Lone Eagle Part 2

"Have a safe trip back," she said, hesitating for the merest instant, as their eyes met and held and volumes were said without words, which was all Joe had wanted. He could never find the right words anyway.

A few minutes later, she walked over the dunes to meet her parents, and disappeared from sight as he watched her go. She stopped at the top, and waved at him, as he waved back. Her last sight of him was standing tall, his eyes fixed on hers, with a serious expression. And after she was gone, he walked slowly down the beach again alone.

3.

THE FIRST WEEKS AT SCHOOL were frantic for Kate. She had books to buy, and cla.s.ses to attend, professors to meet, an advisor to work out her schedule with, and a house full of girls to get acquainted with. It was a huge adjustment for her, but within days, she knew she loved it. She didn't even bother to go home on the weekends, much to her mother's dismay. But at least, she tried to make an effort to call them from time to time. were frantic for Kate. She had books to buy, and cla.s.ses to attend, professors to meet, an advisor to work out her schedule with, and a house full of girls to get acquainted with. It was a huge adjustment for her, but within days, she knew she loved it. She didn't even bother to go home on the weekends, much to her mother's dismay. But at least, she tried to make an effort to call them from time to time.

She'd been at school for three weeks before she finally wrote to Joe. It wasn't that she hadn't had time before that, but she had wanted to wait until she had some interesting tales to tell him. And by the time she sat down at her desk, on a Sunday afternoon, she had plenty of stories about school. She told him about the other girls, her professors, her cla.s.ses, the food. She had never been as happy in her life as she was at Radcliffe. It was her first taste of freedom, and she was loving it.

She didn't tell him about the Harvard boys she'd met the week before, it seemed inappropriate, and was not something she wanted to share with him. There was one, a junior, Andy Scott, whom she liked very much, but he paled in comparison to Joe, who had become her standard of perfection for all men. No one else was as tall or as handsome, or as strong, or as interesting, or as accomplished, or as exciting. He was a tough act to compare anyone to, and Andy looked like water to wine, when she compared him to Joe Allbright. But he was fun to be with, and he was captain of the Harvard swimming team, which impressed the other freshman girls.

Instead, she told Joe everything she was doing, and how happy she was there. Her letter, when he received it, was excited and exuberant and ebullient, all the things he loved most about her. And he sat down immediately when he got the letter, and answered her, telling her about his latest designs, and his latest victory over a previously insoluble problem. He told her of his most recent test flights. But he avoided telling her of a boy who had died the day before, in a test flight over Nevada. He had been scheduled to do the flight himself, but had rea.s.signed it so he could attend a meeting. It was Joe who had had to call the boy's wife, and he was still feeling depressed about it. But he kept his letter to her light and filled with as much news and excitement as he could muster. And when he finished it, he was frustrated with himself. His letter seemed so dull in comparison to hers, his gift with words so much less facile. But he sent the letter to her anyway, and wondered how long it would take her to answer.

She got his letter exactly ten days after she had sent hers, and sat down to write to him over the weekend. She turned down a date with Andy Scott, so she could stay in her room and write Joe a long, newsy letter, and all of her roommates told her she was crazy. But her heart was already engaged by the flyer in California. She didn't tell them who he was, or even much about him. She just said he was a friend, and told Andy that she had a headache. And nothing in her letter indicated that she had anything but feelings of friends.h.i.+p for him. She said nothing to give herself away, and she painted a number of amusing portraits for him, with clever words. He sat at his desk laughing out loud when he read her letter. Her description of college life was hilarious. She had a knack for seeing, and describing, the most outrageous elements of almost every situation. And he loved hearing from her.

Their letters went back and forth through the fall, and grew more serious as the war continued to worsen in Europe. They exchanged opinions and concerns, and she respected his views on the situation. He continued to believe that America would enter the war at any moment, and he was thinking of going to England again, to consult with the RAF. He said Charles had gone to Was.h.i.+ngton, and to meet with Henry Ford, who shared his point of view about the war. And then he attempted, at least, to amuse her as she did him. He was beginning to spend his days antic.i.p.ating her letters, and anxious for them to come.

