The aviatrix, p.31
The Aviatrix, page 31
Aida waved her gloved hand. “It is nothing. You saved Mattie’s life and potentially those of countless spectators. And you exposed Crenshaw’s sabotage. You did nothing wrong, Leo, and we were glad to make sure you weren’t unfairly prosecuted. And you are a famous, handsome Anglo-American war hero. It wasn’t very difficult to convince the authorities that you meant no harm, and it won’t be hard to change the mind of the press either.”
Leo slowly eased his sore body into a sitting position. He shoved his hand into his hair at the back of his head. “I’d better hear what they’re saying about Mattie and me.”
Aida cleared her throat and rattled the pages before she commenced reading, her voice becoming professorial. Guilt strafed Leo like a barrage from an enemy Archie battery. Mattie had apologized for not taking his concerns seriously, but apparently he hadn’t fully accounted for hers either. The news coverage of the accident was exactly what she’d feared. Worse, it put everything she’d worked for in jeopardy. If her reputation was irreversibly tattered, she’d likely not only lose the Rockol endorsement but find no other business offers, including for her RadioNavigator.
“I am not just flying for myself but all female aviators. If I fail to show, this will make national news—empirical proof of a female flyer’s innate fickleness.” The words Mattie had spoken during their argument on the Southern California beach blazed through his mind. She’d called the race a battle for a cause that she believed in. She’d been right.
“What do the other articles say?” Leo dreaded the answer, but he needed to know.
“Variations of the same,” Aida said, confirming his suspicions. “Pringle isn’t alone in crowing about the superiority of male aviators and questioning Mattie’s previous successes.”
Leo exhaled. “Mattie’s instinct will be to challenge Crenshaw to a rematch.”
“Yes,” Aida agreed.
Leo scrubbed the back of his head even harder. “That’s why you suggested that I listen to the articles? You wanted me to be prepared?”
“Society is not yet kind to women who wish to pursue careers generally perceived as belonging to the realm of men. Mattie will always face resistance, and some of the opposition will be dangerous. She threatens deeply held beliefs that some will defend even with violence.”
Leo thought about how each of the women in their troupe regarded their aerial stunts in a broader, more sweeping sense than mere personal achievements. During the Great War, Leo had flown for Alfred and his squadron, for the Allies, for his country, for his belief in freedom. But since then he had taken to the skies not to defend a cause but only to support himself and protect the McAdamses. In contrast, Vera had formed an entire flying circus to challenge the meek roles prescribed to her sex. All the women had joined for similar reasons, with Carrie also fighting to dismantle racial prejudice. Aida was recording their experiences to write an academic thesis on the emergence of the New Woman.
“There will always be Crenshaws to battle.” Leo echoed Mattie’s words.
“And Mattie will always want to stand against them. The variable is you. Will you be by her side when she does?”
Once again, Mattie’s words burst into Leo’s mind, as strong and as forceful as when she’d first spoken them: “When you and Alfred left for the war, I didn’t want to lose you—either of you. But I not only let you both go—I wrote to you every week with words of encouragement. Can’t you do the same now? For me? Support me even if you are worried?”
And there was only one answer to the questions that both Aida and Mattie had put forward.
When Mattie returned to Leo’s private room, she found him sleeping restfully, with Aida quietly writing in her notebook. Aida glanced up at her entrance. She gave a nod and began to pack up her belongings. Unfortunately, even after surgery and strong medication Leo was a light sleeper. His blue eyes blinked open, and he fixed Mattie with the shy grin that she loved. His drowsiness made the smile even sweeter, and her heart gave a delightful trill like a sparrow’s airy call.
“Should I leave the stack of broadsheets?” Aida asked, nodding to a pile of newspapers. A jarring sensation struck Mattie as she realized she had utterly forgotten about the press in her worry for Leo. In whatever manner the reporters had chosen to report the crash, she knew it would not flatter her or female aviators.
Leo gave a firm, sharp nod. “Yes.”
