“I see.” The lieutenant gazed out across the company parade grounds. “It seems to me that I heard something about one of your friends in Company A being out on emergency leave. This doesn’t have anything to do with her, does it?”
CJ’s lips were suddenly dry. “Well, no. Wait, what do you mean, ma’am?”
“I mean, if you were to tell me that you were going home to Michigan, and then it was discovered that you, shall we say, detoured someplace else, that would be a violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice.”
Stunned, CJ made the mistake of looking the lieutenant directly in the eye. What she saw was not judgment or condemnation so much as it was concern.
Quickly she averted her eyes. “Yes, ma’am. But to be honest, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to take any detours. I’m a bit homesick, and my family could use the help.”
“Good,” Lieutenant Kelly said. “I suspected as much, but I felt it was important to let you know where the Army stands on such matters.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Your paperwork will be processed this morning. Stop by my office after noon mess, and we’ll get you home to your family, Private. Are you planning to avail yourself of Air Corps travel resources?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let me know if you need anything else. Dismissed.”
CJ saluted and jogged off to breakfast. Toby and Reggie had always claimed the lieutenant was one of their kind. This conversation proved that if she wasn’t, then she was at least on their side, which might be even better. On the other hand, it also indicated that she and Brady were on the higher-ups’ radar. Maybe no one else had noticed the intimate underpinnings of their friendship. After all, Lieutenant Kelly was the only WAC officer who routinely took part in proceedings of the Fort Bliss Sporting Club.
Later, at the Balloon Hangar, CJ was completing an inventory of one of the rolling toolboxes when Nell leaned against the nearest steel truss, dressed in her bomber jacket with a parachute strap slung over one shoulder. “Howdy.”
“Hello,” CJ said, looking up at her.
“I heard you had a family emergency, and I wanted to see if I could help.” As CJ frowned, she held up her hands. “I told you before, no strings attached. I thought I could fly you a leg closer, maybe. It’s what we do when we go on leave.”
“As tempting as your offer is, I’m planning to go standby this afternoon. But thanks. I do appreciate it.”
Still Nell lingered. “Is it serious, the emergency?”
“I don’t think so. My little sister has scarlet fever, but so far it doesn’t seem too bad.”
“I had that as a kid.” Nell shook her head. “I read every single book in my room four or five times before they finally let me out.”
“Me too. That’s why my parents were hoping I could get home—no one else has had it.”
“That and it’s Christmas.” Nell gave her a half-smile. “Good luck, CJ. Happy Christmas.”
“Happy Christmas.”
It was nice of her to offer, but CJ had told Brady she wouldn’t be spending time with Nell outside of work, and she didn’t plan to break her word the first chance that came up. Maybe the second, she told herself, remembering with a sigh how it had felt to fly the AT-11 back from the firing ranges.
A half hour later, an Air Corps captain with a Ferry Squadron patch on his uniform stopped by the hangar. CJ saw him chatting with Whimpy and was somehow unsurprised when her crew chief nodded in her direction.
“Private Jamieson?” The slim good-looking captain paused before her. His jacket bore the name “Vandenburg,” which reminded her of home. Southwest Michigan was saturated with Dutch names due to the presence of Holland, an old Dutch settlement there.
She dropped a propeller wrench and saluted quickly. “Yes, sir.”
“At ease. A little bird told me you’re on your way home to Michigan on emergency leave. Is that true?”
“Yes sir.”
“It’s your lucky day then. I’m on my way to Romulus with a Gooney Bird. You’re welcome to hitch a ride if you think you can find your way home from there.”
Romulus, the main AAF ferry center, was a couple of hours from home by train.
“I think I can manage,” CJ said, smiling at him. “Thank you, sir. But how did you…?”
“The Air Corps takes care of its own,” he said, and winked. “Now, how soon can you be ready?”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nine thirty. “An hour?” she hazarded, hoping that when Lieutenant Kelly said her paperwork would be ready “by noon mess,” she actually meant by, say, ten thirty.
