Broken Wings, Soaring Hearts Page 6

  He knew he’d won this round when she met his hand halfway with hers. Maybe this isn’t the right job for him after all.

  Jack watched the confident young woman make her way back along the brick walkway and into the back door of the main house.

  He didn’t know whether to be irritated with her or impressed. She certainly knew what she wanted, he had to give her that. He’d never met anyone like her. Whether that was good or bad was yet to be seen.

  Jack moved up the steps and onto the cottage porch. He’d unloaded enough of his things to get by. At this point he really wasn’t sure whether he’d be here one day or ten, but he had always been good for his word. He stopped in his tracks. Did I just promise to stay until she finds someone else? He groaned out loud. I need to have my head examined.

  Walking into the living room of the well-crafted cottage, he tossed his keys onto the entry table and set his clothes and bag on the nearest chair. He surveyed the homey surroundings before sinking down on the blue and white striped sofa.

  A weary sigh slipped through his lips. What is it she kept saying? That this business was her “calling”? He massaged his aching temples. The only calling he could remember hearing about was someone being “called” into the ministry.

  Jack tossed the thoughts around in his head. It seemed so complicated. What would his calling be? What about his dad? What about those boys … those Watson boys? We choose a path and hope it’s the right one. It’s our choice to make. God just makes sure we behave ourselves. He’s sort of the big disciplinarian in the sky. Right?

  Jack tugged at his boots, letting them drop to the floor before falling back to stretch across the sofa. He let his eyes fall shut. Maybe he should have continued to attend church with his mother after he’d started working at the company. But who could spare the time? As it was, he’d been working seven days a week. His father had never seen the need for church. Maybe that was reason enough to have continued going with her, Jack thought wryly.

  He rubbed a hand across his face again. Maybe just a quick nap, and then he’d drive into town to get something to eat. He’d try … who was that she mentioned earlier? Uncle Somebody’s Diner.

  Open irritation crept into his weary thoughts. At first glance he thought he’d found paradise. Now he’d have to initiate the search all over again. Her finding someone else? That could take days … weeks. What have I gotten myself into?

  Frustration started rising from the pit of his stomach. It’s going to be another Tylenol popping day after all. Just like back home. His mind circled around the aggravations, the charts, graphs, reports — from the first day his dad stuck him in the office, he’d wanted out.

  “Stinsons start at the top. Not in the grease pit with the hired help”’ His father’s words.

  But his father’s idea of the top wasn’t where Jack wanted to be. He wanted to work with his hands. Be with the people who made it all happen. He wanted to accomplish something important to him. Marshall Stinson’s impatience for Jack’s resistance to run the business as a big time conglomerate made for constant friction in the office. Jack knew it only hindered productivity. And even worse, kept the wedge between father and son growing.

  He stood and headed toward his bag.

  Not exactly the grand escape he’d planned.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “That’s crazy! Why would you want to drive all the way into town to eat when we have a perfectly good meal sitting on the table waiting for you right now?” Hailey stood at the cottage door, her hands thrust on her hips.

  Jack graciously declined her invitation for a second time. “I’ve already made plans to drive into town to eat. And I have phone calls to make.”

  “Jack, you don’t know anybody around here to make plans with.”

  “Who said making plans constituted the need for two or more parties? I made plans with myself to do this, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  She pointed through the open door to the telephone sitting on the oak table beside the sofa. “And if you don’t want to use your cell phone, there’s a perfectly good phone right there, Mr. Smarty. Walk to the house and eat. I promise you won’t be forced to have social hour with us. Just eat and then walk right straight back here and use that phone.”

  “No. But thank you.”

  “You know, I can see why you feel uncomfortable.” An understanding smile tipped her lips. “But I know once my mom meets you, she’ll start warming to the situation. You’ll win her over with your sparkling wit.” She sucked in a breath and waited for his reply. That might have come out wrong, she warned herself. “You know I was teasing, right? Not that you’re not witty. I’m not saying you’re completely without wit.” Okay, Hailey. Stop.

  “You’re not being realistic, Hailey. You think just because your mom meets me, she’ll be swept off her feet and reconsider her position on flying and your plans?”

  Not offended. Good. Because she really was only teasing. Hailey shrugged, turning up her smile a notch. “You are ‘feet sweeping off of’ material.” She felt her face flush.

  “I can’t, in good conscience, antagonize your mother that way. She doesn’t need me at her table. And what are you doing? Trying to butter me up? I don’t butter easily.”

  “All right. I do understand.” She saw his eyes narrow. “I guess I’ll see you at the hangar in the morning, then. Seven sharp.” She smiled at him with what she hoped showed no trace of disappointment and turned to make her way down the steps.

  “Wait.”

  She turned to face him, her eyebrows questioning his command.

  “Tell me how to get to your uncle’s diner.”

