Wings

by Danielle Steel

  “What difference does it make?” He looked annoyed at how difficult she was being. It would look a lot better to the press if they went home together, although he could still explain it if she didn't. He could even claim that she was suddenly nervous about flying, or blame it on her health. But she was not amenable to any of his excuses.

  “I've got real bad news for you, Desmond. The whole world is not watching you, or me, they're thinking about the war we just got ourselves into, though you might not have noticed.”

  ‘Think of what you could do now for the war effort,” he said hopefully, thinking of the publicity opportunities for him, and for his airplanes. But as far as she was concerned, she had just done it, for three days at the naval hospital, not that he understood that, although Admiral Kimmel had personally thanked her.

  “I'll do exactly what I want to do,” she said unpleasantly, “and you're not going to advertise, trade, announce, use, or exploit it. You got that? We're finished. I completed my contract.”

  “You most certainly did not,” he said smoothly, and she stared at him in disbelief.

  “Are you kidding? I almost killed myself for you.”

  “You did it for yourself, for your own glory,” he corrected.

  “I did it because I love flying and I felt I owed it to you. I thought doing the tour for you was the honorable thing to do. Not to mention the fact that you said you'd sue me if I didn't, and I figured my parents didn't need that headache.”

  “And do they now? What's changed?” Nick was right to the end. Desmond was vicious.

  “I flew eleven thousand miles, I did my damnedest, I went down with your goddamn lousy plane, and managed to live forty-five days on an island the size of a dinner plate, while starving to death, I might add. And I watched my best friend die in my arms. Isn't that enough? I'd say it is. And I'll bet a judge would.”

  “A contract is a contract,” he said coolly. “And yours said you would fly fifteen thousand miles across the Pacific in my plane.”

  “Your plane went up like a matchbook.”

  “I have others. And your contract said you would do unlimited publicity and endorsements.”

  “We're at war, Desmond. No one's interested. And whether they are or not, I'm not going to do it. Sue me.”

  “I might. Maybe you'll give it some thought on the way back.”

  “I wouldn't waste my time thinking about it. I'll call my lawyer when I get back… for a number of reasons,” she said pointedly.

  “We'll have to discuss that. By the way, you mentioned Billy in rather touching terms a little while ago… was that your best friend, or your boyfriend. I'm not sure I understood you.”

  “You understood me perfectly, you sonofabitch. And if you're talking adultery, why don't you discuss it with Nancy Firestone. She's very clear about calling herself your mistress. I already mentioned that to my attorney.”

  For once, he blanched, and she was pleased to have gotten him upset for a change.

  “I don't know what you're talking about.” He was furious with Nancy for talking to Cassie.

  “Just ask Nancy. I'm sure shell explain it to you. She was very direct with me.”

  His eyes told her he hated her, but she didn't care. She never wanted to see him again after Honolulu.

  She spent the next two and a half weeks volunteering to help at the naval hospital again and on the hospital ship Solace. It was devastating to see what had happened in the harbor. The Arizona, the Curtiss, the West Virginia, the Oklahoma, the Chew, the Oglala had all been hit by the Japanese, 2,898 had been killed, and another 1,178 had been wounded. It was devastating, and now the country was at war. She wondered what it would mean to Nick, if he would stay in the RAF, or join the American armed forces. Everything was still very confusing.

  And when the Mariposa, Monterey, and the Lurline finally sailed on Christmas Eve, she was touched and surprised when Rebecca Clarke came to see her off, and thanked her for all her help since the bombing. Cassie had done nothing but work with the wounded since the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor.

  “It was an honor to meet you,” Rebecca Clarke said sincerely, “I hope you get home safely.”

  “So do I,” Cassie said honestly. She was anxious to get back to Illinois to see her parents, and to see a lawyer and find out how she could best get out of all her obligations to Desmond.

  She was relieved to see that no members of the press had come to see her off. But Desmond had left for San Francisco by military plane the week before, so they hadn't bothered. She was happy not to have flown with him even if this did take longer and was potentially more risky. They were traveling by convoy to ensure greater safety.

  Lieutenant Clarke left her on the ship, and they set sail an hour later. Everyone was anxious about the trip, and afraid that the Japanese would come back and sink them. They had complete blackouts every night, and everyone had to wear their life jackets day and night, which was very unnerving. There were a lot of children on the ship, which made it noisy and stressful for the other passengers, but families who had relatives on the mainland were anxious to get away from Hawaii. It was too dangerous there now. Everyone felt sure they would be attacked again at any moment. The Lurline, the Mariposa, and the Monterey sailed quietly with an escort of destroyers, which accompanied them halfway to California, and then left them to complete the trip alone, as the destroyers headed back to Hawaii.

  The ships were very quiet as they zigzagged across the Pacific to avoid submarines. There were no parties at night, no one was in the mood. They just wanted to get to San Francisco safely. And Cassie was amazed at how long it took. After flying everywhere all her life, traveling by ship seemed endless and incredibly boring. She hoped she never had to do it again, and the entire ship cheered as they came through the Golden Gate and into the port of San Francisco five days later.

