by Ella Carey
That night, Jack pulled up outside the house after dinner. Eva stood at the front door, holding on to the frame, and he made his way up the lawn to help her. Once he’d kissed her on the cheek, she was unable to hold in what was on her mind.
“Jack, I cannot understand why Nina would not write to me.” She leaned on his arm. They walked slowly down toward his sparkling car.
“I don’t want you worrying about that or anything else. Remember there’s a war on. Give things time.” He squeezed her hand.
“Well, I suppose so,” she said. Was she being too impatient? Mail didn’t always come in regularly at Camp Davis. And letters did get lost . . .
“I’ve got something I want to show you today. It’s a surprise.” He opened the car door for her and helped her inside.
Jack drove in silence toward Santa Monica.
Eva stared out at the landscape of LA.
He pulled up just beyond the pier. “Come walk with me. I’ll help you along the beach.”
Eva went to open her car door, but he’d leaped out his side and was ready to help her out. “Thank you. I’m able to walk a little farther by myself now, and I can get out of a car, you know, Jack.”
He jolted back a little, but then his face broke into a kind smile. “Eva, I’m here to help you. Just let me, okay? I adore you. All right?”
The evening was mild, and a few couples strolled along the beach. Jack leaned down and took off his espadrilles.
“You can’t be sad tonight.” He stopped, moving to stand in front of her, grinning at her, and blocking her way a little bit. He reached out, tucking his hand under her chin.
“I’m not sad,” she protested. “I admit I’m confused, though. You see . . .” She was tempted to open up to him about the troublesome experience she’d had at the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel. But he reached out to her, taking hold of her waist. And she decided to wait. This was something she’d rather confess to Nina or Harry. They’d known her longer and would not think she was going insane.
“Marry me?” he whispered, nestling his head close to her own. “Marry me and come live in Hancock Park? I own a house there, did I tell you? My parents gave it to me for my twenty-first birthday. I don’t want to live there all alone. And I’m in love with you. I adore you. Eva, please, let’s make this official. I can’t wait any longer. You’re the perfect girl for me.”
Eva’s mouth dropped open.
“You’ll make the best wife. And you know what?”
“I . . . can’t think.”
“You’re going to make a beautiful mother as well.”
Her side throbbed, and suddenly, a picture unfolded in her mind. Lucille in a wedding dress, Harry waiting at the front of the church. She brought a hand up to her mouth. Harry had not written back to her. He’d be writing to Lucille. She was being naive thinking he felt the same way about her as she did about him. The last time she saw him, had he been trying to let her go? And yet, here she was, clinging to him, clinging to something that she swore was between them. Something that the harsh light of reality was showing her did not exist.
Helena was gone and Nancy was gone.
Bea and Rita were far away.
Nina was busy, understandably, doing high-level military work. Eva should not be surprised her letters back were taking a while.
Eva was the one who’d washed out. She was the one who’d failed.
And that left Jack. Jack was here, and he was taking care of her. Harry might be her fantasy, but Jack was her reality. He’d come all the way to North Carolina for her. Was she seeing and feeling everything all wrong? After all, her mind was playing tricks on her. Who and what could she trust?
Marrying Jack, she’d make everyone happy. Her mom, finally. This way, she could put everything right, make up for all the tragedy and the loss that had happened while she was away from home. It was as if the pattern were being set for her. All she had to do was say yes.
Imagine the fallout if she said no . . .
“I’ll marry you, Jack.”
He leaned down to kiss her, and Eva wondered whether she’d just grown up.
On a sunny afternoon in spring, Eva stood at the entrance to a grand church in Hancock Park. All she could see down the aisle were flowers decorating every surface and wreaths of roses adorning the end of every pew. Jack’s mom had gotten all her friends to raid their gardens. War or no war, she’d insisted that it was just once that her only son would be getting married. Eva wore Jack’s mom’s diamond tiara on her head, and the matching diamond necklace he’d given her glistened. On her wrist, she wore his bracelet, and glowing on the ring finger of her left hand was Jack’s engagement ring. Slowly, Eva had become used to wearing his ring, to the way it felt and the way it glinted at a new, different life.
Her dad took her arm to give her away. The organ swelled into the bridal march, and at the front of the church, Jack stood handsome and tall in his black suit.
Eva hesitated for a moment, unable to squash pangs of sadness that Nina was not here with her as her bridesmaid. She’d still not heard anything from Bea, Rita, or Harry either, but her mom had reassured her that she wouldn’t be the only bride without attendants. It was one of the prices of getting married in wartime.
Nevertheless, every day, she’d listened for the postman. Every day, she’d gone out to the mailbox when he came. And every time her mom came back from the stores and had checked the family’s post office mailbox, Eva had trailed her like a child, begging her to tell her that a letter had come.
The first person Eva laid eyes on when she stepped into the church was Lucille, her cheeks blooming and her lips painted a pearly pink. Eva held her head up, returned Lucille’s smile, and walked down the aisle toward Jack.
At the reception, in the back garden under a white tent outside Jack’s house, Eva thanked his mother and father for being good to her, while the whole time, she still felt sick at the thought of Harry and Nina not being there. She’d not heard back from Nina’s mom, even though she’d sent letters to her address in Burbank in the hope that her mail would be forwarded on to San Diego.