  “It’s on the main drag right through Barnes. Believe me, you can’t miss it. Of course, they close at two-thirty so you’d better get a move on if you’re going.” She tapped her watch. “One-forty right now. Thirty minute drive. Did I mention it’s the only restaurant in town?” She smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle in her work shirt. “Or I could always bring you over a nice quick plate of hot food. Chicken and wild rice. Fresh vegetables. Hot buttered rolls.”

  She could tell he was reconsidering the offer by the serious scowl on his face.

  “Okay,” he relented. “But only because fresh hot buttered rolls are a weakness of mine. I don’t want to make things more difficult for your family.”

  “You’re not,” she assured him. “I’ll be back in two minutes with your plate.” She bopped down the steps.

  “Thanks,” he called after her and closed the door.

  • • •

  It was no great surprise to him that she was already at the hangar at six forty-five the next morning. The hangar doors were thrown open on both sides, the early morning April sun starting to stream through, highlighting her frame engulfed in clouds of dust as she pushed a broom with intense strokes around the concrete floor. Kisses lay stretched out in the doorway, oblivious to the dust storm swirling around him.

  Maybe he could walk, invisibly, past her and get his hands on those two beautiful Skycats parked on the other end of the hangar.

  No such luck. Hailey noticed him as she stopped sweeping to bite off a piece of chocolate bar.

  He smiled in greeting and stopped to stroke Kisses’s big head.

  The dog’s heavy tail thumped firmly against the cement.

  “Candy for breakfast?” He eyed the bar she dropped back into her work shirt pocket.

  “Not usually.” The exaggerated scowl on her face turned into a mild grin. “My mom and I got into it already this morning. I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but it does. I hate it, in fact.”

  His hands were on his hips. “Still think it’ll all work out?”

  “Oh, sure.” She moved across the floor to prop the broom beside a meticulous wooden workbench spanning the length of one entire wall. “She’ll come around.�
�� Her usual teasing glint returned. “You’ll probably want to stick around to see how nicely it all works out.”

  He chose to ignore the optimistic remark.

  She kept smiling. “Okay, so you’re not up for a rousing verbal swap this morning. That’s fine. Want to check out the planes?”

  The sparkle in her eye was contagious. He was more than anxious to get his hands on those planes.

  He followed closely as she made brisk strides to stand beside the aircraft.

  “Beauties, aren’t they?” Love for the planes was evident in her voice. She seemed to observe his reaction proudly, her hands stuck into the pockets of her jeans.

  Jack conducted a brief examination, reveling in the prospect of getting his hands as greasy as possible.

  Temporarily, of course. Since he was on a job search again.

  “Well, what do you think? Can you help get ’em ready for some air time?”

  He walked to the rear of the plane. “From what I can tell without an internal check, this rudder is about the worst of it. Just basic maintenance, really.”

  She followed him around to the other side of the plane. Approaching the door he halted, reading the words inscribed with perfect script lettering: “Hailey’s Comet.” He shot her an admiring glance. “Clever. I like it.”

  She leaned against the fuselage, patting the side of the Skycat III with loving hands. “Jack, meet Comet. Comet, this is Jack.”

  “Hailey’s Comet,” he repeated. “That really is clever.”

  “That’s my dad for you.” She bent to run a hand along the bottom of the Skycat where she’d previously sanded. “Well, are you going to stand around wasting time, or are you gonna get to work?”

  He stopped admiring the craft long enough to shoot her a wary look. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “That’s what got me where I am today, Mr. Stinson.” She teased.

  He fought the urge to grin. Where she was today, it appeared to him, was swimming upstream without a paddle.

  He thrust his hands on his hips and let an exaggerated scowl cross his face. “I suppose I could piddle around here today. Nothing else to do in this one-horse town.”

  She was obviously pleased. “Well come ooh-and-aahh over our tools, then.” Before the words left her mouth, she was already halfway back to the workbench.

  He made his way over. “This really is a very nice operation you have here.”

  “Thanks. You wouldn’t believe how much thought Dad put into everything. I’m going to leave everything exactly the way it was the day he left it.”

  “Are you certain about that?” he asked with a frown.

  “Why, yes.” Her surprise was visible. “What do you think is wrong with it?”

  His eyes scanned the premises for an example. “Now, here. This is what I mean.” He walked to the far end of the workbench. “If the plane is going to come in facing north,” he stood facing the same direction as the nose of the plane, holding his arms out straight in front of him for emphasis, “I would have built the tool racks on this end so I wouldn’t have to walk around the tail and wings each time I needed something.”

  He continued, crossing the cement floor and sweeping his arms across the room. “And I would have had the entry poured on the north side of the structure as well as the south side, because if I needed to change the direction I brought the plane in, say for wind direction purposes, my options wouldn’t be limited to one entrance. It’s smart for fire safety, too.”

  He was about to give his reasons for portable instead of stationary chocks, but he caught a glimpse of her face and thought better of it. He blinked at her. “What? What’s wrong?”

  She looked as if the breath had been knocked out of her. “Nothing. I know you weren’t criticizing, but my dad planned this out so carefully.”

  Had he hurt her feelings? He hoped not. Poor girl was going through enough already. “I’ve already told you I think this is an incredible operation.”