It was two months later, the Tuesday before the Thanksgiving weekend, when she got a phone call in the house she lived in on campus, and a.s.sumed it was her parents. She was going home the next day, and her mother probably wanted to know what time to expect her. They were having guests for Thanksgiving, and it was going to be a busy weekend. She had seen Andy for a quick cup of coffee the day before, and he had told her he was going home to New York over Thanksgiving but would call her from there. She had had dinner with him once or twice over the past two months, but it hadn't gone anywhere. She was far too intrigued with her exchange of letters with Joe, to be interested in a college junior. Joe was far more exciting than any man she'd ever met.

"h.e.l.lo?" she said, expecting to hear her mother's voice, and was startled to hear Joe on a remarkably clear connection from California. The girl who had taken the call had spoken to the operator, but she hadn't bothered to tell Kate that the call was long distance and not from her mother. It was the first time he had ever called. "What a surprise!" she said, blus.h.i.+ng intensely, but fortunately he couldn't see it. "Happy Thanksgiving, Joe."

"The same to you, Kate. How's everything at school?" He made reference to some outrageous story she had told him, and they both laughed. But she was surprised by how nervous she felt speaking to him. Something about their letters had made them both more vulnerable, and unwittingly more open to each other, and it was odd now talking to him.

"Everything's fine. I'm going home tomorrow. Actually, I thought you were my mother. I'm going to be home all weekend." She had already written that to him, but it was something to say in the silence on the line.

"I know." At his end, he was as nervous as she was. He felt like a kid again, in spite of all his efforts to appear confident with her. "I was calling to see if you'd like to have dinner." He held his breath while he waited for her answer.

"Dinner?" She sounded suddenly off balance,"... Where?... when?... are you coming in from California?" She felt breathless as she asked.

"I'm already here actually. This trip came up at the last minute. Charles is in town, and I needed some advice from him. I'm having dinner with him tonight, and I could come up from New York sometime this weekend." In truth, he could have waited for his mentor's advice, but he had wanted an excuse to come east, and had conveniently found it. He told himself it didn't mean anything, he was just coming to see a friend, and if she was too busy to see him, he would go back to California. But he hadn't asked her before he'd come east, because he thought it might be more compelling if he was already there when he called. It had been a clever ploy, and an effective one, but in truth he didn't really need it. She would have been thrilled to see him, and tried to keep her voice steady and unaffected as she answered.

"When do you want to come? I'd love to see you." It was the voice of a friend, not of a woman who revered him. They were both playing their parts well, though not without a certain degree of challenge. This was new to him, and to her too. She had never had a grown man pursue her, and he had never before had these terrifyingly unfamiliar feelings for anyone.

"I can come up anytime you want," he said, sounding free and easy, and she thought about it for a minute. She wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, or how her mother would feel about it, but she thought her father might be pleased, so she decided to risk it.

"Would you like to join us for Thanksgiving?" She held her breath after she asked him, and there was a brief pause at the other end. He sounded as surprised by her invitation as she had been to hear from him.

"Are you sure that would be all right with your parents?" He didn't want to intrude on them, or cause a problem. But he had no plans to be with the Lindberghs or anyone else for Thanksgiving. He was used to spending it alone.

"I'm sure," she said bravely, praying her mother wouldn't be too angry. But they had other guests, and even though he was shy, Joe would be an interesting addition to the dinner. "Would that work for you?"

"I'd like that very much. I could fly up on Thursday morning. What time do you eat dinner?"

She knew that guests had been invited for five in the afternoon, and they would be eating dinner at seven. "The other guests are coming at five, but you can come earlier if you need to." She didn't want him to have to hang around the airport all afternoon, waiting to come for dinner.