Jack drove them away from the reception toward a hotel on the beach for their wedding night.
“You can’t imagine how guilty I feel, Jack.” On their left, the Pacific Ocean glimmered in the late-afternoon sunshine.
“Guilty, my love? That’s not a word I want to hear on our wedding day.”
“It’s been months, Jack. I’m worried that I must have done something wrong during that flight. Otherwise, why would they all cut me off?”
“Eva,” he said. “Don’t worry. Your happily-ever-after is here.”
The next morning, she sat cocooned in Jack’s arms overlooking the beach on the balcony of their hotel. The sea sparkled in front of them, and the sand was a glorious golden yellow. Fresh fruits sat on a platter, along with pastries that Eva had never seen the likes of, not even before the war.
“You should try this,” he said, holding up a precious strawberry to her lips.
She leaned back into his chest. Silently, she took the strawberry. Helena couldn’t do this. Helena would never get married. Helena was gone for good.
She’d sat awake most of her wedding night, curled in an armchair by the open window while Jack slept. Outside, in the murky darkness, the sea called of Harry, and the sky only served to remind her of her girlfriends. Were they somewhere out there flying tonight? What if her suspicions were founded and she had done something wrong in that plane, and what if that was the reason none of her friends were writing back . . .
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Washington, DC, November 1977
The gavel came down on the WASP bill, and the House of Representatives moved straight on to the next matter in two seconds flat. After weeks of debates, Eva sat in the gallery in a state of disbelief with the small handful of dedicated women pilots who had helped fight for this cause. The WASP were military, with full recognition as part of the armed forces. Finally, it had happened,
but the way Congress handled it, it seemed as if the momentous decision were of no consequence.
Gradually, as if coming to life in slow motion, the small group of women who had worked so hard for the last few weeks stood up in the public gallery and encircled each other in their arms. They filed out of the Capitol Building into the bright Washington sunshine, blinking for a moment on the steps before turning to each other in astonishment.
“So what now?” Eva asked. “Did anyone else feel like Congress was acting as if that was just part of a normal workday routine?”
One of the middle-aged women who’d fought alongside them all wiped a tear from her eyes. “This is a big deal. It’s of massive consequence for us. And you know what? I just don’t want to go back home and behave as if this has not changed anything in our lives. I say that we should all ensure this recognition has an impact on us, whether it makes us prouder of ourselves or gives us more self-belief or even if it just stops us from telling people we simply ‘volunteered’ in the war. Because I for one am sick of doing that.”
Eva stared at the woman standing opposite her. She was from another WASP class, her experiences were different from Eva’s, but in the end, they were all fighting for a common ideal.
“I agree with you,” Eva said, standing a little taller. “Going home and taking up our old lives without reflecting on what this means to us would be a real shame. We need to keep today with us. Always. We need to remember the women who died flying for the WASP. We must not pretend our time as WASP never happened.”
A couple of men started climbing up the steps toward them. Two of the ex-WASP went down to hug their husbands. Eva said her goodbyes to the other women for now.
Traffic wound its way up and down the wide boulevard below. And just as the women were about to go their separate ways, a familiar figure made his way up to them.
“Bruce.” Eva walked down to Henry H. Arnold’s son. This man, a lobbyist, had allowed the WASP to make their headquarters in the Army and Navy Club, to use his secretary, his office, and his phone. He’d provided unmitigated support for them, partly because he believed in the cause his father, Henry, had believed in along with Jacqueline Cochran, and partly because he appreciated what the WASP had done for the country. He’d sat by during their campaign and helped them deal with Congress. And now they’d won.
Bruce stood in front of Eva for a moment.
“We’ve done it, Bruce.”
“If my father were here, he’d salute you.” Henry’s gray-haired son looked at Eva with pride.
“And I would salute him right back.” Eva smiled at him.
And for the first time in years, as she stood there outside the Capitol Building, she felt the stirrings of the old fire that used to burn within her before the war that changed all their lives. She felt her old hope and optimism coming back to life. It was a good feeling, and it was one she never wanted to lose again as long as she lived.
The next morning, Eva woke late. The celebrations for the WASP victory had gone well into the early hours, and she’d enjoyed every second. And now, she sat up. She was not going to let a little champagne headache stop her from finishing what she’d come here to do. She’d fielded a barrage of questions from the committee about her personal life, but she’d deflected them and pushed on, never giving up. She was proud that she’d managed the battle for the WASP with dignity, but there were still answers she needed. Bruce Arnold had promised her he’d call as soon as he’d accessed the WASP records. At ten o’clock sharp, the phone next to Eva’s bed rang.
“Eva?” Bruce Arnold sounded as if he were in the next room.
“Good morning, Bruce.”
“How are you?” He sounded as whip-smart as any of Eva’s old WASP instructors.
“I’m ready for the next steps, Bruce. I’m prepared for whatever your searches might bring.” Eva rested her hand on the brown quilted coverlet, the diamond engagement ring she’d worn since her wedding day back in 1944 sparkling on the bed.
