The Wedding Tree

by Robin Wells

  “What’ll happen if we’re caught?”

  “We won’t be.”

  “But if we are?”

  “We won’t be, so don’t worry about it.”

  Easier said than done. My heart thudded hard.

  Maybe he heard it from across the truck. “Having second thoughts?”

  I was, of course—I was terrified. But I was tired of waiting for my life to begin—tired of waiting for a big break at work, for a chance to travel, for the war to be over. I wanted a big life, a life full of adventure, the kind of life I’d seen in the movies. Having a big life meant taking big risks. “No,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

  “All right, then.” He knocked on the front wall of the truck cab. The engine roared to life, so loud that further conversation was impossible.

  The truck swayed. The crates shifted. The ride probably only lasted thirty or forty minutes, but it felt like it went on all night. I don’t usually get carsick, but the fried chicken I’d had for dinner churned queasily in my stomach.

  At last a rap sounded from the cab wall. Joe turned on his flashlight and lurched across the truck. “We’re nearing the base.” He motioned for me to lie on the floor and arranged the crates around me, stacking two long crates over me, about three inches over my head. My face was close to a bag of onions, and the pungent, earthy scent heightened the sense of being buried alive.

  Joe quickly returned to his hiding spot, adjusted a barrel of potatoes, and pulled a crate of celery over his head. Through the cracks between the boards, I saw him put his finger against his lips. I nodded, my mouth dry. He turned off the flashlight, plunging us again into blackness.

  The truck slowed, then stopped. I guessed we were at the checkpoint to the base.

  “Howdy, Tex,” I heard Kevin say.

  “Howdy, yourself,” came the twang-tinged reply. “What y’all got tonight?”

  “Same old turnips and shit. Hey, you ever get to that jazz club I told you about?”

  “Not yet. Is it the kinda place you take a girl or meet one?”

  “Both.”

  “Maybe I’ll check it out this weekend.”

  “You won’t be sorry,” Kevin said.

  “Is the back unlocked?”

  “Yeah. But there’s no need to look in there.”

  “Rules are rules, man.”

  I heard footsteps, then the back door opened. Light poured in. I shut my eyes and held my breath, certain the guard could hear my pulse pound.

  The floor of the truck dipped and groaned. Oh God! He was climbing in. Every fiber of my body tightened like overstretched bridge cable, ready to snap. The truck shifted as the footsteps drew closer. Even with my eyes clenched, I could tell a flashlight was shining on me—I saw red inside my eyelids. The crate on top of me moved, pulling my hair. I thought I was going to pee myself.

  “Hey, you were holding out on me!” yelled the guard.

  My mother’s face flashed before my closed eyes. Oh, my Lord—she would die of shame. And then, miraculously, the footsteps receded and the van door slammed shut.

  I heard the soldier walk back around to the front of the truck. “What’s the big idea?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Kevin. His voice was thick, as if he’d just swallowed pudding.

  “Didn’t tell me there were apples.” I heard a loud crunch.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t need to. Figured you’d just help yourself.”

  “A man needs sustenance to stay up all night, keeping Nazis off the base.” A thump sounded, as if he’d slapped the side of the truck. “Y’all have a good evening!”

  The truck jerked forward. I took a breath—the first one I’d drawn in a while. As we rattled down the road, Joe turned on his flashlight. Through the cracks, he gave me a thumbs-up sign. I grinned, almost giddy with relief. He put his finger to his mouth, signaling the need to remain quiet.

  At length, the truck stopped and Joe turned his flashlight off. I tensed once again as the back door opened. “All clear,” Kevin said.

  Joe sprang from his hiding spot and rapidly crossed the truck, lifting the crates off my head.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. My legs were like rubber. Through the open truck door, I could see that we were inside a large, barrel-roofed hangar. “Addie had a bad scare,” Joe announced. “I shouldn’t have put those apples on top of her head.”

  “Oh, man.” Carl grinned at me.

  “What you really shouldn’t have done was put the onions so close to my nose,” I said, making a face.

