“You promise you won’t laugh at me?”
“I have never laughed at you, Dot. I never will. Unless you say something funny, that is.”
He was hard to resist. She gave him her hand, and he led her to the side of the crowd, where it wasn’t too busy. Then he was holding her, and butterflies danced in her chest while her feet tripped all over themselves. She felt strange, and she didn’t understand. She’d hugged him so many times. They’d spent loads of time talking in private. Why did this feel so different?
“It’s not hard,” he had said. “Look up here. In my eyes.”
Now, Dot’s finger circled the rim of her water glass, and she stared at its contents, lost in reflection. Gosh, she missed him. Sometimes it hurt when she thought about him. If only he would write.
At least they heard from Fred occasionally. He was very proud to be part of the Canadian squadrons that formed the RAF’s No. 6 Group, Bomber Command. He wasn’t allowed to say much more in his letters, so they were a little boring to read, but at least they heard from him.
When Dot entered the living room, her father was there already, squinting at a newspaper.
“Well,” she said, sinking into the sofa. “Class is over.”
“That sounded painful.”
“I could never teach a whole classroom. Just six of them is exhausting.” He set down his paper, and she studied him. “Are you all right? You look pale. Can I get you something?”
“No, no. I’m fine. Just a headache,” he assured her. “You know me. When the weather changes…”
The front door swung open. “What a wonderful day!” Dash cried happily.
“Shh! Dad has a headache.”
“Oh, sorry. What a wonderful day!” Dash whispered, joining them. “I was at Uncle Bob’s.”
Their father brightened at the mention of his younger brother. The two were very close, like Dot and Dash. A couple of years before the Great War had begun, cancer had taken the boys’ mother, then their father had reportedly died of a broken heart shortly after. The brothers had grown up in their grandparents’ house, but they were mostly on their own. Dash’s father had practically raised Uncle Bob, and their affection for each other had never waned.
After the war ended, Uncle Bob had married Aunt Lou, and she inherited her father’s wheat farm. Faced with a life he knew nothing about, Uncle Bob declared that he was more of a landlord than a farmer and rented about half the land to actual farmers. He sold most of the rest to the county, which had quickly planted houses rather than wheat. Before that, he’d given Dot’s father a choice of one of the lots, on which he had built his own home. As a result, the families lived about a mile and half from each other. The only substantial part of the farm Uncle Bob had kept for himself was the portion he reserved for Jenny and her own little airfield.
Dash plopped onto the sofa beside Dot, looking wildly beautiful. Her long black hair was in mad disarray beneath a beret, and her cheeks burned bright red from the wind.
“Uncle Bob showed me the instrument panel today, and I understood it pretty easily because there are a lot of similarities with automobiles. But there were new ones too, and it was so interesting. Then we went for a flight, and that was the icing on the cake.” She spread her arms out over the back of the sofa and raised her face to the ceiling. “He said I’d done well with the practical lesson, so I should sit back and enjoy myself, so I did. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier.”
“I couldn’t tell,” her father said, giving Dash one of his sweet smiles.
“You’re paying attention to Uncle Bob, right?” Dot asked, concerned. “Not just soaring around with that big grin on your face?”
“Of course! I want to learn everything so I can fly everywhere. Maybe someday I’ll fly for a living.”
Dot doubted that, but she would never say so. As much as she questioned her sister’s outrageous dreams, Dash almost always proved her wrong.
“I could teach like Uncle Bob, or I could fly people around, or…” Dash petered off, seeing Dot’s lifted eyebrow. “Don’t worry. I know those are pie-in-the-sky thoughts.”
“You can do whatever you work at,” her father assured Dash. “I’ve never seen you quit.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She leaned toward her sister, elbows on her knees. “Oh, you’d love it, Dot. The way the engine purrs, then Uncle Bob pushes the throttle in, not all at once, just kind of urging Jenny along, and she roars!”
“So it purrs, then it roars,” Dot teased. “Is it a plane or a lion?”
“Jenny the lion,” Dash mused, toying with the idea. “Will you come watch me?”
Dot wasn’t certain she could. What if something happened? Her stomach did a little flip just thinking about it.
“Please?”
There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Dash. “Of course.”
