Quaid had been caught off guard by the sudden downdraft that had yanked the plane downward. He had often hit down-drafts, but this time there had been absolutely no warning. He saw Erin’s form as it flashed over his head, and he heard the wrenching of the metal as the bar tore loose. Twisting his body, he pulled back on the throttle until the plane was running at the lowest speed. When he turned, however, he saw Erin slowly sliding from the upright fin, and even as he watched, the wind pulled her loose. His heart seemed to stop as he saw her grab the leading edge of the horizontal tail section. Her body was stretched out, and he saw in one instant that her hands were white with the strain. His mind worked like lightning. I’d never be able to get her back into the plane, even if I could grab her before she fell!
His actions were almost automatic. He came up out of the cockpit and slid his body down the fuselage. He reached the tail section, but just when his hand was no more than a foot away from Erin’s, the plane suddenly gave another lurch—this time with the nose upward, and he saw Erin slip and fall away toward the earth. Without hesitation, he launched himself past the tail and hurtled downward.
Erin had seen Quaid leave the cockpit and come toward her. She had tried to scream for him to stay where he was, but the wind was in her face stealing her breath. As her hands left the rudder, she suddenly was free and falling toward the earth, which looked like a green, patched counterpane below. At that instant, when she knew that death was nearer than she had ever imagined, everything suddenly seemed to move in slow motion. She remembered a conversation she had once heard among pilots who did parachute jumps. They had been talking about how the fall to the earth slows when a parachutist holds his body parallel to the earth and spreads his arms and legs; whereas, if he wants to go into a dive, he needs to fold his arms and pull his legs together.
Erin immediately threw her arms out. Her back was now toward the earth, and above her she could see the form of Quaid Merritt. She felt herself slow down almost imperceptibly, and she saw that Quaid, who was wearing his parachute as always, had his arms along his sides and his feet together and was descending straight down. He was no more than ten feet above her, but she guessed that the ground was very close. Most parachutists bailed out at a much higher altitude, she knew.
Oh, God, be our help! was her prayer.
Quaid approached closer and closer until finally he was only a few feet away. Still she did not move her hands, for she knew that every bit of resistance she gave to the air would help. She had no idea how close they were to the earth, but one thing she knew: Quaid would die with her before he would pull his ripcord.
Quaid’s hand suddenly touched the front of her silken shirt. She grabbed desperately for his arm, and he came against her, holding her tightly. “Hold with everything you’ve got!” he shouted. And as she clung to him with every ounce of strength, he freed one hand and pulled the ripcord. As soon as he did, he threw both of his arms around her.
Erin was looking up and saw the chute open, and a tremendous jerk rattled her teeth.
And then . . . and then there was quietness. Erin had never known such quiet. He was holding her in his arms, and his face was inches from hers. She glanced down and saw the smoke and flames from their plane, which had crashed some distance from the crowd. She looked straight down and saw that they were over the landing strip, coming down very close to the stands. And then she could hear the crowd cheering and screaming.
“Erin, are you all right?”
“I am now, Quaid,” she said.
He suddenly leaned forward and kissed her hard and then he laughed. “This is an odd time to say it, but I’ve got to.”
They were descending rapidly now with the double weight, and the ground was rushing toward them, but Erin did not take her eyes from him. “What is it?”
“I love you.”
A few seconds later, before she could even speak, he yelled, “Here’s the ground! Double your knees up!”
Erin hit the ground with a tremendous blow that hurt her feet, and the two of them rolled over. But she knew even then that Quaid had pulled his body around to take the brunt of the blow, and she was cushioned by it. As they lay in their awkward embrace, she cried, “Are you all right?”
Quaid hugged her tighter and said, “I’m okay now.”
And then there were people there pulling at them and shouting. Erin’s whole body ached, and the sharp pain in her side told her she had injured a rib. But she struggled to her knees, and the first person she saw was Rev Brown. Right behind him were Derek Wells and Helen Frazier. The three knelt down, and Rev had tears in his eyes. “He gave you wings like an angel. This time the angel had black hair and was six-two.”
