The aviatrix, p.26
The Aviatrix, page 26
Mattie started to stand, but Leo gave her a gentle tug. He leaned over and whispered so softly that only she could hear, “Don’t go up there. It’s a trap.”
“You all might be wondering what an aviator and a reporter are doing on the stage tonight at the Lost Tide Pool. Well, we are here in case you didn’t see this evening’s edition of the Oceanbreeze Chronicle.”
Mattie stiffened at the name of the town where Fabin Flyer had just held its derby. Mattie had tried calling the company several times since her discussion with Guadalupe and Amando. She’d left the number of Vera’s attorneys since she was on the road, but the law office had not received any communications.
With a dramatic flourish, Crenshaw unfurled a broadsheet. The room had grown so quiet Mattie swore she could hear the rustle of each individual page even from her seat in the back. Leaning forward, she squinted. When she caught a flash of her own face in newsprint, her blood froze. But Crenshaw’s next words made it burst into unstoppable flames.
“You see, Rockol . . .” Crenshaw paused, obviously trying both to drum up more tension and to cast doubt on the legitimacy of Mattie’s endorsement deal. His lips curved into a decidedly oily grin when he continued, “Mattie has agreed to fly the Fabin air course against me. I was able to persuade the company to allow us to use their planes so no one can say we were unevenly matched in the way of aircraft.”
Mattie bounced to her feet like a daredevil shot from P. T. Barnum’s legendary human cannon. “I—”
At the sight of Crenshaw’s triumphant face, Mattie choked back her denial. The odious charmer wanted her to appear cowardly. Leo had warned her that her brother’s rival might come after her. She’d thought it was just another product of Leo’s tendency to worry. Clearly, she’d been wrong.
“Having second thoughts, Rockol Mattie?” Crenshaw sneered out the words. “Afraid you can’t win in a real race against a real man who isn’t sweet on you?”
Mattie bristled at the patent insinuation that Leo had allowed her to beat him. “Mr. Ward is twice the aviator and four times the man that you’ll ever be. And I won those competitions fair and square!”
“Then prove it.” Crenshaw bent forward slightly, his voice booming through the room, causing a murmur to rise through the entranced crowd. The man had the charisma of Vera but none of her kindness.
Mattie felt a nudge against her foot. She glanced down to find Leo watching her. For once, he didn’t try to mask his emotions. She understood his silent message immediately. He was trying to tell her that she didn’t need to do this. She had no obligation to take Crenshaw’s bait.
But Leo was wrong.
She did have a duty. To herself. To female aviators. To little girls like Alice’s daughter who wanted to take to the skies themselves.
Until now, the press had been relatively kind to her, but there were still those comments about her “womanhood” and “femininity” that pervaded almost every article. Even in the most flattering pieces lurked barely veiled hints that Mattie’s flying was more than just unconventional; it was perversely abnormal. She faced so many probing questions about her personal life and her wardrobe choices—inquiries Leo never received.
“Miss McAdams?” Crenshaw’s voice had gone as smooth and as thick as a Walgreens malted milkshake. “We are all very interested in whether you’ll keep your promise, especially Mr. Pringle here, who covers sports for the Oceanbreeze Chronicle’s parent newspaper.”
Mattie turned away from Leo and headed toward the stage. She made certain neither to stalk nor to flounce. Instead, she walked with utter confidence, a broad grin on her face. She acknowledged the crowd, strolling among them, not through them. Earl Crenshaw wasn’t the only aviator in the room who could play to the audience.
“Why, Mr. Crenshaw,” Mattie said loud and clear as she stepped onto the wooden stage, “I would never do something so unwomanly as to renege on a commitment. That would make my words mere fabrications, and I believe a body should be nothing but honorable.”
Crenshaw’s self-satisfied sneer drooped for a shadow of a second before he covered it with greasy obsequiousness. “We’ll see you bright and early at the racecourse tomorrow, then?”
Mattie refused to allow him to shake her any more than he’d already done. “Yes indeed. I’ll be there at . . . ?”
