Wings

by Danielle Steel

  Even Pat was vastly impressed by what she told him of their preparations. The man was a genius at planning and precision. And more so at public relations. Even if he was compulsive about all his plans, he had her safety in mind, and her well-being.

  And as a reward for her hard work, he took her to San Francisco for a romantic weekend in late April, and Cassie thoroughly enjoyed it, except for the fact that he had set up three interviews for her when they got there.

  Their publicity stepped up radically in May. There were press conferences every week, and footage of her flying in newsreels. She and Billy made appearances everywhere: on radio and at women's clubs. They did endorsements and posed for photographs constantly. She felt sometimes as though she had no life of her own anymore, and in fact she didn't. And the harder they worked, and the closer they got to the tour, the less time she and Desmond spent together. He even went to his club a few hours at night sometimes, just to get a breather. And more often than not, by late May, he read papers in his study until he fell asleep there.

  She was so sick of it that he suggested she go home for a weekend in May, for a break, and she was relieved to go. She was also happy to see her parents. This time it meant not being with Desmond on her birthday, but he gave her a beautiful sapphire bracelet before she left and told her they'd be together for the next fifty. Even she didn't feel it was a tragedy to miss this one. She was too tense now before the tour to enjoy it much anyway. And she and Desmond seemed miles apart these days. All he cared about was the tour.

  It was ridiculous; she was turning twenty-two years old, married to one of the most important men in the world. She was one of the most celebrated women herself, and she was feeling restless and unhappy. All Desmond talked about was the tour, all he wanted to do was read about it, all he wanted her to do was pose for pictures, and spend fifteen hours a day flying. There was more to life than that. At least she thought so, but he didn't seem to know she was alive these days. And in some ways, she wasn't. There was certainly no romance in their life. Just the tour and its myriad preparations.

  “How much goddamned flying can we do?” she complained to Billy on the way home. He had decided to come with her for the long weekend. “I swear, sometimes I think I'm beginning to hate it.”

  “You'll feel better once we get under way, Cass. It's just rough waiting to go now.” The tour was only five weeks away, and they were both getting tense about it. Cassie could feel it. And on top of it, she had been married for three and a half months, and she felt as though she were no closer to Desmond than before they got married. Their nights together certainly weren't romantic, she thought to herself as they flew east, but she didn't say anything to Billy.

  Instead they talked about the press conferences Desmond had set up in L.A. and New York. And he wanted them to go to Chicago for an interview after the weekend, but so far Cassie hadn't agreed to do it.

  “God, it's exhausting, isn't it?” She smiled at Billy when they were halfway there. She was glad she was going home. She needed to see her parents.

  “I figure that later we'll think it was all worth it,” Billy encouraged her, and she shrugged, feeling better.

  “I hope so.”

  They flew on in silence for a while, and then he looked at her. She had looked particularly tired and unhappy lately. He suspected that the constant pressure from the press was getting to her. They were a lot easier on him. But they devoured Cassie, and Desmond never seemed to protect her from them. On the contrary, he liked them.

  “You okay, Cass?” Billy asked after a while. She was like a younger sister to him, or a very best friend. They spent almost all their time together every day, and they never argued, or snapped at each other, or got tired of each other's company. She was going to be the perfect companion for the Pacific tour, and he was gladder than ever that he was going.

  “Yeah… I'm okay… I'm feeling better. It'll be good to get home and see everyone.”

  He nodded. He had gone to San Francisco the week before, to see his father, who was so proud of him. He knew how much Cassie's family meant to her. She needed them right now, just as he had needed to see his father. And then, suddenly, alone in the plane, he found himself wanting to ask her something he had felt awkward asking her before. But she seemed very relaxed now.

  “Do you ever hear from Nick?” he asked casually, and she stared out into the clouds for a long time and then shook her head.

  “Nope, I don't. He wanted us both to be free. I guess he got what he wanted.”

