Page 50 of Air Affair

The thought of Rory in a boarding house made him shiver. He couldn’t let her do that. “For now, stay here. I’ll be gone for the next three days. I’m scheduled to fly down to D.C. We can figure out what to do when I come back.”

“Hank, I can’t stay here, even with you away. What would people think?”

He blinked. “You’ve been cut off and disowned because we were caught in bed together, and you’re worried what people will think about you staying in my house while I’m gone? Who exactly are you worried about?”

She shook her head. “You’re right. I’m being ridiculous. I’ve already fallen as low as I can go.” She tried and failed to blink back tears.

He took her in his arms. “Shh. It’s all right. We’ll get through this. We’ll figure it out. I’ll take care of you, princess. You don’t have to worry.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed.

“Have you had lunch? Are you hungry? You must be exhausted. I managed to get some sleep this morning, but it sounds like you didn’t sleep at all.” Good grief. He wanted to feed her a sandwich and tuck her into bed. Was he turning into his mother?

“I’m not hungry. My stomach is tied in knots right now. A nap sounds heavenly, though. What time do you have to leave?” She wiped away her tears and sniffed. Even with her face red from crying, she was gorgeous.

“Half an hour or so. I have to take the car with me, but you can walk to Main Street if you need something. I’ll draw you a little map, and I’ll leave you money so you can buy groceries or anything else you need.” And then a sudden thought occurred to him. “Do you even know how to cook?”

She gave him a scathing look. “Of course, I know how to cook. I learned in college when I lived off campus with friends. I’m not very good, but I know enough to survive.”

He smiled. As he thought, he’d be the one to do all the cooking when they were together. “Let me show you around the house. It isn’t very big, but I should give you the grand tour,” he said, getting up and offering her a hand.

“This is the parlor. There’s nothing useful in here except the telephone. Over here,” he said, leading her, “we have the kitchen. The little breakfast nook here is the extent of my dining room. You should be able to find anything you need in the cupboards. Here’s the silverware drawer, the spice drawer, the utensil drawer,” he said pointing. “And here’s the pantry. And there’s a door here out to the vegetable garden. Feel free to pick and eat anything that looks ripe while I’m away.”

“You garden?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I was raised on a farm. Growing is in my blood.” He continued into a narrow hallway. “Here is the bathroom. There’s a linen closet in there with supplies and towels. Feel free to help yourself. And here’s what I call my study. Really, it’s a guest bedroom, but I never have guests.”

He opened the door, and she gasped. “This is more like a library than a study. So many books!”

He beamed with pride. “This wall is all engineering. I studied it for a time before the war. These two walls are almost all history. I like to read about the past. Keeps the mind sharp.”

“I majored in European history at Smith.”

“Did you now? Feel free to peruse at your leisure.” Don’t grin too much, Hank. The lady’s had a rough day. “And over here is the bedroom. I assume that requires no explanation.”

“It’s a lovely house. Thank you for letting me stay.” She stifled a yawn.

“You’re tired. I should let you rest. I’ll leave you alone for a minute to undress and lie down. Then I just need to get my things for the trip.”

She smiled gratefully and closed the door. Trying to ignore the tantalizing rustling of fabric, he paced outside the door. A minute later, she called, “You can come in.”

He opened the door, and there she was in his bed beneath the patchwork quilt his mother made. She looked so right there, so at home. Somehow his princess fit perfectly in his tiny home and his simple life. He didn’t ever want her to leave.

“Seeing you there makes me want to call out sick and climb into bed with you.” He’d get an earful about it if he did. The Postal Service wasn’t any more understanding about health than they were about weather conditions when it came to excuses not to fly.

“I wish you could, but won’t there be trouble if you do? And what if it somehow gets back to Papa and he realizes I’m here? No, you had better go, much as I wish I could curl up with you.”

Sadly, she was right. Bending down, he kissed her cheek. “Sweet dreams, princess. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

Gathering his clothes quickly, he took one last look at her and left the room. He packed his bag hurriedly and drove to the airfield in a rush. He was just in time to make his one o’clock take-off.

Soaring through the skies, his thoughts were filled with Rory. What else was he going to think about? Everything in him said he should offer marriage, but he wanted to do what was best for her. Maybe she would find a way to make her father come around without her marrying the senator, but he would never accept Hank. Nonetheless, the thought of marrying her grew on him.

He didn’t only feel morally obliged to offer, he realized. He wanted to marry her. Never had anyone felt so right. The thought of her in his house, sleeping in his bed, filled him with warmth and joy. He wanted her in his life to cook for and fuss over. And canoodle with. The thought of her leaving filled him with sadness, even though she’d only just arrived.

Rory wasn’t a practical wife. With no experience cooking or keeping house, she was likely to increase his work rather than reduce it. And her tastes were expensive, given that she’d never in her life lived on a budget. He would never be able to offer her Belmont-style wealth, but he could give her a comfortable middle-class life where she’d want for nothing that mattered.

He should think about his career prospects. Glenn Curtiss once offered him double what he made as a pilot to work for his airship company. He’d turned it down because he wasn’t ready to give up flying. But if he was going to marry Rory, he needed a job that wasn’t trying to kill him. He could still rent a plane from time to time to scratch the itch. Maybe they could eventually buy one of their own if they saved. When he got back, he would reach out to Mr. Curtiss to see if he was still interested.