Lady Flyer, page 3
Nancy didn’t ask Robert where he was getting the extra money, because her heart was skipping too far ahead. He’d taken a bunch of flying lessons a few years ago and had even earned a private pilot’s license, but he didn’t do much with it. She’d never seen him fly, nor had wanted to go up with him.
By the time they made it back to the airfield, this time Robert driving them, he’d already argued his way into going up first. “Not only do I need to make sure the stunts are safe for my little sister, but you already took one spin around the field.”
“Fine.” Nancy smirked. “You can go first.”
A short time later, she stood, arms folded, breeze tugging at her hair, watching the biplane containing her brother and the pilot as it dipped, looped, and rolled through the sky. Maybe Robert would get sick with so many stunts, and it would serve him right for insisting he fly next.
But when the biplane landed, Robert was all smiles. He staggered a bit when he dropped to his feet, but then he performed a deep bow to the clapping onlookers.
Nancy laughed. She hurried to the pilot, the money clutched in her hand.
“You’re back,” the pilot said, his smile friendly.
“I’m back.” Maybe he was flirting with her, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to get into the biplane again and do something more than circle a field.
After strapping in, she focused on the speckled blue of the sky above and breathed in the scent of field grass, wildflowers, engine fuel, and old leather. The pilot swung the prop and started up the engine again. As the plane bounced along the field, Nancy’s pulse went up. When the biplane lifted from the ground and leveled out, her view improved. The pilot didn’t even waste time circling the field like he had with Robert; he took off toward Lake Portage. Over the water that rippled gold and green in the sunlight, they did a loop, and Nancy squealed. She closed her eyes for a half second, but then she opened them again, not wanting to miss a thing.
“How was that?” the pilot called.
“Fantastic,” she shouted into the wind, letting it carry her words.
His laughter reached her, and she couldn’t have wiped the grin off her face if she’d tried.
Next, the biplane shot west toward Hancock and flew over the shipping canal between the two cities. Nancy watched with fascination the ongoings of the towns below her. Miniature buildings, roads, horses, people—the scenery straight from a fairy-tale book.
“This is what we call a buzz,” the pilot called out, taking the biplane lower until they flew directly over the brick buildings of Shelden Avenue. People on the sidewalk looked up and froze. Some ran to cross the street, as if to get out of the way.
Nancy wondered if her mother was among any of them, shopping. Wouldn’t she be surprised to learn it had been Nancy in the biplane that day? Below, the Houghton National Bank came into view, followed by the Masonic Temple. Soon, they neared her neighborhood on College Avenue.
The biplane rose higher into the sky, and the pilot rocked the wings right, then left.
Nancy’s heart rate climbed with the elevation, and she felt separated from her body for a moment. Despite the roar of the engine, it was peaceful in the sky. A quiet stillness in an odd way. As if she were viewing her life from another person’s perspective.
The Victorian house her family lived in was the size of a Model T Ford. It was amazing to think that she’d lived all her life there but now she was seeing it from a different perspective. Her life and everything else below seemed so . . . small and insignificant. Up here in the sky, endless possibilities opened like a scroll unraveling right before her.
All too soon, the biplane turned around and headed back to the field. Nancy had lost track of time, as if she’d been in a dream—but the best kind of dream. Not until after the biplane descended did her heart rate finally slow. The wheels touched the dirt, bouncing once, twice, and the engine slowed. Finally, the engine cut, but Nancy didn’t want to move.
“Need help, miss?” the pilot asked, peering at her, his hand extended. He’d climbed out onto the wing without her realizing it.
She took his hand but only because she knew she was supposed to get out. As she climbed onto the wing, she scanned the crowd for her brother.
Robert’s head rose above most, and she waved at him. “I need five more dollars, Bobbin,” she said, calling him by the nickname her family had given him in his youth. She ignored the pilot’s laughter and focused on her brother. “Please, Robert.” She reached him and grasped his hand, still wearing the helmet and goggles. “I’ll do your chores for a week and pay you back.”
Robert grinned. “How can I turn down that offer?” He leaned down. “It’s your lucky day, Sis. I brought extra just in case.”
Nancy snatched the money and ran back to the biplane and the pilot, who was talking to another gentleman. It turned out that she had to hand over her gear and wait her turn after the next passenger, but that only made her look forward to it more.
The second ride was even better than the first. They took a different route, and the pilot indulged her with more rolls of the biplane. Nancy’s stomach pitched but in a thrilling way.
She couldn’t wait to tell her friends about this. And her parents. Surely they’d want her to do something special with her life—something like flying airplanes. It wouldn’t be too hard to learn. She could get a license, then work as a barnstormer pilot, giving people rides.
School was great and all, but flying was much better. Anyone could go to school, but probably not everyone could fly.
Unfortunately, when she landed, Robert said he was out of money.
“Are you coming back anytime soon?” she asked the pilot.
His grin was easy. “I can’t rightly say. I go where the people are willing to pay, and I might have dried up this town for a while.”
Nancy had a better plan, though, and as she and Robert drove back home, she plotted ways to get her parents to approve her plan.
“Don’t be hyper about it when you talk to Mom and Dad,” Robert cautioned her.
