Brady hesitated, her relaxed expression fading, and CJ reached over to take her hand. “Amy told me Nate got my letter. The letter.”
“How does she know?”
“Because he wrote to tell her how relieved he was. Apparently,” and here she paused to take a deep breath, releasing CJ’s hand to downshift for a red light and then grabbing hold again, “he and Cathy, the girl from New Haven, got back in touch while he was in basic, and he realized he wanted to marry her after all. Amy thought I deserved to know, given the circumstances. She also asked me not to tell their parents. I’m not sure that’s the right decision, but it’s not mine to make.”
CJ held tightly to Brady’s hand, only letting go when she had to shift. “I know it’s not kind to speak ill of the dead, but he was a spineless idiot who didn’t deserve you.”
Brady shook her head. “It’s okay. Nate is—was a good person, and we did genuinely care about each other. He may not have been strong enough to stand up for what he wanted, but who am I to judge him for that?”
When she put it that way… CJ squeezed her fingers. “Have I told you recently how amazing you are?”
“Yes,” Brady said, her smile returning. “But you can say it again. I won’t mind.”
Soon a white tower appeared in the distance, eventually materializing into an art deco skyscraper as they drew closer. They were almost upon the seashore before CJ realized it. Route 66 ended at Ocean Avenue near a park with an expansive view of the Pacific and signs that pointed the way to the Santa Monica pier. Brady turned in the opposite direction, heading north along the seaside drive.
CJ stared out at the foaming waves as they drove along the wide boulevard. She could hear the thunder of the surf over the hum of the engine and the steady croon of brass instruments on the radio, and it wasn’t at all what she’d expected. This was her first time seeing the ocean, any ocean. She’d always thought it would look like Lake Michigan, also too wide to see across. But the Pacific was so much more powerful. It was the largest ocean on Earth, and on the other shore lay Japan, their sworn enemy, as well as China, their ally. Joe had shipped out from this very city across this same body of water. Now he was thousands of miles away in a jungle or on a beach, sleeping or swearing, fighting or holding the hand of a wounded or dying friend. As long as he wasn’t wounded or dying himself.
“It’s so big,” she said, and Brady glanced at her.
“Is this your first time?”
When she nodded, Brady pulled over and guided the car into a parking space at the edge of the road.
“Come on,” she said, removing the picnic basket and a Mexican blanket from the trunk. “This is a perfect spot for a picnic.”
The sun was warm and the breeze mild, and as they spread the blanket on the grass at the edge of the walkway, CJ almost forgot that it was the last day of the year. While they ate cold chicken and potato salad and shared a glass of wine, Brady told her about the area—how Santa Monica used to be a popular tourist draw but had fallen on hard times during the Depression. Any city that depended on tourism was bound to be in trouble when the bottom fell out of the economy, they agreed.
“And now with the mandatory blackout…”
“There’s a blackout in effect here?”
“Ever since the war started. Remember those Japanese subs that shelled the oil fields in Santa Barbara right after Pearl Harbor? They may not have done much structural damage, but the people around here have lived in fear ever since.”
CJ looked out at the water, trying to imagine a submarine surfacing and firing tracers at them. She knew that exact thing had happened not far from where they were sitting, but she couldn’t get her head around it. The surreal nature of war, once again.
When they were done eating, they kicked off their shoes and strolled down to the water’s edge, cool sand squeezing between their toes. CJ looked for stones to skip while Brady waded into the water.
“Brr,” she said, shivering. “It’s freezing!”
CJ waded in beside her and started to laugh. “It’s warmer than Lake Michigan in the middle of summer.”
“Remind me not to go swimming when we go there,” Brady said.
“My father invited you to visit.”
“Before Sean’s bombshell or after?”
“After. Though I think we’d better give my mother some time,” CJ added, watching her. Brady’s hair was loose and unruly in the breeze, blonde highlights even whiter in the sunlight.
“It’s a date.” Brady slipped her arms around CJ’s waist, tugging her closer as the waves crashed around their ankles.
“Brady,” she said, glancing around nervously.
“Don’t worry, no one’s around. It’s far too cold for the natives.” And she kissed her, the sound of the ocean drowning out everything else as their lips met and lingered.
A little while later, Brady checked her watch. “We should probably get back on the road. We have to be in before sunset.”
They packed up the remains of the meal and headed north again along the coastal road. Soon they had left the city behind and had only ocean to the left and barren foothills to the right. After a quarter-hour, Brady turned the car east onto a gravel road that switchbacked up the side of a hill to a slight plateau where a small house sat all by itself. There, Brady turned into the driveway and parked.
“We’re here,” she said, smiling at CJ.
“Yes, but where?”
“My grandfather built this cabin. My brothers and I used to come up here all the time and sleep on the floor like a pile of puppies, as my grandmother liked to say. Since they died, we haven’t used it nearly as much.”
CJ stepped out of the car and looked around. They were far enough up in the foothills that the road sounds were minimal, the ocean roar more of a dull rumble. It was a clear day, and in the distance she could see two sets of islands rising up out of the ocean.