"Five will be perfect," he said serenely. He would have come at six in the morning if she'd told him to. He didn't know why, but he was anxious to see her. After years of emotional solitude, he was deaf, dumb, and blind to his own feelings. "Is it very formal?" he suddenly asked nervously. He didn't want to appear in a suit if everyone else would be wearing a tuxedo. And if he needed one, he would have to borrow one from Charles, and send it back to him.

"No, my father usually wears a dark suit, but he's pretty stuffy. You can wear whatever you've brought with you."

"Great, I'll wear my flight suit," he teased her, and she laughed.

"I'd like to see that," she said, and meant it.

"Maybe we can arrange for a short flight for you and your father this weekend."

"Just don't tell my mother. She'll choke on her turkey, and make you leave halfway through dinner."

"I won't say a word. See you on Thursday." He sounded remarkably relaxed as she said goodbye to him, but as they both hung up the phone, they each found that their palms were sweating. She still had to tell her mother he was coming for dinner.

She broached the subject gingerly the following afternoon when she got home, and found her mother checking the china in the kitchen. She was well known for the beautiful table she set, and her elaborate flower arrangements. And she was distracted when Kate first walked into the kitchen, trying to a.s.sess her mother's mood.

"Hi, Mom. Need a hand?" Her mother looked over her shoulder in surprise. Kate was always the first to escape when she thought her mother needed help in the kitchen. She always said that domestic duties bored her, and they were demeaning.

"Did you flunk out of school?" her mother said with a look of amus.e.m.e.nt. "You must have done something really awful if you're offering to help me count china. How bad is it?"

"Couldn't it be that I'm just more mature now that I'm in college?" Kate said with an imperious look, and her mother pretended to think about it for an instant.

"That's possible, but very unlikely. You've only been there for three months, Kate. I think maturity starts to happen junior year, and doesn't come full-blown until you're a senior."

"Great. Are you telling me that after I graduate, I'll actually want want to count china?" to count china?"

"Absolutely. Particularly if you're doing it for your husband," her mother said firmly.

"Mom... okay, okay. I did something in the spirit of what you always tell me Thanksgiving is about." Kate looked innocent as she faced her mother.

"You killed a turkey?"

"No, I invited a homeless friend for dinner. Not homeless, but family-less." It sounded reasonable to both of them the way she said it.

"That's sweet, darling. One of the girls in your house at Radcliffe?"

"A friend from California," she hedged, trying to soften up her mother before she told her.

"It's perfectly understandable she can't go home. Of course you can invite her. We have eighteen people coming here for dinner, and there's plenty of room at the table."

"Thanks, Mom," Kate said looking relieved, at least they had room for him. "By the way, it's not a girl." Kate held her breath and waited.

"It's a boy?" Her mother looked startled.

"Sort of."

"From Harvard?" Her mother looked genuinely pleased. She loved the idea of Kate dating a boy from Harvard, and it was the first she'd heard of it. And only three months into the school year.

"He's not from Harvard," Kate dove into the icy water, "it's Joe Allbright."

There was a long pause as her mother looked at her with eyes full of questions. "The pilot? How did you happen to hear from him?"

"He called me out of the blue yesterday. He's visiting the Lindberghs, and he had nothing to do on Thanksgiving."

"Isn't it a little odd that he would call you?" Her mother looked suspicious.

"Maybe." She didn't tell her about the letters, it was hard enough to explain why she had invited him for Thanksgiving. She wasn't even sure why herself, but she had. And now she had to find some plausible reason to explain it.

"Has he called you before?"

"No, he hasn't," she was able to say honestly. Her mother didn't ask if he'd ever written to her. "I think he just likes Dad, and maybe he's lonely. I don't think he has any family. I don't know why he called, Mom, but when he said he had no plans for Thanksgiving, I felt sorry for him. I didn't think you and Dad would mind. It's kind of the spirit of Thanksgiving," she said blithely, and helped herself to a carrot from the icebox. But her mother wasn't entirely taken in, she knew her better, although she'd never seen her daughter look quite like that. But at fifty-eight, she hadn't entirely forgotten what it felt like to be wooed by an older man when you were young, or to be smitten. But something about Joe Allbright worried her. He was so remote and so aloof, and at the same time so intense. He was the kind of man who, if he turned his full attention on you, could be overwhelming. And even if Kate didn't understand that, because she had no experience with it, her mother did, and that was precisely why she was worried about him.

