“That stick controls the elevator and that one the ailerons.”
He hopped down. “Exactly.”
She sat stock-still. “We’re not done, are we? That was only a few minutes.”
“All initial flights are short. I demonstrate one control or maneuver, which you then practice until you get it correct every time.”
“May I practice now?”
“Not today.” He held out his hand. “Watch your step. The oil spray from the motor can make the frame slippery.”
Even through the gloves, the touch of his hand gave her shivers. She pulled away the moment she reached solid ground.
“What’s next?” she asked as they walked to the classroom.
“That depends on tomorrow’s weather. If it’s not good for flying, we need to familiarize you with every inch of the plane.”
“Tomorrow? But it’s only one o’clock.” Somehow, she’d thought the lessons would last all day. She had so little time before winter set in, and she didn’t want to waste a perfectly good afternoon.
“I have someplace I need to go,” he said.
“An errand? I can go with you.”
The shutter he pulled closed whenever she got too closeclapped shut again. “It’s something only I can do. Study up, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dismissed. And without a reasonable explanation. She didn’t believe his excuse for a moment. She’d done better than he expected, and he didn’t want to teach her more. At every step, he fought her. She thought maybe he’d changed. Apparently not.
She grabbed her handbag and walked out onto the street. A chill breeze slid its icy blade down her neck, but she was too hot to care. If Jack Hunter wanted professional, she’d be professional.
She’d reached downtown before she quite realized where she was walking. People hurried down the sidewalk, intent on where they were going. Unlike Pearlman, no one greeted one another. They kept their heads down, eyes averted and mouths closed.
Darcy dawdled in front of shop windows. Better than afternoon tea with her aunt and mother. They’d pepper her with questions about her lessons. Things would be easier after her parents left on Saturday, following the dinner party.
The dinner party. Oh, dear. She was supposed to deliver the invitation to George Carrman yesterday. It was still in her bag.
After asking directions to St. Anne of Comfort Hospital, Darcy rode the streetcar to within a block of the huge, stone edifice. The hospital’s manicured grounds invited strolling, but the weather kept most patients indoors.
Darcy walked up the sweeping approach lined with parked motorcars and bare oaks. Acorns crunched underfoot while leaves skittered along the ground on the breeze. An ambulance raced past, drawing only the slightest notice from visitors with dark coats and even more somber expressions.
She stopped to determine the best entrance, and a familiar figure caught her eye. Brown leather jacket. Sandy hair.Brown cap. No, it couldn’t be. What was he doing here? He drew closer, shoulders hunched and head down. Jack.
Her heart stuck fast in her throat. People only went to the hospital for illness, so why on earth had Jack Hunter just walked out of St. Anne’s?
Chapter Six
D arcy couldn’t ask Jack why he’d come to the hospital. He’d think she had followed him. So she asked the nurse at the registration desk.
“I will give your message to Dr. Carrman,” the woman said firmly, taking the invitation from Darcy’s hand, “but we do not share information about patients.” So Jack was a patient. But for what?
Darcy stumbled out of the hospital without noticing the ambulance attendants returning to their vehicle. She blindly boarded the streetcar, and then missed her stop and had to walk ten extra blocks to her aunt’s house.
At supper Mum and Aunt Perpetua babbled on about Amelia and the coming baby. Who cared about Amelia when a life was at stake? Darcy picked at the stuffed pheasant, unable to stomach the rich meat.
“You’re quiet tonight, Miss
He hopped down. “Exactly.”
She sat stock-still. “We’re not done, are we? That was only a few minutes.”
“All initial flights are short. I demonstrate one control or maneuver, which you then practice until you get it correct every time.”
“May I practice now?”
“Not today.” He held out his hand. “Watch your step. The oil spray from the motor can make the frame slippery.”
Even through the gloves, the touch of his hand gave her shivers. She pulled away the moment she reached solid ground.
“What’s next?” she asked as they walked to the classroom.
“That depends on tomorrow’s weather. If it’s not good for flying, we need to familiarize you with every inch of the plane.”
“Tomorrow? But it’s only one o’clock.” Somehow, she’d thought the lessons would last all day. She had so little time before winter set in, and she didn’t want to waste a perfectly good afternoon.
“I have someplace I need to go,” he said.
“An errand? I can go with you.”
The shutter he pulled closed whenever she got too closeclapped shut again. “It’s something only I can do. Study up, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dismissed. And without a reasonable explanation. She didn’t believe his excuse for a moment. She’d done better than he expected, and he didn’t want to teach her more. At every step, he fought her. She thought maybe he’d changed. Apparently not.
She grabbed her handbag and walked out onto the street. A chill breeze slid its icy blade down her neck, but she was too hot to care. If Jack Hunter wanted professional, she’d be professional.
She’d reached downtown before she quite realized where she was walking. People hurried down the sidewalk, intent on where they were going. Unlike Pearlman, no one greeted one another. They kept their heads down, eyes averted and mouths closed.
Darcy dawdled in front of shop windows. Better than afternoon tea with her aunt and mother. They’d pepper her with questions about her lessons. Things would be easier after her parents left on Saturday, following the dinner party.
The dinner party. Oh, dear. She was supposed to deliver the invitation to George Carrman yesterday. It was still in her bag.
After asking directions to St. Anne of Comfort Hospital, Darcy rode the streetcar to within a block of the huge, stone edifice. The hospital’s manicured grounds invited strolling, but the weather kept most patients indoors.
Darcy walked up the sweeping approach lined with parked motorcars and bare oaks. Acorns crunched underfoot while leaves skittered along the ground on the breeze. An ambulance raced past, drawing only the slightest notice from visitors with dark coats and even more somber expressions.
She stopped to determine the best entrance, and a familiar figure caught her eye. Brown leather jacket. Sandy hair.Brown cap. No, it couldn’t be. What was he doing here? He drew closer, shoulders hunched and head down. Jack.
Her heart stuck fast in her throat. People only went to the hospital for illness, so why on earth had Jack Hunter just walked out of St. Anne’s?
Chapter Six
D arcy couldn’t ask Jack why he’d come to the hospital. He’d think she had followed him. So she asked the nurse at the registration desk.
“I will give your message to Dr. Carrman,” the woman said firmly, taking the invitation from Darcy’s hand, “but we do not share information about patients.” So Jack was a patient. But for what?
Darcy stumbled out of the hospital without noticing the ambulance attendants returning to their vehicle. She blindly boarded the streetcar, and then missed her stop and had to walk ten extra blocks to her aunt’s house.
At supper Mum and Aunt Perpetua babbled on about Amelia and the coming baby. Who cared about Amelia when a life was at stake? Darcy picked at the stuffed pheasant, unable to stomach the rich meat.
“You’re quiet tonight, Miss
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