. Mother might be disappointed, but she would still love her. Tears burned in Jen’s eyes. How her body could manage another tear was beyond understanding. After last night and the terrible morning hours, she didn’t think it possible, yet she had choked up in the coffee shop. Dan had held her, shielded her, though the gossip was sure to fly through the dormitory.

  Dan had come to see her.

  True, he’d actually come to Grand Rapids to pick up that chunk of steel in the backseat, but he had gone out of his way to see her. Then, against all hopes, he agreed to take her home.

  She closed her eyes and let her head drop, but sleep would not come. Yes, the old Model T bumped and jolted over the rutted road, but that wasn’t the only thing keeping her awake. Yes, the memories of last night danced in her mind, but that wasn’t all that chased away sleep. Dan Wagner had searched her out. Even now he sat beside her, silent as stone, though he was probably bursting to tell her that he’d been right all along.

  “You might as well say it,” she said.

  “Say what?”

  “That nursing wasn’t for me. That I’m poorly suited to the profession. All of it.”

/>   He didn’t say anything for a long time. When he did speak, it wasn’t with the arrogance she’d expected. “Maybe I was wrong. People could use someone with your compassion and strength.”

  She stared at her clenched hands. “I’m not strong. Not at all.”

  “You sat all night with a dying stranger who had no next of kin. You gave your time and affection to a woman who had no one and shed the only tears she’ll receive at the end of her life.”

  Jen’s throat swelled and those awful tears came back. She wasn’t going to cry again. Jen Fox did not cry in front of others. At least not until the coffee shop. She bit her lip until the tears retreated.

  He wasn’t finished. “That’s real strength. It might not seem like that now because you’re tired and hurting, but once you’ve had a chance to sleep and eat properly your nerves will settle and the strength will come back.”

  She stared at the bleak landscape. They had left the city and were progressing through farmland. Last year’s withered cornstalks and stubbled fields showed no sign of life yet, though the snow was mostly gone. The low spots were wet from early spring rains and melting snow. Even the grass hadn’t greened yet.

  “Life can be cruel,” she whispered.

  “Sometimes it can be wonderful, too. I’d forgotten that for a while. I was too busy wallowing in misery.” He reached over with his gloved right hand and squeezed hers. “But then I met you. You brought sunshine into my life, Jen Fox.”

  Maybe the soup had finally warmed her. Perhaps the tea was working wonders. Whatever the reason, hope flickered ever so softly. Dan Wagner thought she had pulled him from despair. In return, she had accused him of gloating that he’d been correct.

  “I’m sorry,” she choked out.

  “For what?”

  She wasn’t about to point out her flaws and start them on the wrong path again. “I mean, thank you. For listening to me. For not trying to talk me out of leaving the program. For showing up at the right time.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips curve into the grin that she had tried so hard to recall over the past couple weeks. Was he truly pleased or was he secretly smug that he’d been right all along?

  “I’m not a quitter,” she said. “Until today, I finished everything I started. High school. Work. The written flight examination. I’ll complete the flight training, too.”

  “I’m sure you will.” But his grin had dropped into a grim line.

  She shivered and squeezed her eyes shut against the cold air swirling through the car. How would she ever get in the flight training? True, Jack had promised to teach her, once the snow melted and the school reopened, but the expedition was due to leave in the coming weeks. “Did the flight school open?”

  “Not with Mrs. Hunter confined to bed.”

  Jen sucked in her breath. Marie had been confined to bed. There probably wasn’t any connection. Many of the women in the maternity ward had delivered successfully. So would Darcy. Jen had to believe that.

  A more practical implication came to mind. “Then I don’t have a job.”

  “I suppose not,” he said, “but you could find another one. Maybe the doctor needs an assistant.”

  Dan was trying to make light of things, but there was no avoiding the confrontation to come. “Mother will not be pleased. She wanted me to become a nurse. She felt it was my calling.”

  “Is that why you went into the program?”

  “I suppose so. That and the fact that I will need to support myself.”

  “There are other ways.” His fingers thrummed on the steering wheel with a steady rhythm. “You’re bright and have a knack with engines. Why not talk to Simmons over at the aeromotor plant?”

  That would be interesting work, but the only woman on staff worked in the office. “I’m not sure Hendrick would hire me.”

  “Have you asked?”

  “No. First of all, I had a job. Second, I was so focused on flying that it never crossed my mind to look for work elsewhere.”

  He chuckled. “I believe that, but there’s no reason you can’t work at the plant and do your flight training once Mrs. Hunter returns to the school.”

  There was the rub. Dan Wagner still thought her desire to fly was only a whim. “You could teach me.”

  He coughed.