“That’ll give me time to grab a bite to eat. Which reminds me—you might want to bring some extra vittles along for the ride. It’s a ten-hour flight, and I don’t plan to stop along the way.”
With that, he spun on his heel and walked back to a waiting Jeep.
“Blimey.” Reggie had been standing nearby eavesdropping, as had half their squad. “You better hurry. Those ferry boys don’t wait around!”
“Get a move on,” Whimpy added. “And Jamieson.”
“Yes sir?”
“Have a very merry Christmas. Antonelli, drive her back to pick her up her gear, will you?”
“Yes sir,” Reggie said.
The next hour was a whirlwind. There were farewells to proffer, food to order from the club—Reggie volunteered to wait for it while she grabbed her already-packed suitcase from the barracks—and paperwork to be completed rather hastily. Then Reggie was driving her back to their old digs, the Transient Hangar, where there was a reunion of sorts as her old mates hugged her, loaned her a bomber jacket that had been left behind by some unfortunate pilot—“Lieutenant Hendricksen,” according to the name on the lapel—and fitted her with a parachute.
Soon Reggie was driving her down the flight line to the waiting C-47 Skytrain.
“Thanks again for the hotel room,” she said, guiding the Jeep past the seemingly never-ending rows of bombers and trainers. “Holly is super excited and so am I. I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon before.”
“Neither have I.”
“We’ll get you there one day. In the meantime, have a good time with your family. I hope your sister gets better soon.”
“Thanks, Reggie.” She hugged her tightly before hopping out of the Jeep. “Have fun. See you in ten days!”
Reggie beeped the Jeep’s horn and drove away.
CJ approached the twin-engine monoplane, the military’s standard transport craft. Every branch of the US military and all of the major Allied nations flew some version of this plane, known for its dependability. Certainly it wasn’t as sexy as the other aircraft she’d taken rides on, but it made an ideal choice for the fifteen hundred air miles that lay between Texas and Michigan.
The navigator helped her aboard while the pilot and copilot ran through the tech orders and conversed with the control tower.
“Glad you could make it, Private,” Vandenburg said, nodding at her over his shoulder. “You might as well buckle up and settle in. It’s going to be a long ride.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, buckling into one of the inward-facing metal bench seats in the cargo area. She checked her watch. Ten thirty-five. If all went well, meaning no weather or mechanical delays, they would be in Romulus by eight thirty that night. After that, Lord knew what the next leg of her journey held in store. At least she would be in Michigan.
As the plane’s engines sputtered and coughed, CJ closed her eyes and prayed: Please, God, hold us in your hands. Then she watched out the nearest square passenger window as the airplane taxied onto the main Biggs runway and prepared to take off. The world outside was a now-familiar brown expanse edged with blue sky. She wondered what she would find at home. Gray skies? Icy roads? Her father had written that what snow they’d gotten had mostly melted by now, but that didn’t mean a storm couldn’t dump three feet on them overnight. Maybe she would have a white Christmas, after all.
If
she couldn’t have Christmas with Brady at the Grand Canyon, a hometown holiday was the next best thing. Better, even? But her mind rejected the thought. Two nights in a hotel with Brady, gloriously, luxuriously alone would have been well worth missing Christmas in Kalamazoo.
Someday, she thought, gazing out the window as the runway fell away and the plane turned toward home.
Chapter Twenty-One
As she crossed the runway, wind blasted beneath her skirt. Not for the first time during the long day, CJ wished she had worn tights. She had only been in Texas for a few months, but somehow she had managed in that short time to forget her many years of winter training. How ridiculous that she should be so unprepared.
Captain Vandenburg led her into the ready room, empty at that time of night. “My desk’s right here. Help yourself to the phone.”
“Thank you, sir,” CJ said. “You’re being very kind.”
“Kindness has nothing to do with it.” His brown eyes sparkled despite the long, exhausting flight. “Pinkie promised me a date if I delivered you here safely, so I’m looking after my investment.”
“Pinkie…” CJ trailed off. She should have known Nell would find a way to help her.
“Do you need a phone book?” he prompted, checking his wristwatch.
