Page 98 of Flight of Dreams

Margaret Mather, bored with the game, moves to the observation windows to stand beside Irene. The girl is wearing a blue dress with pleats and a scoop neck. It is quite pretty. It brings out the cornflower in her eyes and accents the slight curves on her slender body. The dress makes her look older than fourteen. Emilie suspects Irene has chosen this dress to catch the cabin boy’s eye—not that she needs to try hard for that. He can hardly keep his eyes off her as it is. Of the three Doehner children, Emilie fears that Irene will be the most difficult to look after.

The stewardess likes the girl. She sees much of her former self in that sly, pretty face. Emilie can’t help but find Irene rather entertaining. And the idea of watching her continue to grow and mature and become her own woman is appealing.

“Do you see that?” Margaret Mather taps the window with one neatly rounded fingernail, then points at something beneath them. She speaks in German for Irene’s benefit.

“Yes,” the girl says, “what is it?”

“Princeton University.”

“It looks lovely.”

“Oh, it is! You should see it from the ground. All the ivy and the stonework and the gardens.”

“Did you go to school there?”

Margaret laughs at this. “Me? No. You forget that young ladies are not permitted to attend Princeton.”

“At all?” Irene asks.

“No.”

Emilie is humored by the look of consternation on Irene’s face. The girl takes in Margaret’s polished form. “But…”

“What?”

“You’re rich.”

The assumption is simple. Naïve. Entitled. And from the corner of her eye Emilie sees Matilde shake her head. Irene is quite intelligent, but clearly her education has been lacking.

“There are things that money cannot buy, young lady. A forward-thinking father is one of them.” Margaret sets a gentle hand on Irene’s shoulder. “Having one is a privilege you should not take for granted.”

“How do you know so much about Princeton if you didn’t go there?”

“My brother is one of their art and architecture professors.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve come home to visit him for the summer.”

Emilie watches Irene’s face change. She sees the resolve drop like a curtain falling across a window. “I will go to university,” she declares, then turns to her mother. “Can I go, Mama?”

There is humor in Matilde’s voice. But there is also pride. “It’s a bit early for that, don’t you think?”

Irene shifts those imperious blue eyes back to Margaret Mather. “How do I get into university?”

Margaret stifles a grin. “Learning English would be a good place to start. As a matter of fact, learn as many languages as you can. Study. Observe. Learn to communicate intelligently—both with your voice and in print.”

Matilde gives Emilie a pointed look as if to say: See, my daughter’s dreams depend on you.

Emilie sighs. Irene is pointing at things on the ground below and having Margaret tell her the English names. She repeats the words carefully, her mind already set on learning this strange new language. It seems possible, this life she’s being offered. Appealing even. There is no threat to her life and very little to her heart. Why shouldn’t she leave? Why shouldn’t she build a life for herself apart from ghosts and dictators? Emilie watches Irene Doehner make her first stubborn attempts to learn a new language, and she pushes the thought of Max from her mind.

Emilie looks at Matilde and nods. “Very well, then.”

THE NAVIGATOR

4:00 p.m.—three hours and twenty-five minutes until the explosion

The light at four o’clock in the afternoon is different from that of any other time of day. Max feels that this is true even now, with the sun blotted out by storm clouds. He would prefer a cobalt sky filled with golden light, of course. This never-ending gray-upon-gray does nothing to lighten his mood, and yet he must admit the sky is oddly beautiful. But it’s a savage beauty, and it makes him uneasy. The clouds are heavy-bottomed, dark and churning, with the low roll of thunder threatening violence.