A silent message passed between Aida and Leo. Mattie would have thought more of it if she hadn’t found herself battling a resurgence of unease about the coverage of the event. But she tried to force those thoughts away. She could not control what had been printed, and now was not the time to fix it. That would come later, for at this moment Leo needed her attention.
Aida left the room and pulled the door shut softly behind her, leaving Mattie and Leo in relative silence. Sunlight once again washed over the white room. Stirring the curtains, a morning breeze blew through the large open window. The air carried the salty scent of the ocean, although they could not see the water from this vantage point. Despite the fear of the past forty-eight hours, the smell made Mattie think of beckoning adventure.
“You can look at them,” Leo said.
“Look at what?” Mattie asked.
“The news rags.”
With a start, Mattie brushed her fingers over her fresh pair of trousers. “That can wait.”
“Aida read them to me,” Leo explained. “You’ll want to know what was written about the race so you can come up with a plan.”
Mattie didn’t need any more encouragement. She crossed the small room in two strides. With a now-trembling hand, she skimmed the first article. Outrage flamed through her, almost destroying her caution and better sense. But not completely. Not again. She would not allow Crenshaw to bait her—or Leo—into another trap.
Breathing deeply, she turned to find Leo watching her, his expression a new one, and for once, she couldn’t read it. Her body filled with electrified anticipation, just as it did when she dived down to zoom her plane under a bridge. This moment would be a defining one. For them. For their confessed love. For their future.
“If I wasn’t lying here in a hospital bed, what would your next maneuver be?”
Mattie suddenly understood why Leo shoved his hand in his hair so often, because she found herself wanting to do the same. Instead she clenched her hand, letting her fingers dig into her flesh.
“I’d demand a rematch.”
“And now?” Leo asked.
“I still want to challenge Crenshaw, but I don’t want to put you or Vera’s Flying Flappers in harm’s way.” Mattie knew she’d be getting a call from Rockol after this coverage, and if she had a plan to defend her good name, she might convince them not to drop her. A rematch would also go a long way in securing other sponsors, and the positive press would help make her more well known as she tried to market her RadioNavigator. But as much as she wanted to protect her family’s business and her own career, she wouldn’t jeopardize the safety of those she loved. Not again.
“Then we’d better be especially cautious in how we organize the event. I assume Vera will have some foolproof ideas, including how to announce the contest in a way that prevents even Crenshaw from slithering out of it.”
A swell of love burst through Mattie, along with a sense of incredible relief. Perhaps there was a way to safeguard Leo and her friends while still pursuing her dreams. “You’d help me arrange a race?”
Leo nodded, his certainty reigniting her confidence. “You apologized for not taking my concerns about Crenshaw seriously, but I didn’t say I was sorry for dismissing yours. You were clearly right too. Crenshaw manipulated the reporters into denouncing female aviators.”
“It didn’t take that much manipulating.” Mattie tapped her foot in frustration. She wanted to pace, but the small confines of the room didn’t allow for a lot of movement.
“No, it didn’t,” Leo agreed. “I should have listened more to you and tried better to understand what flying means to you—how you see it as a mission, a cause, a battle even. You said you’ll start considering my advice more, and I need to learn how to support you even better.”
Mattie yearned to fling her arms around Leo and squeeze him tightly, but she didn’t want to reinjure him. Instead, she leaned down and kissed him gently but thoroughly. Joy and deep contentment mixed in a wonderful, ecstatic swirl that zipped through her like a bunch of barrel rolls, one glorious twist after another.
When they broke apart, they just grinned at each other, happy, silly smiles that despite their goofy giddiness were anchored by something strong, lasting . . . and solid just like Leo himself. This mutual respect—this was the foundation for a future. White picket fences and a neat little house on a quiet street weren’t for Mattie, but a lifetime with Leo? It gifted her with something as broad and unlimited as the skies themselves.
“Knowing you and your meticulous planning, I assume you already have some ideas for making sure Crenshaw can’t sabotage this competition.” Mattie sat on the edge of the bed so she could be closer to Leo as they strategized.