  The men laughed.

  “See why I’m crazy about her?” Joe grinned down at me in a way that made the scare completely worth it, then turned as a short man wearing army green mechanic’s overalls approached the truck door. “Hi there, Ace. Got her gear?”

  “Right here.” The man stepped forward and handed Joe a large duffel bag.

  Joe pulled out a thick blue jumpsuit and passed it to me.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “A blue bunny. It’s heated, and you’ll be glad you’re wearing it once we get airborne.”

  Joe reached back in the bag and extracted some thickly lined boots and a thing that looked like a swim cap. “Put these on, too. And tuck your hair under the cap.”

  Joe hopped out of the truck and left me to change, closing the door enough to give me privacy, but not so much that was I completely in the dark. It was difficult pulling on the jumpsuit over my skirt, but I was determined not to take it off, so I ended up wadding it around my waist, which made it look as if I were wearing an inner tube. I left both sweaters on under the jumpsuit, and did my best with the rubber cap.

  I pulled on the boots, but I could barely walk in them, they were so big.

  Joe grinned when I waddled to the doorway at the back of the truck and pushed it open. “You look like Humpty-Dumpty wearing clown shoes. Sit here in the doorway and I’ll fix your boots.”

  I did as he asked. He knelt before me and tightened the laces, winding them around my ankle. His large hands were surprisingly agile and gentle. His light brown hair was thick and sun-streaked, with a counterclockwise swirl at the crown. When he finished, he rested his hand around my ankle for a second—a little ankle hug, as tender as any mother with a child, then smiled up at me.

  When my eyes met his, I felt a silent little click—probably like a safecracker feels when he gets the combination just right. It was like an invisible door unexpectedly swung open, and without even thinking about it, I walked right through. Something about the sight of that big man messing with my shoes, going to all of this trouble to make a dream of mine come true—well, I fell for him. Fell hard. And he hadn’t even properly kissed me yet.

  “Give them a try now.”

  I jumped down from the truck and lifted first one foot, then the other. “Good as gold.”

  “Great.” He held out a leather flight jacket. “Now put this on.” I slipped my arms into the too-large jacket. He put a hat with earflaps on my head, on top of the head-hugging cap I was already wearing, then turned me around. There were five men with us in the hangar—Kevin, who was still in the driver’s seat of the produce truck; the mechanic who’d brought my clothes; a ruddy, auburn-haired man dressed like Joe; a private in uniform; and Carl, who was standing there wearing a jumpsuit just like mine.

  “What do you think?” Joe asked. “Will she pass for Rodeo?”

  The mechanic gave a doubtful frown. “She’s awful short, even for him.”

  “Yeah.” Joe eyed me appraisingly. “Better take her out on a supply truck.”

  “I’ve got a driver right here.” The redheaded man clapped the thin shoulder of the private. “If we’re stopped, what’s our story?”

  “You’re replacing a broken gun mount,” Joe sai
d.

  “Good thinking.” He gave me a gap-toothed grin and hooked a thumb at Joe. “Better watch this guy. He’s too clever by half.”

  “So I’m learning.” I held out my hand. “I’m Adelaide.”

  “I know. Joe’s told us all about you. “

  What could Joe have said? We barely knew each other.

  “I’m Ted, his radio operator.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “Likewise. Come on, I’ll drive you out to the plane.”

  “Put her in the tailgunner’s seat,” Joe called.

  I turned around. “I can’t sit with you?”

  “Sorry. Only room for the pilot and copilot in the cockpit.” He paused and looked at me. “Are you okay with this? I don’t want to force you into anything you’re too scared to do.”

  The words were like a gauntlet. Having them thrown out there only solidified my decision—which, I realized later, was exactly what Joe meant to do.

  I tilted up my chin. “If I don’t do things that scare me a little, I won’t have much of a life, will I?”

  “I love the way you think, Addie girl.” Joe’s gaze warmed me from the inside out. He turned to Ted. “Better put her under the tarp. There’s not a chance in hell she’d pass as a guy.”

