Free Soaring Home by Christine Johnson Page B

required that she learn to fly. If Buffalo had been a center of aviation during the war, surely it would be afterward.
    “Aunt Perpetua, do you know where the Curtiss aeroplane factory is located?”
    “End of Elmwood Avenue, I believe. Why?”
    Because they’d know where the flight schools were located. “Do you know if it has an airfield?”
    That flummoxed her. “An airfield?”
    Mum voiced her displeasure. “Darcy has been preoccupied with flying since she went to the Chicago air show with her father. That was how long ago, eight years?”
    “Seven,” Darcy said. “And I’m not preoccupied. I want to learn to fly.” There. It was out. With the words came strength. The melancholy that had consumed her for weeks dropped away.
    Mum’s lips tightened. “It’s not safe. Mott, didn’t you say that two fliers died at that meet?”
    “Didn’t I what?” asked Papa from behind the newspaper.
    Darcy corrected Mum, “Those pilots were attempting dangerous feats. Aeroplanes are much safer now, and I promise I won’t try any tricks.”
    “Then do it, my dear,” said her aunt. “If that’s God’s purpose for your life, then surely nothing can stop you.”
    Her words resonated in Darcy. God’s purpose. Hadn’t she known all along that God wanted her to fly? If it was God’s will, she shouldn’t let anyone stop her.
    “Lessons cost a great deal,” said Papa, showing he’d been listening all along.
    Perpetua raised a hand. “Money is a poor excuse when Darcy has an aunt ready to help.”
    Darcy’s jaw dropped. “You will pay for lessons?”
    “Of course. I can think of no better use for my money. Find a flight school, and I’ll fund the lessons.”
    “Perpetua,” Mum cautioned, “this is not your affair.”
    “Darcy is a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.”
    “Thank you, oh thank you.” Darcy enveloped her aunt in a hug. “How can I ever repay your generosity? I will though. I’ll write articles about the experience and sell them to the newspapers or ladies’ magazines. Oh Aunt, how can I ever thank you?”
    “This is not settled,” Papa said. “Darcy’s welfare is her parents’ concern, Perpetua, not yours.”
    “Nonsense. This is a new era, Dermott. We must not hold our young people back. It may frighten us older folk, but the world is changing, and Darcy must change with it.”
    Papa frowned. “Her safety—”
    “Safety? That sounds more like the banker than the outdoorsman I remember.”
    His color deepened. “Flying is a pursuit for men, not girls.”
    “Women,” Perpetua emphasized, “drive motorcars. We ride bicycles and row skiffs. We play tennis and jump horses.And yes, we fly aeroplanes. We have for nearly a decade. If it is God’s will…” here, she looked at Darcy, who nodded affirmatively, “then who are we to stand in the way?”
    “I don’t see what God has to do with this.” He rose and threw the newspaper onto the vacated chair. “Flying is dangerous.”
    “Please, Papa. I promise I’ll follow every safety precaution. I’ll check every wire and screw. I’ll never fly in bad weather. I’ll be as careful as Marjorie Stinson.”
    His eyebrows rose at her mention of “the Flying Schoolmarm.” “Planning to open a flight school, are you?” he said with the faintest smile.
    Darcy hadn’t really considered the result, but why not? Marjorie Stinson had run one. Why not her? “Maybe I will.”
    “That’s the spirit,” said Perpetua.
    Papa cleared his throat. “Just promise me one thing.”
    “Yes, Papa.”
    “Promise you’ll give every man a fair chance.”
    “At what?” Darcy instantly thought of Jack. “Marriage.”
    It was the last thing she wanted now, but Darcy was smart enough to realize she wouldn’t get flight lessons without this promise. “I will.”
    “Good.” He picked up the newspaper and shook it out. “You can begin by inviting Mr. Carrman to that dinner party.”
     
    The army closed the training airfield when the