“I thought you said he wasn’t a flight instructor.” Minnie took the bowl from Jen and carried it to the table.
“That’s beside the point. He acted like Darcy had asked him to commit a crime.”
“Aren’t you overreacting?” Minnie had stiffened, and Jen realized she shouldn’t have mentioned anything to do with criminal activity.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have used those exact words.” After her youngest sister’s brush with a bootlegging ring last year that nearly got her killed, she was a little sensitive about anything illegal. “I meant that he was appalled.”
“I know. I’ve just learned how easy it is for good people to get caught up in a bad idea.”
Jen had, too. Both Minnie and Beatrice had watched their beloved men fall victim.
Minnie returned to the stove, and Jen scooped some potato-laden stew into a bowl and handed it to her.
Minnie peered into the bowl. “This one doesn’t have any salt pork.”
“How can you tell? Salt pork looks the same as potatoes.”
“No, it doesn’t. Just add some, all right?”
Jen fished out a chunk of pork and dumped it in the bowl. The meat was pretty meager. It was getting close to the end of the month. Their credit must be running low at the mercantile, as it had every month since Daddy died. The Kensingtons would extend more credit, but Mother refused to fall any deeper into debt. In a couple weeks, the dress-shop receivables would start coming in, and then they could pay down their bills.
“The bread smells wonderful, Mother,” Ruthie said from around the corner, where she was nursing little Sammy. “You must have baked it today.”
“Yes, dear,” Mother said absently.
Her attention was riveted on the newspaper, which was unusual. Daddy had been the one who devoured every news story. Mother had constantly chided him to set aside the paper during meals. Now she was doing the very same thing.
“I don’t see what the problem is, Jen,” Ruthie said as she returned to the kitchen and burped the baby. “The flight school is closed. Jack and Darcy never fly this time of year.”
“But they will for the expedition.” Jen slopped stew into another bowl. “And if I don’t get my license before spring, I’ll never be able to go along.”
“Go along?” Ruthie exclaimed. “Why would you go with them? Even Darcy won’t be able to, not with the new baby.” She held up a hand. “I don’t care what she says now. Once the baby arrives, her whole world will revolve around him.” She leaned down and kissed Sammy’s forehead before cooing and holding out a finger for him to grab.
Sammy giggled and squealed.
Jen rolled her eyes. Babies were fine and all, but she would never give up something important, like the polar expedition, in order to have a baby. Not that Darcy had a choice. She’d been married for years, after all. A baby was bound to happen along, and with this being their first she was extra cautious.
“What I need to know is how to convince him,” Jen mused. “Darcy said Jack didn’t want to teach her at first, but she was able to persuade him. She might have some idea how to change Wagner’s mind.”
“Wagner?” Minnie said, holding out her hands for the next bowl. “No more Dan?”
Jen made a face at her little sister. “That was a slip of the tongue, when I was feeling more charitable. Ruthie, is Sam eating with us?”
“Yes, but don’t dish up any stew just yet. He had to place a telephone call to New York. It could take a while. He said to start without him.”
Jen carried her own bowl to the old wooden table. It was battered and stained from years of use. Everyone sat in their usual places, leaving Daddy’s place empty, as they had since he’d moved to the parlor. At first, she’d figured he would return as soon as he recovered his strength. But he never recovered. Still, the empty place remained.
When Sam arrived, he would sit in Beatrice’s old spot. Jen ran a finger over the holes she’d poked into the wood when she refused to eat peas and had to sit at the table until dark. The battle of wills had lasted until bedtime, when Mother finally let her go to sleep, but in the morning, Jen found the peas in her breakfast bowl. She’d swallowed them whole with large gulps of milk rather than go hungry.
The stain in the center of the table happened when a jar of beets exploded after removing it from the home canner. Even Mother had jumped and shrieked. Then they’d all laughed at their squeamish reaction when the red juice ran all over the table like blood. Though they’d cleaned up the mess, the stain remained and over the years became a treasured memory.
“Oh, my.” Mother sighed. She closed the paper and set it aside while they waited for Ruthie to finish wiping Sammy’s face. “Such a terrible story. All those little ones without any hope of help.”
Ruthie laid Sammy in the cradle. “What little ones?”
“In faraway Alaska. There’s a diphtheria outbreak and no antitoxin.” She shook her head. “They are shipping some by train from Anchorage, but apparently this town is hundreds of miles from the railroad lines, and there’s no way to get it to those little ones.”
“An airplane could take it,” Jen said.
Ruthie shook her head. “If airplanes can’t fly here because of the weather, how could they possibly fly in Alaska?”
“If they can get the engines running, there’s no reason a plane can’t do it.”
“What about snow and wind?” Ruthie countered.
Jen had no answer for that. It was exactly the problem Simmons Aeromotor had been working on with Jack and Darcy. What if the weather wouldn’t allow them to make the polar flight? Then all that cost and effort would go for nothing.
“That’s enough, girls.” Mother put an end to the discussion. “Let’s bow our heads and give thanks to Our Lord for all the blessings He has showered upon us.”
Jen wasn’t so sure about blessings. Her father was gone. Dan Wagner recoiled at the thought of teaching her. Children in Alaska were sick without hope of life-saving medicine. And their stew didn’t have much meat. Yet one by one, her mother and sisters listed blessing after blessing. Then it was her turn.
Jen could think of only one thing. “Thank you for letting me pass the written flight examination.”
Minnie rolled her eyes, and Ruthie sighed, but Mother ended the prayer with “Amen” just as Sam stomped through the kitchen door with a blast of cold and snow.
Ruthie looked up expectantly.
He nodded, his expression glum.
Ruthie’s hopefulness changed to concern.
Mother looked from Ruthie to Sam, who’d shed his coat, hat and boots in record time, and then went back to her daughter. “What is it? What happened?”
Ruth shook her head.
Sam took the lead. “My father suffered a setback.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mother said. “I know you’ve had your differences, but he is still your father.”
“Yes, Mom.” Sam dished some stew into a bowl.
Jen found it fascinating that he called her mother by such an informal endearment—and that she allowed it. She had never been anything but Mother to Jen and her sisters.
“How is your mother faring?” Mother asked as Sam took his seat. “Caring for an ailing husband can be stressful.”
Sam bowed his head to give thanks and didn’t answer until he’d finished. “It’s definitely a challenge for her.” He took a slice