Love by Design. Christine Johnson

it.” Again he glanced at his wife.

      Ruth gave an almost-imperceptible nod, as if she understood exactly what he didn’t say aloud and approved it.

      “She’s not a strong woman,” Sam said after swallowing a bite of stew. “Not like you, Mom. Sometimes I think the only thing holding her together is her faith.”

      Mother gave him a reassuring smile. “That will carry her through, Sam. During tough times, the Lord is our strength. I’m glad to hear she’s leaning on Him.”

      Sam smiled, but not with confidence. Again he looked to Ruth. This time she shook her head.

      Ruthie turned conversation to business at the dress shop. Mother and Minnie seemed glad to discuss the latest projects, but Jen wasn’t fooled. There was a whole lot more going on than Ruth and Sam were letting on.

Chapter Five

      “Ready?” Hunter yelled.

      Dan gave the thumbs-up.

      Hunter released the brake and the airplane rolled from the barn.

      The morning had dawned clear and cold and calm. Perfect for the test flight. If Dan had left yesterday, he would have missed this. Maybe some good could come out of bad news after all. Fifty head of cattle was a big loss for a small operation like his pa’s. Dan would come through as he always had, but it would cut into his savings and his future. If this polar attempt got off the ground, he stood to make it all back and a whole lot more. A newspaper or magazine exclusive could pay in the tens of thousands of dollars.

      Hunter taxied the plane toward the head of a grass and gravel runway, which in late January was more ice than grass or gravel. Good thing, considering the plane had the skids on instead of the wheels. Dan sure hoped Hunter could stop the plane after they landed or they’d have a quick trip into the snowbank at the end of the runway. The fuselage had a sturdy frame, but that kind of impact would damage any airplane.

      With every bump, Dan’s nerves inched a level higher. He hadn’t set foot in an airplane since the accident. Now he didn’t even have control. Yes, the plane had dual controls, but Hunter was flying. Dan wasn’t to take control except under direction or in an emergency. The copilot’s wheel was right there in front of him, but he couldn’t touch it. He flexed his fingers, anxious to grab on to something and opted for the clipboard. His job was to log every second of the flight, from instrument readings to weather conditions to engine operation.

      Hunter had installed every instrument available for an airplane, but some things still fell to chance even here. Near the pole, magnetic and gyroscopic compasses would operate differently, making them useless for finding direction. The flat white landscape and twenty-four-hour sunlight erased the horizon and gave no landmarks. Snow blindness, drift and imprecise means of direction-finding made for a treacherous trip. That didn’t even take into account weather issues—fog, updrafts, downdrafts and blizzards. Every element worked against them.

      Today’s winter flight would give them the tiniest taste of what they’d face, except this landscape offered landmarks in buildings and trees, a blue sky and working compasses. The conditions were perfect. It was cold enough to tax the engines, yet calm and clear. If something did happen to one of the motors, this big plane would be a challenge to fly on a single engine. Many years of flying meant Dan knew every little thing that could go wrong. He usually scoured every inch of his plane before takeoff. He knew each strut and bolt. He knew which tended to loosen and which held fast. He didn’t know this plane.

      For years, Daring Dan had ignored danger, had reveled in the thrill. Minor problems hadn’t fazed him, but causing someone’s death? That was something else entirely.

      He glanced over at Hunter. The man exuded confidence despite the crash that had ended his transatlantic attempt. If not for the coming baby, he would have let his wife in the cockpit for the polar attempt. Dan didn’t understand that reasoning. He would never again put someone he cared for in peril. Agnes had been his latest in a long line of gals. Like the rest, she hadn’t touched the heart that he kept locked in its hangar. But he hadn’t thought twice about agreeing to teach her to fly, and look what happened. Never again.

      He was not going to put Jen Fox in the cockpit of any airplane.

      Hunter pulled the plane into line with the runway and accelerated. The roar of the huge twin engines literally hurt. Dan was glad he’d stuffed cotton into his ears, but he’d need more than that for the long flight to the North Pole.

      The brake released, and they sped down the runway, bouncing and sliding on the skids. The plane was large and heavy. Was the runway long enough? Dan pressed back on the seat as the end loomed closer and closer. At the last second, Hunter nosed the plane up, and she cleared the snowbank and climbed into the crystal-blue sky.

      That’s when the exhilaration rushed in. That feeling of invincibility had driven Dan to the skies over and over. Up here, the world and its troubles looked small. Up here, he had control. The initial thrill of rising on nothing but cloth and wood soon wasn’t enough. He’d learned stunts from fellow aviators, watched them crash and bettered the trick. Daring Dan did not fail. He hadn’t until November’s crash.

      Today’s flight made him edgy. He had to write constantly to avoid the impulse to seize the wheel. Dan did not like giving the controls to anyone, but as they circled the tiny town and came back down for the landing, he had to admit Hunter knew his craft. He slowed their airspeed to just above what would send them into a stall. Then he dropped the plane to the runway. The skids hit, bounced and hit again. The claw brake dug in, jerking Dan forward, and they slid to a comfortable taxiing speed.

      When Hunter turned the plane for the taxi back to the barn, Dan saw her. With her arms waving in that ragged mackinaw, Jen Fox grinned wider than a country mile.

      * * *

      “That was perfect,” Jen crowed after Jack killed the engines and crawled out of the plane.

      She’d heard the plane take off on her way to the flight school to start her volunteer assignment and had run the three blocks so she didn’t miss a minute of the flight. The big bird had soared high against the rising sun, circled slowly overhead and then made a perfect landing. The engines didn’t hiccup once.

      It had coasted into the big barn that they were using as a work area this winter since the school’s hangar was full of training airplanes and other equipment. The barn was also smaller and easier to heat. She’d hurried up the shoveled path between the school and the barn, arriving just as the pilot and copilot disembarked.

      Jack hopped to the ground and removed his helmet, but instead of acknowledging her cheers, he met Wagner behind the tail. “Great run. A little touchy on takeoff, but she made it.”

      Wagner had peeled off his helmet, pulling his auburn hair into a mass of curls. “Takeoff? That was a breeze compared to landing. That runway’s not a foot too long. Had me grabbing for the brake.”

      Jack laughed. “Must feel strange not to have the controls.”

      “You’re right about that, but I was there for you if anything went wrong.”

      “I know you were.”

      The men chattered away as if she wasn’t even there. Just like at the dinner party. What was it with men, anyway? Get them together over something mechanical, and everyone else might as well not be there.

      Jen tromped across the barn, ignoring the poofs of years-old straw dust that rose with each step. A workbench and tables filled the extra space. Tools littered every tabletop. A handful of crates were stacked along the barn wall.

      She stopped within reach, but they still didn’t notice her.

      “Good flight!” she yelled.

      That drew their attention.

      “Jen.” Jack tugged off a glove and pushed back his jacket sleeve to check his wristwatch. “I didn’t expect to see you here this