The Long Path Home - Ellen Lindseth Page 0,57

long it took? Her chances of getting home to Chicago would be greater than they were at the moment.

She wasn’t alone in her misery. Most of the troupe was either wide-eyed and pale or turning an unhealthy shade of green, like Matt. Not all, though. Charles read his book, though how he could concentrate she had no idea. Mr. Stuart appeared to be napping, and Luciana was deep in conversation with Sergeant Danger.

The noise kept Vi from overhearing, but from Luciana’s hand gestures, Vi suspected they were talking about something important. The actress kept punctuating her speech by smacking the knife edge of one hand against the palm of the other, as if to make a point.

The sergeant, for his part, listened attentively, with his long legs stretched out, his body relaxed. Every once in a while he would grab the hanging strap above him for stability, but otherwise he might as well have been sitting on a bus for all the concern he showed. It was infuriating. Worse, he seemed so at ease with Luciana, answering her points with comments of his own, smiling briefly at something she said. A couple of times they even laughed together.

A stab of envy made her look away. So what if the sergeant didn’t seem to mind Luciana “mixing with GIs”? The actress was welcome to him. Vi had far more important things to fret over than how not a single man had ever listened to her as if what she said actually mattered. Certainly not Robert, who had been more interested in the sound of his own voice. Not even her own father, kind and loving as he was. It had gotten only worse in recent years, as most men didn’t really care what a burlesque dancer had to say, no matter how smart or well read she might be.

A sudden sway of the plane made her break out in a nauseated sweat. Desperate for a distraction, she turned her thoughts to her future—assuming she had one beyond this flight. As much as she loved dancing and creating her own acts, it would be nice to be valued for something more than a pair of big knockers. Perhaps an actress, though she would have to go back to school and get her high school diploma. Every Hollywood actress she had ever read about had at least gotten that far. And it shouldn’t be that hard. She’d been an honor student up until she’d dropped out to have Jimmy.

Or maybe she should consider secretarial school. Actresses could become too old for work, the same as dancers, even legitimate ones.

Speaking of dancers . . . She glanced at her travel buddy and found her twisted around on the metal bench and staring out the round window at the countryside below. Frowning slightly, Vi reached over to check all Marcie’s buckles and belts to make sure they were still fastened. Two weren’t, so Vi cinched them up, forcing Marcie back onto the metal bench that passed for a seat.

Marcie slapped her hand away. “Stop that! What are you doing?” she shouted over the roar of the engines.

“Making sure you don’t go bouncing around the cabin. Head injuries are hard to dance with.”

“Yes, well, I’m going to throw up if I don’t look out the window.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Vi shouted back. “I’m not dancing by myself during the dinner party scene.”

“I tell you, I’m f—” Marcie didn’t finish as a loud bang came from outside the plane, the reverberation palpable through the seats.

All conversation in the cabin stopped as the plane’s tail skidded to the left.

“The engine!” Gertie yelled, her white face pressed to a window. “It’s on fire!”

Vi and Marcie immediately joined her. Flames were indeed shooting out of a hole in the metal and streaking back toward the wing. Vi’s heart stopped. Oh no, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. She had not jinxed the plane. She hadn’t.

Abruptly the flames went out, but the relief was short lived as the propellers slowed almost to a stop, indicating the engine was dead. At the same time, the plane yawed even harder to the right. Then it fishtailed abruptly to the left. Both Ann and Frances screamed. Even Luciana paled, her hand gripping the sergeant’s knee. Vi understood the actress’s impulse, wishing she could do the same. Then, before she could catch her breath, the plane swooped back to the right and began to tilt toward the remaining engine.

As the floor tilt increased, sobs and

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