“No.” She picked up the receiver and dialed a number by heart. “Sadie? It’s CJ. What are you doing right now?”
Half an hour later she was seated in her former apartment with a cup of hot cocoa in her hands, undergoing an interrogation by two friends who had been a year behind her at Michigan. Sadie Beckdorf was the daughter of a progressive, slightly flaky mother who had bounced around the country for years before finally settling in Cleveland. Perhaps in response to her mother’s eternal flightiness, Sadie was one of the steadiest, most responsible people CJ knew at school. Her roommate, Tricia Flowers, was the opposite—intelligent but scattered, sweet but entirely too trusting. They had jumped at the opportunity to take over the lease of her brownstone apartment when she graduated.
“Your last letter said you wouldn’t be home for months, possibly longer. How are you here now?” Sadie asked.
CJ explained about her sister’s illness and the emergency leave. Then she asked her former schoolmates how classes were going and sat back to listen as they filled her in on history department gossip. It was amazing how far removed she felt from the world that she had happily inhabited since leaving home after high school.
At one point, Sadie and Tricia exchanged a look she couldn’t quite read. She sat up a little straighter. “What?”
“It’s Sean,” Sadie said. “Have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“He joined the Navy. He’s leaving for basic training in a couple of weeks.”
“He what?” She shook her head in disbelief. “But he had his deferment. I don’t understand.”
“Some people are saying he did it because of you,” Tricia said, pushing back her long hair.
“Trish!” Sadie’s tone was reproachful.
“It’s okay,” CJ said. “Ultimately it’s his decision. I just have a hard time picturing him in the military. He’s always been so against the war.”
“I thought you would want to know. Are you planning to see him while you’re on leave? Tristan said he’s on campus for another couple of days.”
Tristan was another of their friends, a pacifist whose heart murmur had given him a graceful out from military service.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” she admitted.
“Are you not even friends anymore?” Tricia asked.
“It didn’t end well.”
“Because you met someone in Texas?”
CJ blinked. Here was the first test, the first person from her old life to ask about her new life. Except that wasn’t entirely accurate. “Does anyone here keep in touch with Jack Sawyer?”
“Tristan and he write.”
“And he sometimes shares news about me?”
They nodded.
Perhaps it was easier, having the decision made for her. Now she wouldn’t have to choose whether or not to lie to her friends from college. Soon enough she would have to make that choice with her family. Sometime in the next few days, in fact.
“Does Sean know?”
“That you’re involved with someone in Texas? I don’t think so,” Sadie said.
“What’s he like?” Tricia added, leaning forward in her arm chair near the fireplace. “Is he handsome? Where is he from? Jack told Tristan he’s never seen you happier.”
Crap. Jack had chosen to protect her, after all. But of course—he couldn’t have put the true nature of her relationship in a letter. The officer in his unit in charge of reading the enlisted men’s mail was required to report any violation of Army rules, especially a violation of the Articles of War like mutiny, aiding the enemy, murder, arson and, oh yes, sodomy.
That meant the need to decide still existed.
“Jack is right,” she said. “Do you have any bread, by the way? I could die for a piece of toast.”
“Of course.” Tricia jumped up.
As soon as her roommate was gone, Sadie asked, “Did things not work out with your new beau?”
“It’s not that.” CJ sipped her cocoa. Sadie had always seemed to harbor a bit of hero worship for her and Sean, the older, more accomplished students in the department who took home scholarships and awards at every turn. How would she take the news that CJ was gay?
“Was he sent overseas? Is that why you wanted to come home?”
“No, it’s not anything like that. It’s, well, it’s…” She hesitated. It wasn’t too late to lie. She took a breath. “You know Marjorie Quinlan, right? And her friend, Miss Brooks in the chemistry department?”
Sadie nodded, head tilted slightly to one side. Her eyes narrowed, and then she gasped and covered her mouth. “You? No. You’re saying you’re—like them?”
CJ bit her lip and nodded, keeping her eyes on Sadie’s even though she wanted to look away, wanted to jump up and make her way outside into the cold, gray streets. Fight, flight or freeze, as her basic training instructors had termed the automatic response to perceived danger.