  Ted and the private helped me into the back of a Jeep truck. For the second time that night, I sprawled on my belly—this time next to a spare tire. They fastened a tarp over me and I lay there, inhaling the scent of rubber, moldy canvas, and exhaust, as the Jeep jerked forward. After a few moments, the truck abruptly stopped.

  Figuring we were at the plane, I was debating whether to try to unfasten the canvas tarp on my own or wait for assistance, when I heard two doors slam on another vehicle.

  “Where are you two going?” said a deep voice.

  I froze, my muscles quiver-tight.

  “To the Queen of New Orleans, sir,” the private said.

  “We need to remove a loose gun mount,” I heard Ted add.

  “Oh, that’s right. The Queen is taking a rookie crew on a night spin,” another man said.

  “All right,” said the first voice. “Carry on, soldiers.”

  “Yes, sir. Good evening, sirs.”

  The truck lurched forward again. The next time it stopped, I lay still even after the engine died and I heard both doors slam shut.

  Ted lifted the tarp. “All clear,” he said. “We’re on the side of the plane away from the tower, but we still better hurry.”

  I scurried out of the truck bed and followed him to a small hatch at the front of the plane. He boosted me in, swung in himself, then led me down a long, narrow aluminum catwalk over a cavernous opening in the middle of the plane.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “The bomb bay. You’re going to sit in the very back.”

  I followed him down the precariously skinny walkway. At the back of the plane, he motioned to a seat surrounded by Plexiglas windows, facing backward. “Here’s your seat.”

  I hesitated. “Do I need to put on a parachute?”

  “Do you know how to use one?”

  “No.”

  He gave me a crooked grin. “Well, then, it won’t do you any good.”

  I swallowed as I sank into the seat. My mouth felt as if it had been swabbed out with cotton, then packed with sand.

  “Here’s something you will need, though—the plug-in for your flight suit.” He pointed to an electric socket and handed me the cord of my flight suit. “Plug it in when you start to get cold. You’ll need your oxygen mask, too, if we get above much above ten thousand feet.” He handed it to me and showed me how to put it on and how to turn on the tank.

  “How will I know when to use it?”

  “I’ll come tell you. But once we’re airborne, you can go ahead and put it on if you start feeling light-headed.”

  I wondered if I could just put it on now. When I’d agreed to this adventure, I’d known I was in danger of being arrested and killed by my mother if I were caught. I also knew there was a possibility of dying in a plane crash, but I hadn’t realized I would also be at risk of freezing to death or being starved of oxygen.

  I must have looked as scared as I felt, because Ted grinned at me. “Hey—don’t worry. Joe’s the best pilot around, and he won’t let this young pup get too far out of line before he brings him to heel.”

  My anxiety ratcheted up a notch. “Joe won’t be piloting?”

  “He’s training someone. But relax—Joe will be in complete control. He always is.”

  In the next twenty minutes or so, my apprehension grew to stark terror. I was sweating in the flight suit and wasn’t sure if it was because of the heavy clothing or fear.

  I heard other men board the plane, and I thought Joe would come back and reassure me before we took off, but he didn’t. I guess he couldn’t. As far as I know, the kid he was training wasn’t even aware I was aboard.

  Someone handed me an ear set, and when the engine started, I was glad my ears were covered. The roar was like standing by the tracks when a train raced by, only twenty times louder. My stomach dipped as the plane began to move. I stared out the window as we lumbered down the runway, gaining momentum. We were going fast, then faster still—fast as a train. I saw the lights of buildings rush by as we raced on and on. I was beginning to think we were too heavy to lift off—how could something so large and heavy ever get off the ground? Oh dear God—we were going to plunge into Lake Pontchartrain! I closed my eyes and prayed, and then my stomach seemed to hit the back of my spine.

  When I opened my eyes, I realized the floor was no longer level. We were going up! I peered out the window. Sure enough, the land was falling away, the view looking more and more like it did on the D. H. Holmes escalator—slanting away below me. The lights on the land were getting further and further away.

