by Brown, T. J.
I would very much like to rekindle that friendship with no more declarations of love, etc. Please do not worry yourself on that score, as I have been courting someone else and, in doing so, realize that the relationship I have with you was indeed platonic.
So what do you say? Can we still be the very bestest of comrades or have I ruined that possibility forever?
Your friend always (I hope),
Kit
For a moment Victoria felt as if she had been frozen. Then the trembling began. It started in her stomach and spread throughout her entire body until her teeth were chattering. She had confessed her love and it was too late. He had found someone else. No doubt he was embarrassed by her declaration, and this letter was his charitable response.
“Are you quite all right, child?”
Victoria tried to nod, but was shaking too much.
“Come sit here. You are chilled. Bad news?”
Victoria nodded as her landlady moved her to a rocking chair next to the heat and bade her niece to get a throw from the sitting room. Once ensconced in the chair, Victoria was wrapped up and given more hot coffee. Her chest tightened and she braced herself for the shortness of breath to commence, signaling an asthma attack. But it didn’t come. She concentrated, wondering why her chest hurt so badly when she wasn’t having an attack. Then it came to her.
Her heart was broken.
chapter
seventeen
Rowena sat in Dirkes’s office, drumming her fingers against the arm of her chair. He had bid her to wait while he spoke to the foreman. She hadn’t been in an aeroplane for a week due to inclement weather, and now that the skies were clearing up, she was eager to get back to work.
Ever since his holiday visit to Mrs. Wells, Mr. Dirkes had been an entirely new man, and Rowena planned to capitalize on his good spirits to land herself back in a cockpit. Though he’d always been jovial, since winning Margaret Wells’s hand in marriage, his cheerfulness had reached new heights.
Rowena found herself torn between being happy for her dear friend and being envious of his uncomplicated, unadulterated bliss. She prayed Sebastian would get leave soon so they could be married. She was more than ready to get on with the next part of her life.
Restless, Rowena stood and went to the door. She poked her head around the corner and saw Mr. Dirkes walking toward her, the bounce in his step a tribute to his happiness.
He must have sensed her impatience because he asked quickly if she was ready to leave.
“You’re the one who kept me waiting, not the other way around.”
He nodded. “So I did, lass. Forgive me for that. They are all ready for you, now.”
He seemed in a hurry now to see her off and Rowena frowned. “Where am I going? Am I delivering or picking up?”
“We have someone in the field waiting to take you to Southport now. You’ll stay the night up there and bring back a SPAD in the morning.”
She clutched her valise and followed him out into the massive hangar where the aeroplanes were being stored. She wondered if he ever worried about being attacked. If this hangar and the accompanying factory were ever taken out, it would definitely put a wrinkle in the war effort.
Out in the field a Flying Alice was running, and a wave of nostalgia came over her. The Alices that she and Jon had loved so much were almost old-fashioned now that so many advancements had been made in aeroplane machinery.
She waved at the pilot, already in his leather cap and goggles. She wondered if it was Albert or Chuck, who also ferried aeroplanes back and forth on occasion, then decided it didn’t much matter. He waved back and bent his head to peer at the instrument panel. After she strapped herself in, she yelled good-bye to Mr. Dirkes, who had a curiously smug look on his face. Really, all this happiness was almost annoying.
She signaled to the pilot behind her that she was all set to go, and the aeroplane began moving across the field. Even though she was used to the bone jarring that came with taxiing across the field, she was always glad when the lift brought relief. She relaxed as the aeroplane ascended. The morning was clear and bright, no doubt one of those strange false-spring days that occasionally came in late February or early March and lulled everyone into sweet complacency before ending with an unexpected—and wholly unwelcome—snowstorm.
When the pilot behind her leveled out, she shut her eyes, wondering why Mr. Dirkes had her staying the night in Southport. They were getting such an early start, she was sure she could get back before nightfall. But then, he’d been extra-cautious about sending her out since her emergency landing.
The loud hum of the aeroplane had lulled her almost to sleep when the craft suddenly shifted into a deep turn. She startled and looked around, wondering what the pilot was doing. When he completed a circle and dove downward sharply, she grinned. He was taking advantage of the bright blue sky and unseasonable weather to play. She understood playing.
He then pointed the nose upward and increased speed until they were soaring upward, the wind chilling her nose and cheeks. The aeroplane leveled off, once again heading north in a sedate fashion; clearly they didn’t have enough petrol to do any more tricks. She turned around to give the pilot a thumbs-up and froze at the cocky grin that greeted her.
Jonathon.
Her head swiveled back around, her heart beating wildly. What was he doing? What had Mr. Dirkes been thinking? Had he thought if he could just get Jon and her together that all would be forgiven? That her fiancé meant nothing? What a romantic fool.
She could feel Jonathon’s eyes on the back of her neck, but she set her teeth and refused to look back again. She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering what she was going to say to him when they stopped and where they would spend the night. What was she supposed to do if Sebastian got wind of this? This would devastate him. No. She wasn’t going to hurt him.