“But what about Sean? You were happy together. I saw you. You were planning to get married!” Sadie’s voice was almost accusing.
Tricia poked her head out from the nearby kitchen. “Everything okay?”
Sadie blinked rapidly, still staring at CJ. “Fine. How’s the toast coming?”
“Ready in a jiffy,” Tricia said brightly, and vanished again.
“I’m sorry to spring it on you like this.” CJ set her mug on the low coffee table where she used to pile her textbooks haphazardly. “I can leave if you’d prefer.”
“Don’t be dramatic. You caught me off guard, is all. Can I at least have a minute to get used to the idea?”
“Of course. Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” Sadie’s voice softened a little. “This must be hard for you too.”
“A bit.”
There was silence, and then Sadie asked, “Does anyone else know, other than your girlfriend?”
This last bit was said ironically, and CJ squinted at her, trying to determine whether the irony came from disappointment, amusement or some other cryptic emotion altogether. “Some friends in Texas, yes, but not anyone from here. Except Jack.”
“Jack knows?” She shook her head. “I guess what they say about Wacs is true then.”
“I’ve heard a lot of things said about Wacs, and very few of them are true.”
Tricia came back then with her toast and her bubbly questions about CJ’s love life, but Sadie guided the conversation in another direction before announcing they should probably let CJ rest.
“You’ve had a long day. I hope the couch will be okay?”
“I’ve always loved this couch. Besides, it’s better than the cot I’m used to,” CJ assured her. “Thank you.”
Sadie nodded, and then, while Tricia went to get
bedding from the hall closet, added quietly, “I always thought you and Sean would end up together, with this perfect academic couple’s life. I suppose I took it a little personally when I heard you were with someone else, and now to find out it’s a girl…But it’s none of my business. I say if you’re happy, good for you.”
Still, as they took turns getting ready for bed in the little bathroom that had been CJ’s ever since she moved out of the dormitory after freshman year, Sadie wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. After the two girls retired to their twin beds in the room where CJ had spent more than a few nights with Sean, she could hear whispers on the other side of the wall, and she wondered if, after all, she should have lied.
Sleep eluded her, for reasons that defied understanding. She’d spent ten hours on a cold, juddering airplane that had taken her halfway across the country, and she was finally being given the opportunity to sleep in a room where she would be the lone occupant. This morning, she had awakened in the dimly lit squad room in West Texas, and now she was preparing to sleep in her former apartment in Ann Arbor, listening to the wind rattle the window panes just as she had the previous winter and the winter before that and the winter before that. How could she be transported so suddenly from her new life into her old? How did she make the pages of her life story fit together? Or maybe they couldn’t—maybe each page was an entirely new addition, placed into the book after the ones that had come before.
As she watched the flames in the brick-faced fireplace give way to ash, she wondered where Brady was. It would be earlier in L.A. Perhaps she was at dinner at a restaurant in Hollywood, where Los Angelenos with trust funds typically ventured. Was she with old friends too, trying to decide what to share? Had she confessed the truth to anyone, or was she biding her time in L.A., waiting to escape back to Fort Bliss? Which was a slightly ridiculous thought. No one in their right mind would give up silk and celebrity parties for khaki and communal living, but that was exactly what Brady had done when she joined the Army. Which life would she choose if she had it to do over?
For that matter, which life would CJ choose? But she already knew the answer to that. She liked her work with Tow Target, looked forward to each new day in the Balloon Hangar. Besides, she wouldn’t trade falling in love with Brady for anything. The entire plane ride to Michigan, when she wasn’t looking out the window marveling at the clouds and the dark sky overhead and the changing land masses below, or chatting with the crew—Vandenburg was from a Dutch enclave in Washington state, not Michigan—she had daydreamed about Brady. Reminiscing about their weekend in New Mexico had occupied her for some time, especially after she realized that recalling their two weekends at the Hilton led to certain desires probably better not dwelled upon when she was stuck on a plane for ten hours with three men she didn’t know.
In the Company of Women Page 28