Love by Design

by Christine Johnson

  “I just wondered if you had.”

  Jen was embarrassed to admit that she hadn’t prayed for Darcy since arriving at the hospital. “I can’t seem to settle my mind. Maybe we could pray together. You could start.”

  “Me? I don’t have the proper words.”

  “I don’t think it matters much. At least that’s what Pastor Gabe says. Just talk to God like you’d talk to a friend.”

  Dan looked surprised. “That doesn’t sound like any pastor I’ve ever known.”

  “You should come to our church. Pastor Gabe is very down-to-earth. You would like him.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  Now Jen was truly surprised. Maybe he really had changed. “You can sit with us. Mother, Ruthie, Minnie and I.”

  He gave her a questioning look, and then she remembered that her mother and Ruth would be leaving soon.

  “Well, at least with Minnie and me. If she doesn’t sit with Peter.” She hopped to her feet, intending to go to the windows again so Dan wouldn’t see how much the coming changes bothered her, but he snagged her hand.

  “I thought we were going to pray.”

  Jen sat back down and tried to focus on Darcy instead of her own worries. How could she even think about such trivial matters when her friend and the baby were in danger?

  Dan squeezed her hands. “Why don’t you begin?”

  “Dear Lord,” Darcy took a breath and imagined her friend lying in the operating room. A shudder ran through her. Her friend’s life hung in the balance. She clung to Dan’s hands as to a lifeline. “Lord, we love Darcy and Jack and want the best for them. They will be good parents, wonderful parents. Please give them that chance. Please spare Darcy and the baby. Please don’t take them home to You yet.”

  She imagined how Jack would feel if Darcy and their unborn baby perished, and her throat closed as the tears threatened. She tried to hold them back but failed. Instead they trickled down her cheeks.

  Dan drew her close. “Amen.”

  Her daddy’s death had hurt terribly, but they’d known for years that his health was declining and he would eventually leave them. That wasn’t the case with Darcy. She was young and vibrant and filled with life. Darcy’s sister had borne four children. Why couldn’t Darcy have just one? Jack wanted children so badly. Darcy had once said he was probably glad she was with child since she wouldn’t be in danger any longer. But now her life was in more peril than she had faced in years of flying.

  “I don’t understand why some people die,” she murmured.

  “Me, either.” Dan handed her the handkerchief again. “But I’m starting to realize that life and death are in God’s hands. We do our best. The rest is up to Him.”

  “Like the accident you were in last November?”

  Every other time she’d brought up the topic, he had flinched and changed the subject. This time he didn’t blink.

  “Like that,” he said. “No one had ever died before on a plane I was flying. It didn’t seem right that I walked away while she died.”

  “You loved her,” she whispered.

  He jerked back. “Why would you think that? We spent some time together, true, but she was more interested in the glamour and thrill of accompanying a flying ace than in a relationship.”

  “I didn’t say that she loved you. I said that you loved her.”

  He shook his head. “No more than any other gal. Why would you think I loved her?”

  “The newspapers—”

  “The newspapers?” He snorted. “They make up stories to sell papers. A dying lover makes for better business than a novice eager to make a name for herself. Please don’t base your opinion of me on what you read in the newspapers. Very little of it is accurate.”

  “Even when they discussed relationships?”

  “Especially relationships. I was never serious about any woman, and I never will be as long as I fly airplanes.”

  Jen gasped. Dan had made himself perfectly clear. He would never have a serious relationship with a woman as long as he flew. That meant forever, as far as she could see. “You can’t mean that.”

  “I won’t risk making a woman a widow.”

  Now he was making her angry. “Don’t you think she ought to have a say in that?”

  “No.” The man didn’t even have the grace to hesitate. “A relationship can’t last unless both partners work together. Until I stop flying, that can’t happen.”

  “Why not? Jack and Darcy have made it work.”

  “Oh?”

  That simple question infuriated her. “We are not here because both Jack and Darcy fly airplanes. This could happen to anyone. At any time.” That reality finally sank in. “No one can remove all risk from life.”

  “Perhaps, but I can minimize it. I won’t make a woman suffer from losing her husband.”

  “That sounds to me like you’re afraid of losing someone you love.”

  His expression darkened, all sense of calm gone.

  She had finally pushed him too far.

  “If that’s true, Miss Fox,” he growled, “then we both are.”

  He hadn’t denied it. He hadn’t protested that he loved her too much to risk her happiness. No, he had reverted to formality and charged her with the same crime. In his eyes, they were both afraid to love. But that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Yes, she’d lost her father, but she was getting over that. The problem wasn’t on her side. It was entirely on his.

  He wasn’t telling her the whole truth about that crash last November. For him to shy away from any relationship, he must have cared deeply for the woman who had died. The newspapers had been right. They were in love. They would have married.

  That meant he was not ready to love another woman. He might never be ready. A stolen kiss or a tender word meant nothing. He could never give his heart. She’d better forget about Dan Wagner. He had summarily dismissed her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Why did Jen have to bring up Agnes? Just when Dan thought he was getting past the memory of that horrific accident, Jen pushed it in his face. She, of all people, must understand that guilt was difficult to overcome. He would live with it forever, but he didn’t want to think about it now. And he didn’t appreciate Jen pushing him where he couldn’t go.

