Cynthia Cartier - Wings

“That’s it?” asked one of the men.

“Guess so. Somethin’ about crankin’ the stick like that that’ll pull ya outta a hopeless stall I guess.” Crik got up and stoked the fire.

“Ever done it?” asked the other man.

“Has anyone ever done it? That’s the question,” Liddy teased.

“You hush, girl. Never had to. Old Jack, Liddy’s daddy has though. Shoulda had him in the skies that war.”

“Think of the stories,” said Liddy.

Crik flashed another stern look her way. All flying legends pick up speed as they’re told, so they’re best not analyzed, just accepted and enjoyed. Liddy believed this, but part of her wanted to peel away the layers and know for sure. The other part wanted to leave it alone, so she quickly got Crik going again. “Flying with the stars?”

Crik was more than happy to paint the picture for her. “You’ll get there, honey. And you won’t ever wanna come down. ‘Cuz being up at night is like floatin’ on nothin’ and into nothin’.”

Liddy leaned back and took in the sprinkles that filled the black bowl overhead. She drifted off on the calm of Crik’s voice and the gurgle of Muck’s pleasure as she worked her fingers through his fur and scratched his hide.

Morning reveille was called out by the rooster. This was his third round and he was clearly hitting his stride. Liddy was awake but lay in her bed with the covers drawn up under her chin. She listened to the sounds of a farm that didn’t know animals, other than chickens, mousers and Muck.

The land had forgotten the sown and grown, and the soil was deep and well rested. Weeds hid the rock and cement foundation of the farmhouse that once jeweled the property—it had burned years before Crik and the show. Wind did the only talking as it skimmed the barns and out buildings and whistled against the wood and tin of the trailers. Liddy lay very still to see if she could feel any rocking, and was reassured that it was only a breeze with enough gale for a few soft notes, but thankfully no real push.

Jack’s old aviator watch sat on a little wall shelf above her bed. It no longer had a band, and the shine of the chrome had long ago been scratched away, but it could still be trusted. Liddy scooped it into her hand and checked the time. It was three minutes to nine and Liddy watched the hour hand circle until it clicked nine sharp. Then she flipped off her bedding and sat on the edge of the mattress.

Liddy pinched a match from the Mrs. Barleys Beans can at the back of the stove, turned the knob, struck the match against one of the grates and held it near the burner ring. The flame danced for a few moments, waiting for the gas to seep out. The mixture lit and she placed yesterday’s pan of coffee on the heat.

Her arms reached up and when she stood, she pressed the palms of her hands flat on the ceiling and arched her back in a good long stretch. She washed her face in the little sink and pulled on the clothes that were laid over the back of the little chair. When the coffee sizzled, Liddy poured it into a cup, gulped the brew and ate a biscuit with jelly. She swept Jack’s watch into her hand and slipped it into her jacket pocket, grabbed her cap, gloves and goggles and ducked out the door into the snip of the morning air.

Crik was behind the barn, where he stood on a ladder bent over a plane engine. Liddy approached the spot and waited silently for a moment. She rolled her words over in her mind and swished them around her mouth before she spoke, “Hey, Crik.”

“Hi, honey. Whatcha doin’? Figured you’d already be in town.”

“Slept in.”

Crik popped his head up, looked her over and then looked at his watch. “I guess you did. Not like you. Feelin’ okay?”

“Fine.”

Liddy was unusually demure and Crik caught it and set out to study the why.

Liddy’s tongue felt thick. “Thought I’d take the Jenny out for a run, see how she’s clippin’, if that’s okay?”

Crik left his work and planted himself in front of her before he answered, “Sure you can. But you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Liddy removed herself from Crik’s inspection and moved toward the plane he was working on. She drummed her fingers on the fabric skin. “How’s she running?”

“This old girl? I think she may be tryin’ to tell me she’s parts.”

Liddy didn’t look up at Crick but stared at her fingers as they tapped out a beat. “No, Jenny. How’s she running?”

“Great,” said Crik.

“Great,” said Liddy.

Liddy walked to the Jenny and began to circle—she tugged, pushed, pulled and she slid her bare hand over the seams and bends of the old girl’s body. When she was done with that, she climbed onto the wing and bounced gently. Crik took the rag that tailed from his pocket and polished his wrench and watched her.