“Come on,” Brady said, leading the way through a split-rail gate and up a gravel path to the front deck. She unlocked the dead bolt on the French doors and threw them open. “Welcome to Brady Manor.”
“Brady Manor?”
“My grandmother’s maiden name.”
Inside, the cabin was one big room, with a sitting area immediately to the left and an updated kitchen on the right with a built-in breakfast nook. A small vase of flowers on the pine table told them that Isabel had managed to reach Mr. Gardiner, the property’s caretaker. At the far end of the room was a large brass bed.
“We had the place remodeled about ten years ago,” Brady said as she unloaded the picnic basket into the refrigerator. “Before that it was kerosene lamps and a pit toilet out back. Now it’s a tad more luxurious.”
“Luxurious” seemed a stretch even to CJ, but the cabin was bright and airy and clean, and best of all, it was far from everyone and everything. They could start the new year here together, just the two of them.
“What do you think?” Brady asked, turning to lean against the counter.
“I think it’s wonderful.” CJ approached her slowly, pulling her tie off as she stepped out of her shoes. “I also think you should close the doors if you don’t want anyone passing by to see us naked.”
“There won’t be anyone passing by. There never is.” But she closed and locked the doors and tugged on the cord that held back the blackout blinds.
The room went dark and stayed that way until Brady lit a candle on the wood stove in the corner near the breakfast nook. Then she turned to CJ, her eyes in shadows.
“Would you like to try the bed?” she asked for the second time that afternoon.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
* * *
Later, after the sun had set and the temperature began to drop, they lit a fire in the wood stove and sat in bed feeding each other chicken, chips and salsa and finishing off the rest of the wine as they caught each other up on their time apart.
When they’d demolished the food and drink, they took a shower together in th
e tiny bathroom, giggling as they knocked elbows and knees into the surround and each other. Back in bed, they explored each other’s bodies again lazily, lingeringly, each bringing the other to a pinnacle of pleasure that, for once, didn’t have to be enjoyed silently. They could voice their passion as loudly as they wanted here, for as long as they wanted, and no one would hear or see. Solitude was an amazing thing, they agreed afterward, snuggling up in each other’s arms as the wood fire crackled.
“It’s almost the new year,” Brady said when their breathing had slowed.
“In the East Indies, it’s already January second.”
“Are you quoting our dear president?”
“I am. I still say he’s the best orator of his generation.”
“And I still say he has a very talented speechwriter.”
“You’re so cynical,” CJ said.
“And you’re not, which is why we make such a great team.”
“Much better than Sean and I were,” she agreed. “Although he was a pretty smooth dance partner, I have to say.”
“Should I be jealous?”
“Hardly. I feel sorry for him. I don’t think I felt for him even a smidgen of what I feel for you.”
Brady nodded. “At the memorial service, I kept thinking how tragic that Nate’s fiancé didn’t love him. But then Amy told me about the letter, and I realized the real tragedy was that he didn’t have the courage to go against his family’s wishes sooner. I don’t want that to happen with us. I don’t want to regret anything.”
“Neither do I.”
Brady slid her hand down CJ’s bare arm and entwined their fingers. “I’ve been thinking—it isn’t fair of me to keep you from flying when you obviously love it. It’s not your fault that Nate didn’t know how to be faithful. You’re nothing like him, and besides, I do trust you. The next time Nell or any other pilot offers you a hop, I don’t want you to say no because of me, okay?”
CJ bit her lip. “Funny you should mention that—Nell was the copilot on the flight that brought me here. But don’t worry. She flew the Lightning back to base today, so we don’t have to ride back with her.”
Brady closed her eyes and took a breath. Then she looked back at CJ, her gaze clear. “You know what? That’s fine.”
“Really?”
“Really. They brought you here so you could be with me. For future reference, I can’t promise not to be a little envious if you keep flying off into the wild blue yonder with a cute WASP—”
“She’s not that cute.”
Brady pulled her hand away and sat up straighter in bed, the sheet falling away from her. “You’re supposed to say she isn’t cute at all! But then you would be lying, and that would be worse.”
“How do you know what she looks like?”
“I may have looked up her service photo.”
“Brady!” CJ shook her head, laughing.
“What? Being in the PRO has its perks. But even I have to admit she’s attractive, if you go in for that Midwestern natural look.”
“Which some people do,” CJ said, leaning forward to nuzzle Brady’s neck.
She tilted her head to give her more room. “Mmm, some people do.”
“I prefer blonde bombshells myself.”
“Good. Because you’re stuck with this one.”
“I wouldn’t call it stuck.”
And then she was pulling Brady on top of her and demonstrating once again how deep her love ran.
A little before midnight, Brady pulled a record from her overnight case and placed it on the phonograph in the sitting room.
“May I have this dance?” she asked, smiling and holding her hand out to CJ as the opening strains of “Begin the Beguine” sounded in the small cabin.
“Of course,” CJ said, taking her hand.
Outside the palms swayed and waves crashed and stars turned overhead while inside the cabin the orchestra played, and CJ thought she knew what Cole Porter had meant when he wrote about serene rapture.
“I love you, Brady,” she said, holding her girlfriend close as one year ended and another began.
