14

HOPE

JULY 1, 1912

SQUANTUM, MASSACHUSETTS

"Are you sure you don't want a ride in my new aeroplane?" I asked Grace for the third time that day.

"If God had intended for me to fly," Grace said as she shaded her eyes to watch Luc complete a figure eight in the Boston Air Meet, "He would have given me wings."

"That's ridiculous." I rolled my eyes. "He didn't give us gills, yet humans have been swimming since the dawn of time."

She opened her mouth with a retort but closed it and gave me a look that said she had no desire to keep arguing.

Because I was right.

I smiled and returned my gaze to the brilliant blue sky where Luc was entertaining the audience. Over five thousand spectators had come out to the airfield to see the show, and it was in its fourth and final day.

It was estimated that in just two years over seventeen million people had watched Luc fly. He had performed tricks over Niagara Falls, broken and maintained the world's altitude record several times, and perfected a nosedive recovery from three thousand feet in the air. The last of his tricks had brought him worldwide fame. Several other pilots had died attempting the same trick, though Luc had never had trouble performing it for the crowds.

"I hate this one," Grace said as she turned away.

Luc was beginning his climb for the nosedive, and I shared her aversion to it. I had been to several exhibitions with him in the past two months, and each time he did it, I held my breath until he was safe on the ground again.

Yet his fearlessness was one of the reasons I loved him. I couldn't tear my gaze away.

"How many more shows must you attend before we leave for your cross-country flight?" Grace asked, keeping her gaze on me and not Luc.

"A half dozen."

All the plans were set for me to attempt the cross-country trip from September first to September thirtieth. The train cars had been arranged, the route had been mapped out, the painters had been hired to paint the Vin Fiz logo on the bottom of my new Blériot aeroplane, and my parents had agreed to come along.

Since William Randolph Hearst was putting up the prize money, he insisted that reporters from two of his newspapers, the New York Journal and the Los Angeles Examiner, travel along with the retinue that would follow. Grace would have exclusive rights as a representative for the New York Globe, and Armour and Company was sending a representative to coordinate appearances for me to promote Vin Fiz along the route.

Until then, I was performing at air meets, trying to earn as much money as possible. Every little bit helped Mama and Daddy.

"Have you talked to Mama?" I asked. "Did Mr. Lorenz extend the deadline for the second payment to October first?"

If I accomplished the flight by September thirtieth, I would wire the payment to him the next day. If not, then there was no way we could save the orphanage—unless, by some miracle, I could make enough money at these air meets.

Grace let out a sigh. "Yes, he is extending the deadline, but Mr. Thurston has just made a second offer, and it's much larger than the first. Mr. Lorenz has promised to sell the property to Mama and Daddy—but he's asking more now."

"That's extortion! He is already asking more than the building is worth." If our parents hadn't been using the building for over twenty years and it weren't in such a good location, I would have suggested we find another. But no matter where they moved, it would require more money to update and outfit a building than they had.

"I've thought more about visiting Mr. Thurston," she said.

"And say what? That you're sorry you spent months uncovering the corruption in his factories? Or that you're sorry for the fines he's been given by the city? Or the public shaming he's received? Do you think he'd simply forgive you and forget about his revenge?"

"What else can I do? He can't get away with this."

"It would be foolish, as Daddy said, and you might make it worse."

She let out a sigh. "I feel helpless."

I wrapped my arm through hers. "Don't worry. I'll make the cross-country flight, and then Mama and Daddy will never have to worry about money again."

She squeezed my arm and smiled at me.

Behind her, Luc was gaining altitude as the five thousand spectators seemed to hold their breath with me. As soon as he reached three thousand feet, he would point the plane toward the earth and cut the engine—then, at the last possible second, he would restart the engine and pull up on the throttle and glide safely to land.

If the engine failed to start ... there was no possibility of surviving.

I didn't know why he did it, but it was the thing everyone had come to the air meet to see. The manager of the event, Bill Willard, had paid Luc an enormous amount of money for his appearance here today.

"I know it's not done until I hear the crowd cheer," Grace said as she looked down at our entwined arms. "Then I know it's safe to look up."