She arched her eyebrow as imperiously as Vera did. Crenshaw didn’t squirm much, but he twitched just a little. Unfortunately, his next words drained her slight satisfaction.
“Six a.m. with a start time at six thirty a.m.”
That was a little over five hours away. Although pilots often rose that early, especially when attempting distance flying, it wasn’t necessary for a closed course. It would cut down on the spectators too.
But clearly Crenshaw didn’t want to give Mattie a chance to study the setup of the pylons or test-fly the unfamiliar Fabin. For all his bluster and confidence, the man was doing his utmost to make sure she couldn’t beat him.
But she would. Soundly. Mattie did her best when faced with low expectations and no support.
“Afraid of too many people watching me trounce you?” Mattie asked, keeping her voice light and airy when she wanted to haul back and slug the man in the kisser.
“But, Miss McAdams”—Crenshaw’s pearly whites flashed, and his perfectly sculpted lips tilted upward into a sickening smile—“you were the one to request that time. I told both the Chronicle and Fabin Flyer that you specifically wanted to begin at the crack of daylight to show the world you were ushering in the dawn of female aviation. But we’ll see whether it is you or me who greets the sunrise with success.”
As soon as he tossed the verbal gauntlet, the room exploded with noise. She could hear illegal bets taking place. Odds were not in her favor.
Mattie seethed, but she would unleash her anger on the field tomorrow. If she did so on this stage, she would look like the unhinged fool—and Crenshaw the sane, calm one. She might have allowed the odious reprobate to maneuver her into this particular skirmish, but she wouldn’t let him win the campaign.
“How do you think the Chronicle and Fabin Flyer would react if they knew you made this all up?” Mattie hissed under her breath as she waved to the crowd like a beauty pageant contestant on the beach.
“Fabin Flyer would never believe it, especially since they said that their secretary had been receiving calls from you when I mentioned your name. I have no idea why you were actually contacting the company, but they think it was because of this competition between us.” Crenshaw waggled his hands like a returning war hero at a parade held in his honor. “If you try to call me a liar, everyone will just blame it on fickle female nerves.”
“How did you get Fabin Flyer to agree?” she asked through gritted teeth, although she somehow still managed to form her lips into a winning smile. Not only was the bastard putting her endorsement with Rockol in jeopardy, but he might have just ruined her opportunity to pitch the RadioNavigator to Fabin.
“You’ve made quite a name for yourself, Miss Rockol.” Crenshaw flashed his deep dimples as one of the women winked at him. “At first Fabin Flyer wasn’t happy about having a dame at the controls of one of their birds. Then I pointed out the attention they’d get. What really sold them, though, was the fact that they could market their planes as being so safe that a doll could operate them.”
“Oh, did they?” Mattie wanted to smash something. Instead, she gave a flirtatious tilt of her head.
“You know, Miss Rockol, you haven’t asked me how I knew you’d agree.” Crenshaw slipped his hand around her waist, as if they were best of chums. Mr. Pringle, who must have gotten permission to take a photograph inside the speakeasy as long as he didn’t show any illegal activity, snapped a picture.
“Obviously, you realized that I was more courageous than you.” Mattie tossed her head just as Lily and Vera had taught her when the flash powder ignited.
“Hardly.” Crenshaw scoffed. “Your brother was a hothead, and I knew any twin of his would be an unholy terror of a wildcat.”
Mattie paused for a moment at the mention of Alfred, barely keeping her anger from exploding. But the best way to honor her twin was a well-placed quip worthy of his quick wit.
“Then I guess you won’t be surprised when you fall victim to my sharp claws.” Mattie quietly tossed the words back at Crenshaw before she descended from the platform, her back rigid, a wide grin pasted on her face.
Immediately, her friends surrounded her as they spoke all at once.
“What an utter scoundrel!”
“The nerve of him to lie like that!”
“Do you mean to actually fly tomorrow?”
Carrie grabbed Mattie’s hand. “If you want to review your flight strategy tonight, I’ll stay up with you. I’ll give you whatever pointers I can.”
Vera laid her fingers on Mattie’s other arm. “I am so sorry, darling, that I couldn’t think of a way to intercede without making matters worse.”