“I love you, CJ. Happy New Year.”
And it would be. She could feel it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
December 1949
CJ stepped into the hotel room, still shivering from the Michigan wind. “Dang, it’s cold out there!”
From where she sat on the bed propped against pillows, Brady smiled. “I believe the South has ruined you, my love.”
“You may be right.” She set the drugstore bag on a nearby dresser and crossed to the bed. “Everything quiet here?”
“So far so good.”
“Feel like company?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Absolutely, but only if you help me finish these Christmas cards. It’s three days until Christmas and they’re still not done.”
“Oh, dear, what would the editors of the Smith alumnae magazine think?” CJ teased, snuggling in beside her.
“Late Christmas cards is the least of their worries as far as you and I are concerned.”
“Good point. So which friends need a note?”
“Almost your entire stack. Mary and Chris, Sarah and Jack—”
“Aren’t we delivering theirs in person?”
“Yes, but I am of the radical opinion it probably shouldn’t be blank inside. Also, there’s Holly, Nell and Trish, Reggie, and Toby and Ka—I mean, Toby and Paulina. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I do it sometimes too.”
Of all their friends, CJ had assumed Toby and Kate would stay together. But in late 1944, with the end of the war in sight, both the Regular Army and the WAC began issuing blue ticket discharges at the slightest provocation. Janice had managed to protect Brady, CJ and their immediate friends from dismissal, but she hadn’t been able to stop Kate from being transferred to Daytona. The previously happy couple had tried to maintain their relationship, but in the end, the separation had proven too much.
Around the same time Kate was transferred, the WASPs were disbanded and Holly left for an instructor position at a flight-training school in San Diego. Shortly after that, she and Reggie had also broken up. Sarah and Jack, on the other hand, had gotten married in El Paso before Jack shipped out to the Pacific. He was one of the lucky ones—he’d been wounded a few months in and sent stateside, where he spent the rest of the war training replacement troops at an AA base in Nevada. Now he worked for his older brother’s insurance company in Chicago. Sarah had given birth to their first child a year after the war, a little girl CJ and Brady would meet for the first time at New Year’s.
For a while the room was quiet, save for the sound of pen tips scratching against cardstock and distant traffic noise from the street ten stories below. Their flight out of DC had been delayed, and rather than rushing to make the late train, they had decided to stay in Detroit overnight and catch the early train out in the morning.
“Done,” CJ said, laying her pen and stack of envelopes on the nearest bedside table.
“Almost there.” Brady didn’t look up.
“You can finish on the train tomorrow.” CJ leaned in to kiss the spot on Brady’s neck that she knew would produce the desired result. Beneath her touch, Brady shivered.
“No fair.”
“Who said I had to be fair?” CJ pulled her closer, their bodies molding together in a familiar way.
“You and hotel rooms,” Brady said, but she was smiling.
CJ touched her lips to Brady’s, amazed that kissing her could feel so familiar and yet so thrilling at the same time. As the kiss deepened, she heard a faint sound from the next room, connected to theirs by an open door.
“Dang it,” Brady grumbled, pulling away to listen.
CJ leaned back beside her, tilting her head. Crap. There it came again.
“Want to wait it out?”
Brady shook her head. “Not here. No need for the neighbors to suffer.”
“You’re right.” She touched Brady’s lip
s with her thumb. “Rain check?”
“I’ll add it to all the others.”
CJ rose and crossed into the adjoining room. In the dim light from the night lamp they’d brought from home, she could see a small face staring up at her from the hotel crib.
“Mimi,” the child said, smiling impishly up at her.
“Mads, why aren’t you asleep?”
“Want to snuggle with you and Mama. Pease?”
“All right. But only this once,” she said, which they both knew was a lie.
She lifted the child out and carried her into the other room. “Look who I’ve got.”
Brady was already clearing a spot in the middle of the bed. “Come here, sweet girl. Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Want to snuggle,” the girl said, as if it were obvious.
CJ smiled at Brady over the ring of dark curls. Their daughter. It had been two and a half years since they’d gotten the call from Nell’s friend, and she still couldn’t quite believe their luck. Despite Brady’s prediction, finding a child to adopt had proven difficult after the war, especially for a “single mother.” They had already had a potential adoption fall through after the birth mother decided to keep the baby, so when Nell’s stunt pilot pal contacted them about the child she had inadvertently conceived with a relative stranger, they had been wary. But everything had gone smoothly, and seven months later, they traveled to New York City to be in town for the birth. Afterward, they went home to North Carolina as a newly christened family of three. Brady was the official mother, but the legal documents were clear—if anything were to happen to her, custody would automatically go to CJ.
“She’s lucky she’s so cute,” Brady said, but she didn’t sound irritated. She rose and got ready for bed, and then CJ relinquished the toddler and got ready herself. By the time she slid between the cool sheets, Maddie was curled against Brady’s side, asleep with the lights on.
Carefully, CJ smoothed back their daughter’s hair, silky from the bath they’d given her earlier. “I keep thinking of her as a baby, but she isn’t anymore, is she?”
“I know. It’s almost sad. Speaking of which, I forgot to ask—did you find baby powder?”
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