We stood next to my new Blériot aeroplane. It had just arrived from France three days before I left New York to come to Boston. I had taken it up a few times but hadn't tested it as much as I would like before debuting it in public.

Tomorrow I would try for the speed record, which came with a thousand-dollar purse and would help pay for the new aeroplane. I wanted to test-fly it a few more times to get familiar with the course before then. I had asked Grace to come up with me, but since she'd refused, I asked Mr. Willard if he wanted to come, and he had agreed.

"You are missing out on the greatest experience of your life," I told Grace. "Will you ever let me take you up?"

"I really have no desire." She shook her head. "I'm not a fan of heights as it is—but add seventy-mile-an-hour speed and unpredictable wind, and I am not interested."

I shrugged as I watched Luc reach his final altitude and then turn his Blériot nose-down. The aeroplane began to buzz toward the earth, gaining speed. There was always a split second when I was afraid that this time he wouldn't make it.

I held Grace's arm tight—but then, at the very last second, Luc's plane pulled up and glided to safety.

The crowd roared with approval, and Grace lifted her gaze. Relief was written all over her face.

This was the third air meet she had attended with me this summer. She'd been busy with the New York Globe and was working on a piece about the women's suffrage movement, headed by Alva Belmont. When she attended air meets, I tried to avoid bringing her and Luc together. I wasn't sure why, because they seemed to be getting along better, but it was easier this way.

As for Luc, we saw each other often. He continued to be kind and friendly, but our relationship remained the same. I told myself he didn't want to distract me with romance while I had such a big flight on the horizon. I needed to remain focused on the cross-country journey, and he needed to be my business manager—and nothing else. I hoped and prayed that when we got to California, things would change.

Luc stepped out of his aeroplane to the wild cheers of the crowd. The noise was deafening—and made me grin for him. He waved at the audience and then jogged toward the hangar where Grace and I had been watching.

The moment he saw us, his steps slowed. Was it because of Grace? She had only arrived half an hour ago, so he didn't know she was here. I had invited her to watch me break the speed record—and because it felt strange to be in Massachusetts without her. We were not far from Salem Village, though it was now called Danvers. Part of me wanted to visit to see what had changed and what had stayed the same since 1692. The other part of me wanted nothing to do with the town.

"Bonjour," Luc said as he continued toward us. He took off the canvas jacket that all the aviators wore to protect their clothes from the castor oil, revealing a simple dark blue suit coat with matching trousers underneath. The suit made his eyes look bluer than normal. Beneath the coat, he wore a white collared shirt, and on his dark hair was a flat cap worn backwards. He had taken off his flying goggles, and they dangled from his long fingers. His movements were so smooth and even, as if he had mastery over every action he took.

"Hello," Grace and I said at the same time.

"I did not know you were coming," he said to Grace, something gentle yet eager in his gaze.

She glanced at me and then looked back at Luc. "Hope wanted me to watch her break the speed record tomorrow."

"Oui." He nodded. "She will make history again."

"I am going up for a test flight soon," I said to Luc, drawing his attention back to me. "How is the air?"

He pulled his gaze away from my sister. "It is very good. How has the new monoplane handled for you?"

It was a two-seater, since I planned to make extra money taking passengers up with me. I wasn't used to having the added weight of another person in the aeroplane, but it was easy enough to maneuver. "I love it."

"Très bien." He smiled and then looked toward the hangar where they were wheeling in his aeroplane. "I must go. The mechanics need to speak to me." He returned his focus to Grace. "Are you staying in Boston?"

"Yes, at the Copley Square Hotel."

"Perhaps we can have supper there." He looked at me. "The three of us, of course. Just like old times."

My heart warmed at the invitation—but quickly cooled. I didn't want them together. I didn't want to see Luc looking at my sister the way he was right now—the way he had in Paris.

Grace frowned at me, uncertainty in her face.

"I'm not sure if we'll have the time," I told him, a bit curt.

Disappointment clouded his eyes for just a moment, but then he covered his emotions and gave me a nod. "Another time, perhaps."

As he left us, Grace gave me a questioning look.

I ignored it.