  She was even more surprised when she stepped off the gangplank, carrying her one small bag, and saw her father. She had traveled under the name of Cassandra Williams, and only a handful of people had realized who she was and talked to her. The rest of the time, she kept to herself and minded her own business. She had a lot of thinking to do, and some quiet mourning. But when she saw her father, relief turned to excitement. And her mother was right behind him.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked with wide eyes that filled instantly with tears. They were all crying as they hugged each other, her mother more than anyone, but Cassie and her father too. It was the reunion she had thought of a million times on the island. And then as they hugged and talked, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Desmond. He had set up an entire press conference to greet her. There were at least eighty members of the press to welcome her and ask her questions. But as Cassie noticed them, she saw her father's mouth set in a hard line. He was having none of this. Desmond Williams had gone far enough, and he would go no further.

  “Welcome home, Cassie!” a flock of reporters shouted at her, as her father grabbed her firmly by the arm, and propelled her through the crowd like a snow-plow. Oona was following them closely, and Pat was heading for the car and driver he had hired to meet her. And before the reporters could say anything, she was being pushed into the car, and Desmond had come toward them.

  “You're very kind,” her father was saying warmly to the members of the press, “but my daughter's not well. She's ill and she's had a traumatic experience in the hospital at the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Thank you… thank you very much.” He waved his hat at them, shoved his wife into the car after his daughter, and climbed in behind both of them. And then told the driver to pull out as quickly as he could without hitting them. Cassie was laughing at Desmond's expression as they drove off. They had completely foiled him.

  “Does that man never stop?” her father said irritably. “Has he no heart at all?”

  “None whatsoever,” she assured him.

  “I don't understand why you married him.”

  “Neither do I,” she sighed, “but he was ver
y convincing then. Until afterward; then he didn't think he had to hide his moves anymore.” She told him about his threats to go after her now with his lawyers.

  “You owe him nothing!” Pat raged at her, incensed at what Desmond had told her.

  “Mind your heart, dear,” Oona warned, but he had been fine since the summer. Even during Cassie's ordeal, he had held up surprisingly well. And now he was only angry.

  “He'd better mind my fist, not my heart,” Pat said bluntly, as they drove back to the Fairmont. Her parents had taken a suite for the three of them, and they spent two days there celebrating her safe return. Before they went home, she went to visit Billy Nolan's father. It was a sad and difficult visit, and she told his father that Billy had died in her arms peacefully, and he hadn't suffered. But even knowing that, it was difficult to console him.

  It dawned on Cassie afterward, that with the war now, there would be many young men like Billy dying. It was an awful thought. And she had never been as happy to go home as she was this time.

  Her father had brought a co-pilot along, and flown the Vega out for her. Halfway back to Illinois, he turned the controls over to her, and asked her if she'd like to fly it. And much to his surprise, and her own, she hesitated, but he pretended to ignore it.

  “It's not as fancy as what you're used to, Cass. But it'll do your heart good to fly again.” It was a nice plane to fly, and he was right, she loved the feeling of flying again. She hadn't been in a plane since she'd gone down in the North Star, two and a half months before. And it was odd to be flying now, but she still loved it. It was in her Mood, just as it was in her father's.

  She told him about the crash then on the way home, and she and her father discussed what might have caused the fire in the engines, but it was anyone's guess. Desmond had brought back what was left of the Plane, and was hoping they could learn more about what went wrong. But it was unlikely they would find much, the explosion had been so powerful.

  “You were damn lucky,” her father said, shaking his head, as she flew his plane for him. “You could have been killed on the way down. You could have been blown to bits, or never found an island to light on.”

  “I know,” she said sadly. But it still hadn't helped Billy. She couldn't get over that. She knew she'd never forget him and then as she helped her father put the plane in the hangar that night, he offered her a job at the airport. He said he could use some help with cargo and mail runs, especially now that every able-bodied young boy would be enlisting. Most of his pilots were older than that, but still there was room for her, and he'd love to have her, he said with a shy smile. “Unless you're going to be doing a lot of advertisements for tooth powder and cars.” They both laughed at that one.

  “I don't think so, Dad. I think I've had enough of all that to last me a lifetime.” She wasn't even sure she wanted to do air shows, not after Chris died. She just wanted to fly, nice easy runs, or even long ones.

  “Well, I'd love to have you. Think about it, Cass.”

  “I will, Dad. I'm honored.”

  He drove them home after that, in his truck, and her sisters and their families were waiting for them at the house. It was New Year's Eve, and they had never looked better to her than at that moment. Everyone cried and hugged, and screamed, and the kids ran around like crazy. They all seemed to have grown, and Annabelle and Humphrey looked cuter than ever. It was a scene she had never thought she'd see again, and she broke down and sobbed as her sisters held her. She only wished that Chris could have been there… and Billy… and Nick. There were too many people missing now, but she was there. And they thanked God that night for His blessings.

  21

  The week after New Year's, Cassie started helping her father at the airport again. But before that, he took her to see an attorney in Chicago. He was an expensive one, with a good reputation, but her father said that she couldn't afford to see anyone less than that if she was going to defend herself against Desmond Williams.

