Love at First Flight

Chapter One

Chapter One

Evelyn Reid tightened her grip on the yoke of the BT-13 as the plane shimmied and roared. The aircraft wasn’t called the Vultee Vibrator for nothing. She’d been in the air for about fifteen minutes in a practice run to build up hours toward receiving her qualification for the plane, and its rocking continued to increase.

Alone, she reveled in the majestic view high above the arid Texas landscape, so different from her native Wisconsin. Brown rather than green. Scrub trees rather than majestic quaking aspen or white cedar. No chance of seeing any sugar maples transform from Kelly green to flaming orange or red. The horizon stretched in front of her, the robin’s-egg blue of the heavens dotted with puffy, marshmallow-like clouds. She smiled and relaxed against the seat. Oh, how she loved to fly.

Not all kids knew what they wanted to be when they grew up, but she’d never had any doubt. As a child, she’d watched the eagles and hawks soar overhead, dreaming of joining them in the sky. Then her parents took her to a barnstorming event, and she’d ridden in a rickety biplane. The experience confirmed her desire to be a pilot, and from that day forward she began to save every penny she earned for the day she’d be old enough to take lessons.

The Vultee’s engine sputtered, and Evelyn’s gaze shot to the instrument panel, studying each gauge for an indication of trouble. Nothing. The controls all registered normal. The ragged sputtering smoothed out…well, as smooth as the Vibrator ever got, and she blew out a deep breath.

A quick glance at her watch. Still twenty minutes remained of her flight. Just enough time to return to the base. With proficient motions, she turned the aircraft until the compass read northeast. Whistling Tommy Dorsey’s latest number, she tapped her fingers on the control wheel in rhythm to the peppy song. She had the best job in the world. No doubt about it.

Her crop dusting business had been fun, guiding her yellow Piper Cub back and forth across the wide fields, but ferrying military aircraft gave her a thrill like nothing she’d ever experienced. The impressive size of the planes coupled with their enormous power sent excitement through her veins every time she boarded. She hadn’t thought twice after receiving the telegram from Nancy Harkness Love two years ago inviting her to apply to her Women's Auxiliary Ferrying Squadron. Not long afterward, the WAFS had combined with Jackie Cochran’s group to form the Women Air Service Pilots.

Evelyn didn’t care what her unit was called as long as she was allowed to fly. Three weeks ago, she’d been selected for training in pursuit planes. Small, light, and fast, these aircraft acted as escort fighter planes for the bigger, cumbersome bombers. She’d already qualified in the P-39. Only a couple more runs in the Vultee, and she’d be ready for her check flight on the aircraft. Yep, she definitely had the best job in the world.

Coughing, the engine spewed black exhaust. The propeller faltered then continued to spin. Her breath hitched, and she pressed her lips together. Bucking and swaying, the aircraft pitched forward. She pulled up on the yoke and straightened her trajectory. In front of her the airport beckoned. Could she make it to the runway, or should she jump and ditch the plane? With a price tag of over twenty-three thousand dollars, the plane would be an expensive pile of rubbish if she let it crash.

She stiffened her spine and picked up the radio. “This is aircraft four-four-three-one-five-one-one, calling control tower. Please come in. Over.”

“This is control tower. We see you, aircraft four-four-three-one-five-one-one. Are you in trouble? Over.”

“Yes. Engine failing. I’m going to try to land her, so have the fire trucks ready. Over.”

“Negative. Abandon the plane immediately. Over.”

“I’m too low to eject, control tower. I’m going to bring her in. Just send the trucks. I’m heading for runway two. Over and out.”

With a final gasp then a bang, the engine stalled, and the propeller froze, blades at the ten o’clock and two o’clock positions. Thank You, God, for giving me visibility. Evelyn narrowed her eyes and focused on the black strip of macadam that was her destination. Heavy in her hands, the plane continued to lose altitude as she struggled to keep it airborne until she reached the runway. Sweat formed at her hairline and slicked the skin beneath her goggles. Her blouse clung to her back under her jacket. Fingers cold and stiff, she fought with the aircraft. “Come on, don’t fail me now. We can do this.”

Please, God, I don’t want to die.

Tiny specks grew larger then became buildings and vehicles. From her right, emergency trucks sped toward the end of the runway.

Three hundred feet.

Two hundred feet.

One hundred feet.

Fifty feet.

Bang!

The plane slammed into the ground then screeched and wailed as it hurtled forward. Belted into place, Evelyn’s body pressed against the seat, her neck jerking with every movement of the aircraft. She mashed on the brakes, but the aircraft didn't slow. The landing gear was probably damaged or gone. The nose tipped forward and scraped the macadam. She released the wheel and threw her hands in front of her face. Glass shattered and spewed into the cockpit as the metal frame crumpled. There was nothing more she could do to control the plane. Heart hammering, she closed her eyes waiting for the end. Waiting for her life to be snuffed out in an instant.