“I never saw anything like it,” Wells whispered. “You gave your life for her, Quaid.”
Quaid slowly got to his feet and helped Erin up. He looked at the three and then at the mob that was coming, and then he looked down at Erin. “That’s what a man’s supposed to do for the woman he loves. Give his life for her.”
Derek took a deep breath and put his arm around Helen and held her close, and then the crowd surrounded them, shouting and screaming.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Do You Really Love Me?”
“Oh, come on, Rev, give us a break! You know where Quaid’s hidin’ out, and Erin, too.”
Revelation Brown leaned against the fuselage and studied the four reporters who had converged around him. They had appeared shortly after he had managed to get rid of another group. Now he scratched his head thoughtfully and said, “Sorry, fellows. But truth be told, I don’t know where they are.”
One of the reporters, a short, thin man with a pair of penetrating blue eyes, shook his head and argued. “That can’t be true. You and Quaid, at least, are always closer together than any two guys I ever saw. Now, come on, Rev, I’ve got a wife and three kids.”
“Congratulations,” Rev smiled. “I trust you’re a follower of the Lamb?”
The small reporter scowled. “You can preach your sermon at me some other time, but right now Quaid Merritt is hot news. Did you see this morning’s paper?”
Rev glanced casually at the newspaper the reporter pulled out of his hip pocket and spread before him. “Yeah, I seen it. It’s right interesting reading.”
“This country’s starving to death for heroes, Brown.” The speaker was Charlie Handley, a short, pudgy man with a pasty face and a mustache, which was a mistake. Charlie Handley had worked for a number of newspapers during his career. He was noted for finding out things nobody could find out except him. Now he said, “Look, Rev, I know you two are friends, and if you are a friend of Merritt, you can do him a big favor. Right now he’s hot news.” Handley shook his head and gestured toward the paper held by the smaller man, whose name was Johnson. “Look at that story. America’s starving to death for heroes, and we’ve got a real live one here.”
Rev reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. He stripped the paper from one stick, rolled it up into a circular form, and popped it into his mouth. “Quaid’s been a hero for a long time. Didn’t you ever read what he done over in France?”
“I know that,” Handley said, “and that’s what makes this story so great. He saved the life of the Golden Angel. Everybody knows about it. Everybody wants to meet him.”
“That’s right,” a third reporter interjected. He was a tall, lean man with a bushy head of red hair and pale blue eyes. His name was Dodge, and he worked for the Hearst papers. “The boss told me to find out all I can about this guy. I’ve got to have a personal interview, Brown, and I’m willing to pay for it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a billfold, but stopped when Rev shook his head firmly.
“Nothin’ doin’, fellas. In the first place, I don’t know where Quaid is. In the second place, I wouldn’t tell you even if I did.”
“Don’t you want to see your boss make a pile of money?” Johnson demanded. “Why, he’ll be more popular than Doug Fairbanks.”
The reporters argued to no avail. Rev Brown simply stood there chewing his gum, his arms crossed, and from time to time inquired into the spiritual life of the reporters. Finally they gave up in disgust, and Rev shook his head as they turned and left. He had spoken the truth. He had no idea where Quaid was. After the air show Quaid had been pursued by almost everyone. Reporters wanted to talk to him, and young women were anxious to be seen with the hero. Writers wanted to write books about him, and businessmen wanted him to endorse their products. Quaid had put up with this for two days and then had finally hidden himself away.
All them people tryin’ to make Quaid rich and famous, and he runs off and hides. Rev grinned at the thought and shook his head. I think it’s the right thing to do. He doesn’t need all that stuff.
****
As Erin entered Derek’s office accompanied by Quaid, she was pleased to see Helen by the actor’s side. As Erin glanced curiously at the other man in the room, Helen came over and hugged her gently, for she knew Erin was sore from all the bumps and bruises she had acquired in the accident. “Where have you been? I’ve tried to call you a dozen times.”