Dinner was humdrum, or should have been humdrum, save for the burning spot of anticipation in Nancy’s chest. She waited until her parents were nearly finished with their meals so they’d have full bellies and positive thoughts.
“Robert and I went up in a biplane with a barnstormer pilot today,” Nancy said. “Five dollars each ride.”
Mother’s carefully tweezed brows arched. “Were other ladies there too?”
“Oh, yes, but they chose to circle the field only. I went on two stunt rides.”
The edges of Mother’s mouth turned down. “Nancy, that was very presumptuous of you. What if you became sick? Or what if the pilot lost control?”
“He was an excellent pilot,” Nancy said. “Ask Robert.”
He nodded around a mouthful of meatloaf.
“And I didn’t get sick, Mother,” Nancy continued. “I felt like a flying bird.”
Robert snickered, and she shot him a glare.
Father wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and set it down. “Two stunt rides, huh? That’s brave of you.” But there was no censure in his eyes, only the twinkle of amusement.
Mother sipped the wine in her glass, then her mouth pressed into that tight line that told Nancy she wasn’t saying everything she wanted to.
“I could fly for a job, you know,” Nancy said. In for a penny, in for a pound, just like paying for the biplane ride. “Like the barnstormer pilot does. All I need is a license. You know that school isn’t my passion, plus it’s expensive—”
“Nancy Harkness, that is not a decent trade-off.” Mother’s voice went up a notch, her rouged cheeks pinking further. “Nice girls don’t take strangers up on planes, or anywhere, for that matter. It would be like selling yourself—”
Father put a hand on Mother’s, stopping her tangent, using his mild tone that was so effective in his profession as the Public Health Officer for Houghton County. “A lot has happened today, it seems. We can all sleep on this. Nothing has to be decided right now, Nance. But whatever happens, dropping out of school isn’t an option.”
Nancy chewed on her lip, feeling deflated. At least Father hadn’t said no. And the only person in the family who could counter their mother was Father. “I could do both,” she declared softer. “You want me to stay in school, and I want to fly. Summer’s not over yet, so maybe I could take some lessons. See if I still like it after that.”
Her parents exchanged glances, which could be good or bad.
When Nancy looked at Robert, he widened his eyes, and she tilted her head, encouraging him to join in the conversation. Supporting her side, of course.
“You let me take flying lessons,” Robert said.
Both parents snapped their gazes to Robert.
“But you weren’t sixteen years old,” Father said in a dry tone.
Nancy knew her parents wanted to add the “girl” part, but neither did.
“The Fuller brothers fly, and they’re not much older than Nancy,” Robert continued. “I think Nancy would be good at it. She might hate school, but she’s still smart.”
Nancy wanted to beam, but she kept her expression painfully neutral. Leave it to her brother to be the voice of reason with their parents.
“Well, Bobbin, you make some good points . . .” Mother hedged. “We’ll think about it.” But she rubbed at her temple, which usually meant she either had an oncoming headache or didn’t want to deal with the subject at hand.
Later that night, when Nancy was settled into bed with her favorite French novel, Le Comte de Monte-Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, her father came into her room.
“Did you decide yet?” she asked right away.
His smile was gentle as he sat on the corner of her bed, his long frame dwarfing her room. “It’s a big decision, Nance. Not something to be made in a few hours.”
Nancy pushed up to a sitting position and folded her arms. “I won’t know until I try. Maybe I’ll hate it after all.”
Her father laughed. “I doubt that.”
She let a smile sneak through. “Probably not.”
“Tell you what, my dear. I’ll make phone calls tomorrow. Ask around about flight instructors. See what the cost is and all that.”
Nancy couldn’t hold back her joy, and she moved to her knees and threw her arms about her father’s neck. “Thank you, Daddy.”
He pulled her close, chuckling. “Don’t thank me too early. Mother is not thrilled. She doesn’t think it’s proper for a lady to fly machines.”
Nancy drew away. “It’s 1930, Daddy. Women can do all sorts of stuff. I mean, you’re sending me away to a boarding school, and who knows what trouble I can get into there? Flying will keep me focused. Keep me making goals. A way for you to bribe good behavior out of me.”
Father chuckled again and squeezed her shoulder. “If anything, you’re a negotiator.”
Nancy couldn’t stop smiling after her father left the bedroom. Tonight, her dreams would be wonderful because she intended for them to be filled with soaring above the earth, sitting between a pair of silver wings, the wind tangling her hair.
Chapter Three
“The nation will hope that Ruth Elder and other girls will stay on the ground. . . . It is folly in anybody but a lion tamer to enter the lion’s cage.”
—Anniston Star Newspaper
August 1930—Houghton, Michigan
Do it well or not at all. Father’s words echoed through Nancy’s mind while she listened to Jimmy Hansen rattle off details about the Kinner Fleet biplane as they walked around it.
Father had driven her to the Upper Peninsula Airways, and although the day was a gray overcast, there wasn’t much wind.
“This is what we call the preflight check,” Jimmy said, eagerness in his expression. His black hair stuck out from beneath his leather flight helmet, and his goggles dangled at his neck. “We do this before every flight. The first thing you check is the wings and the pitot tube.”