Cars were everywhere, parked every which way, an unexpected splotch on the wide open landscape. Meadows rolled into the hills and back down into open spaces. Not one house, barn, or fence dotted the view. The car park was bordered by a dried-up river bed and a railroad bridge on one side; a bustle of seedy-looking characters mixed about like a busy pile of ants on the other. It was a foreign invasion in a pure land.

In the distance, the Jenny could be seen flying into view. Liddy took a tour over the bridge and along the sandy trail that it crossed. She knew this land—she’d studied it—but examined it again, etching every rise and fall in her memory. An urge to make one more pass over the stretch nagged her gut, but she knew a crowd was waiting and watching. She flew around and set her path to land in the meadow and the plane waddled as it rolled along the contours of the virgin run earth.

Liddy jumped from the wing and waited for Daniel who emerged from the crowd and jogged out onto the field.

“How’s it going?” Liddy asked.

The furrows that were rutted across Daniel’s forehead twitched. “We’ve raked it in. It’s a lot of money, Liddy, a lot of money. Half of them didn’t know a lady was going up till they got here. Bets started flyin’ and odds shot through the roof when word spread.”

Stupidity working in our favor… Good! “Everything’s set then?” Liddy could feel the nay-say swell her confidence.

“Yeah, the bets are closed, Buck and Hal are trying to look tough, and Celia’s posted the final odds,” Daniel reported.

“What are they? No, don’t tell me. Well, I better get up there so we can clear out of here.”

“Liddy, are you sure about this?”

“No turning back now, Danny Boy. We try to back out on this rabble and… I’ll have to figure out a way to get all five of us in this plane and onto another continent.”

“I should never have let you talk me into this.” Daniel squirmed.

“I need to do this. I need the money, you know that. This payday will be good for all of us. For sure for you and Celia and the boys no matter what happens.” Liddy winked and grinned and mussed Daniel’s hair before jumping back up onto the wing of the plane.

“Not funny, Liddy.” Daniel worked his hands into his pockets and squinted up at her and asked, “Can you do it?”

“Heard it’s been done, even upside down, I’ll do that next time. Besides—”

Daniel interrupted, “Don’t say it, Liddy.”

“Sorry, friend, I have to. I’ll wait till you’re out of earshot though. Relax, Danny, It’s gonna be fine.”

Liddy was about to climb back into the cockpit when Daniel said, “Oh, Liddy, I forgot something. You have to take your cap off so everyone can see you’re really a woman.”

“Why, Daniel Cooper, I’m surprised you didn’t make a deal that I’d do this thing topless.”

“Liddy, I didn’t—”

“I’m just kidding.” Liddy snapped back the flap from under her chin, pulled off her cap and waved it triumphantly, and then she shook her hair wildly.

The mob hooted and cheered.

Liddy hopped into the cockpit and fit the cap back on her head. She was careful to make sure all of her hair was securely tucked away, and she set her goggles over her eyes and snugged the band. She pulled on her gloves, buckled her seat strap and tugged to test its hold, then looked down at Daniel. “Hey, Danny.”

“What?”

“You’d make sure Jack was taken care of?”

“Liddy, you said it’s gonna be fine.”

“It is. I just need to know. You’d take my share and take care of everything?”

“Yeah sure, you know I would. But, Liddy—”

“It’s gonna be fine. I promise.”

She throttled and gave Daniel a thumbs-up and he jogged back toward the crowd as she balanced the rudder between her feet and bumped the plane around to face the long reach of the field where Liddy told herself, “It’s a pretty good day to die.”

The Jenny sat motionless for a worrisome amount of time. Daniel and Celia, who had the coffer clenched to her breast, waited nervously. The crowd stopped their chatter and paused in silence.

“Daniel?” questioned Celia as she reached over and squeezed his hand.

Daniel’s gaze was frozen on the plane. “Everything’s fine. Liddy knows what she’s doing.”

Finally, the plane began to move. Daniel and Celia relaxed—slightly. Elbows nudged and the babble resumed. Picking up speed until the wheels hopped off the ground, Liddy climbed, leveled and circled wide. She straightened out and headed back toward the sandy river bottom.

Pressed firmly against the seat back, Liddy shot the plane along the trail of trees and overgrowth. Gently, she moved the stick forward, taking the nose of the plane lower and lower. She mashed down and dipped the plane closer to the ground as she approached the bridge.