Erin took her embrace and smiled ruefully. “It’s been a little hectic, Helen. The phone’s been ringing off the hook.” She turned and looked at Quaid. “Everyone’s looking for the hero.”
Quaid shot a look of disgust at Erin and shook his head. “Foolishness, that’s what it is!”
“No, it’s not,” Derek said, “it’s just natural. People want to meet a real hero. I know you don’t like to be called that, so I’ll lay off. But I’ve got a gentleman here I think you might be interested in meeting.” He turned and said, “This is Mr. Harold Goldfine. Mr. Goldfine, I think you recognize Quaid Merritt and the Golden Angel, Erin Winslow.”
“Of course I do.” Goldfine came forward. He was a shorter man with an olive complexion who appeared to be in his late forties. He had coal black hair and a pair of piercing, dark eyes. “I would like to congratulate you on your rescue, Miss Winslow. And you, sir, on your daring feat.”
Derek said quickly, “You may not know it, but Mr. Goldfine is a producer. He’s one of the best in the business. He’s come here with an offer for you two.”
Erin felt Quaid stiffen, and when she shot a glance at him, she saw that he was not smiling. Quickly she said, “What kind of offer, Mr. Goldfine?”
“In this business you have to catch the tide, Miss Winslow,” Goldfine said easily. He had a high tenor voice and used his hands a great deal as he spoke. “Someone asked me recently, ‘How do you know, Goldfine, what kind of picture will be a hit?’ You know what I told him?” Goldfine grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “I told him to go make a living at the racetrack betting on the horses. It’s a lot safer than making movies!”
“Listen to the man, folks,” Derek said quickly. “He knows what he’s talking about. He’s got a string of hits behind him that’s the envy of Hollywood.”
“In any case, nobody knows who producers are except the people in this town.” Goldfine shrugged. “They know the stars. But somebody has to get things rolling, and that’s what my job is. I hear a good idea or I think of something that would make a good movie, and I put it together.”
Erin turned her head to one side and asked quickly, “You’re not thinking of making a movie with Quaid and me, are you?”
“Of course I am!” Goldfine nodded enthusiastically. “Why not? Think of the possibilities. We have a genuine heroine, the Golden Angel—a daring young lady from Africa who kills lions with spears. We have a man who was a hero in France keeping his country safe shooting down Germans—a fine-looking man, I might add, who looks more like a hero than some who are taking money for it. Of course I’m thinking about this. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Quaid shifted uneasily. “I may as well tell you right up front, Mr. Goldfine. I’m not interested in anything like that.”
“Wait a minute, Mr. Merritt. You haven’t listened to my proposal yet. I’m a good salesman. I don’t know what your objections are, but I assure you that there’s a fortune to be made in it. I was thinking of another movie featuring airplanes. Derek here’s already done the war, but how about a movie starring a pair of stunt fliers such as you and Miss Winslow? Why, it would be a natural! Everybody in the country would pay to see you two. We can show how you saved her life—might even reenact it and put it on the screen.”
“No, thanks. I don’t want to go through that again,” Erin said quickly. She turned to Quaid and saw that his face was set in a rather stubborn expression. She knew this streak ran in him, and she quickly said, “I really don’t think it would be possible. In the first place, I’m not an actress.” She laughed suddenly. “Derek can tell you about that.”
“And I’m no actor,” Quaid put in.
“Well, that really doesn’t matter too much. Listen, just sit down and let me go over some figures with you, and then you can think it over. Some people say I like to push people around, but I can see you two have reservations. Just listen to my proposal, and then if you don’t like it, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Yes, please do,” Derek said. “You sit down with Mr. Goldfine. Helen and I will come back when you’re finished.”