  “Docs he know?” Billy asked quietly, sorry that things hadn't worked out for them. Nick was a great guy, and Billy had always sensed how much Cassie loved him. Right from the first day he'd met them. It was as though they belonged to each other.

  “About Desmond?” she asked, and he nodded. “No. Since he didn't want to write, I figured he'd just hear eventually. I didn't want to write and tell him.” She also didn't want to write him and upset the balance.

  Something like that could make you just loose enough to make a fatal mistake in a fighter plane, and she didn't want that. “He must know by now. I know he writes to my dad sometimes.” But she had never asked Fat if he had told him. It was still too painful to even think about, and she forced him from her mind as they flew over Kansas.

  The press was waiting for them as they touched down in Illinois. They had spent the entire day waiting for them at her father's airport. And she knew there wasn't going to be any peace anymore, not until after the tour. It was just too close now.

  She did what Desmond always wanted her to, gave them plenty of time, lots of photographs, satisfied them by answering some questions, and then she called it a day, and said she was anxious to go home to her mother.

  Her father had been waiting for her, and he posed for photographs with her too, as did Billy. And then finally, the photographers left, and she heaved a sigh of relief, as she and Billy threw their things into her father's truck, and he looked at her with a long, slow smile. But she had noticed as soon as they'd arrived that her father didn't look well.

  “You okay, Dad?” He looked kind of gray, and she didn't like it. But she figured maybe he'd had influenza. She knew her mother had when they returned from California. And he worked hard for a man his age. Harder now that Nick was gone, and she and Billy, and Chris.… He had to rely entirely on hired hands, and the usual nomadic crews of wandering pilots.

  “I'm fine,” he said unconvincingly. And then he looked anxiously at his daughter. Oona said he should have told her on the phone, but he wasn't sure what to say. But she had to know now. Pat hadn't told Nick either. And amazingly neither had anyone else. He had only arrived the night before though.

  “Something wrong?” She had sensed his hesitation. Billy was unaware of it, as he looked at the familiar landscape out the window.

  “Nick is here,” he said all at one gulp, looking straight ahead.

  “He is? Where is he staying?” she asked uncomfortably.

  “At his own place. But I imagine he'll come by the house eventually. I thought I'd better warn you.”

  “Does he know I'm coming?” Pat shook his head, and Billy watched her eyes. He had just heard what her father had said, and he hoped it wouldn't upset her too much.

  “Not yet. He got in last night. He's just here for a few days. I didn't have a chance to tell him.” She didn't dare ask if he had told him she was married.

  She said not another word, and a few minutes later she was in the arms of her mother. Billy carried in her things, and Pat took him into Chris's room. His things were still everywhere, and it was a shock to walk in and see it. It made Cassie's heart ache to look around. It was as though he would be home any minute.

  She settled into her old room, and her mother had dinner waiting for them. It was a hot, simple meal of the things Cassie liked best, fried chicken, corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes.

  “I'd be the size of this house if I lived here,” Cassie said happily between mouthfuls.


  “Me too,” Billy grinned happily, and her mother was flattered.

  “You've lost weight,” Oona reproached her with a worried frown. But Billy was quick to explain it.

  “We've been working pretty hard, Mrs. O’Malley. Test flights fifteen hours a day. Long distance runs all over the country, we're testing everything we can before July.”

  “I'm glad to hear it,” Pat said.

  And as Oona cleared the table and prepared to serve them apple pie with homemade vanilla ice cream, they heard footsteps on the porch, and Cassie felt her heart stop. She was looking at her plate, and she had to force her eyes up to look at him as he came through the door. She didn't want to see him, but she knew she had to. And when she did, he took her breath away. He was more handsome than he had ever been, with his jet black hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a dark suntan. She almost gasped when she saw him, and then she blushed bright red, and no one moved or said a word. It was as though they all knew what was coming.

  “Did I interrupt something?” Nick asked awkwardly. He could sense the tension in the room, like another person. And then he saw Billy. “Hiya, kid. How's it going?” He strode around the room to shake his hand, and Billy stood up, grinning, his face still freckled, his eyes alight with pleasure to see him.