“That’s okay,” Mattie said. “It was my battle to fight.”
She looked for Leo, and he stood at the edge of the Flying Flappers. Worry etched across his normally stoic mien. A new unease slipped through Mattie. Leo might have suppressed his protective instincts to allow her to handle the situation as she saw fit, but she had a feeling his support might not last.
“It’s clear that the annoying troll of a man doesn’t like you disrupting what he incorrectly believes is a preordained social order.” Aida drew Mattie’s attention back to the conversation. “He clearly has an agenda that he thinks will bring the world back into his sense of balance.”
“If you don’t want to fly tomorrow, don’t let Crenshaw force you into this,” Sadie said. “But if you do choose to get in that cockpit, know that we’ll all be cheering you on.”
“With gusto!” Lily added, giving a little bounce to punctuate her words.
“We know you can beat him in a fair race,” Alice said, “but he doesn’t seem willing to give you one.”
“If you want, I can make some calls, although it is dreadfully late,” Vera offered. “I’ll do my best to try to salvage the situation.”
“There’s no time.” Mattie rubbed the bridge of her nose and then stopped. If Crenshaw was watching her, she didn’t want to give the impression that he’d rattled her. “If I withdraw or protest, it will be used as an example of why women shouldn’t fly: we don’t have the constitution for it; we’re too sensitive to assume the terrible risk; we’re meant for gentler pursuits.”
“Mattie is right.” Aida sighed. “When women step beyond the role of domesticity, it threatens to disrupt the established mores, and there will always be resistance.”
“He has put you in a difficult position,” Carrie agreed.
“There is no real choice,” Mattie said. “If I try to withdraw, I’ll have to say goodbye to any chance of securing a meeting with Fabin Flyer and probably my Rockol deal too. I won’t let Crenshaw ruin my reputation or the reputation of female aviators. I am going to fly tomorrow, and I am going to win.”
“And you’ll do it with aplomb!” Lily clapped her hands. “Your flight will just be applesauce!”
Sadie slung her arm around Mattie’s shoulders. “We’ll be with you in spirit in that cockpit—all of us gals who dream of taking to the skies.”
A chorus of yeses filled the air as Mattie found herself enveloped in a group hug. The arms around her were all slender, but each of them carried undeniable strength. They bolstered her. She wasn’t alone in this fight. She had a whole phalanx of women rooting for her.
When they broke apart, Leo stepped close, his jaw clenched, his blue eyes dark with gathering clouds of worry. “We need to talk. Alone.”
Mattie dreaded the conversation, but she could not avoid it. She gave a crisp nod. “Fine, but not immediately. I don’t want Crenshaw to think that he chased me away.”
Leo jerked his head just as sharply as he shoved his fingers deep into his chestnut locks. Clearly, he didn’t want to wait, but he didn’t fight her decision.
Her friends all tried to distract Mattie, but she couldn’t focus on their funny stories. When half an hour had dragged by, she finally nodded to Leo. Together, they slipped from the Lost Tide Pool. Instead of heading toward one of their rooms in the inn above, they stepped out onto the hotel’s beachside veranda. A breeze fluttered over them, a cool respite from the stifling heat of the packed room.
Moonlight spilled onto the white sands, a bittersweet reminder of when she and Leo had raced hand in hand along the shore of Lake Michigan. This evening, she feared, would end much differently than that one.
“Should we walk near the waves?” she asked. “Then there’s no chance of someone overhearing us.”
Leo bobbed his head, his shoulders hunched as if against a bitter wind. He obviously dreaded this discussion as much as she did. She didn’t know if that realization was a balm or salt upon the rawness forming inside her. Perhaps both.
They didn’t entwine their fingers together or rush with headlong abandon. Instead, they trudged slowly through the thick, shifting sand. The water sounded different here. No longer did it lap, but it burst shoreward with a loud crescendo and then a whooshing retreat. The rhythmic sound, soothing yet whispering of alluring adventure, normally called to some instinctive part of Mattie. Tonight, she felt as if the sea just crashed against the hollowness forming inside her chest.
