Suddenly, Leo was soaring alongside his friend’s airplane. The pilot turned in his direction, but it wasn’t Alfred. It was Mattie. Her braid flapped out behind her, her mouth drawn into a wide smile as she whooped.
“Look at this trick, Leo!” she called out, and somehow he could hear each word as clearly as if she sat beside him.
“You’re on fire!” he shouted back.
“I know!” She pumped one fist into the air, oblivious to the blaze that inched ever closer to the fuel tank behind the cockpit. “Aren’t the flames grand? Just think of how well I’ll show up doing night-flying tricks now!”
“Your Jenny is about to explode!” Leo yelled, trying to calculate if they were high enough for her parachute to open in time. But American airmen didn’t have that equipment. Were they even at war anymore?
“That would be a spectacular finale! Just think of the press we could get, Leo!” Mattie cried.
“She’s right, darling!” Vera suddenly appeared in the passenger seat with Ruby perched on her lap as the plane transformed from a nimble Nieuport fighter to one of the circus’s Jennies. The dog wore strips of orange, red, and yellow silk around her neck, the garish colors mirroring the real blaze crawling inexorably forward from the tail of the aircraft. “Think of the tickets we’ll sell.”
Suddenly Leo’s Nieuport turned into a Curtiss too. A man appeared in the passenger seat, his handsome face so much like Leo’s own yet sounfamiliar at the same time. “And you’ll give all the money to me, son? Won’t you?”
“Leo!” Mattie’s voice sounded concerned now and muffled but not panicked.
“Mattie?” he called in confusion. A gentle knocking sound caused him to stiffen. Was that her engine? Was it giving her more trouble?
“Leo, it’s me, Mattie.” Her tone was clearer now. He turned toward it, reaching for her.
“Mattie?” he said again, suddenly plunged back into darkness like he’d been at the beginning. “Where are you?”
“Leo, I think you’re having a nightmare. Why don’t you open your eyes? You’ll see that I’m right here.”
Still half-asleep, Leo blinked. Mattie stood by his bedside, her red hair glowing in the light cast by the Tiffany lamp on his nightstand. For one horrible, mad moment, he thought the flames had followed him from the dreamworld into reality.
“I’m sorry I burst in on you like this, but I couldn’t wake you up otherwise.” Mattie retreated toward the door. “You sounded like you were in pain. I can leave now.”
“No,” Leo said hoarsely as he sat up. The sheet fell off, revealing his union shirt. Mattie’s gaze darted to his exposed upper arms, and he felt his face heat. He’d gone swimming with her and her folks before, and his bathing suit was about the same as his nightclothes, but this felt different. Much different.
Mattie must have noticed his discomfort, for she instantly spun around. “Let me know when you’re decent.”
He grunted and hurried to dress. This was becoming a habit now—him furtively pulling on clothes in the dead of the night while Mattie waited to talk to him. As he grabbed his trousers, a crumpled letter fell out of them. Quickly, he kicked it noiselessly under the bed before Mattie could see.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked, her back still turned in his direction.
He froze at first, thinking she meant the missive. It took him a moment to realize that she’d meant his nightmare. “Not really.”
“Okay,” she agreed readily enough.
“Was I—” He paused in pulling the half-buttoned shirt over his head. Licking his suddenly dry bottom lip, he continued. “Was I talking in my sleep?”
The last thing he needed was for someone to know his vulnerabilities. Although he supposed he trusted Mattie more than anyone else, he didn’t want his past lying open to her like a massive, festering wound. It would have blunted Walt’s sacrifice.
“A little,” Mattie admitted, “but it was unintelligible.”
Relief flooded Leo as he hastily finished buttoning his fly. Running his hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth the strands, he said, “I’m good now.”
Mattie turned around. “Do you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?”
He shook his head. He never could after a dream like that. Luckily, they happened less and less. As the Flying Flapper’s first performance drew closer, though, the nightmares had returned a few days ago. The lack of sleep and the vivid dreams had made him as tight as a wire pulled too taut. The letter from his father demanding more money had only made matters worse.
“Nah, I won’t be getting much shut-eye tonight,” Leo told Mattie.
“I’m not in a fit state to sleep either.” Mattie nudged the fibers of the fancy rug with the toe of her shoe.
“Something bothering you?” Leo asked, instantly concerned.