  He moved quickly to stand beside her. “I didn’t mean to sound overly critical.” He berated himself for not realizing how his immediate suggestions might sound to her. It had been only six months since she lost her father. And though she appeared to be handling the loss exceptionally well, he had to wonder.

  He offered her an awkward pat on the shoulder.

  She took a deep breath, giving the hangar a tender glance. “My dad was quite a perfectionist.”

  “It shows.” He assessed the neatly labeled drawers of nuts and bolts. “I have a dose of it, myself. Perfectionism. So does my own father.”

  “I learned a great deal about doing things right from my dad.” Her eyes glistened.

  He wished he could say the same about his own dad, but he couldn’t. “My father thought his way was the only right way. His way was to hold his thumb over anyone who had ideas or dreams of their own.” He turned away from the workbench and faced the aircraft. “I don’t think that’s the right way.”

  Her blue eyes regained a little spark. “Oh! So you don’t think it’s okay for your father to keep you from doing what you think you should do, but it is okay for my mom to try to do the same thing to me?”

  Ouch. “Look, you don’t understand the situation,” he insisted.

  “I understand it perfectly. It’s the same old double standard.”

  “Double standard?” He was taken aback. “How? Our situations aren’t the same at all. My father was controlling.”

  “And my mom isn’t trying to control me? Oh, that’s right. You decided that after five minutes yesterday.” Her voice held no anger. But she was certainly up for a debate, judging by her stance. “Come on, Jack. Admit it. I have every bit as much right to pursue my calling as you do.”

  Her words cut through him. That calling again. “Your mother isn’t unreasonable like my father is.”

  She let out an astonished gasp. “You don’t know unreasonable until you’ve tried to talk some sense into Rinnie Holman.”

  She stood before him, hands perched on her hips, he supposed expecting a rebuttal.

  For a split second he forgot he wanted to argue with her. All he saw was how beautiful her determination and strength made her. He always thought his mother was the strongest woman he’d ever known. But her strength was quiet and tolerant. Hailey’s was questioning and bold. She was filled with a vibrant strength too impressive to ignore.

  “Listen, Hailey, if I wanted to argue I could have stayed in Cryder working for my father. I’ve told you I made this change because I want peace and quiet in my life. Let’s make the short time I have here as pleasant as possible.”

  “One, this isn’t Cryder, Jack. And two, we can disagree without making a federal case of it. That’s what I can’t get my mom to understand, either. I don’t like to argue!”

  Before he could respond, she continued. “Why don’t you put more thought into staying here? You obviously love the planes. And believe it or not, this can be the most tranquil place you’ll find. Sure, once in awhile things get crazy, like yesterday with Neal and Paul and this thing with my mom, but hang around and you’ll find that this is exactly what you’re looking for. Any place you go will have something about it you don’t like. And not to sound selfish, but with your experience, you’re exactly what I’m looking for. This could be exactly what both of us need.”

  “You’re forgetting, I’ve been stuck in administration for so long that I’m rusty at working with my hands.” He wanted her to see a negative to him staying. Even if he really didn’t believe it himself. “I’ve barely hung on to my A & P certification.”

  “That’s not a big deal at all. You’ll get your hours in no time. In fact, your business knowledge will be a real asset as the Wild Blue Yonder Flyers grows.”

  The thought instantly agitated him. She wanted to take what her dad st
arted and grow it? That defeated the purpose of having a family business — that’s when it could become something no one even recognizes anymore. “If you start talking that way, you’re going to ruin a potentially good thing. The beauty of this business is its simplicity. Keep it that way.”

  “You’re saying start small and stay small?” Her voice rang through the metal building. “That’s not what my dad had in mind! I’m not talking about anything as humongous as what you’re used to. But there’s a huge need for what we do around here. We may have been a small time operation to you, Mr. Stinson, but our dreams are anything but small.”

  Her lecture was halted by the intrusive roar of a now-familiar mufflerless pickup careening up the driveway, spewing gravel and dust in its wake. Before the oversized tires could come to a skidding stop at the hangar door, Kisses was on his feet, ready to lunge at the truck’s two loud occupants. The hair along the ridge of the dog’s back stood like the bristles of a porcupine, his bark enraged and ferocious, his teeth bared and ready.

  Jack wanted to bare his teeth, too.

  The driver spit through the open window, seemingly unperturbed at the dog’s threat. “Well, lookee. Miz Hailey has ‘erself a li’l helper.”

  Hailey raked a determined hand through her bangs. “Paul Watson, I strongly suggest you get off my property.” Her voice was steady.

  The man behind the steering wheel let out a loud whoop as he cut the motor. “Lordy, you are lookin’ so fine to-day, missy.” He muttered something to the person in the passenger side of the truck and both men cackled.

  Paul leaned his face out the window. “Neal says you’re lookin’ mighty fine, too, Hailey girl.”

  It didn’t take the stench of alcohol drifting from the truck to know that the two were polluted. And it was barely eight A.M.