  The kind of relationship she wanted was impossible. She would never give up her dream of flying. Even that attempt at nursing school had been tied to aviation. She wanted to partner on an airmail route. Impossible. He couldn’t carry another woman out of an airplane. He sure couldn’t carry Jen’s lifeless body. That would kill him. The flight today had confirmed it. He would never risk her life again.

  She was bright sunshine on a cloudy day, a brilliant flower in the midst of a desert. Except for these maddening moments, she made him feel glad to be alive. Such a woman deserved a long life. Better he step away than snuff out the light in those hazel eyes.

  Jen didn’t hide her feelings behind a wall of artifice. Every emotion played openly across her face. He could see her reason out his words and come to the unhappy resolution he’d intended. That expressive mouth of hers turned downward, and the hazel eyes dulled. Her hands fisted, but she didn’t fling out the usual retort. Instead, she stalked to the window, probably in an attempt to hide her disappointment.

  It didn’t work.

  He felt her anguish to the marrow, yet he couldn’t look away.

  The window was cracked open, and the late-day breeze ruffled her short hair. How he’d grown to love those tousled locks that could never quite be tamed. Just like her. His pa would call her a wild mustang. When Dan was young, he’d asked his pa if they could catch one and tame it so he could have a horse of his own.

  His pa had looked him in the eye. “Son, a mustang is meant to run wild. Tame ’em, and you take the life out of �
��em.”

  Funny how those words still stuck with him. Odd how aptly they fit Jen Fox. Turning her into a common housewife would drive the life out of her. She needed to run wild and free. Man could only admire such a creature. He could never possess her.

  That was the trouble. He wanted to give her exactly what she wanted—a life together. Yet that was impossible. Dan Wagner knew only one thing—flying. His brothers had the ranch. He couldn’t waltz in and take it from them. Nor did he want to. After all this time, he wouldn’t remember the first thing about ranching. He couldn’t rope a calf or ride a horse all day. He had no idea how to mend a fence. The thought of birthing a calf or sitting with a sick cow didn’t sit well. No, he was no rancher. He was an aviator through and through.

  That meant no wife. No family. It was the trade-off he had been willing to accept when he took up flying. Never before had walking away from a woman hurt the way it did with Jen.

  She looked in his direction, and a smile flickered to life.

  For a moment, Dan’s pulse quickened. She didn’t despise him.

  Then he noticed she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking past him to the other side of the room. He turned to see what had pushed aside her disappointment.

  Hunter had arrived.

  * * *

  “Jen. Dan.” Jack Hunter, Darcy’s parents and both Kensingtons clattered across the waiting room floor. Jen couldn’t help but notice the change between father and son. They walked together, shoulder to shoulder, united in their concern for Darcy.

  Jack looked frantic.

  Jen intercepted him. “Darcy is in labor. The ambulance took her here the moment we landed. We haven’t had any word since.”

  He barely registered her words.

  “How is she, son?” the elder Kensington asked Dan, who had joined them in the center of the considerably emptier waiting room.

  “You should ask Jen,” Dan deferred. “She’s the one who was with Darcy every step of the way. If not for her quick thinking, this might have ended badly.”

  Jen appreciated his nod of confidence even though his words had made Jack pale.

  The Sheas looked equally shaken. “Please tell us all you know.”

  She couldn’t mention the additional convulsions. She couldn’t crack everyone’s hope when all might still end well. She said a quick prayer and then smiled. “The labor pains began during the flight. We got here around five o’clock.” It was now past six-thirty.

  Mrs. Shea audibly sighed. “It could be a while. Amelia endured twenty hours before Frederick was born.” Amelia was Darcy’s older sister.

  “When I was here as a student nurse, one of the births took thirty-four hours.”

  “Poor woman,” Mrs. Shea said.

  Jack was getting paler by the moment.

  “Have a seat, sport,” Blake said, drawing Jack to a chair. “When you hear that you have a son or daughter, you’ll feel a lot better. Until then, all we men can do is wait.”

  For Jack’s sake, Jen added that the long-laboring woman had a healthy baby boy.

  His color got a little better. “What do we do? Can I see her?”

  The two Kensington men and Mr. Shea chuckled.

  The latter clapped Jack on the shoulder. “We wait, son. Darcy is in good hands.”

  Jen would not tell them of Marie or any of the other heart-wrenching cases. This was a time for hope, not fear.

  “Blake really surprised us,” the elder Kensington began, his hand firmly on the shoulder of his son. “I don’t know how he found us. That’s some sharp thinking, I tell you. The way he drove. Why, he navigated those roads like a race-car driver. I could barely keep up.”

  Blake’s grin got wider and wider, and he added his own embellishments to the tale. The men had pulled chairs into a tight circle around Jack, each trying to top the next in storytelling.

  “At least that will keep their minds off things,” Mrs. Shea said.

  Jen had forgotten that Darcy’s mother was there. As the only other woman, she had naturally stayed at Jen’s side. “Funny how men and women invariably split into separate groups.”

