To Fly on Broken Wings

Mississippi Delta, 1941

Lila Rose never expected life to offer her more than the quiet rhythm of cotton fields and small-town whispers. Raised in poverty and caring for an alcoholic father, she's learned not to hope for much.

Then she meets Graham, a young pilot from one of Mississippi's wealthiest families. Their unlikely love changes everything.

But when war tears them apart and Graham is reported killed in action, Lila believes the future she'd dreamed of has died with him. Determined to move forward, she remarries and begins building a new life.

Until Graham comes home.

Now the man she buried in her heart is standing before her, and the life she's fought to rebuild hangs in the balance. Faced with an impossible choice between the love she lost and the promises she's made, Lila must discover whether faith can guide her when every path leads to heartbreak.

To Fly on Broken Wings is a moving Christian historical novel about love, loss, impossible choices, and the quiet courage to trust God when the path ahead is anything but clear.

Prologue

Graham Ashford dropped out of the Delta sky just when I stopped hoping for anything that might surprise me. That morning, I bent over the cotton in the wet heat, while mosquitoes feasted on my sweaty skin. But it wasn’t the roar of the plane, nor the daring swoop before landing on Travers Field across the road that surprised me.

It was the tall pilot with the sturdy build climbing out of the cockpit of his yellow biplane. I couldn’t see him clearly, but somehow, I knew his eyes flashed behind his flight goggles. His energy stretched across the open, dusty space, and if I didn't know better, I'd have sworn even the wilted cotton straightened when he shouted to another man approaching the plane. The other man said something I couldn’t hear, then the pilot laughed loud enough to startle the crows perched in the trees along the road. As if sensing my stare, he turned my way. I stilled, bare feet frozen on the hot ground.

But Graham’s energy didn’t stop at unsettling the air around me.

It rattled the dust that had long since settled around my soul.

And that dust would carry more than the weight of wings…

Chapter One

August 1941

Daddy was drunk again. Lila sat up, startled out of sleep, listening to the sounds on the other side of the bedroom wall. She rose, slipping on her robe and tying it at her waist. A crash made her jump and she rushed out to find Daddy slumped over the coffee table, the chipped Mason jar of fresh daisies she picked earlier that day spread out in a crumpled mess, water dripping all over the braided rug.

“Daddy!”

He grunted, standing up and rubbing his head. Looking up at Lila, he smiled, then reached up to pat her cheek. “You’re a good girl, Lila Rose. But you should be in bed now. It’s past your bedtime.”

He often talked to her like she still had missing front teeth and skinned knees from riding her bicycle.

“Daddy, c’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Lila pushed him toward his room at the back of the house, hoping he’d cooperate this time. He did, but he staggered the whole way, and his weight didn’t make it easy. He wasn’t a large man, but a solid one, and Lila struggled to maintain a steady hold on him.

He slurred his words as he talked all the way to his room. “Your mama ain’t gonna be happy with me, Lila. Don’t tell her about this, you hear? What she don’t know won’t hurt her.”

“Mama’s gone, Daddy. She left, remember?”

“Naw. She’ll be back. She always comes back.”

She had always come back before, but not the last time. Daddy forgot when he drank. Lila could never forget that night. She begged her mama to stay. At twelve years old, she knew something was different, saw it in her mother’s eyes, and Lila begged her not to leave them. Her sad expression accompanied words that still haunted Lila.

I’m sorry, Lila Rose. I can’t stay here with your daddy, and you won’t leave him, so this is where we are. You’ve made your choice, and so must I.

Now, at nineteen, Lila got her daddy to his room, before guiding him to the bed. She took his shoes off and left him where he landed, crooked, with his legs hanging diagonally, but at least on the bed this time. At the nightstand, a picture of Mama stared back at her. It was taken on their wedding day, and Lila had always admired her mother in it. She was a beautiful lady in her youth. The woman that left them seven years ago had lost the sparkle in her eyes that shone in the picture. Her features had hardened, along with her spirit. Lila had memories of her laughing and playing with her, singing her favorite songs in the kitchen as she cooked. But not long before she left them, silence cloaked the house. Until Daddy came home drunk every night. That’s when the shouting started.