He dipped his chin, looking more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. There was a casual looseness about all his muscles, including his facial ones. He looked boyish and utterly content.
“I may have a couple plans of attack,” he admitted. “But do you want to come up with some of your own first?”
“My only goal at the moment is to firmly trounce Crenshaw. The details are more your expertise.”
Sinking deeper into his pillows, Leo reached for her hand. “Do you remember the Canyon of the Bridges?”
Mattie rolled her eyes. “Another place where my brothers refused to let me fly.”
Despite her old exasperation, a burst of excitement rollicked through Mattie at the mention of the series of impressive natural bridges carved into the sandstone rocks by a long-gone river. The tight, twisty canyon was located close to the main line of the Santa Fe Railroad and attracted a healthy share of tourists. She’d wanted so keenly to swoop under the massive slabs of rock stretching over the top of the deep gorge. The middle bridge in the set of five required the pilot to fly diagonally through the narrow opening. That and the sharp turns made it potentially perilous but nothing that Mattie couldn’t handle. It was the perfect setting to ensure Crenshaw couldn’t tamper with the course and put anyone else in danger.
“I was thinking we could use the Fabins,” Leo said. “Aida and Vera both have been talking to the owners, and they believe our story of sabotage. My guess is that they’ll be happy to provide the planes to prove their machines are safe. And they will be double- and triple-checking the engines. We can arrange for you to have time to fly one of their machines before the meet so you’re comfortable with its quirks.”
“If we’re using a fast plane like a Fabin Flyer rather than a slow trainer like a Jenny, are you thinking more along the lines of a speed competition rather than the aerobatic ones that you and I do?”
“Both. We’ll come up with a specific course for you and Crenshaw to follow when you fly through the bridges. The choreography will be included in the newspaper article so Earl can’t change it. I figured that you’d want a contest where you can show off your maneuvering skills. You’re top notch at aerobatics.”
Leo pressed their fingers together briefly, and a jolt shot through Mattie at his compliment. This . . . this was the partnership she’d dreamed of: a man who worked with her.
“We could use white smoke to show how close we fly to the formations!” Mattie added excitedly, referring to the white vapors employed by aviators to “write” messages in the air. Vera had been talking about purchasing some of the smoke-generating machines anyway.
Leo paused, considering. Mattie knew he was thinking about how the use of the smoke might encourage her to take unnecessary risks, driving her closer and closer to the unforgiving sandstone walls.
“I won’t get overly cocky. I promise. If I start feeling invincible, I’ll think about how I felt watching your Fabin tumble earthward.”
“Okay,” Leo agreed, his voice calm and resolute, without a hint of doubt. “We’ll use the white smoke. Crenshaw won’t be able to manipulate the obstacles, since they’re rock structures that have been around for centuries.”
“I figured that’s why you chose Canyon of the Bridges—very cleverly done.”
Leo’s lips quirked up into a shy but proud smile. As much as Mattie enjoyed sparring with him, collaborating was just as thrilling and twice the fun.
“This time, you and I will be able to keep a close eye on your Fabin and make sure that neither Crenshaw nor any of his hired thugs tamper with it.”
“That makes sense.” Mattie bobbed her head, sending her short red curls flying, as if even her mop of hair wanted to join in the affirmation.
Crenshaw might be underhanded and diabolical, but he was no match for Mattie and Leo. They made an unbeatable team when they finally stopped arguing and started listening to each other.
Which made her think of another villain they needed to defeat. Leo’s father.
“Leo?” she asked, and he immediately glanced at her in concern, sensing the change in her tone. “Your father? Has he contacted you since he blackmailed my father? Has he asked for more payments?”
Leo only hesitated for an instant. “Yes. He mostly just sends letters, but he showed up in Iowa at the hotel lobby. That’s why I was acting so strangely when you found me.”
