K. Weiland - Storming

Walter didn’t remember Aunt Celia. But if Mama Nan and Aunt Aurelia knew Hitch, it made sense Aunt Celia would have known him too.

“Celia, Celia.” Aunt Aurelia picked up a string bean with her fingers, dabbled it in the milk, then popped it into her mouth. “She always looked so beautiful in violet.”

“Now, Nan,” Papa Byron said, “what need is there to dredge that up? You ever think maybe he didn’t know she was sick?”

“That’s what he told you, Mama,” Molly put in.

“Never you mind,” Mama Nan said. “You just stop this nonsense and act like a proper young girl should.”

Molly sulked.

“This is not where Hitch is living?” Jael asked.

“No. He doesn’t live anywhere, far as I know.” Mama Nan stared at the mess she’d made on her plate. Then she looked up at Jael. She had that pinched-up expression like she did when she wanted to know something but didn’t think she would like the answer. “You’re going to take this job with him?”

“Maybe. I must have thoughts about it.”

Molly cast Jael half a glance. She looked jealous.

But then, good sweet angels! Who wouldn’t be jealous? Walter couldn’t help grinning. If he was a little bit older—and if Mama Nan wouldn’t forbid it for sure—maybe he could have gotten a job too. He gave a bounce against the hard bench, then bent his head to his plate and started shoveling in meatloaf, so’s nobody would notice his excitement. He kept watching Jael out of the corner of his eye.

She ate a dainty bite. “Whyever you are angry with him, I can tell you he is not bad man.”

She had something sort of magic-like about her. It wasn’t just the sparkliness. It wasn’t even that she looked like a storybook lady. Maybe it was partly that she’d understood how to talk to him, from the very first time he saw her. She knew things. Things about people. If anybody could talk Mama Nan into letting him fly with Hitch, she might be the one.

But Mama Nan didn’t seem to believe her. She sighed, slow and weary, then finally bent her head to her own meatloaf and green beans.

That was all anybody said about Hitch for the rest of supper. Afterwards, Walter took Jael by the hand and tugged her along, up the narrow stairs to Aunt Aurelia’s bedroom where the girls had already spread out an extra hay tick on the floor and covered it with Mama Nan’s trunk-creased patchwork quilts. He pointed at it, and Jael nodded.

She looked more tired than ever, but she didn’t shoo him out. Instead, she crossed the room and raised the window. “Come.” She hoisted a hip onto the sill and scrunched her legs around so they were dangling out. Because the roof here slanted down from the dormer windows, it wouldn’t be a straight fall if she lost her balance. In any case, she didn’t seem too worried.

He tiptoed over and stood next to her.

“Come up,” she said.

Mama Nan would have a fit if she saw, but she’d be down washing dishes for a bit yet. He scrambled up and sat beside Jael, feet hanging out. He clutched the windowsill hard.

She laughed and let go with both hands. “Put up your hands. You want to be flying. This is flying.”

He shook his head.

“You will not fall. I will catch you.”

No, she wouldn’t. She’d miss him and fall right down after him, and it’d be his fault again, just like it had been with the twins way back when. But if a girl could be as brave as all that, then he sure could too. He pried his fingers loose and let go. He kept his hands hovering above the sill, in case he needed to grab it again.

She grinned. “See? Flying.” She spread her hands, palms up, and whistled through her teeth, like the wind blowing. Then she glanced at him. “I will tell you secret if you tell me one.”

It wasn’t like he had many secrets—except about Mr. J.W.’s penny and about Molly letting Jimmy Porter steal a kiss down by the creek that time last week. So he nodded.

“Your secret is first.” Her face went still and soft. “Why do you not like to be talking?”

That was hard to explain. Sometimes he thought he might like to say something again. But it had just been the way it was now for so long, it seemed too hard anymore. He shrugged.

“There must be reason.” She nudged him with her leg.

He smiled in spite of himself, but he shrugged again. How could he even explain it? The day he’d let the bad thing happen to the twins and when Mama Nan had been so angry with him… the words just hadn’t been there any longer. Ever since then, he’d always had this feeling of not quite fitting in. His family loved him well enough. But it was just… his world seemed to slant a little different from everybody else’s.

Like hers. Her world definitely slanted a whole lot more than his even.

He eased a hand up from the sill and touched the overalls bib on his chest. Then he pointed at her and back again.

“You mean you are like me?” She still smiled, but her eyes got faraway. “I am nikto . That is meaning having no place to belong.”

Nikto . He rolled the word around inside his head. He felt that way sometimes too.

She looked up at the night sky, where the white dots of stars were starting to appear. “All right. Now I will be telling you my secret. I used to think, when I was at my home, that the world was very small place. I thought I had knowledge all about it. But now I am seeing different. The world is not what we are thinking it is—or what we are thinking we will be in it.” She reached over. Her finger was warm where it touched between his eyes. “Young Walter, I think your world is not what you are thinking it is either.”

RICK QUIT JUST before the competition’s first qualifying round.

In contrast to yesterday, the morning had dawned clear as a looking glass—blue so bright it was almost transparent, with only a few wisps of clouds along the round edges of the sky. The dew was a little colder and crisper than it had a right to be on a normal August day, but by ten o’clock, the sun was hot enough to melt a man’s toes inside his boots. Whatever had been up there yesterday was sure gone today.

It was a perfect morning for flying, and Livingstone hadn’t wasted any time in maintaining his contest’s schedule. The show didn’t officially start until Saturday, but the qualifying rounds were already under way—and Hitch’s crew would be up any minute now.

Hitch faced off across from Rick, each of them standing with their backs to their planes.

The heat rising inside his chest wasn’t just anger: a fair share of raw-edged panic surged in there as well. “You’ve got to be kidding me? Now? Just like that, you’re going to quit now ?”

“Yes, now. And, no, not just like that.” Rick tossed his bedroll into his front cockpit, where Lilla was already sitting. He’d insisted on packing up right away even though he was only moving to the other end of camp, where he’d supposedly gotten a job with another crew.

Planes growled overhead. Near the road, a crowd had gathered to watch the pilots prove they had skill enough to compete in Livingstone’s extravaganza.

“Why?” Hitch demanded. “Because I wasn’t polite enough for you yesterday? Because I won’t admit you did something we both know you didn’t?”

Rick buttoned his top shirt button and straightened his collar. “You want reasons? All right. I’ll supply three.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “One, the gentleman on the far side of the camp promises pay that begins now. Two, your claims of no money to pay our salaries wear a trifle thin when you continually manage to find the wherewithal to fix your own machine. Three, quite frankly, I don’t think I can bear the sight of you for another day.”