Love by Design

“Flight time?” Jack looked lost.

“I need flight training to get my license. I’ll exchange work for training.” It made perfect sense to her, but Jack looked less than enthused.

“It costs us fuel and oil every time we take the planes up. You know that.”

Jen stuck to her plan. “It’s a fair exchange, and I’ll only use the minimum amount needed to get my license.”

Jack tugged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

Darcy, however, backed Jen. “It’s a good trade-off. Jen understands all the terminology. She knows a plane inside and out. She’s familiar with our filing system and knows all the suppliers. Any other volunteer would take hours of training.”

Jack still looked concerned. He whispered something to his wife.

Jen couldn’t hear what he said.

Darcy countered her husband’s misgivings. “We won’t be able to start flight training for a couple months. By then, we’ll have student deposits.”

A couple months? Jen fidgeted. That was the traditional start of the flight school, but by then it would be too late to join the expedition. She would have to train for weeks and weeks. “Are you sure you couldn’t start sooner?”

Darcy looked sympathetic, but she didn’t give her approval. “You know that it depends on the weather and a whole host of other issues. The training planes are all laid up for the winter. Taking any of them out of storage means fitting them out and then laying them up again if the temperatures drop too low.”

“It’s January,” Jack pointed out. “Snow and ice make flying difficult for professionals. I’m not comfortable with the risk, especially since there’s no reason for it.”

But there was. Her whole chance at the polar attempt rested on getting her license now. She could be that backup aviator.

“But there are occasional days perfect for flying. Calm. No precipitation,” Jen pointed out. “Couldn’t we start then? After all, I’m here. The school is here.”

“You wouldn’t build up any continuity,” Jack insisted. “That’s no way to learn to fly. I’d never send a student out in the worst weather.” He cast a tender look at his wife. “Darcy might disagree, but without a good reason, the risk just isn’t worth it. I promise we’ll start as soon as the conditions warrant.”

Jen heaved a sigh. “Then there’s no hope.”

Jack looked perplexed, but Darcy understood.

“Jen wants to learn the basics in case she’s needed at any point leading up to the expedition.”

“The expedition?” Dan Wagner blurted out. “You can’t seriously expect an inexperienced student to take part in a risky flight into bitter cold conditions.”

“That’s why it’s important to learn now, in the winter,” Jen pointed out.

Dan shook his head. “You can’t possibly get enough experience in that short a time. Any flight instructor with an ounce of self-respect would never risk a student’s life.”

“I expect a flight instructor to use proper caution,” Darcy countered, “but Jen has a point. If the weather is fair, why not take advantage of the situation?”

“Because I will be testing the expedition airplane,” Jack answered bluntly and turned to his wife. “And you are grounded. That means no lessons until the weather is good on a consistent basis.”

Under those criteria, Jen wouldn’t be flying until May. By then, they’d all be gone to Spitsbergen.

Darcy must have noticed her consternation. “Perhaps Mr. Wagner would be willing to train Jen. From what I’ve heard, he is quite the cold-weather aviator.”

“What?” His face darkened along with his scowl. “You can’t be serious. I was hired on to a polar expedition, not to fulfill some starry-eyed woman’s daydreams. No. Never. Impossible.” He stood and tossed some money on the table. “It’s not going to happen. If I have to teach, the deal is off.”

Instead of looking threatened, Jack grinned. “All right, but I do need you to work with Jen on the supply lists.”

Dan looked as if he might refuse that, too. Instead, he turned and stomped out of the restaurant without another word.

* * *

Teach Miss Fox to fly. In the winter, no less. Dan fumed all the way back to the boardinghouse. He had his bag packed when the proprietress, Mrs. Terchie, knocked on the door to his room.

“Mr. Dan? Message come for you.”

Dan whipped open the door and took the handwritten note. “Long-distance telephone call?”

She nodded. “Joe Something-or-other.”

“Portco. Joe Portco. He runs the feed store back home.” He had no idea why he was blathering except that he was still furious with Jack Hunter. The man might let his wife take a plane up in bad weather, but Dan sure wouldn’t risk a young woman’s life just to fulfill her whim. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She looked past him with a frown. “You leaving?”