  “Things are great. What about you, Stick?”

  “I'm starting to sound like a limey.” And then, inevitably, he looked down at her, and their eyes met. There was a world of sadness in hers, and a look of wonder in his. He had missed her more than he had ever wanted. “Hi, Cass,” he said quietly. “You're looking good. Getting ready for the tour, I guess.” The last newsreel he'd seen had talked about it, but it was five months old. They were a little behind the times at Hornchurch, for obvious reasons. He had done nothing but fly for the last year, every moment, every hour, every second. That and pull the bodies of dead women and children from burning buildings in London. It had been a tough year, but he felt as though he were being useful. It was better than sitting here, picking corn from his teeth and waiting for mail runs to Minnesota.

  Oona offered him dessert, and he sat down cautiously. He could sense that he had interrupted something, or that they all felt awkward with him. Or maybe he just imagined it. He wasn't sure, but he chatted amiably with Billy and Pat, and Cassie said nothing. She went out to the kitchen to help her mother. But she had to come back eventually, while they all ate dessert. She didn't touch her apple pie, even though her mother knew she loved it. Pat knew what was wrong with her. And so did Billy. But Nick had no idea what had happened.

  He lit a cigarette afterward, and stood up and stretched. He had lost a lot of weight too, and he looked young and firm and lean and very healthy.

  “Want to go for a walk?” he asked her casually. But there was nothing relaxed about the question. He knew something was wrong, and he wanted to ask her himself. For a terrifying moment, he wondered if she'd fallen in love with Billy. Nick hadn't been home in almost a year, not since Chris had died. It was just an odd quirk of fate that he had come back when she was here. But as always, he was glad to see her. More than that, it filled his soul with light and air, and all he wanted to do was kiss her, but she was holding back purposely and he knew it. He figured she was probably mad at him. He had made a point of not writing to her all year. He didn't want to lead her on. He had meant what he said when he left her.

  “Something wrong, Cass?” he asked finally, when they reached the stream that ran along the far edge of her father's property. She had said not a single word until then.

  “Not really,” she said softly, trying not to look at him, but she had to. She couldn't keep her eyes from him. No matter what she had told herself that year about being ready to move on, about caring for Desmond and his needing her, she knew without a doubt she was still in love with Nick, whether he loved her or not. That was the way it was between them. But she would never have betrayed Desmond. She remembered her father's words when she'd told him she wanted to marry Desmond. And she was going to honor her marriage, if it killed her. But it might, she realized, as she looked up at Nick. Just seeing him made her heart ache.

  “What is it, sweetheart?… You can tell me… whatever it is, if nothing else, we're old friends.” He sat down next to her on an old log, and took her hand in his, and then as he looked down, he saw it. The thin line of gold on her third finger, left hand. She hadn't worn her engagement ring home this time, just her wedding band, that said it all, as his eyes met hers and she nodded. “You're married?” He looked as though she had just hit him.

  “I am,” she said sadly, feeling, despite all her explanations to herself, and the fact that he had told her to move on, that she had betrayed him. She could have waited. But she hadn't. “I got married three months ago… I would have told you… but you never wrote anyway… and I didn't know what to say…” Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks, and her voice caught as she told him.

  “Who?…” Billy had looked very uncomfortable with her, and they had come home together. Nick had always felt they were right for each other, and he was the right age. It was what he had wanted for her, but it hurt so damn much now thinking of it, it brought tears to his eyes. “Billy?” he asked in a choked voice, trying to sound noble, but this time she laughed through her tears, and took her hand away gently.

  “Of course not.” She hesitated for a long time, looking away, and then, finally, back up at him. She had to tell him. “Desmond.”

