A Flying Affair by Carla Stewart

about dentistry. The same is true of airplanes. While some of you may have already had the chance to sit in a cockpit or take a flight or two, perhaps even man the controls, a true aviator is one who knows his subject from the inside out and what to do should an engine falter. Your name, chap?”
    “Delbert McCombs, sir.”
    Delbert’s ears were the color of spiced apples, and Mittie was certain hers were, too. Weaver and Ames had both let her take the controls when she knew nothing but to watch the altimeter and the compass.
    “Stay with me, mate, and you’ll be flying aces in no time. While a license is not required to take to the skies, it does qualify you for competitions and the growing number of jobs in aviation.”
    With that, he launched into the anatomy of the plane and what each part was made of and its purpose. Delbert sat tall in his seat and took notes. They all did. The classroom instruction would last eight hours per week for two weeks before they were allowed to begin the actual flight training in the cockpit. But Mittie’s heart was already in the clouds.
    When the session ended, the other students exited quickly, and Bobby asked if he could have a word.
    “Certainly, but I don’t want anyone to think I’m getting preferential treatment.”
    “You needn’t fret. I’m tough, but fair. And I do believe you show a tick more promise than the others, although it’s always hard to tell at first. May I buy you a cup of tea?”
    “I’d prefer coffee.”
    They sat in the canteen together, Bobby and his tea, Mittie with her coffee.
    He spoke first. “I owe you an apology and a word of thanks.”
    “For what? You’re the answer to my prayers.”
    “The apology is because I was hoping to call earlier and perhaps take you to dinner, but once things got rolling, there was a plane to purchase and applications to process.”
    “No apology needed. I’ve been rather busy myself with the horses.” She told him about the upcoming show and prattled on about nothing. Truthfully, she was a little jumpy. Not only was Bobby everything she’d imagined in the way of expertise, but he was cute to boot. She hoped to keep their friendship on a purely platonic level. And looking across the table at him, she realized it was going to be harder than she thought. Much harder.
    She took a sip of coffee, but it had grown cold. “You said earlier you wanted to thank me, but you didn’t say why.”
    “You and your grandmother—you for entrusting me to be your instructor and your grandmother for putting in a good word for me with Weaver. He was reticent at first, but when I mentioned her name as a reference, he warmed up right away.”
    “My grandmother does have a fine reputation. And as for me—I’m still pinching myself over my good fortune.”
    He drained his cup and held it suspended. “To many happy hours and blue skies.”
      
    Mittie recited what she learned to Gypsy the next morning on their ride across the hills. Sometimes the best friends were the ones who just listened and didn’t answer back or give advice. So Gypsy listened as Mittie told her about wingspans and struts, how to compensate for crosswinds, and how to utilize a tailwind to the best advantage.
    It became their routine—Mittie taking instruction from Bobby York, Gypsy being privy to it all. As the gray-green fog of morning thinned into a milky haze, Mittie’s recitations rode on the wind. “Remember this, Gypsy: a plane can rotate in three dimensions depending on the axis. Just wait until Ames comes back and I throw some pitch, yaw, and roll at him. You think he’ll be surprised?”
    Gypsy answered by twitching her right ear. Mittie laughed and leaned in, giving Gypsy permission to do her own version of forward thrust. As they topped the highest of the hills of MG Farms, the sun broke through the clouds, scattering golden glitter like fairy dust.
    Mittie pulled Gypsy into a halt and let the moment settle. A low rumble came from behind, a