  “We’re flying!” I yelled. There was no one around to hear me—the radio operator, navigator, engineer, pilot, and copilot were all at the front, and the engine was so loud that words would have been impossible to understand—but I was airborne, and Joe was the reason.

  • • •

  The next hour passed in an adrenaline high. We flew over the city, and then over a black void that I guessed was either swamp or Lake Pontchartrain. The full moon and the stars above were the only way I could tell we weren’t just sitting in an airplane hangar—that, and the bumping, rocking, and vibrating.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. Ted motioned for me to put on the oxygen mask. I nodded and complied, my stomach a knot of nerves, but after the first few pulls of air, I realized all was well. Ted returned to his seat somewhere in the front of the plane.

  We flew over some lights again. I lost all track of time, but at length I saw a streak of light in the distance. My fingers itched for a camera. Dawn was breaking. As night faded, the view grew more miraculous. We were floating over clouds! They were beneath us, and above us was sky. A second later, the clouds thinned, and I could see water. We were over Lake Pontchartrain. We flew back over land again—I think it was New Orleans, but it might have been Slidell—and then, after a while, I saw the river. The mighty Mississippi curved through the land just like on a map. The houses and buildings all looked like toys.

  It was jarring, how clearly everything was laid out—how the streets and blocks and crops were all so clearly divided and platted. This must be how God sees the world, I thought. I couldn’t begin to imagine how he could know everything that was happening in every house, in every car, in every person’s mind—and this was just one city in one state in one country on one planet! All those other stars and planets out there—and he knew what was happening there, too.

  As the sky lightened, the plane slanted downward. Everything grew larger. My ears popped as the engines roared louder. The ground rushed up at me, and as it got nea
rer, I closed my eyes, my stomach tight with terror. I felt a bump and a bounce, then another, and then . . .

  We were on the ground. The plane raced like a locomotive, causing me to fear, once again, that we would run into the lake. Just when I was certain something was terribly wrong with the brakes, the plane slowed, and then slowed some more. At length it turned and headed back to the buildings. It stopped on the tarmac, about a hundred yards from a hangar. A moment later, the engines quit. The silence was nearly as deafening as the engine’s roar had been a second before.

  I twisted in my seat to face forward but I stayed seated, figuring someone would tell me when it was time to leave. After a few minutes, I saw Joe walking toward me over that narrow bridge in the middle.

  “What did you think?” he asked.

  “Oh, it was wonderful! Beyond wonderful.”

  He looked at me and grinned, as if whatever he read on my face pleased him immensely. He reached down and unbuckled my seat belt, then helped me to my feet. My knees wobbled. His arm circled around me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I leaned against him, feeling the hardness of his body. I couldn’t tell if it was the adrenaline from flying, or the nearness of him, but I was trembling.

  He rubbed his hands up and down my arms, as if to warm me, then pulled away. “I have to do a debriefing. Carl and Ted will take you home.”

  He headed to the front of the plane. A few moments later, Ted came back and guided me down the bridge over the bomb bay, then helped me out of the hatch. Carl was waiting outside in a Jeep. They once again tucked me under the tarp in the back for the short ride to the hangar. Carl left, and Ted politely turned his back while I peeled off my jumpsuit. A few minutes later, Carl returned to the hangar, this time driving a beige sedan. Ted opened the back door for me.

  I hesitated. “Don’t I need to hide?”

  “Nah. The guards don’t care who leaves the base, just who gets in.”

  I closed my eyes as we passed the guard station, pretending to be asleep. Lord only knew what kind of girl the guards must think I was, being taken home at dawn! On the ride home, I learned that Carl was Joe’s best friend, and that his esteem for Joe bordered on hero worship. Carl had some kind of health condition that made him occasionally pass out. He’d hidden it from the authorities so he could join the service, but he’d been discovered. He’d been pulled from active duty and was now a bombardier instructor at the New Orleans lakefront flight facility.