She tried to ignore the excited fluttering in her stomach and focus all of her energy on her anger. But she was once again flying with Jon, and her thoughts whirled around her head like frenzied snowflakes, disappearing when they hit anything concrete. Her neck clenched with the effort to keep looking ahead. She crossed her arms over her chest and forced her eyes closed. If this was how she had to sit until they reached their destination, then she would do it. And she wouldn’t talk to him when she got there. She would simply stalk off the field.
Of course, he did go to a lot of trouble . . . and part of her couldn’t help but feel thrilled with the effort he had put into getting her alone. She swallowed. No. She couldn’t think that way.
Something struck Rowena in the back of the head and she jumped. She turned around and glared. Jonathon smiled and shrugged innocently.
She turned around again, her shoulders stiff in outrage. Something tapped the back of her head again, and she forced herself to remain still. The next time she was ready, and she turned, throwing her arm around to catch whatever he was hitting her with.
But instead of catching what turned out to be a stick, she knocked it out of his hands, and it flew over the side of the plane. Aghast, they stared at one another, their eyes wide. An object traveling at a velocity like that could kill someone.
She looked over the side of the plane and was relieved to see they were over farmlands. But still, it might hit an errant farmer. She scowled at Jonathon, but his mouth was still agape, and in spite of herself she dissolved into giggles. He began laughing, too, though a bit sheepishly.
She turned back around. She might as well relax for the time being; it wasn’t as if she could step off the aeroplane. Besides, they were nearly there now. By the time they began descending, Rowena had decided that, regardless of what Mr. Dirkes had been thinking, she had no choice but to calmly and firmly rebuke Jon.
Which would surely be easier to think about than actually do. By the time the Flying Alice had come to a complete stop, Rowena’s stomach bounced with nerves that had little to do with their landing, made rough by a sudden wind. Confrontation had never been her forte. Hiding her head in the sa
nd was much more her style, though admittedly it had never solved anything and often made things worse.
They taxied to a stop, and men came running out to meet them. Rowena had met them all before and they helped her down with pleasant but professional greetings. She waited until they had ferried the plane into the hangar before turning to Jon.
“Do you mind telling me what the hell this is all about?” she demanded. So much for calm and firm.
Jon took off his goggles and helmet and she did the same. “So you’ve taken up cursing now? Might have expected it since you spend so much time among men. Have you taken up smoking, too? What does your fiancé think about all this?”
Her mouth fell open.
Jon grimaced. “I’m sorry. That’s not how I wanted to start out our conversation.”
She stared at him, saying nothing. This was his doing. The burden of explanation fell on him.
“Look, Rowena, can we not do this here? Let’s go get checked in at the inn and we can go for a walk or something.”
“I certainly will not go to an inn with you!” How could he even ask? She swallowed. Had he already forgotten about what happened the last time they checked into a hotel together?
The faint red crossing the fine planes of his face showed that he did indeed remember. “I didn’t mean I was checking in. I wouldn’t be so bold as to . . .”
“As to what? Ruin me? Funny that. I think you already did.”
She turned and marched across the field. Too late she remembered her valise and turned back. He was following her, with his bag in one hand and hers in the other. She went to snatch hers from him and he held it away from her. She couldn’t chase it without looking foolish, so she crossed her arms and scowled.
“I’m just carrying your bag,” he snapped. “I don’t plan on ruining your reputation. I just need to talk to you someplace where it’s not so public.” He nodded to the men looking at them curiously.
She gave him a nod.
After checking in with logistics, she and Jon went to the motorcar the captain had lent him to take her to her lodging. She turned to him the moment they pulled away from the base.
“You wanted to talk to me, so talk. Make it fast because you are not coming in with me.”
“Will you meet me for dinner?”
“Jonathon!”
He grinned at her and she realized he was teasing her. She’d forgotten how incredibly frustrating he could be.
“I’m sorry.” His smile faded. “I am sorry for everything. For not having the courage to fight for you, for us. For walking away from you. For walking away twice, actually. For letting my feelings for your family come between us.”
She stilled. She’d already told him it was too late. And she’d heard all of this before. Why was he doing this? “I don’t understand.”
He stared straight ahead, his hand tense on the steering wheel. He didn’t speak for the longest time, and then he pulled up in front of the inn she usually stayed at when she came to Southport.
“What’s not to understand?” he asked bitterly. He didn’t look at her. “A man brave enough to face the enemy in the skies realized he’s not brave enough to live the rest of his life without the woman he loves. And that woman is you. Every time I go up now, not knowing if I’m going to be victorious or defeated, I think of you. It’s always been you, Rowena. And it shouldn’t have taken a war to knock some sense into me, but facing the reality of death made me think hard about what’s actually worth fighting for in this world. And I am fighting for you now, whether you like it or not. You are what keeps me going.”
His voice caught and she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. For a moment, every fiber in her being yearned for him. Yearned to wipe away the pain she saw on his face, heard in his voice, felt in the air for God’s sake, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t do it. It wasn’t that she didn’t long to, but the hurt and pain of the last ten months, the annihilation she’d felt after the last time he’d left, wouldn’t let her.
