Page 8 of Plane Passion

This high up, if he lost control of the plane, he was a dead man. If the wooden fuselage caught fire, he was done for.

His only chance was to glide to a safe landing with the engine off before the whole plane went up in flames.

She forgot her discomfort. Nothing mattered but trailing him down and seeing him safe.

He knew what he was doing, she reminded herself. He’d probably made dozens of emergency landings, possibly hundreds.

Cold sweat trickled down her back as she watched him descend, helpless to do anything but follow. She had to force herself to breathe.

Down and down he went as the land rose up to meet them. Where was he headed?

She scanned the landscape for a safe landing place, then she spotted it. He was making for a farmer’s field just ahead. She couldn’t tell what he was growing from this height. It seemed to be a lot of green with flecks of orange.

More smoke billowed from his plane. If he didn’t touch down soon, he risked being burned to a crisp.

The stinging scent of burning oil filled her nose as she followed his trajectory unblinking.

At long last, Pritchard touched down for a bumpy landing. Thank God he was safe! He leapt from the plane and opened a panel in the fuselage. Even more smoke poured forth as he peered at the engine. It was a near miss.

She circled once and landed behind him. What could be causing her to bump around so much? She didn’t have an engine malfunction. Her plane ground to a halt, and she got out.

Pumpkins. They’d landed in a pumpkin patch. Well didn’t that just beat all? Two trails of smashed pumpkins stretched out behind them, reminding her of the wreckage that could have been but for Pritchard’s quick thinking.

She slid down the side of her plane and wobbled over to Pritchard, who was doing something to the engine.

“It’s the drive shaft again. Damned thing was just fixed.” He fanned away the smoke with his hand. “Let’s go talk to the farmer and find out where the nearest phone is.”

“Thank God you’re all right. That could have gone very badly.”

“Death or glory, as they say.” He winked at her. Something inside her clenched. Oh, dear.

The farmer had a phone and, God bless him, let her use the bathroom. He had a good laugh over her getup, though. “Never seen a lady dressed like that before. I guess there’s a first time for everything.” And he cackled. Oh, how he cackled.

When Pritchard got off the phone, he said, “I guess you get to be a passenger for the rest of today’s East Coast tour. I’ll fly us to Philly in your plane. They’re sending a crew to pick up my broken one.”

She helped him load the large canvas bags of mail from his plane into the front cockpit. He climbed into the back cockpit as she started the propeller. Then she climbed up and squeezed herself in between bags of mail, and they took off. It wasn’t the most dignified way to finish off her first day of work, but there wasn’t much choice.

After a short hop to Philadelphia, they were able to deliver the mail largely on schedule. With deep relief, she shed the leather suit and headed with Pritchard to the modest, two-story hotel by the airstrip where the airmail pilots always stayed. She thought about demurring and going to one of the more upscale hotels downtown she had grown accustomed to, but she decided it was best to keep a low profile for now.

“Congratulations, you made it through your first day as an airmail pilot.” He led her into the shabby lobby with peeling wallpaper and the stale scent of cigarettes. “Tomorrow, we fly to DC in the morning and back in the afternoon. Are you ready for a full day of flying?”

“I’m ready.”

“You surprised me today. You did better than I expected, and you haven’t complained once.”

That hushed the litany of complaints on her lips. He was complimenting her? She thought he wanted her to quit. But suddenly, he was being…nice.

“Thank you,” she said, then cleared her throat. Maybe he wasn’t so terrible after all.

3

Why was Ernie complimenting her when he was supposed to make her quit? It made no sense. Focus, Ernie.

Her look of surprise matched how he felt. It must have been a deeply ingrained habit. He was merely being polite. That must have been it.

It couldn’t possibly have been that he was impressed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she said, smiling at him for the first time in their acquaintance. It tugged on something deep inside him.