  She explained her situation to him, and he advised her that she had nothing to worry about. There wasn't a judge or a jury in the world who would feel that she hadn't fulfilled her contract in good faith, and at great risk and personal expense to herself. “No one's going to take money from you, or put you in jail, or force you to fly for him again. The man sounds like a monster.”

  “And that brings up another matter,” her father said pointedly. The divorce. That was more complicated, but not impossible by any means. It would take time, but it would be easy to say that their marriage had not survived the trauma of her ordeal, and surely no one would contest that. It would be even easier to accuse him of adultery and fraud. And the attorney intended to wave those flags at him. And he was sure he would get Desmond's full cooperation.

  He told her to go home, and not to worry about it, and three weeks later some papers arrived for her to sign to set the wheels in motion. And it was shortly after that that Desmond called her.

  ”How are you feeling, Cass?”

  “Why?”

  “It's a perfectly reasonable question.” He sounded very pleasant but she knew him better than that. He wanted something. She thought maybe he had called to argue about the divorce, but she couldn't imagine why he'd want to. He didn't want to be married to her any more than she wanted to be married to him. And she wasn't asking for money. Much to her surprise, he had sent her the full amount he owed her for the Pacific tour, even though she hadn't completed it, after her lawyer contacted him and pointed out that trying to shortchange her would look very bad to the American public after all she'd been through. Desmond had been furious, but the check for one hundred and fifty thousand was safely put away in her bank account, and her father was well pleased that it was. She had more than earned it.

  “I just thought you might like to do a little press conference sometime… you know… tell the world what happened.” She had planned to, at first, just once, but in the meantime, she'd decided against it. Her career as a movie star was over.

  “They heard it all from the Department of the Navy, after they rescued me. There's nothing else to say. Do you really think they want to know how Billy died in my arms, or about my dysentery? I don't think so.”

  “You can leave those parts out.”

  “No, I can't. And I have nothing to say. I did it. We went down. I was lucky enough to come back, unlike Billy, unlike Noonan, unlike Earhart, unlike a lot of fools like us. I'm here, and I don't want to talk about it anymore. It's over, Desmond. It's history. Find someone else you can mold into a movie star. Maybe Nancy.”

  “You were good at it,” he said nostalgically, ‘the best.”

  “I cared about you,” she said sadly. “I loved you,” she said very softly, but there was no one to love there.

  “I'm sorry if you were disappointed,” he said pointedly. They were strangers again. They had come full circle. And then he realized that pushing her was pointless. “Let me know if you change your mind. You can have a great career if you ever get serious about it,” he said, and she smiled. It had gotten as serious as it gets, and miraculously she'd still survived it.

  “Don't count on it.” She knew he hated people like her. In his mind, she was a quitter. But she didn't give a damn what he thought now.

  “Good-bye, Cassie.” End of a career, end of a marriage. End of a nightmare.

  They hung up and he never called her again. Her lawyer told her that Mr. Williams had agreed to the divorce, and even offered a small settlement if she would go to Reno. She didn't accept the money, she'd made enough flying for him, but she went to Reno in March for six weeks, and when she came back, she was free again. And predictably, Desmond released a statement to the press afterward that she had been so traumatized by her experience in the Pacific, that continuing their marriage had become impossible for her, and she was living “in seclusion with her parents.”

  “It makes me sound like a mental case,” she complained.

  “So what?” her father said. “You're rid of him f
orever. Good riddance.” The press had called a few times after that, and she always refused to talk to them or see them. They had written about her sympathetically, but they didn't pursue her for long. As much as they had loved her before the tour, they had other fish to fry now.

  She certainly didn't miss them or Desmond. But she did miss her friends. With Billy gone, the airport was very quiet for her. She was so used to flying with him day after day, that it was odd now to be there without him. And by April, when she got back from Reno, all the young men she knew had either been drafted or enlisted. Even two of her brothers-in-law had gone, although Colleen's husband had flat feet and bad eyes and was 4-F and had stayed. But her two oldest sisters and their children were around the house most of the time now. And that spring, Annabelle and Humphrey's parents were killed in a bombing attack on London. Colleen and her husband had decided to adopt them. And thinking about it, Cassie almost wished that she could have them.

  They had news from Nick now and then, but not very often. He was still in England, flying fighter raids now with a vengeance. And killing as many Germans as he could shoot out of the skies, “just like the old days.” He was old for those games at forty-one, but with America in the war now, he had full military status in the American Army. He also didn't get leaves back to the States anymore. Not in wartime. Cassie knew that he was still at Hornchurch. He never wrote to her, only to her father. She had never written and told him of Desmond's betrayal and her divorce, and she still wasn't sure what to tell him, or if he'd care. She didn't know if her father had said anything, but she doubted it. Pat wasn't much at writing letters, or at discussing other people's business. Like all men, they discussed world events and politics. But she felt that one of these days, she ought to tell Nick herself what had happened. The question was when and how. She had to assume by now though that if Nick had still been interested in her, he'd have written. She hadn't seen him in almost a year now. And God only knew what he was thinking.