Golden Angel (House of Winslow Book #26)

Gilbert Morris

Description

Living in Africa is an adventure for Erin Winslow, yet she longs for even more excitement. She meets a pilot and persuades him to teach her to fly. Before she realizes it, she has fallen in love with him. But a devastating discovery leaves Erin deeply hurt, and she flees home to America.Erin hopes to find a job as a pilot and nurse her wounded heart. When no one will hire a woman, she finds work in a café. That's where Quaid Merritt, stunt flyer, steals into her life, reigniting her dreams about flying.She and Quaid travel across America, thrilling crowds with daring aerial acrobatics. When Hollywood producers come calling, Erin has some important decisions to make--about Quaid, and about her future.(House of Winslow Book 26)

Sujets

• Historical romance
• Historical fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 01 août 2006
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781441270511
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

© 2001 by Gilbert Morris
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners.
ISBN 978-1-4412-7051-1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
Cover illustration by William Graf
Cover design by Josh Madison
To Paul and Shirley St. John
Johnnie and I are so grateful
that God has put us together.
You two have been a blessing to us.
The pilgrim way is sweeter
with companions like you!
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
PART ONE
The Misfit 1913–1921
1. The Rebellion
2. Woman of the Masai
3. Out of the Sky
4. The Awakening
5. Among the Clouds
6. “Part of You Will Die Soon. . . .”
7. The Sky Is Falling!
PART TWO
Quaid 1921–1922
8. On Her Own
9. A Thief in the Night
10. A Hero in the Kitchen
11. “Maybe I Should Go. . . .”
12. A Vision for Tomorrow

PART THREE
Fortune Summer 1922
13. Practice, Practice, Practice!
14. Jo and Rev
15. In the Spotlight
16. Date With a Star
17. The Door Opens
18. The Hound of Heaven
PART FOUR
Illusions Fall 1922
19. A Hollywood Party
20. Making Movies
21. Love Under the Lights
22. Between Heaven and Hell
23. “Do You Really Love Me?”
24. The Real Adventure
Epilogue
About the Author

