Although Leo had grown better at accepting compliments, she could feel him stiffen under the hand still resting on his shoulder. He jerked his head. “It was time they recognized your talents.”
The roaring start of a three-hundred-horsepower motor broke into their conversation. Mattie shielded her eyes and turned in the direction of the makeshift runway. In a slow trundle, Crenshaw maneuvered his plane to the far end of the strip, its fuselage painted a deep forest green. Mattie glanced at the watch Vera had lent her. The odious reprobate was right on time.
She and Leo had arranged that Crenshaw would race first. It gave her the slight advantage of knowing his maneuvers and what time she had to beat. Considering that the unscrupulous man had sabotaged her previous plane, she’d felt no compunction at telling the papers that he would be the first one to fly.
The Fabin shot down the runway, picking up speed until its wheels lifted off the dusty, dry ground and its nose shot skyward. Crenshaw might be a braggart, but he could operate a plane with ease. His style wasn’t exactly fluid but an odd mixture of mechanical and brash. He flew as if he could aggressively plow his way through the course, one choppy maneuver at a time. He pounced on each of the stunts, his twists and rolls like powerful swipes of a tiger’s paws. His loop over the first bridge could have been tighter, and he lost speed through the narrow center arch.
Racing to the other overlook of the U-shaped canyon, Mattie caught Crenshaw’s barrel roll through the last bridge. It seemed a bit hesitant to Mattie, but he’d still zoomed through the entire course in an impressive time.
His performance would be hard to top but was certainly not unbeatable. Still, her nerves started to flare up like a million insect bites—itchy and raw. While walking back to her Fabin, she gave her arms a rub, as if she could ward off the uncomfortable sensation. When she reached the plane, Leo reached up and patted her hand.
“You can do this. I believe in you.”
“Thanks.” She breathed in the desert air, wishing it were cool and bracing instead of dry and stifling. It did little to calm her.
Her friends formed a line on either side of the cockpit, like a receiving line after a wedding. They all cheered as she walked through their ranks, their words of encouragement helping to make her feel, at least momentarily, lighter than air.
“You can trounce him with one eye closed,” Sadie called.
“And you definitely have more style!” Lily’s voice, high and clear, rang through the others’.
“Keep your focus,” Alice advised, her tone almost parental.
“You know this will be a high point in my book.” Aida, who had rejoined the Flying Flappers during her fall break from graduate school, waved her fountain pen like a pendant, squirting a bit of ink into the air.
“He wasted a lot of time by making his loops through the bridges too broad. Tighten them up, and you’ll shave off at least a minute from his speed,” Carrie coached.
“Darling, you have nothing to fear. You can outfly that silly old drugstore cowboy without even trying.” Vera hoisted Ruby in her arms, and the awakened spaniel gave a decidedly emphatic sniff. Her brown eyes were even larger than usual, as if she, too, understood the gravitas of the situation.
Her friends’ encouragement blazed through Mattie, but when she touched the side of the cockpit to propel herself into the plane, her fingers still trembled. The enormity of her responsibility pressed uncomfortably down upon her. Vera had mentioned that even one British and two French reporters would be present. So many people wished for her to fail and would ruthlessly use any flop on her part to discredit all female aviators. Yet so many women, young and old, were silently urging her on, someprayingfor her to win. What if she failed?
She felt a small hand tug at hers. Glancing down, she found little Milly, who must have escaped her father’s grasp. The girl’s round face was ringed with curls as wild as Mattie’s own, but her expression was grave.
“Mama said you were worried.” Milly’s blue eyes were two serious pools of innocent wisdom, the kind that only a child could possess. “You very, very, very much want to win so little girls know they can fly too.”
“Yes, Milly dear, that’s true.” Mattie’s voice shook the tiniest bit, but the precocious child didn’t notice.
“I want to be a pilot even if mean ole Mr.Crenshaw gets the prize.” Milly tilted her tiny chin in an oddly adult expression. Clearly, she wanted to stress the solemnity of her next words. “You don’t have to win. You just need to fly. Then we’ll all know we can too!”
You just need to fly.The words bounced around Mattie’s heart. She could certainly accomplish that. Even better, she could soar!
“Take Planey for luck.” Milly shoved her toy into Mattie’s other hand. “She also reeeeally wants to be in the air.”
Mattie’s fingers curled around the well-worn wooden fuselage, and she took the same care she would give to an Imperial Fabergé egg. “I’ll make sure Planey has an experience she won’t forget.”
Milly beamed. “Thank you!” She slipped her hand from Mattie’s and skipped over to her parents.
This time, Mattie’s hand was completely steady as she launched her body into the cockpit. Before she strapped herself into the seat, she paused and turned her body toward the cameras. When she smiled and waved, she didn’t have to fake her confidence as she’d feared. Milly’s words had given it back to her in abundance.
Securing Planey so that the toy would not fall out of the open cockpit, Mattie pulled Alfred’s goggles over her eyes and waited as Vera stepped forward. The heiress winked and blew a kiss toward the closest photographer. Then, with her cherry-red tube dress swirling about her shins, she yanked down on the propeller with a dramatic flourish.
The powerful motor roared, the pulsating sound sending Mattie’s heart beating faster. Vera waved one gloved hand as she stepped safely away from the Fabin.
Letting out one of her trademark whoops, Mattie adjusted the throttle and felt the powerful bird move toward the runway. Staring out from behind her brother’s goggles, she realized that a part of himwas with her today, cheering her on, being her wingman, urging her to embrace the future, to live her life, to pursue her dreams.
As she angled into position, she didn’t hear the cheers or even the jeers. Sound simply drifted away as she concentrated on the bright blue stretching before her. Not even the slightest puff of white or gray marred the monochromatic splendor.
As Mattie pulled back on the throttle, the runway zipped past her, the orange-red of the soil blending with the gray-green of the clumps of sagebrush. She caught occasional flashes of white from the huge blooms of yucca. Soon, though, Mattie could not even detect those snowy hues as she hurtled ever faster. Under her command, the wheels lifted from the ground, and the sleek, aerodynamic bird ascended.