Lila turned away from her photo and shut out the light before heading back to her own room. The clock ticked by her bed, and she winced at the time. 4 a.m. She had two hours before she had to get up, make breakfast, and prepare for a day of picking cotton. She just hoped Daddy would go to work, too. They needed the money, and she didn’t make much picking cotton.

She untied her robe, hoping to get some more sleep, but as she put her head on the pillow, she remembered the flowers and water spilled out all over the coffee table and rug. Sighing, she got up to clean Daddy’s mess. Again.

***

It was hot during that late summer of 1941, and like so many days before, Lila walked with her best friend, Geraldine, as they made their way along the dusty road toward the cotton fields at dawn. The cicadas buzzed their early cacophony from the trees, and she sighed at the way it made her long for something she’d never had.

“Lila, all I’m saying is we get the life we’re offered, and there ain’t much can be done about it, so there’s no use in wishing for anything more unless you’re ready to leave the Delta for good. You’ve always got your head in those books. What are you reading now, anyway?”

Geraldine’s lean hands reached out and grabbed the book Lila held at her side, snatching it away with a giggle as Lila protested. She noticed she had a blister that had broken open from the extra picking they did the day before. Unfazed, Geraldine opened The Grapes of Wrath to a page Lila marked with a Foley’s grocery receipt and started reciting.

“She seemed to know, to accept, to welcome her position, the citadel of the family, the strong place that could not be taken.” She rolled her eyes and snapped the book shut, passing it back to Lila, who caught the receipt before it slipped out of place.

“Why don’t you read a perfectly good romance novel like most girls?”

“But this book is a romance novel. When I finish, why don’t you borrow it?”

“Reading’s not my thing, Lila Rose. You know that.”

“I know.” Lila didn’t need Geraldine to love reading for them to be friends, but sometimes she longed for someone to understand.

Geraldine was what her granny called a “floozy,” but Lila didn’t care. Geraldine possessed much more strength of character in friendship than the proper girls who turned their noses up whenever they saw them. Just because she wore her fuchsia lipstick a little too bright or flirted with more boys than Lila had ever spoken to, that didn’t mean she was a floozy, anyway. It just meant she was bold. Lila always wished she could be bold.

Geraldine and Lila had been friends since they were knee high to a grasshopper, and Lila couldn’t imagine life without her. But Geraldine had big plans now that she’d graduated high school. And they didn’t include sticking around the Delta. She planned to pick cotton this last summer to save money, then Lila’s only friend would leave her alone.

As if she heard her thoughts, she nudged Lila with her elbow. “You could come with me, you know.”

“To Jackson?”

She nodded. “We could both work in the city and room together. It’d be great fun, Lila.”

“We’ve had this conversation before, and you know I can’t do that.”

Geraldine rolled her eyes, which seemed to be her signature expression, swinging her lunch pail against her leg. The thump matched their steps, along with the silent beats in conversation.

“Lila, don’t take this the wrong way. You know I’ve been supportive of how you care for your daddy, but what about your life? You can’t keep letting him punish you for his own choices.”

Lila sighed, knowing she was right, but also knowing she’d already made her own choice, right or wrong. Loyalty didn’t need to make sense to hold a person, not when it tied them down before they had a chance to object. Family bonds were like that. Besides, Daddy stayed when Mama didn’t. Surely that constituted some loyalty on her part.

“Lawd, it feels like the sun’s been up half a day already, and here it is, just past dawn.” Geraldine exaggerated, but not by much. Lila already felt sticky in her light blue cotton skirt, the first one she made for herself after Mama left, which is why it bordered on being too short now. The hem couldn’t be let out again.

“Just be glad Elroy Simpson won’t be here today. We can drink water without worrying about his spit getting in it.”

Geraldine scrunched her nose. “Ugh. If it wasn’t too hard to bring my own, I wouldn’t go near that community bucket. Elroy’s not the only one who slobbers all over it.”

Lila didn’t want to think about it. Sometimes thirst in the Delta heat demanded payment, no matter the cost. She waved at Tully Dunn, the field boss, who pointed at the rows where he wanted them to start. He shouted.