  For the first time in ages, a smile tugged at her lips. She’d made Dan Wagner uneasy. Teasing him was easier than thinking about what faced her at home. “The snow is pretty much gone, and you must not be leaving for Spitsbergen yet if you still need Hendrick to machine some replacement valves for the engines. You’ll have both time and opportunity.”

  He laughed. “It’s good to see you returning to your old self.”

  “Old?”

  “Normal,” he corrected. “As for the expedition, the crates are ready for shipping except for the plane and the spare valves. Once we wrap up the engine testing, we can disassemble the plane and ship everything.”

  “From what port?” It felt good to talk about the polar expedition, even though Dan had clearly brought it up to distract her from flight training.

  “I’m not sure yet. Hunter still needs to secure ship passage.”

  “What? He hasn’t done that yet?”

  “He’s distracted. I think that the prospect of becoming a father has taken his mind off the expedition.”

  “Then you need to take charge.”

  He scowled. “I am taking charge, as you so bluntly put it, but this is his expedition. Ultimately he calls the shots.”

  “I’m sorry,” she backtracked. “I knew that.”

  His frown eased. “I don’t suppose you’re hungry. Those sandwiches sure smell good.”

  To Jen’s surprise, her stomach rumbled. “I guess I am.”

  Dan pulled the car onto a grassy patch on the side of the road. A small hill blocked the wind, and the sun shone brightly, warming the interior of the car. Jen unwrapped a sandwich and handed it to him.

  “Why, thank you, miss.” He gave her a dazzling smile.

  “No. Thank you.” Impulsively, she kissed him on the cheek.

  He looked surprised and maybe even a little shocked, but soon enough the old grin crept back into place. “For buying the sandwich?”

  She shook her head and breathed in the fresh air. “For taking me home.” Mother’s disappointment could never surpass the sheer mass of human suffering that she’d witnessed at the hospital. “I hope I never have to go to a hospital.”

  “You might if you take up flying. Accidents happen.”

  “I won’t crash.”

  “Everyone crashes. It’s a hazard of the occupation.” He took a bite of the sandwich.

  Jen unwrapped hers. It did smell delicious, but his statement got her to thinking. He had crashed recently. “That crash of yours last November. Did you go to the hospital?”

  He choked, coughed and swallowed. “No.”

  Clearly that was one topic he did not want to discuss, but that only made her more curious. “You sound like you have been in the hospital.”

  His jaw tightened. “In the war.”

  “You were in the Great War? Was your airplane shot down?”

  “The engine lost power at the wrong time. The plane hit a tree.”

  She winced. “You were hurt?”

  “Broken leg and arm. I spent plenty of time in the hospital and sure appreciated the care the nurses gave me.”

  She laughed. “Something tells me you had them eating out of your hand.”

  “I wasn’t Daring Dan back then.”

  “No, but you were just as handsome and charming.”

  That grin of his could light a city block. “Why, thank you, Miss Genevieve.”

  She gagged on a
bite of sandwich.

  He pulled a vacuum bottle from behind the seat and poured some tepid coffee into a tin cup. He held it out to her. “This will help.”

  She waved it off. “I’m better now. Just don’t call me Genevieve.”

  He laughed, eyes sparkling. “Ah, Miss Fox, you have just handed me live ammunition.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you don’t know, then I’m not about to tell you.” He swallowed the coffee. “Ready to finish the trip home?”

  Home, where Mother waited. This would not be a pleasant reunion.

  * * *

  Jen looked nervous. Dan couldn’t imagine why. This is what she wanted.

  Her brow was creased, and her lips curved downward as she stared out the windshield.

  “We can wait a little longer,” he offered, “but I would like to get back before nightfall.”

  She shook her head. “Go ahead. I just need to figure out what to tell my mother.”

  “Tell her that nursing wasn’t the right course for you.”

  “That will get me nowhere. She seems to think that nursing is my calling because Doc Stevens thought I would make a good nurse. But I wasn’t.” She bit her lip. “I was afraid.”

  “I think we’re all afraid we’ll fail.”

  She shook her head. “I did fail. Don’t you see? I failed at home and I failed at the hospital. People died. I can’t do anything that might hurt people.”

  “Then you don’t want to fly airplanes.”

  Her head snapped toward him. “What do you mean? I can fly by myself.”

  “What of the instructor? Your copilot? The person you’re training? The crowds at an air show? Aviation is not a solitary venture.”

  Before she could respond, he hopped out and cranked to start the car. When he slid into the driver’s seat, he found her in exactly the same position, her jaw set.

  “You don’t want a partner on your airmail route.” Her statement hung like a dark cloud between them.

  He searched for the right thing to say. “You don’t have the experience.” He put the car in gear and resumed their drive back to Pearlman.