Dan sighed. He might have overreacted. After all, he had a verbal contract. And the train only left this small town once a day. He couldn’t storm out of here at a moment’s notice. “No, ma’am. Not just yet.”

Her plump cheeks rounded above her broad smile. “That good, Mr. Dan. I glad to hear it.” Her smile vanished. “Sorry about the bad news.”

Then she toddled off down the hall, broom in hand.

Dan closed the door and looked down at the note. Mrs. Terchie’s handwriting was a little peculiar, and the spelling was poor, but he could make it out.

Blizerd kilt cows. More then 30. More like 50. Woovs got em.

He figured Joe had told her the wolves ate the carcasses. Wolves, coyotes, dogs. It didn’t much matter what got to the cattle. Fifty head were lost. They wouldn’t make one cent off them. Moreover, Dan would have to replace them come spring.

He growled. Why couldn’t his pa corral them at the ranch during the winter like his neighbors? Why was he so stubborn about doing things the way they’d always done them? Every time Dan argued with him about it, his pa would point out that the land was made for grazing. It had once supported hundreds of thousands of bison. The natives didn’t pen them up. They didn’t pen their cattle now.

Tradition, Pa called it.

Dan had no use for tradition when it meant unnecessary loss.

When Pa added to that his confidence that God would see them through, it took all of Dan’s patience not to point out that his air-show money was the only thing seeing them through. Without that, the ranch would have gone on the auction block years ago.

He’d counted on his brothers to bring Pa around, but Dale and David didn’t like to stir up controversy. Dale’s wife had backbone, but over time she’d swallowed Pa’s ideas to the point that she was spouting them, too. David’s new bride was too shy to speak up. That left Dan.

He crumpled the note and tossed it in the wastepaper bin. Then he unpacked his bag. There would be no backing out of his contract now.

* * *

“Can you believe that?” Jen sputtered to Minnie as they ladled stew into bowls for supper. “Wagner refused to teach me to fly. Ever.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t a flight instructor.” Minnie took the bowl from Jen and carried it to the table.

“That’s beside the point. He acted like Darcy had asked him to commit a crime.”

“Aren’t you overreacting?” Minnie had stiffened, and Jen realized she shouldn’t have mentioned anything to do with criminal activity.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have used those exact words.” After her youngest sister’s brush with a bootlegging ring last year that nearly got her killed, she was a little sensitive about anything illegal. “I meant that he was appalled.”

“I know. I’ve just learned how easy it is for good people to get caught up in a bad idea.”

Jen had, too. Both Minnie and Beatrice had watched their beloved men fall victim.

Minnie returned to the stove, and Jen scooped some potato-laden stew into a bowl and handed it to her.

Minnie peered into the bowl. “This one doesn’t have any salt pork.”

“How can you tell? Salt pork looks the same as potatoes.”

“No, it doesn’t. Just add some, all right?”

Jen fished out a chunk of pork and dumped it in the bowl. The meat was pretty meager. It was getting close to the end of the month. Their credit must be running low at the mercantile, as it had every month since Daddy died. The Kensingtons would extend more credit, but Mother refused to fall any deeper into debt. In a couple weeks, the dress-shop receivables would start coming in, and then they could pay down their bills.

“The bread smells wonderful, Mother,” Ruthie said from around the corner, where she was nursing little Sammy. “You must have baked it today.”

“Yes, dear,” Mother said absently.

Her attention was riveted on the newspaper, which was unusual. Daddy had been the one who devoured every news story. Mother had constantly chided him to set aside the paper during meals. Now she was doing the very same thing.

“I don’t see what the problem is, Jen,” Ruthie said as she returned to the kitchen and burped the baby. “The flight school is closed. Jack and Darcy never fly this time of year.”

“But they will for the expedition.” Jen slopped stew into another bowl. “And if I don’t get my license before spring, I’ll never be able to go along.”

“Go along?” Ruthie exclaimed. “Why would you go with them? Even Darcy won’t be able to, not with the new baby.” She held up a hand. “I don’t care what she says now. Once the baby arrives, her whole world will revolve around him.” She leaned down and kissed Sammy’s forehead before cooing and holding out a finger for him to grab.

Sammy giggled and squealed.