The crowd grew more animated as the air meet continued. The heat and humidity didn't seem to dampen anyone's spirits as Blanche Stuart Scott took to the air. Tomorrow she would attempt to beat the speed record with me, but I was confident in my aeroplane.

As I inspected the new Blériot, looking over each wire, bolt, and mechanism, a man called out my name. "Miss Cooper?"

I turned to see the air meet organizer, Mr. Willard, in a thick wool sweater and a flat cap, much like Luc's, worn backward.

I smiled. "My mechanics should be ready to assist us."

Grace was still standing near my hangar, taking notes for another story. She was far enough away that I couldn't introduce her to Mr. Willard, but she'd want to interview him after our flight.

"Have you ridden in an aeroplane before?" I asked him.

"No. This will be my first time. My son wants to be a pilot, so I had to flip a coin with him to see who would go up with you. I should feel bad that he lost, but I don't." He winked at me.

The mechanics pulled my aeroplane out of the hangar and then assisted Mr. Willard into the passenger seat. He was a handsome man, recently widowed, so it didn't surprise me when some of the mechanics began to tease him.

"How does it feel to venture into the sky for the first time with the prettiest pilot at the air show?" one man asked.

"Why do you think I agreed to go?" Mr. Willard replied with hearty laughter.

I climbed into the cockpit of the monoplane and gave Mr. Willard a few instructions, telling him to sit tight and not make any movements, since it could easily cause the balance to shift.

As the lead mechanic spun the propeller and I flipped the ignition switch, my eye caught something strange.

Luc had come out of his hangar and was casually walking toward mine. The engine whirred to life and the plane began to pull, but I waited—did Luc want to stop me? Talk to me?

The mechanics watched for my signal to let go of the aeroplane. It pulled against them, wanting to be free.

And then I realized why Luc was approaching.

He had his eye on Grace.

I couldn't wait any longer, so I lifted my hand to indicate that the mechanics should let go, and the aeroplane sped across the field, taking me away from Grace and Luc.

When the plane took flight and weightlessness came over me, for the first time I felt no joy.

Behind me, Mr. Willard whooped his appreciation, and I forced myself to think about this flight, pulling the throttle lever back to allow the aeroplane to climb higher.

I gracefully turned the aeroplane and flew east toward the Boston Light, positioned on Little Brewster Island. The first lighthouse in America had been built there, and it was an important landmark for the speed contest tomorrow. I would need to fly out to the light, circle it once, and then come back to the air meet—and do it five times. It would be a timed flight, and the person who did it the fastest would win the thousand dollars.

The sky was a magnificent shade of blue without a cloud in sight. I wanted to end my flight soon, to rejoin Luc and Grace and see what they were talking about, but Mr. Willard deserved the twenty-minute flight I had promised him. It was just past five o'clock, so the sun was starting its descent, offering the perfect amount of light for flying. I climbed to two thousand feet before reaching the lighthouse and made a wide arc around it, not worried about precision or timing today.

After circling the lighthouse, I started to lower the aeroplane's altitude, eager to return to earth. I made wide circles around the airfield as I descended. Blanche was entertaining the audience in the distance, while in the shallow tidal flats sat a boat holding two boys, their faces turned toward the sky to watch us.

Without warning, the aeroplane's tail flicked upward, much like it had when I was flying over the English Channel. I grabbed the edge of the cockpit and yelled for Mr. Willard to do the same. But to my horror, I heard him scream as he went sailing over my head. The aeroplane had tossed him from his seat.

My hands shook as I worked hard to steady the monoplane, which was off-balance from the loss of his weight. Sweat broke out all over my body as my pulse hummed with panic. I tried to think of what I might do to save him, but he was falling so fast, and I lost sight of him.

I looked for him this way and that, but my frantic movements threw the aeroplane out of balance. The tail flicked up again as if a giant, invisible hand had swatted it. I grabbed for the edge of the cockpit, but my gloved hands slipped off the fragile wood and my body was thrown out of my seat.

For a split-second, I was in complete denial as I began to fall through the sky. I could see Mr. Willard flailing through the air below me. Dread and overwhelming terror filled me with a rush, tearing at me with the same force as the wind.

I began to scream.

I plummeted toward the earth—and there was nothing I could do to stop.