“Can you meet me soon?”
“Why, yes, I can.” She raised her wristwatch and looked at it. “Where are you, Bruce?”
“I’m in my car. I’m calling from my car phone, and I’m driving to your hotel.”
“Oh, I see. A car phone.” Of course he’d have a car phone. She’d seen a few of them recently.
“Can you come down to the lobby and meet me in the next few minutes?”
“Is everything all right, Bruce?”
But he had hung up.
Eva stood and went into the small en suite bathroom, brushed her teeth, and applied lipstick before picking up her handbag. On her way to the door, she glanced once more at the phone. She should call Jack to touch base, but their conversations had been strained while she was here in Washington. Hesitating for a moment, and unable to face a confrontation, she walked down to the lobby.
Bruce walked through the swinging glass doors just as she stepped across the marble floor.
“Eva.”
Eva accepted the kiss he gave her on the cheek.
He scanned the lobby, his sharp eyes scouring the room, taking in the people dotted about.
“Let’s go for a walk. It’s not very private here.”
Eva took in a shaking breath, and they stepped out into the freezing air. Bruce walked a couple of blocks, staying quiet apart from the odd chitchat. Soon, he turned off the main road so they were on a quieter, residential street. Wooden houses with steps leading to front doors and Christmas decorations twinkling in windows lined the road. A light blanket of snow lingered on the lawns. Eva drew her overcoat around her. She’d never taken to these cold East Coast winters.
Finally, he started to talk. “You told us that Helena Cartwright flew with you out on a routine searchlight training mission back in January 1944, and that you cannot remember anything about the flight. You said that she was killed in the accident that caused you to have to withdraw from service.”
Eva kept pace with him. She told him about trying to reach out to Nina and never hearing back. “I hate to think what the records might turn up. I’ve had flashbacks about the accident, and I worry about Helena’s death to no end. But I have to know.” She stopped for a moment.
Bruce stayed quiet.
“You see, Bruce, I saw something I have never seen before during a recent flashback. I saw myself crawling across the tarmac to rescue Helena. Not knowing whether I did the right thing or not has been a nightmare that I’ve lived with for thirty years. It’s almost as if I haven’t known who I am since that night. After the accident, not being able to fly, I lost my purpose. I realize now that I let people run my life for me because I lost confidence in my own abilities. And I was worried about my own state of health because the flashbacks were starting, even then. When my old WASP friends would not respond to my letters, well, you can imagine the impact not knowing and being cut off from them has had.”
Bruce was quiet beside her. “I was able to access the official records this morning. First thing. I insisted. As you know, I have military clearance, and I was there at o-eight-hundred hours. I understand how this has affected you, Eva. I saw the pressure you were under during the committee hearings.”
Eva’s freezing breath escaped in white puffs from her lips.
“I suggest you prepare yourself,” he said.
Eva closed her eyes. The last time she’d heard those words, it had been when Instructor Reg Tilley told them that Dan and Nancy had been killed.
“I didn’t deserve the luck to survive,” she said. “Not when Helena and Nancy died. I think I struggled with guilt over that afterward. You know what it’s like to be part of the military, to want to put your friends first . . .”
Bruce Arnold reached out and laid a hand on her arm.
“Helena Cartwright was not the name listed on the flight records of that accident. I double- and triple-checked.”
Eva heard the rise and fall of Bruce’s quiet breathing beside her. “What, Bruce? But what happened to he
r, then?”
“Nina Rogers was the name of your copilot in the accident, Eva.”
The sound of a little warbler singing a sweet, sad song came from one of the street’s skeletal trees.
Nina? Eva reached for something, anything. She was about to fall. All that she could grab on to was Bruce Arnold’s steady arm.
He grabbed her, holding her gloved hand in his own.
“Nina? But then that means . . . my little friend died?” The sidewalk swam, and a car swished up the road, spurting snow from its back wheels. Heat, cold, fire, all these things seemed to sweep through her faster than she could keep up, and all the while, a voice inside her screamed—No!
And deep down, had she known all along? Had she lied, not to another person, but to herself?
The street spun.
She was spiraling too. Down, down toward the ground.
Bruce heaved her upright.
“I think we should go sit down.” His voice came from some strange place.
He held her elbow and led her down the street, pushing the door open into a warm coffee shop. Eva stared at the room, the occupants, the people. Nina had not lived to see adulthood. She’d never had children, a husband. What about Walter? He’d been lovely. They might have been happy together.
A great sob racked her body. She doubled over, right there in the coffee shop. Nina, with her plaits and wide-eyed optimism and determination and her complete love of flying.
Of course. Nina had never abandoned her.
She would never have not written. Why had Eva believed it could be so?
And one answer came to her. She felt the inevitable, sinister thump of dread in her stomach. Jack. Jack had never told her Nina was dead. He’d let her believe Helena had died instead. And so had her mother.
Bruce eased her into a booth. A waitress came and hovered.
“Is everything all right here, sir?”
Suddenly, Eva felt the burn of the waitress’s gaze. Her face flushed. The tragedy, the loss, the waste of Nina dying. And the waste of thirty years thinking something else.