  There was an endless silence in the warm night air, and then a shout of disbelief, almost of pain, as he understood it. “Desmond Williams?” As though there were ten others with the same first name. He stared at her in outraged agony as she nodded. “For Cod's sake, Cassie… how could you be such a fool? I told you, didn't I? Why the hell do you think he married you?”

  “Because he wanted to, Nick,” she said with a tone of annoyance. “He needs me. He loves me, in his own way.” Though she knew better than anyone that most of the time there wasn't room in his life for more than planes and papers.

  “He doesn't need anything but a flight director and a newsreel crew and you know it. I haven't seen a newsreel that's less than five months old in a year, but I bet he's pumped the hell out of marrying you, and you've spent more time posing for pictures than Garbo.”

  “It's five weeks before the tour, Nick, what do you expect?”

  “I expected you to have more brains, to see him for what he is. He's a charlatan and a bullshitter, and I've said it since the day I met him. He's going to use you until he's squeezed you dry, or fly you till you drop, or wind yourself around a tree somewhere in a machine that's too much for you. He cares about one thing: publicity and his goddamn aircraft company. The man is a machine, he's a publicity genius, and that's all he is. Are you telling me that you love him?” He was shouting at her, and she flinched as he stood right in front of her and cast aspersions on her husband.

  “Yes, I do. And he loves me. He thinks of me constantly. He takes care of… sure he cares about his planes, and the tour, but he's doing absolutely everything to protect me.”

  “Like what? Sending you with waterproof cameras and a frogman crew? Come on, Cassie, come off it. Are you telling me he hasn't publicized the hell out of your marriage? I haven't seen any of it, but I'll bet they have here. I'll bet you tossed your bouquet right at the cameras.”

  “So what for God's sake?” He was closer to the truth than he knew, but Desmond was always telling her to cooperate and be patient, that the press was an important part of their life, and her tour. But she was sure he had not married her because of it. That was disgusting, and hearing Nick say that made her angry. What right did he have to criticize? He hadn't even written to her. “What do you care anyway?” she fought back. “You didn't want me. You didn't want to marry me, or write to me, or come home to me, or even offer me any hope if you did get back from the war. All you want to do is play ace in somebody else's dogfight. Well, go for it, flyboy. You didn't want me. You told me that. You just
wanted to smooch around with me while you were here and then go off to your own life. Well, go for it. But I have a right to a life too. And I've got one.”

  “No, you don't,” he said viciously, “you have a figment of your imagination. And as soon as the tour is over, and he doesn't need the illusions anymore to feed the press, he's going to dump you so fast your head will spin, or maybe he'll keep you around and ignore you,” It was what he was doing now, but she knew it was because he had so much work to do before the tour. She wanted Nick to be wrong. Everything he said was unfair, because he was a sore loser and he was angry. And then he went on to make it worse as he took another step closer to her. He wanted to yank her right off the log and into his arms, but out of respect for her, he didn't. “I hear he keeps half a dozen mistresses quietly stashed away, Cass. Has anyone told you that, or have you figured it out for yourself yet?” He said it viciously, but he also looked as though he believed it. “That's ridiculous. How would you know anyway?” “Word gets around. He's not the saint he appears to be, or the husband,” he said sadly. He wished he had married her himself, but it seemed so wrong to him when he left. It still did. But so did her being married to Desmond. “The guy's a bastard; Cass. He probably doesn't love you at all. Face it. He's a showman and a con man. You didn't marry him. All you did was join the circus.” But hearing Nick say those things about Desmond frightened her so much all it did was make her want to strike out to stop him. She reached back to slap him with all her strength, but he was faster than she was. He grabbed her arm and pulled it behind her, and then he couldn't help himself. He kissed her harder than he ever had, harder than he would have dared at any other moment, but she wasn't a little girl anymore, she was a woman. And without even thinking, she felt herself respond to him, and for an endless piece of time, the two clung to each other in unbridled passion. It was Cassie who finally pulled away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. She hated what was happening to them, hated herself (or what she had done to him, but it had seemed so right at the time to marry Desmond. Maybe she was wrong.