Then the great beast decelerated until grinding to a halt inches before the end of the blacktop. Fingers trembling, she opened the seat belt then fumbled with the canopy’s latch. She needed to get out. The crash might have torn the fuel lines. The aircraft could blow up at any time. She scraped her hands against the jagged glass and gasped. Blood coursed down her hands as she fought with the lock.

One final shove, and the bolt broke free. Yes! She thrust open the enclosure. A pair of strong arms reached in and hauled her up and over the edge of the cockpit. Her legs gave way, and she sagged against the firm body of her rescuer. He wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her from smoking wreckage. The acrid smell of petroleum clung to the air.

She stumbled and fell to her knees, her hands scraping the rough ground. Breath heaving, she collapsed, face lying in the dirt. She was alive. Rolling over, her muscles protested every motion. She attempted to sit up, and a sharp pain knifed her side. Had she broken a rib?

The arms still supported her, and she scraped her hair away from her face to catch a glimpse of her guardian angel. Her jaw dropped. What was he doing here?

Jasper MacPherson knew the moment Evelyn recognized him. And she was obviously not happy that the past had shown up in the form of her ex-boyfriend. She pulled back and struggled to her feet.

He frowned. “You should remain seated until the medics have a chance to examine you.”

“You’re a doctor, now?” Venom coated her words. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and tried to press it against the laceration on her forehead, but she turned her head, avoiding his ministrations. Fortunately, the wound didn’t look deep, but she might have a concussion. “Don’t be belligerent, Evelyn. There are protocols for a crash.”

“I’ll go to the infirmary. I don’t need your help.” She swayed, but maintained her balance.

He pressed the cloth into her fingers then shoved his hands into his pockets. Still the same stubborn girl he knew in college. Some things never change. “Why didn’t you bail out? You could have been killed.”

“There wasn’t enough time. And at the price of these babies, I was hoping to salvage at least some of the parts.” She tossed a glance at the burning aircraft and winced. “Apparently, I was unsuccessful.”

“You always did think you were invincible, but one of these days you’re going to be wrong.”

“And you hope to be there, I assume. To grind my nose in my failure. Does that make you feel important, Jasper? Is it necessary to be right all the time and never make a mistake? Must be difficult to be perfect.”

“I’m not—”

“Spare me your explanations, Jasper.” Her gaze swept up and down his coverall-clad figure. “And your excuses as to why you and your mechanics can’t manage to keep an aircraft in working order. This crash has nothing to do with pilot error and everything to do with a faulty plane.”

A chill slithered up his spine. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. The engine ran rough then quit after belching black smoke. No amount of work on my part could bring the motor back to life. So I weighed my options and decided to bring her in.” She poked his chest with her index finger. “This sort of thing wouldn’t have happened if you boys knew what you were doing. Don’t you read the manuals? Or do we have another problem? This isn’t the first time me or the girls have had to deal with a defective aircraft, and I don’t think the problem originates at the factory.”

“You think there’s sabotage involved?” His eyes widened. “Surely, not.”

Her lips thinned. “Protecting your boys, are you? Think us girls don’t know our stuff? When one of us gets killed because something is wrong with the plane, perhaps you’ll take me seriously.” She pivoted on her heels and rushed toward the hangar, her gait uneven.

Jasper turned and studied the crash site. The emergency crew had doused the ruins with the sodium bicarbonate-chemical mixture, and the smoke was beginning to dissipate. He shuddered at the jumbled mass of glass and metal then ran his hand across his crew cut. Thank You, God, for keeping Evelyn safe during the crash.

With his attire, she’d thought he was one of the mechanics. What would she say when she discovered he was one of her instructors? Probably quite a bit. She was never one at a loss for words. Perhaps he should put in for a transfer.

He huffed a sigh. The commanding officer would never go for it. He’d tell them to work out their personal differences and keep their eyes on the goals: to train pilots and ferry the planes. Tough to give a wide berth to a person when she was assigned to his class. Exhilaration and dread had warred for supremacy last night when he’d reviewed the rosters and spied her name on one of the lists. Now that they’d had their first interaction, he should have known dread was the appropriate response.

She looked good. Very good.

Even in a bedraggled uniform with her ebony hair a tangled mass and her porcelain skin scraped and bruised, Evelyn was a gorgeous woman. Intelligence crackled from her ice-blue eyes that changed colors depending on her mood. At five foot three, she barely qualified for the WASP height requirement, and she’d probably stuffed herself with bananas to meet the weight specification.

Scrubbing at his face with cold fingers, he straightened his spine. An army air force officer, he could keep his emotions under control, train her, and get her out of here. Hopefully, his heart wouldn’t be too bruised by the end of her stay.

The idea of that transfer sounded better by the minute.