Nancy followed along on the checklist he’d given her.
“The wind is your master, or mistress.” Jimmy was sure smiling at her a lot, as if he couldn’t believe his luck at being an instructor.
He was only two years older than she and probably as green as any instructor could be. But Nancy didn’t care. The tall, gangly boy could fly. And she wanted to learn everything he knew.
“Can we fly now?” Nancy asked. “I won’t learn until I’m actually doing it.”
Jimmy’s face flushed—he’d been doing a lot of that the past hour. “Not until you can tell me all about this plane.”
Nancy took a steady breath and tucked a lock of her honey-brown hair behind her ear. “This here is a tandem two-seater, single-engine Kinner Fleet biplane.” She flashed him a smile. “Now can we get in?”
“Sure, but first, here’s your logbook. The most important possession a pilot can have, with the exception of her parachute.” He handed over a leather-bound book as if it were a glass egg. The logbook was smaller than Nancy had expected.
Jimmy tapped the black leather cover. “You record each of your flying hours in here, and it becomes your pass to train on bigger planes and get jobs flying. Or instructing.”
The tips of his ears pinked.
“Swell,” Nancy said. She pulled on the helmet and grabbed the goggles Jimmy had brought out for her.
“Now let’s go over the instrument panel.” Jimmy handed her onto the wing, and she climbed into the pilot seat. He crouched on the wing and pointed out the different gauges, explaining each one. “There’s a lot of names to remember, so don’t worry if we have to go over everything several times.”
Nancy focused hard as Jimmy talked, committing everything to memory. “Can we fly today?” she cut in after he seemed to run out of explanations.
“I don’t see why not,” he hedged, resting an arm on her door. “If it’s all right with your father.”
“You’re the instructor, Jimmy,” she said. “Which means you’re the boss.”
He rubbed a hand over the rash of freckles on his face. “Oh, well, all right . . . let’s fly.”
Nancy stopped herself from squealing and pulled on her goggles. She was really going to do this.
“Hang on.” Jimmy leaped down from the wing, started the prop rotating, then hurried back to the cockpit and climbed into the rear seat. He fired up the engine. “Now, ease up on the toe brakes, and increase the throttle. Right there. Now start taxiing.”
Nancy followed his direction, and the plane moved forward. They taxied from the hangar to the beginning of the runway.
“That’s it,” Jimmy said. “Now toes off the brakes and heels on the floor so that only your feet are on the rudder pedals. Slowly increase the throttle to full power and maintain center line.” He explained what to look for in the airspeed indicator.
“Now pull back on the control stick, toward you,” he continued.
Nancy did and followed his next directions for the climb.
Once they reached 2,600 feet, Jimmy said, “Level off and point the nose to the horizon.”
Nancy’s arms pimpled with gooseflesh. She was flying, really flying.
“Now lean the mixture just a half swipe to the left,” Jimmy said.
She focused once again on his words, trying to tamp down the exhilaration pouring through her.
“Adjust the mixture to the new altitude we’re flying at. Next, decrease the mixture until we see an RPM drop.” Jimmy’s voice was clear and concise. He might be young, but he was a thorough instructor. “Once it drops, increase the mixture to where it was before it dropped. This gives the best engine performance while conserving fuel.”
“Got it, boss,” Nancy said.
His instruction continued as he talked about the compass and the pitch/bank indicator. She followed his lead until they entered the downwind. He talked her through setting the flaps, then turning toward the air base, and decreasing speed.
“Point the nose at the numbers on the runway,” Jimmy said, “and hold the airspeed. We’re fifty feet above the runway. Keep your eyes at the end of the runway.”
Nancy held steady until Jimmy said, “Now we’re fifteen feet above the runway. Pitch the plane up five to eight degrees. Here we go . . .”
Her breath caught as the wheels touched the ground, her pulse mimicking the bouncing of the plane.
“You did it,” Jimmy said in triumph.
“Of course I did.” Nancy grinned, her hands sweaty but the rest of her body still soaring. “Now what?”
“Let’s go again, and keep up the flying speed.”
“I can do that.” She listened as Jimmy called out instructions, repeating what he’d said before. Her smile was surely permanent now. She’d never felt so exhilarated, not while riding Daisy or her bike or a sailboat with her family.
The air was colder now, but she didn’t mind.
“How far can we go?” she called out once they were up over 2,000 feet again.
“You’re not ready for cross-country yet, Harkness.”
“How many hours do I need to have before I can solo?”
“Five.”
That was fine with Nancy. As long as Jimmy wasn’t busy, she could have that done by the end of the day. But by the time she had nearly five hours in, the sun had set, throwing wild colors across the sky. She’d crammed so much into her brain that her head was starting to hurt.
When she finally removed her helmet and goggles, her hair was smashed flat, her eyes looked like she’d morphed into a raccoon, and her clothing smelled of grease, but she’d never felt more beautiful, more alive.
“How was it, my dear?” Father asked on the drive home.
He might be smiling as much as she was.
“Positively the best day of my life,” she gushed. “I’m going to try to solo tomorrow.”