Mattie understood the trust Leo had just placed in her. Only that knowledge prevented her ire toward Clive from consuming her. She needed to stay calm, rational, for Leo’s sake. This wasn’t a problem to charge at. She reached over and brushed her hand over his cheek.
“I have an idea of how to stop him, if you want to hear it.” Mattie had suspected that Leo’s poor excuse for a father hadn’t stopped at one attempt to gather money.
Leo’s eyes fluttered shut, and he shifted to kiss her hand gently. “I can’t see any way that won’t drag your family and Alfred into the press. I can’t make you all go through that.”
“It’s time we celebrated my brother. It would do us all good to talk about him. We write the article about what happened the day of his death. We tell the tale and frame it how it should be rightfully presented. Pa, my brothers, you, and I will all approve what it says. Once it is published, your father will have no hold over any of us.” The more Mattie had considered this plan last night, the more she had realized it would free all of them.
“I wouldn’t want to ask you and your family to do that.” Leo’s eyes fluttered open, and she could see the worry still there.
“You are part of the family. It will be healing for all of us to tell Alfred’s story. And you better believe that Alfred would demand we do it!”
A soft, affectionate smile, full of fond memory, stretched across Leo’s face. “Alfred would, right after he’d punched my old man in the kisser and told him to blouse.”
“We’ll tell his story and your story.”
“Together.” Leo reached for her other hand and squeezed it.
Together. Solid yet fierce. Thoughtful but daring. Cautious, though bold.
The perfect combination.
Chapter Nineteen
This is an account of two heroes. One intrepid, one quiet. One who died, one who lived. One who came from a famous family of aviators, the other who grew up in a foundling home and in the streets of New York City.
Many reporters have asked for the story of my past and the details of my days as an ace during the Great War. But it is not my tale alone. It is the story of the McAdams family, who taught me first to soar, and it is the legacy of my best friend, Alfred McAdams. I did not write this article on my own but had the assistance of Alfred’s twin sister, Mattie McAdams, and the rest of their family. It is in memory of Alfred—an indomitable spirit whose sense of adventure and love of flying lives on through us, the survivors.
Alfred was the one who first wanted to join the Lafayette Escadrille . . .
—Leo Ward (coauthored by the family of Alfred McAdams), Aviators’ Gazette
Clive adjusted the collar on his ratty overcoat with a self-important air as Vera’s driver escorted him into Leo’s hospital room. His steps faltered when he caught sight of Mattie. Clearly, the bastard had thought he’d be meeting his son alone. Instantly, Clive smoothed his lips into a charming smile.
For a moment, Leo wondered if that was what his own “press face” looked like, but then he realized it didn’t matter. His features were his alone and had nothing to do with this man before him, no matter how much they resembled each other.
“Didn’t expect to get picked up in a fancy car, son. You’ve come up in the world.”
No thanks to you. Leo didn’t say the words, nor did Mattie, although he knew she was thinking them too. They hadn’t set up this meeting to argue with the reprobate but to banish him. And Mattie was letting Leo handle the dismissal, just as he silently supported her during her battles.
“I wanted to make it clear that you are never to contact me or any of the McAdams family—my family—ever again.” The words brought Leo a sense of freedom he’d never had. Despite not really knowing his parents, he’d felt tied down by them and their choices—as if their decision to abandon him had created him. But it hadn’t. It never had. They had no part in the true making of him.
Clive’s veneer of charm dropped away to reveal the snarl underneath. “Do you want your precious sweetheart to know the truth about that day?”
Leo glanced over to Mattie. Their eyes met, and he could see her admiration for him.
“She already knows,” Leo said, not even bothering to turn back to his old man.
“That I do,” Mattie added cheerfully, also looking not at Clive but at Leo.
“Who’s going to think you’re a war hero after the whole story is known how you saved your own hide instead of your best friend’s?” Clive’s words were clearly calculated for maximum damage, but they didn’t even graze Leo’s heart. He would always carry Alfred’s death with him, but he was done with giving this shadow of a human the ability to twist his own memories and grief.
