The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(23)

I buttoned the last button on my blouse. “Come in?”

Using her foot, Myrtle pushed the door open. She had a tray with some saltines and a glass of ginger ale. “Nathaniel said you weren’t feeling well.”

“Oh … it’s just, you know, feminine complaints.” I tucked in my shirt so I wouldn’t have to face her. “The worst seems to have passed, actually.”

“I know every woman is different, but mine lays me out for an entire day.” She set the tray down on the little desk in our room. “So I’ve brought you some things to settle your stomach. Do you need a hot water bottle? Or … I have some bourbon, if that will help.”

How had we gotten so lucky as to land with these people? My eyes watered, which was a sign that my period was, in fact, affecting me. “You are kindness embodied.” I wiped my fingers under my eyes. “Honestly, I am much better. It usually doesn’t hit me very hard at all. I guess I just…” I waved my hand, hoping she would create her own story from the ambiguity.

“All the stress of—well, everything you’ve gone through in the past couple of weeks.” She held out the glass of ginger ale. “No wonder you’re wrung out.”

“I’m fine.” But I took the ginger ale, and even the icy chill of the glass was soothing. “Really. What about you? Any progress with your church on the refugee front?”

Myrtle hesitated, then wet her lips. “Actually … yes. Maybe. We have an idea, but it involves asking you a favor.”

Oh God. A chance to be useful? “Yes. Anything. After everything y’all have done for us, anything I can do is already done.”

“Don’t worry—this won’t require you to do a thing.” She straightened the tray on the desk so it was square with the edges. “Eugene says you have a plane?”

“It’s damaged, but yes.”

She nodded as if she already knew this. “If he could get it fixed up, can he borrow it?”

“Of course.” It was small and petty of me, but I was disappointed that there was nothing more. “But I called all the mechanics and none of them could help.”

She gave a little smile. “You called all the white mechanics. Not everyone who knows planes is in the phone book. Eugene can get it fixed.”

Had she known that there were other mechanics all along and not told me, or was it something that hadn’t come up until just now? Either way, resentment was a completely inappropriate response. I owed her. She owed me nothing. “It can only hold four. You won’t be able to get a lot of refugees in there.”

“Oh … I know. We’ve got a different plan.” She straightened and clapped her hands together. “Listen to me, running my mouth off when you don’t feel well. Now, you just take it easy for the rest of the day, even if you do feel better. I’ll leave some chicken broth—no bacon—simmering on the stove for later.”

“Thank you, but really—”

“You’re fine. I know. You’re as bad as Eugene. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a man.”

“It’s a pilot thing, I guess.” I shrugged. “They ground you if you’re sick.”

“Well … I don’t have daughters, but you’re grounded, young lady. I think that’s the only way to get you to slow down and take care of yourself.”

Slow down? I’d done nothing since the meteorite. I should have gone with Nathaniel. I might have been a tiny bit useful there.

*

“What are you doing in the kitchen?” Myrtle stood in the living room with her hat and gloves still on.

With a handful of lettuce poised over a bowl, I somehow suddenly felt guilty. “Making dinner?”

“Girl, you’re supposed to be resting.” Sometimes her mid-Atlantic housewife diction disappeared, mostly when she was irritated. I got a sense I was hearing a more honest version of herself. Myrtle set her things down on one of the side tables and came in, making shooing gestures. “Go on. Back to bed.”

“I’m fine. There was a little cramping, but really…” I put the rest of the lettuce in the bowl and shredded it with, perhaps, a little more force than was strictly necessary. I should have just buckled up and gone with Nathaniel. “I was restless, and you worked all day.”

Outside, the rumble of Major Lindholm’s jeep gave notice that at least one of the men was home. Glancing out the window, I couldn’t quite make out the vehicle. Had Nathaniel been kept in meetings? Again? I should have gone. I was an idiot.

She pulled open the pantry door and reached inside for an apron. “Well, tell me what I can do.”

“Um … Check the tagliarini to see if the foil needs to come off?”

The front door opened and brought with it the sound of Eugene and Nathaniel talking. It seemed like every time he got a chance, Eugene would pump Nathaniel for information about rockets. “… out at Edwards Air Force Base.”

“Oh Lord … not this again.” Myrtle strode toward the living room. “You are not going to be a test pilot. Fighter was bad enough, but at least there was a war on then.”

“Baby … we’re just talking about the rocket work they’re doing.”

Nathaniel laughed uncomfortably. “We’re comparing the facilities at Sunflower in Kansas to Edwards. That’s all … Um. I should go check on Elma.”