CHAPTER ONE
The Rebellion
1913
As soon as Erin Winslow awoke, the thought of facing another day at school oppressed her like a heavy weight settling on her spirits. As always she awoke in a sudden rush, not coming out of sleep slowly in stages but instantly at one moment of time, completely aware of where she was and of the circumstances around her. She lay there in the darkness of her room, her inner clock telling her that dawn was still at least half an hour away. It was a gift she had, even at the age of nine, of knowing time in a strange, intuitive fashion.
I won’t go to that old school today I won’t!
She rolled off of her narrow bed and dressed quickly in the darkness. As always, she had put her clothes on the chair beside her bed, and now she slipped into them quickly. The air was hot and humid, and as she donned underwear and a khaki dress, then slipped on stockings and a pair of worn black leather shoes, the dread of facing another day in a classroom increased.
Not wanting her parents to see her, she would have exited out the window if she could have, but it was barred to keep out prowling leopards and other dangerous wildlife. She opened the door silently, not allowing it to squeak, and moved down the short hall through the living area of the house and carefully turned the front doorknob. She held her breath, waiting for a sound. None came, and she felt a quick satisfaction in making her escape.
Closing the door silently behind her, Erin paused only for an instant. The outbuildings were mere shadows in the ebony darkness just before the dawn, but she knew every inch of ground in this territory as well as she knew the layout of her own room. When she reached the fence, which was tall enough to keep out all but an agile leopard, she pushed up the bar, stepped outside, and pulled the gate closed after her. As soon as she was outside the gate, she moved through the predawn darkness, breathing in the warm air with its accompanying smells.
Traveling in the dark in the African veldt could be dangerous, but Erin had grown up with such dangers. Now she breathed in the scent of loamy earth and the green fragrance of the woodland as it closed in a hundred yards from her home. She took a well-beaten path and moved steadily away from her house, totally familiar with her surroundings.
She reached an opening in the thick brush. The land began to lighten as the sun peeked over the eastern hills, bringing with its warmth a sense of gladness that Erin always enjoyed at first light. She was a perceptive child, more aware of her environment than most white people. The native Masai, with whom Erin felt quite at home, were completely at one with this world and needed neither watches to tell time nor barometers to forecast a storm. Even at her youthful age, Erin had somehow soaked in some of this gift from her Masai friends.
The day before, Erin had endured great humiliation at school and had arrived home full of rebellious thoughts. Just before going to sleep, she had told herself, I’ll just go out in the morning and stay until it’s too late to go to school! The plan had seemed simple enough, but even as she watched the pale sun rise, touching the hills with glimmers of light, driving away the shadows from the African world, she understood that it would not do to skip school.
Slowing her pace as the sun turned orange in the tawny sky and illuminated the veldt, she slowed to a halt, then sat down on a fallen tree. Her heart was sad and discouraged, but at the same time an anger she could not explain gnawed at her insides.
She sat there motionless, listening to the sounds of chattering birds and monkeys screaming as they swung effortlessly through the trees to her left. Her eye caught the fluttering wings of a bird dropping down before her to perch in a thorn tree. Instantly she identified it as a black-throated honey guide. She knew the bird well, for her Masai friend Nbuta had taught her the strange habits of the honey guide two years ago. “This bird,” he had told her, “will lead the honey badger and even a man to the hives of bees. He feasts on the leavings of the raid.” Erin suddenly remembered how Nbuta had smiled and added, “If no honey is left for the honey guide, it will lead the next man to a snake or a lion. . . .”
Even with the rebellious spirit that lay in Erin at that moment, she had to smile, for Nbuta had been teasing her. She had learned to trust the towering Masai warrior, but she had also discovered that the man’s sense of humor often led him to make exaggerated statements. While she was enjoying the early-morning freshness and reflecting on these memories, time passed without her concern or awareness. Erin had absorbed the Masai attitude toward time. While other white people were enslaved to watches and schedules, Erin had learned simply to let time carry her along, to not let life hurry her.
Now as she arose from the fallen tree, knowing that she was being foolish and that she would have to go to the hated school, she turned and moved reluctantly back toward the house. The world about her seemed to be stretching awake in the morning stillness. As she crossed a grassy pasture, cabbage butterflies scattered at her footsteps and fluttered from flower to flower, and high above her a hawk soared ever upward on rising thermals. She was tempted to turn from the path and go to the river’s edge to watch the white egrets as they dotted the darkness of the water, but she kept to her resolve to return home.
Close to her house a white-maned bush pig materialized out of the brush. He stared at her with red, malevolent eyes, but she wisely stood her ground and made no threatening moves. After scratching his raspy hide with a sharp hoof, he turned and disappeared. Erin saw the female dashing after him, leading a bunch of striped piglets, which squealed mightily as they dove into the lush vegetation.
Erin stiffened at the sound of her own name. Her mother was calling her, so she picked up her pace until she reached the fence enclosing their property. She saw her mother standing in front of the house, and with reluctance Erin opened the gate and made her way across the fenced-in enclosure until she stood in front of her.
“You’re going to be late for school, Erin. Where have you been?”
“Just out looking at the sunrise, Mother.”
Katie Winslow had the same blond hair at the age of thirty-eight she’d had as a girl. Even with her hair tied back and wearing a simple, shapeless housedress, she was still a striking woman, although the years in Africa had aged her somewhat. Her blue eyes searched Erin’s face intently. “Were you outside the gate, Erin?”
“Yes, I was, Mama.”
“Your father told you never to do that in the dark.” She paused, awaiting an apology from her daughter that was not forthcoming. Her disappointment pulled her mouth taut. “All right, now go inside and get ready for school. Don’t forget to wash your face and brush your teeth.”
Erin moved inside with resignation, but she revealed her anger in the set of her back. She went at once to her room to make her brief preparations. After pouring some water from a pitcher into a porcelain basin on the washstand beside her bed, she gave her face a cursory scrubbing and brushed her teeth with some baking soda she kept in a pottery jar. Then standing before a small mirror on the wall, she pulled a brush through her luxurious blond hair. Staring back at her was a sturdy child with wide-set eyes, and she whispered to the image before her, “I hate that old school I hate it!”
She picked up her books bound with a leather strap and stepped out of her bedroom. When she reached the large room that served as a kitchen, dining area, and living room, she found the rest of the family waiting. Her brother Patrick, two years older, snapped at her, “Why don’t you hurry up! I’m starving to death!” Patrick was a stringy boy with dark brown hair and dark blue eyes.
“That’s enough from you, Patrick,” their father ordered. “Sit down, Erin.” Barney Winslow had the same black hair he had brought to Africa with him years before. His features were somewhat battered, for he had been a prizefighter while a young man, an