  “It’s the natural order of things, I suppose. We do find it rather odd when a woman attempts to join the men or a man attempts to converse with a group of women.”

  Jen supposed she was right, but it felt like a subtle hint that Jen had overstepped her place by wanting to be with the men. On the other hand, Darcy had done the same by flying airplanes with Jack. She worked mostly with male students. Only a few women came to the school. Jen looked down at her trousers and mackinaw. No one at the hospital had frowned at her or refused to let her enter, but a few of the dwindling family members in the waiting room did stare. Jen crossed her arms and turned her back to them.

  The massive doors swung open. Everyone’s attention shifted to see whose family would be called. Instead of the usual physician, a nurse came out and spoke to the nurse on duty. The new nurse looked familiar. Jen moved closer. It was Evelyn, her old roommate.

  The nurse on duty pointed to her logbook, and Evelyn nodded.

  Jen glanced at the large clock. Seven o’clock. The night shift was coming on duty.

  “Change of shifts,” she said, “but I recognize the incoming nurse. Maybe she knows something.”

  Jen headed for the little table where Evelyn now sat. To her dismay, Mrs. Shea followed. She sure hoped the men didn’t join them. Evelyn would never tell her anything with everyone around her. She wasn’t supposed to give out information without authorization.

  Unfortunately, Jen’s movement toward Evelyn inspired the other families to press toward the nurse station. Most arrived ahead of Jen. This did not bode well. Evelyn would be frustrated before Jen even arrived.

  She hung back.

  “Shouldn’t we wait in line?” Mrs. Shea asked a bit anxiously.

  Jen drew her aside. “She won’t be able to give any information other than what’s authorized. I hoped that she might remember me and tell me something, but she won’t while everyone else is there.” She looked back. “At least the men haven’t noticed yet. She’ll never tell me anything if they’re here.”

  “I’ll keep them occupied.” Having a task to accomplish seemed to energize Mrs. Shea. “Let me know what you find out.”

  She trundled off and soon blocked the men’s view. Jen could hear Evelyn tell each anxious relative that she had no news but would inform them the moment she learned anything. Jen approached her only when the crowd had completely departed.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any information on the patients,” Evelyn said without lifting her gaze from the logbook.

  Jen could tell at a glance that the log listed all the patients currently in emergency care. Some also listed a next of kin. Darcy Hunter’s name was on the log with Jack listed beside it.

  Jen smoothed her hair. “Evelyn, don’t you remember me?”

  The woman looked up, and her jaw dropped. “Jen? Is that you? You look so...different.”

  She must mean Jen’s trousers and mackinaw.

  “Oh, these.” Jen was suddenly self-conscious. Everyone in Pearlman expected to see her in such attire, but in the city—and in the hospital especially—it no longer fit. For the first time in a long while, she wished she’d worn a skirt and blouse.

  Evelyn leaned close. “I thought you were a boy.”

  Jen bit her lip. “We had to fly my friend here. Trousers are more practical for that.” She didn’t mention that she wasn’t flying the plane. “My friend’s name is Darcy Hunter. She came in by ambulance. I think she has toxemia, but she was in labor.”

  “I believe the doctor is with her, but I don’t have any word from obstetrics.”

  “That could be good news.” At least Jen would take it that way.

  “Did you
say you flew her here? In an airplane? I didn’t know you were an aviator.”

  “Aviatrix,” Jen corrected. “Though, actually Dan was the pilot. I stayed with Mrs. Hunter. She is a licensed pilot.”

  Evelyn couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around this. “She flies airplanes?”

  “She teaches aviation down in Pearlman. I help out and intend to get my license.” If tonight turned out well. If not, she couldn’t imagine Jack setting foot in another airplane.

  “Why would you ever want to go into nursing?”

  Why indeed. Jen had tossed the question around since first setting foot in the hospital’s nursing program. She hadn’t particularly wanted to do it, but she had seen its value. After tonight, she saw the possibilities she had begun to imagine before that first day in school. “I think someday doctors and nurses will use airplanes to get to people who need medical attention.”

  Evelyn shook her head. “You’re a dreamer, Jen Fox. Why would a doctor risk his life going here and there in an airplane? Better he set up practice nearby.”

  Jen couldn’t explain further because Mrs. Shea had lost control of the men, and they were now approaching en masse.

  She hurried to intercept them. “No news yet.”

  Jack looked like the delirious and feverish patients she’d tended in the wards. Desperate, bleak and despairing.

  She had to give him hope. “That’s a good thing. It can take many hours to birth a first baby. It’s only been a few.”

  That settled him for the moment, but it wouldn’t last. Doubt and anxiety would creep in, filling the gaps between desperate hope.

  * * *

  Dan had to admire Jen. When everyone around her was falling apart, she stayed calm. She seemed to know the exact moment to boost spirits and the precise thing to say or do that would accomplish that task. She was a marvel, and he’d chased her away.

  For her sake, he reminded himself.

  Yet as the minutes ticked past, he began to doubt that rock-solid intent. Jen might have been right. He was afraid of losing her. One look at Jack told him how agonizing that would be.