“Geraldine Moss! Remember, more pickin’, less talkin’! You hear?”

Geraldine gave a mock salute, then rolled her eyes as they sauntered through the tall grass before reaching the cotton rows. “Give a man power…” she mumbled.

“He’s just doing his job, Geraldine. You do talk a lot.”

“You’ll miss it once I go.”

“It’s true, I will, but I won’t miss getting into trouble with you.”

“Don’t fool yourself, Lila Rose. You’ll miss that, too.” She winked, grinning as a loose auburn hair fell around her cheek.

Lila knew she was right. Sadness gripped her in that moment, and tears blurred her eyes. She knew she needed to go for her sake, and Lila longed to follow her, but it was an impossible choice with only one answer for her.

The roar of a plane engine made her look up at the sky as the sun shot daggers of light into her pupils, and she dropped her head back down to look at the cotton stems, while little balls of light swirled her line of vision.

“Hey, that’s close. Where’s he going?”

“It’s just a crop duster, Geraldine.”

“Yeah, but he’s flying low. Oh! He’s landing in Travers field. C’mon, let’s get close so we can see!”

“Are you crazy? Tully’s already watching us.” Lila peered over where Tully stood earlier, but he, too, stared at the plane now.

“He’s not going to notice. C’mon, Lila Rose!”

Lila did what she often did with Geraldine and left common sense behind while she followed her impulses. Their cotton skirts swished as they walked, but it did little to fan the stuffy heat from Lila’s legs. When they reached the tall grass at the edge of the field, she shielded her eyes from the sun and put one hand on her hip. The plane landed, its wings swaying and slanting in a bird’s graceful form until it touched down and rolled forward to a stop.

Geraldine grabbed Lila’s arm and inhaled a sharp breath, startling her, as she shifted her attention from the plane to the man who climbed out of the cockpit. Lila had seen crop duster planes for years now, but she imagined the pilots to be older, like Tully, at least in his fifties. Not young and fit like this tall man who stretched his legs as he jumped down and straightened with confidence. He shouted and waved to another man who appeared from nowhere, holding a large wrench and approaching the plane with a jovial stride. They greeted each other with a hard clap on the shoulder and a brief embrace, the easy sort of affection between men Lila had only read about. Curious, she stepped closer, but then he turned her way.

Gasping, she raced back to the cotton row and took several steps, stopping to pick some cotton bolls, before glancing back at Travers field. The man still looked her way, but she figured he must be staring at Geraldine who hadn’t moved from her spot down the row.

“Geraldine!” Tully shouted. His angry face made Lila glad she continued to pick the bolls of cotton, though she felt guilty that she had only just missed being caught. Geraldine didn’t care, though. She just laughed before joining in the picking again.

“Did you see him? Who’d ever imagine a crop duster could look like that?”

Lila gave her an exaggerated sigh and a shake of her head, but inside she couldn’t stop the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach. She dared a glance back across the road and the butterflies stilled. The pilot walked toward them, swaying with a confident gait, removing his goggles and cap, revealing dark blonde hair that lay in waves across his head. The closer he got, the more beautiful Lila imagined him to be.

“Lila Rose, is he—”

“Coming over here? Yes, I believe he is. Geraldine, why would he come over here?”

“Maybe he liked something he saw.”

She grinned, shading her eyes from the sun, a strand of hair clinging to her flushed cheek.

“Geraldine! The way you talk.”

“I’m just saying what I think. I’ll never understand why we have thoughts if we can’t share them.”

“Not every thought is meant to be shared.”

Geraldine laughed. “Well, I guess you’re right. Because I’m liking what I see, too, but I guess that’s not the most ladylike thing to say.”

Ignoring Geraldine, Lila focused on breathing. She figured he must be walking over to talk to Geraldine. They all did. Though some men flirted with her from time to time, they usually gravitated to Geraldine once they realized she didn’t talk much. Lila never cared before, but now she felt something she’d never felt before, and she didn’t like it.

Lila was jealous of Geraldine.

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