Mattie and Leo walked through the wet sand, their footprints almost immediately swept away by the tide. The lights from the hotel grew to mere pinpricks, and finally Leo spoke.
“Earl Crenshaw is trying to lure you into a snare.”
“I know.” Mattie rolled her shoulders and threw her head back to stare into the endless night sky.
“Then why are you agreeing to it?” Leo’s voice sounded as deep as the sea swirling against their feet.
“Because if I don’t, then he’s already won along with everyone else who thinks like him. All of what I’ve gained will be swept away.”
“Even if you lose your Rockol endorsement, there’ll be others. It’s just one event, Mattie, and not even a real one. It’s just something Crenshaw is trying to make a lot of noise over.”
“But it’s not just one event, Leo.” Mattie spun on her heels to face him, churning up the wet sand as she did so. “Not for me. When a male pilot fails, he’s seen as daring and courageous for even trying. When a woman does . . . well, it just proves the overwhelming sentiment that women aren’t meant to fly. Not even that we shouldn’t fly but that we’re not meant to. Why can’t you understand that?”
Leo shoved his hand into his hair so roughly his chin jerked back just a little. “You, Carrie, and Vera have done a brilliant job managing the press. Yes, this might be a setback, but—”
“A setback!” Mattie jammed her hands onto her hips. “People will be arriving at that field tomorrow wanting me to fail, hoping for me to fail, wishing for me to fail. And you want me to just hand it to them, to prove them right, to not even show!”
“Crenshaw has it arranged so you can’t win!” Leo’s normally calm voice broke into an urgent rush, his hurried tone matching the rapid beat of Mattie’s own heart.
“It is always arranged so that I can’t win.” Mattie thumped her fist on her sternum, as if she could pound the truth into both of them. “It is the playing field that I’m accustomed to. And I’ll manage to come out on top. I always do.”
“Mattie.” Her name sounded like a hoarse plea on his lips. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with. Earl Crenshaw isn’t like the opposition you normally face.”
“You mean like the people who are supposed to have my best interests in mind?” Mattie couldn’t stop the flow of words spewing from her lips. Years of being told no welled up inside her and bubbled over like the scalding, sulfuric steam she’d flown over weeks ago in Wyoming. “People like my brothers . . . or you?”
Leo closed his eyes, and the wind gently ruffled his hair. If it weren’t for his strained facial muscles, he’d look like a man preparing to give his lover a kiss in the silvery moonlight.
When his eyelids flickered open, his gaze appeared even more haunted than before, his face almost gaunt in its intensity. “Mattie, I am trying my best to support you.”
“Then support me!” she snapped. “My female friends have no difficulty doing so.”
“Because they don’t know Crenshaw either.” Leo spoke carefully . . . too carefully. His tone reminded Mattie of every time a man tried to “patiently” explain to her a concept she already knew too well. Anger burned through her caution.
“Oh, they know Crenshaw. We all know a Crenshaw.” Mattie gripped her hands into fists like a pugilist getting ready to pummel her opponent—only her competitor was hard to define and even harder to defeat. She wasn’t fighting just a person but thousands of years of expectations.
“Even if I trusted Crenshaw not to pull another underhanded trick, everything is stacked against you!” Leo started to step forward, as if to touch her, but he stopped. “You’ve never even looked at Fabin’s designs. Do you know how dangerous it is to just jump into an unknown aircraft and start speed racing?”
“How much practice time did you log in the SPAD before you took it instead of your Nieuport into battle?” Mattie was tired, so tired, of being judged by a different standard just because of her sex.
“That was completely different. That was war, Mattie. This isn’t.”
“Oh, it isn’t?” Mattie stepped forward this time, advancing on Leo. “You know, when I stood on that stage, I thought of Crenshaw’s manipulations in war terms. Skirmishes. Campaigns.”
“Mattie, he’s not even giving you a chance to inspect the aircraft. If you want to use military terms, you hopping into the cockpit is like leading a forlorn hope.”
“How many times did you get into a plane and not expect to survive?”
“I was fighting to protect something I cared about!”