Jen rolled her eyes. Babies were fine and all, but she would never give up something important, like the polar expedition, in order to have a baby. Not that Darcy had a choice. She’d been married for years, after all. A baby was bound to happen along, and with this being their first she was extra cautious.

“What I need to know is how to convince him,” Jen mused. “Darcy said Jack didn’t want to teach her at first, but she was able to persuade him. She might have some idea how to change Wagner’s mind.”

“Wagner?” Minnie said, holding out her hands for the next bowl. “No more Dan?”

Jen made a face at her little sister. “That was a slip of the tongue, when I was feeling more charitable. Ruthie, is Sam eating with us?”

“Yes, but don’t dish up any stew just yet. He had to place a telephone call to New York. It could take a while. He said to start without him.”

Jen carried her own bowl to the old wooden table. It was battered and stained from years of use. Everyone sat in their usual places, leaving Daddy’s place empty, as they had since he’d moved to the parlor. At first, she’d figured he would return as soon as he recovered his strength. But he never recovered. Still, the empty place remained.

When Sam arrived, he would sit in Beatrice’s old spot. Jen ran a finger over the holes she’d poked into the wood when she refused to eat peas and had to sit at the table until dark. The battle of wills had lasted until bedtime, when Mother finally let her go to sleep, but in the morning, Jen found the peas in her breakfast bowl. She’d swallowed them whole with large gulps of milk rather than go hungry.

The stain in the center of the table happened when a jar of beets exploded after removing it from the home canner. Even Mother had jumped and shrieked. Then they’d all laughed at their squeamish reaction when the red juice ran all over the table like blood. Though they’d cleaned up the mess, the stain remained and over the years became a treasured memory.

“Oh, my.” Mother sighed. She closed the paper and set it aside while they waited for Ruthie to finish wiping Sammy’s face. “Such a terrible story. All those little ones without any hope of help.”

Ruthie laid Sammy in the cradle. “What little ones?”

“In faraway Alaska. There’s a diphtheria outbreak and no antitoxin.” She shook her head. “They are shipping some by train from Anchorage, but apparently this town is hundreds of miles from the railroad lines, and there’s no way to get it to those little ones.”

“An airplane could take it,” Jen said.

Ruthie shook her head. “If airplanes can’t fly here because of the weather, how could they possibly fly in Alaska?”

“If they can get the engines running, there’s no reason a plane can’t do it.”

“What about snow and wind?” Ruthie countered.

Jen had no answer for that. It was exactly the problem Simmons Aeromotor had been working on with Jack and Darcy. What if the weather wouldn’t allow them to make the polar flight? Then all that cost and effort would go for nothing.

“That’s enough, girls.” Mother put an end to the discussion. “Let’s bow our heads and give thanks to Our Lord for all the blessings He has showered upon us.”

Jen wasn’t so sure about blessings. Her father was gone. Dan Wagner recoiled at the thought of teaching her. Children in Alaska were sick without hope of life-saving medicine. And their stew didn’t have much meat. Yet one by one, her mother and sisters listed blessing after blessing. Then it was her turn.

Jen could think of only one thing. “Thank you for letting me pass the written flight examination.”

Minnie rolled her eyes, and Ruthie sighed, but Mother ended the prayer with “Amen” just as Sam stomped through the kitchen door with a blast of cold and snow.

Ruthie looked up expectantly.

He nodded, his expression glum.

Ruthie’s hopefulness changed to concern.

Mother looked from Ruthie to Sam, who’d shed his coat, hat and boots in record time, and then went back to her daughter. “What is it? What happened?”

Ruth shook her head.

Sam took the lead. “My father suffered a setback.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mother said. “I know you’ve had your differences, but he is still your father.”

“Yes, Mom.” Sam dished some stew into a bowl.

Jen found it fascinating that he called her mother by such an informal endearment—and that she allowed it. She had never been anything but Mother to Jen and her sisters.

“How is your mother faring?” Mother asked as Sam took his seat. “Caring for an ailing husband can be stressful.”

Sam bowed his head to give thanks and didn’t answer until he’d finished. “It’s definitely a challenge for her.” He took a slice of bread. “Father is used to giving orders. I suspect he’s doing the same thing at home, though my mother would never admit it.” Again he glanced at his wife.

