“I have a cut on my finger.”
“I just finishedAnne of Green Gables, and Papa bought meAnne of Avonlea.”
“I’m readingThe Story of Doctor Dolittle. He cantalkto animals.”
With surprising adroitness, Alice parsed through the cacophony of voices and addressed each comment solemnly. “Oh my, Milly, thatisa big caterpillar and so fuzzy...do you know that you’re going to get to ride in some airplanes? Let me see that scrape. It looks like it’s healing nicely, but I’ll still give it a kiss...that is wonderful, Ruthie. Anne Shirley is such a lovely character...how fascinating, Eddie. He communicates with animals! And what do they have to say?”
Standing up with her daughters and son still dancing around her, Alice turned toward her husband, who was standing slightly to the side of the little throng, his mossy-green eyes warm and a smile below his thin, barely there mustache.
A faded recollection flashed to life in Mattie’s mind, like a water-damaged movie reel. She did not have many memories of her mother. Most were flickers of sensations. The warmth of a hug. The faint smell of the lilacs her mother had loved. A cool hand in the midst of a fever.
But suddenly—although the image still remained slightly out of focus—Mattie could see her father come up behind her mother as she sat in her favorite armchair. He placed his hand on her shoulder, and she lifted her fingers to cover his. Then she tilted her head, and their gazes met in a quiet rush of mutual love.
Mattie witnessed that same look now as Alice and her husband regarded each other over the heads of their children. To Mattie’s surprise, a deep longing seeped into her. She wondered what it would be like to have a partner—someone who supported her with a wordless glance full of strength and affection.
“Planey wants to see the big air-o-planes.” The little girl had a high, lilting voice, but she spoke without a speck of hesitation. The child held her toy aloft and made buzzing sounds as she whirled around, her brightly patterned gingham skirt a swirl of color. As her offspring danced around the field, Alice made the introductions. When she reached Leo, John flashed a set of white teeth, looking every inch the performer that he was.
But unlike with Leo’s press face, John’s smile seemed genuine and not just manufactured to please the crowd. “You’re the Flying Lion, one of America’s greatest aces! I thought I recognized you.”
“What’s an ace?” Milly asked as she swung her plane around her father’s knees.
“A fighter pilot,” John explained.
The movement of the toy stopped. Milly scrunched up one side of her face. “Pilots don’t fight. They fly.”
“Remember how Papa fought in the Great War?” John said. “So did Mr.Ward here, but he did so in the skies, not in the trenches.”
Milly sucked in her bottom lip and began to chew it. “Did the planes get hurt?”
“We took care of them the best we could.” Leo’s blue eyes had deepened as he regarded the little girl with the seriousness that he’d show an adult. “We had mechanics who watched over our birds and patched up any scrapes.”
“Did you kiss the scrapes?” Milly’s moss-green eyes had grown even wider.
Mattie watched Leo curiously as he hesitated, a bit of red spreading to his cheeks. He coughed and slid a glance first in her direction and then in John’s. “Uh, no, but I might have patted my old Nieuport and then my SPAD once or twice.”
A warmth crept through Mattie as she watched the tinge of scarlet on Leo’s face deepen into the color of a ripe strawberry after his confession. Although she and her brothers openly showed affection for their machines, she hadn’t suspected that Leo ever did the same.
“What were their names?” Milly asked, seemingly satisfied that Leo had adequately cared for his wartime fighters.
The red seemed burned into every inch of Leo’s face now. He reached up and rubbed the back of his head. Almost surreptitiously, he slanted Mattie a look. She couldn’t completely read it, but she knew two things for certain. Hehadnamed those machines, and for some reason, he didn’t want to admit what those monikers were in her presence.
Before anyone could question Leo further, the crunch of the Duesy’s wheels on the gravel heralded Vera’s return. She’d brought Ruby with her, and the spaniel sported a ridiculous brown aviator’s helmet on her domed head and matching goggles. The latest accoutrements had arrived yesterday, a custom order straight from a Paris fashion house.
“Cousin Vera! Cousin Vera!” All three children ran like aircraft in a formation to the heiress. She gave each child a hug and spun Millyaround, who giggled uncontrollably as her cotton skirt once again formed a large puff around her white ankle socks and canvas shoes.
“Whatdidyou call your planes?” Mattie asked Leo softly as soon as everyone else was focused on helping Vera decorate the makeshift mannequin.
Leo’s gaze shifted away from hers, and before he either answered or further evaded her question, Vera called out, “Mattie, are you ready to prove you’re not going to bodily injure me when you dive to collect me? Be aware that I do like my head firmly attached to my shoulders or, in this case, the representative stick. I’ve grown surprisingly attached to that melon after dressing it up.”
“The breeze might knock off the cloche,” Mattie said, “but I won’t touch a hair or vine on either of your heads.”
“Perfect!” Vera blew Mattie a kiss, her gold snake bracelet glinting in the overhead sun.
“Want to come?” Mattie asked Leo almost spontaneously. It had been a long time since they’d gone up in the air together in the same plane, and she suddenly missed it.
A slow smile crept over Leo’s face. “Yeah. I’d like that. A lot.”
“Race you to the plane!” she shouted. It was an old, almost forgotten game of theirs.