Derek and Helen left the room, and both Quaid and Erin sat down and listened as Goldfine outlined his plan. He was enthusiastic and even eloquent as he presented his plan. When he spoke of the money, Erin’s eyes opened wide at the figures he mentioned, but she was aware that Quaid was stolid and unmoved.
“Well, that’s it. I’ll let you two think it over, and I’d appreciate it if you’d get back to me as quickly as you can. I hope you decide to do it. It would be a great movie and maybe the beginning of a new career for both of you.”
Goldfine rose, shook hands with both of them, and left. As soon as he left, Helen and Derek came in, their eyes bright.
“We were waiting outside the door,” Helen said quietly. “What did you decide to do?”
“We didn’t give him an answer,” Erin said.
“I could have given him one,” Quaid said. “I don’t want anything to do with it.”
Derek stared at the two and then laughed. “I can never get a handle on you two.”
Erin saw that Helen was holding on to Derek’s arm, and she smiled. “I take it you two are getting along well?”
Derek laughed and then put his arm around Helen and hugged her. “I asked her to marry me a week ago. She turned me down.”
Helen Frazier was radiant. There was joy in her expression, and she said, “But something happened. We argued about getting married for two days, and then finally I told him that I couldn’t marry a man who was running from God.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing. I see that now,” Derek said quickly.
“So finally after a long discussion about our relationship and about God and about our future, Derek and I prayed together.”
“That’s right, and something happened to me. I don’t know what it was, but it’s been different ever since. I just told God I’d do anything if He’d have me.”
Both Erin and Quaid were smiling then. They congratulated the couple, and when Erin hugged Helen, she asked, “When’s the wedding to be?”
“We haven’t set a date, but God is in it. I know He is.”
“I’m a little concerned about being a Christian in Hollywood and making movies,” Derek told the two before him. “Do you think I can do it?”
“God can use anybody anywhere. You just stand up for Jesus like Rev Brown does. Well, maybe not that blatantly. That may not be your style,” Erin laughed. “But God will be with you. I’m so happy for both of you!”
****
Quaid stopped the car beside an orange grove, and Erin said, “Why are you stopping?”
“Just want to talk a little bit.”
“All right.” Erin turned to him and saw that he was very serious. She said quickly, “That was wonderful about Derek and Helen.”
“Yes, it was. I’m glad for both
of them. I think they’re going to make it.”
They sat there in silence for a moment, then Quaid turned more fully around to face her. “How are you feeling about all these things, Erin?”
“What things do you mean?”
“I mean all these offers to make movies—to be a star.”
“I thought it was what I wanted,” Erin said slowly. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes and thought. Finally she sat up and met his eyes. “I’m really confused. Anybody would want to make a lot of money and be a success, wouldn’t they?”
Quaid did not answer her for a long moment. Instead, he seemed to change the subject. “I’ve been thinking about all the friends I lost in France. It comes back to me, and I don’t know why. It was pretty rough, Erin. Young fellows would go over there sometimes, no more than seventeen years old, and they’d fly off on their first mission. Sometimes they wouldn’t come back. A young blond-headed fellow named Terrence Stevens did that. He flew off on his first mission and never returned. We all knew he was dead. When that happened it reminded me of a story or a poem I read one time that talked about children who went off to pick flowers in a field—and just never came back.”
“That must have been awful!”
“It was. I still don’t like to think about it. Nobody who went through it does, but I can’t help it, Erin.” He reached over and ran his hand over her golden hair and did not speak for a moment. Then he said, “Those fellows who died over there will never be able to do what a man should do. They’ll never find a girl to fall in love with or marry or have children. They’ll never be able to do whatever it was God put them on this earth to do.”
Erin’s heart went out to Quaid. She took his hand and held it tightly and waited for him to continue.
“I’ve got to leave for a while, Erin.”
Quaid’s words caught Erin off guard. She swallowed hard, then said, “Leave? Where will you go?”
“It’s just that I’ve got to be alone for a while. I’ve got to settle something about who I am and where I’m going.”
The Golden Angel Page 28