Ruth gave an almost-imperceptible nod, as if she understood exactly what he didn’t say aloud and approved it.

“She’s not a strong woman,” Sam said after swallowing a bite of stew. “Not like you, Mom. Sometimes I think the only thing holding her together is her faith.”

Mother gave him a reassuring smile. “That will carry her through, Sam. During tough times, the Lord is our strength. I’m glad to hear she’s leaning on Him.”

Sam smiled, but not with confidence. Again he looked to Ruth. This time she shook her head.

Ruthie turned conversation to business at the dress shop. Mother and Minnie seemed glad to discuss the latest projects, but Jen wasn’t fooled. There was a whole lot more going on than Ruth and Sam were letting on.

Chapter Five

“Ready?” Hunter yelled.

Dan gave the thumbs-up.

Hunter released the brake and the airplane rolled from the barn.

The morning had dawned clear and cold and calm. Perfect for the test flight. If Dan had left yesterday, he would have missed this. Maybe some good could come out of bad news after all. Fifty head of cattle was a big loss for a small operation like his pa’s. Dan would come through as he always had, but it would cut into his savings and his future. If this polar attempt got off the ground, he stood to make it all back and a whole lot more. A newspaper or magazine exclusive could pay in the tens of thousands of dollars.

Hunter taxied the plane toward the head of a grass and gravel runway, which in late January was more ice than grass or gravel. Good thing, considering the plane had the skids on instead of the wheels. Dan sure hoped Hunter could stop the plane after they landed or they’d have a quick trip into the snowbank at the end of the runway. The fuselage had a sturdy frame, but that kind of impact would damage any airplane.

With every bump, Dan’s nerves inched a level higher. He hadn’t set foot in an airplane since the accident. Now he didn’t even have control. Yes, the plane had dual controls, but Hunter was flying. Dan wasn’t to take control except under direction or in an emergency. The copilot’s wheel was right there in front of him, but he couldn’t touch it. He flexed his fingers, anxious to grab on to something and opted for the clipboard. His job was to log every second of the flight, from instrument readings to weather conditions to engine operation.

Hunter had installed every instrument available for an airplane, but some things still fell to chance even here. Near the pole, magnetic and gyroscopic compasses would operate differently, making them useless for finding direction. The flat white landscape and twenty-four-hour sunlight erased the horizon and gave no landmarks. Snow blindness, drift and imprecise means of direction-finding made for a treacherous trip. That didn’t even take into account weather issues—fog, updrafts, downdrafts and blizzards. Every element worked against them.

Today’s winter flight would give them the tiniest taste of what they’d face, except this landscape offered landmarks in buildings and trees, a blue sky and working compasses. The conditions were perfect. It was cold enough to tax the engines, yet calm and clear. If something did happen to one of the motors, this big plane would be a challenge to fly on a single engine. Many years of flying meant Dan knew every little thing that could go wrong. He usually scoured every inch of his plane before takeoff. He knew each strut and bolt. He knew which tended to loosen and which held fast. He didn’t know this plane.

For years, Daring Dan had ignored danger, had reveled in the thrill. Minor problems hadn’t fazed him, but causing someone’s death? That was something else entirely.

He glanced over at Hunter. The man exuded confidence despite the crash that had ended his transatlantic attempt. If not for the coming baby, he would have let his wife in the cockpit for the polar attempt. Dan didn’t understand that reasoning. He would never again put someone he cared for in peril. Agnes had been his latest in a long line of gals. Like the rest, she hadn’t touched the heart that he kept locked in its hangar. But he hadn’t thought twice about agreeing to teach her to fly, and look what happened. Never again.

He was not going to put Jen Fox in the cockpit of any airplane.

Hunter pulled the plane into line with the runway and accelerated. The roar of the huge twin engines literally hurt. Dan was glad he’d stuffed cotton into his ears, but he’d need more than that for the long flight to the North Pole.

The brake released, and they sped down the runway, bouncing and sliding on the skids. The plane was large and heavy. Was the runway long enough? Dan pressed back on the seat as the end loomed closer and closer. At the last second, Hunter nosed the plane up, and she cleared the snowbank and climbed into the crystal-blue sky.

