A Flying Affair by Carla Stewart Page B

the future.”
    “You can be sure aviation is going to play a big role.”
    “Ever since Mittie learned about Lindbergh visiting our fair city, I’ve heard nothing else.”
    “You exaggerate, Daddy.” She turned to Ames. “Daddy’s afraid that since I’m taking flying lessons, I’m going to fly off into the wild blue yonder.”
    Ames asked, “What flying lessons?”
    “Oh, I haven’t had a chance to tell you. Bobby York is a friend of the family and just here from England, but he’s hired on at Bowman Field to give lessons. Isn’t that grand?”
    Ames blinked. “Shucks. I was hoping to have the privilege of teaching you.”
    “I need all the help I can get.”
    Her dad smiled. “Fair warning, Ames. Her enthusiasm can be overwhelming, but there’s nothing I like more than seeing the excitement that lights up both of your eyes when you talk about aviation.”
    It was all new to Mittie, too, but gaining her daddy’s admiration was a bonus. She might have her mother’s impulsive nature, but the competitive spirit came from her daddy. Hard work. Honest sweat. Winning when it mattered.
    When her daddy suggested that Mittie show Ames the stables, Ames said, “I’ve fond memories of my grandparents’ farm. I’m game whenever you’re ready.” He wiped his mouth on his napkin. “And I must say, this was one of the finest meals I’ve had in a long while.”
    “I’ll let Ruby know. Please join us anytime.”
    The July heat bore down as Mittie led the way to the barns, the farm’s border collie trailing after them. Ames offered the back of his hand for a sniff, and when Skipper licked it, Ames crouched down and let the dog slurp his tongue on his face.
    “Good boy. What’s his name?”
    “Skipper. Official watchdog and general nuisance.”
    Ames rose and draped an arm across Mittie’s shoulders. “This is quite the place. I’ve flown over a few times trying to get a glimpse of you.”
    “Get out. You think you might catch me in my dressing gown?”
    “That would be a treat. Truth is, I’d look at you no matter what you’re wearing.”
    The heat rushing to Mittie’s face wasn’t from the sun. “Guess Daddy might have something to say about that. He’d prefer to keep me under his watchful eye until he’s pushing daisies.”
    “Your dad’s swell.”
    “He is. And I think he liked you, too.”
    She took him on the grand tour, chatting the whole time while Skipper kept to Ames’ heels, hoping for a pat on the head. She saved the best for last: Gypsy.
    Mittie handed Ames a handful of carrot nuggets. “This is Gypsy. She’ll be your best friend if you feed her.”
    “This is some magnificent horse. Is she yours?” He offered Gypsy a nugget and tangled his fingers in her dark mane.
    “She is. A gift when I turned nineteen. She was born right here at MG Farms.”
    “What a beauty—nothing like the nags I grew up with…the ones at Granny’s place.” His voice drifted off like he was trying to capture a memory.
    “Do you ever go back?”
    “We lost Granny and Papaw both in the flu epidemic.”
    “I’m sorry. For you and your family.”
    He shrugged. “Such is life.” His face brightened. “Now there are skies to conquer. You up for a ride this afternoon? Buster said he’d be willing to show you the ropes on wing walking since you were keen on it last time.”
    Her heart thundered in her chest. “Give me five minutes and I’ll grab my things.”
      
    Mittie flew with Ames to a field west of town where Buster, the stuntman who’d worn the tuxedo, gave her basic directions while they were on the ground. He showed her how to climb from the forward seat of the Oriole when the plane was aloft and how to use the wires for balance when walking toward a strut.
    “Balance and making no sudden moves will keep you from getting killed.”
    “Not getting killed would be nice.”
    He shrugged. “It happens. Keep your legs slightly bent in a crouch like you’re going to jump.” He