Then her thoughts turned to Sebastian. His steadfast love deserved to be returned wholeheartedly.
Jon’s blue, blue eyes bore into hers. “Rowena, I know we can’t go back. I know you have other things to think of, but please, please consider my words before you marry someone else. Please.” He was breathing heavily.
Her heart ached for him, but she would not, could not, give him hope where there was none. For as much as she had once loved him, she now loved another. She took a deep breath.
“When you walked away from me, I was destroyed. I thought I would never recover. But I did. I did recover, and that was in part due to Sebastian. I trust him. He will never walk away from me.” She paused. “And I will not walk away from him.”
“So you are punishing me? Punishing us?” he cried out, and Rowena saw the desperation in his face.
“No! I rebuilt my life and my heart and I gave it to someone else. . . .” She struggled to find the right words. “I will always love you. I can’t deny that. But even if I hadn’t given my whole heart to Sebastian, I would never be able to trust you again. Some things cannot be undone.”
She wrenched open the door and ran blindly toward the inn.
“Rowena! Rowena, please!”
She stumbled at the anguish in his voice, but kept moving forward as if her life depended on it, which, in a way, it did.
She didn’t look back.
* * *
Rowena stared at the stairwell with a mixture of resolve and indecision. She hadn’t written to Prudence to tell her she was coming in case Prudence forbid it, but part of her now wished she had. What would Prudence say? Would she be turned away at the door?
No. Prudence was one of the fairest people she had ever known. She would listen to what Rowena had to say . . . and then she would kick her out.
How could a woman who had the courage to fly any aeroplane Mr. Dirkes bade her to be so afraid of a simple apology?
A silly, senseless woman who feared conflict.
But up in that aeroplane when she thought she was going to crash, her first thought had been of Prudence. Her biggest regret. She must make amends. She had grown up missing a mother and she no longer had a father—she would not lose a sister if she could possibly help it. Her conversation with Jon had only strengthened her resolve to make things right. Time was short, precious, and not to be squandered.
All around her the cold rain fell, cascading off her umbrella. Winter was playing its final swan’s song. It was time.
Taking a deep breath, Rowena climbed the steps to Prudence’s flat. She knocked on the door and shook off her umbrella. No one answered. Maybe they weren’t home? No. She knew of Andrew’s injuries, and even though he must be walking much better now on his prosthesis, they probably wouldn’t be tramping out in such a rainstorm.
She raised her hand to knock again and then paused. Maybe Prudence had seen her out the front window and wasn’t going to answer the door at all?
Just then the door opened, and Andrew was on the other side.
They stared at one another for a moment. Rowena was shocked by his appearance. He had always been such a finely built man, which is one of the reasons he had been selected as a footman, but now his shoulders were hunched with pain and even his chest seemed to have shrunk.
She frantically gathered her thoughts. “Hello, Andrew. May I come in?”
Leaning heavily against a cane, he stepped aside, allowing her in. She could see that one pant leg looked shriveled, empty, and her heart clenched for him. Anger rose up in her against the war that was taking so many men and leaving still others as shadows of their former selves.
“Is Prudence home?” she managed, forcing a tight smile.
He shook his head. “No, she stepped out for a bit, but should be back soon. You’re welcome to stay.”
She hesitated, then, biting her lip, decided to stay. If she left now, she might never come back given her penchant for avoidance. “Thank you, I will.”
“Would you like
something to drink?” he asked, his face an expressionless mask. “I just put a pot of water on for tea.”
His voice sounded excessively polite and Rowena wondered what he was thinking or if he really wanted to wait upon the woman he used to drive around and serve dinner to.
“That would be very nice, thank you.” She kept her voice as polite as his, afraid she would sound condescending if she was overly friendly and an insufferable snob if she sounded cold. He bade her to sit and she did, suffering another attack of uncertainty. Should she offer to help or would that be demeaning? She wished she had Victoria’s unassailable confidence. Her little sister was rarely at a loss for words or actions.
She watched him work until he turned and gave her a crooked smile. “I’m going to let you get your own cup. If I do it, you are liable to be wearing it, which would embarrass both of us.”
The smile transformed his face, and for the first time she understood why Prudence had married him. The self-deprecating humor in his words put her at ease and broke the ice. She gave him a tentative smile in return. “How are you getting along with that?” She nodded toward his leg.
He shrugged and lowered himself down in the chair across from her. “I have my good days and I have my bad days. I’ve always had two left feet, and having only one doesn’t make me any more graceful.”
She gave a surprised laugh and he smiled at the success of his little joke.
“So why are you here?”
She startled, almost spilling her tea. She set it down on the table next to her and gave him a narrow look. How much did he know? She searched his face and realized that he knew everything.
“I have come to give Prudence a heartfelt apology and beg her forgiveness. I made a lot of mistakes, but none of it was done malevolently. I just want her to know that.”
He considered her words. “I think she knows that inside,” he finally said. “But you may have a hard time getting her to realize that.”
Rowena took a deep breath. “I hope I can. She has been my best friend for so long. This last year has been unbearable without her by my side.”