That’s when the exhilaration rushed in. That feeling of invincibility had driven Dan to the skies over and over. Up here, the world and its troubles looked small. Up here, he had control. The initial thrill of rising on nothing but cloth and wood soon wasn’t enough. He’d learned stunts from fellow aviators, watched them crash and bettered the trick. Daring Dan did not fail. He hadn’t until November’s crash.

Today’s flight made him edgy. He had to write constantly to avoid the impulse to seize the wheel. Dan did not like giving the controls to anyone, but as they circled the tiny town and came back down for the landing, he had to admit Hunter knew his craft. He slowed their airspeed to just above what would send them into a stall. Then he dropped the plane to the runway. The skids hit, bounced and hit again. The claw brake dug in, jerking Dan forward, and they slid to a comfortable taxiing speed.

When Hunter turned the plane for the taxi back to the barn, Dan saw her. With her arms waving in that ragged mackinaw, Jen Fox grinned wider than a country mile.

* * *

“That was perfect,” Jen crowed after Jack killed the engines and crawled out of the plane.

She’d heard the plane take off on her way to the flight school to start her volunteer assignment and had run the three blocks so she didn’t miss a minute of the flight. The big bird had soared high against the rising sun, circled slowly overhead and then made a perfect landing. The engines didn’t hiccup once.

It had coasted into the big barn that they were using as a work area this winter since the school’s hangar was full of training airplanes and other equipment. The barn was also smaller and easier to heat. She’d hurried up the shoveled path between the school and the barn, arriving just as the pilot and copilot disembarked.

Jack hopped to the ground and removed his helmet, but instead of acknowledging her cheers, he met Wagner behind the tail. “Great run. A little touchy on takeoff, but she made it.”

Wagner had peeled off his helmet, pulling his auburn hair into a mass of curls. “Takeoff? That was a breeze compared to landing. That runway’s not a foot too long. Had me grabbing for the brake.”

Jack laughed. “Must feel strange not to have the controls.”

“You’re right about that, but I was there for you if anything went wrong.”

“I know you were.”

The men chattered away as if she wasn’t even there. Just like at the dinner party. What was it with men, anyway? Get them together over something mechanical, and everyone else might as well not be there.

Jen tromped across the barn, ignoring the poofs of years-old straw dust that rose with each step. A workbench and tables filled the extra space. Tools littered every tabletop. A handful of crates were stacked along the barn wall.

She stopped within reach, but they still didn’t notice her.

“Good flight!” she yelled.

That drew their attention.

“Jen.” Jack tugged off a glove and pushed back his jacket sleeve to check his wristwatch. “I didn’t expect to see you here this early.”

“I saw the plane take off and had to watch. Great flight.”

“Thanks.” Neither Jack nor Wagner was as jubilant as they’d been with each other.

“Great day for flying, isn’t it?” she hinted. “Practically anyone could take a plane up on a day like today.”

Wagner frowned. “Not a student.”

That man was going to be a thorn in her side. If she didn’t change his negative opinion, he was going to convince Jack not to let her train until summer. “Why not?”

“The field is solid ice,” Wagner shot back. “We’re fortunate we didn’t end up in the snowbank.”

“You’re skilled. Between the two of you, there was never a doubt.” Though Jen knew her odds of flying the expedition plane were slim, she wasn’t about to let Wagner win the argument. “That’s why Jack is such a great teacher. He can handle any conditions. Besides, students start with grass cutting.” That first step used a governor on the motor to keep the student pilot on the ground. “They don’t even get into the air. An icy runway won’t make a bit of difference.”

Wagner laughed. No, it was more like a derisive snort. “That shows how little you know, darling. On ice, you can do some serious damage grass cutting. I doubt Mr. Hunter is eager to lose one of his training planes before the season begins.”

She could have stomped on his finely honed superiority. Darling, indeed. She was not and never would be his darling. “Since you know so much, Wagner, maybe you’d like to demonstrate the proper way to practice on ice.”

His gaze narrowed.

Jack chuckled. “Enough of this, you two. I’m not bringing any of the trainers out of storage, Jen, so you can forget that crazy idea of yours. Flight lessons can wait until the weather breaks, so you might as well go home.”