Page 76 of Soaring Sweethearts

“I’ll be the wiser.” The words slipped out before Jack could stop them. Damned whiskey.

The old man just chuckled. “Aw. You won’t snitch on me. Because if you do, you’ll wind up dead faster than a skeeter in a frog’s mouth.” With a click, he took off the safety. “It’s up to you. I can drop you in the train yard alive or dead. Which would you prefer?”

“Alive. Definitely alive.”

“Good.” President Wilson put the safety back on and stuffed the gun back in his overalls. “Glad we reached an agreement. Now drink.”

With no choice, Jack drained his cup. It was a good thing he had no plans for the morning because this whiskey was going straight to his head and scrambling his brains like nothing he’d ever drunk before.

I’m coming home, Constance. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. Just don’t give up hope.

And with that, he passed out cold.

29

Constance woke up to a gentle touch on her shoulder. Jolting awake, she nearly fell out of her desk chair. “What…?”

Blinking, she looked up into the kind green eyes of an auburn-haired woman whom she recognized but couldn’t place. “Who…?”

With an enormous yawn, she forced herself to sit up and look around. “Oh, my goodness gracious. I fell asleep at my desk.”

Bill O’Donnell stepped into view, and the name of the woman in front of her clicked into place. “You’re Bill’s wife, Ann.”

The woman nodded. “Millie called us and said I should come. She thought you might need company.”

And then the night before came rushing back. “Jack. Has there been any news? He didn’t… He isn’t…”

Bill pulled over a chair from the breakroom, and Ann took a seat beside her, reaching for her hands. “There’s no news,” she said, looking Constance in the eyes. “They haven’t found his plane yet, but they fear the worst.”

“No.” She shook her head so hard that her whole body shook with it. “No, I don’t believe it. He’s fine. He’s just somewhere far away from a phone. He’ll come back.”

Ann nodded slowly. “I’ll hold out hope with you as long as you need me to, and I’m here for you if you have to face the worst. I didn’t believe it either when they told me Roger was gone. No one had seen him go down. There was no proof. I needed something tangible before I could believe. Three weeks after I got the news, one of the members of his squadron found the wreckage on a reconnaissance mission and took a picture. The name of the plane was still visible on the fuselage. He sent the photo to me. It was only then that I believe it. And I thought my world had ended.”

Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, and Bill put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her head. She pulled out a handkerchief embroidered with delicate flowers and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

She’d been through this. She’d faced the worst and come out the other side strong enough to marry yet another pilot.

But Constance wasn’t that strong. History had proven that she fell apart when she lost people she loved. She couldn’t face losing Jack. Not after finding him at long last. Not after basking in his glorious love and letting herself believe for the first time that they had a future together.

“I’ve organized the ladies from the PBA into shifts. We’re going to sit with you as long as it takes. You don’t have to go through this alone. Now do you prefer knitting or crocheting?” Ann held up a bulging bag.

Constance had no idea how to answer. “I’m terrible at both.”

“It helps to have something to do with your hands. Something about making things helps keep the demons at bay. Let’s start with knitting. I’ll get it started for you.”

“I have to take off if I’m going to reach Philadelphia by noon,” said Bill, kissing his wife on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a few days, my love. You two take care of each other. Jack has surprised us before. I’m holding out hope that he’ll surprise us again. I’m not ready to say goodbye to that crazy bastard either. He still owes me five dollars from when he lost to me at snooker. He’d better come home and pay me, or there’ll be hell to pay.” He winked at Constance, kissed his wife again, and sauntered off to the locker room.

“I love you.” Ann blew him a kiss, and as soon as he was out of sight, a strong emotion that Constance knew all too well crossed her face. “It hurts to say goodbye every single time. You probably think I should be used to it by now, but I’m not.”

Constance didn’t know how to respond, so she looked down at her hands.

Ann pulled out knitting needles and a ball of pale blue yarn, settling in for their somber vigil. “How long have you and Jack known each other?”

The simple question shattered Constance. Whatever wall of decorum had held her together to this point shattered, and she heaved big, ugly, gasping sobs.

Ann immediately put down her knitting needles as she pulled Constance in for a hug. How long she stayed there, she wasn’t sure. The sound of Mr. Dickson’s voice made her go rigid.

“Mrs. O’Donnell, it’s good to see you. I tried to talk Miss Pritchard into leaving last night, but she wouldn’t listen. She insisted she had to stay by the phone. I hope you can talk some sense into her and get her to go home.”