"I don't mind if he comes to dinner," Elizabeth Jamison said honestly, "but I mind very much if he's pursuing you, Kate. He's a lot older than you are, and not the sort of person I think you should fall in love with." How did one decide those things, who to fall in love with, and who not? And how could one control it? But Kate only nodded at her mother.

"I'm not in love with him, Mom. He's just coming to eat turkey."

"Sometimes that's how those things start, by being friends and becoming too familiar," her mother warned her.

"He lives in California," Kate said blandly.

"I'll admit, that makes me feel better. All right, I'll tell your father. And I hate to say it, but he'll be delighted. But I swear, if he offers to take your father up in some dangerous plane with him, I'll put a.r.s.enic in his stuffing. And you can tell him I said so."

"Thanks, Mom," she beamed at her mother, and wandered nonchalantly out of the kitchen.

"I thought you were going to help me!" her mother called after her just before the kitchen door closed.

"I have a paper due on Monday, I'd better get started on it!" she shouted back, but her mother wasn't fooled. The look in Kate's eyes after her mother had said Joe could come to dinner absolutely terrified her. She had had that look in her own eyes only once, when a friend of her father's had secretly courted her and broken her heart, but fortunately her parents had discovered it and intervened before anything too awful had happened. And she had met Kate's father only weeks later. But now she was worried about Kate and Joe Allbright. She spoke to Clarke about it quietly in their bedroom later that evening. She told him about Joe coming to Thanksgiving dinner, but he didn't share her fears about him.

"He's just coming to dinner, Elizabeth. He's an interesting man. He's not foolish enough to run after a girl of eighteen. He's a handsome guy, he could have any woman he wanted."

"I think you're being naive," she said wisely. "She's a beautiful girl, and I think she's fascinated by him. He's a very romantic figure. Half the women in this country would be happy to run after Charles Lindbergh, and I'm sure some of them have tried. Joe has the same kind of mystique and charm. All that aloofness and his being a pilot make him seem like a romantic figure to a young girl."

"Are you afraid that Kate is running after him?" Her father looked startled. She had a good head on her shoulders, and her mother wasn't giving her credit for it.

"Possibly. Actually, I'm far more concerned that he may be running after her. Why did he call her at school, and not you at the office?"

"All right, I'll grant you, she's a lot prettier than I am. But she's a sensible girl, and he appears to be a gentleman."

"What if they fall in love with each other?"

"Worse things could happen. He's not married. He's respectable. In fact, very much so. He has a job. And no, he's not a banker in Boston. But that could happen, you know. She may meet a man who isn't a doctor or a lawyer or a banker. She could meet an Oriental or an Indian prince, or even a Frenchman or worse yet, a German, at Harvard, and she could wind up living halfway around the world. But we can't keep her locked up at home forever. And if Joe Allbright turns out to be the one, if he makes her happy and is good to her, I can live with it. He's a good man, Elizabeth, and I honestly don't think that's going to happen."

"What if he dies in a plane crash and leaves her widowed with a house full of babies?" her mother said, sounding panicked, and he smiled.

"What if she marries a boy who works at the bank and he gets run over by a streetcar... worse yet, what if he treats her badly, or she marries him just to please us. I'd rather she marry someone who really loves her," he said to his wife calmly, but she looked even more upset.

"Do you think he's in love with her?" she asked in hushed tones.

"No, I don't. I think he's probably a lonely guy with nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, and knowing our daughter, she felt sorry for him. I don't think either of them is in love with the other."

"That's what Kate said, that she felt sorry for him."

"See? Mark my words," he said, putting his arms around her. "You're worrying for nothing. She's a good girl, with a soft heart, just like her mother." Elizabeth sighed, and tried to tell herself Clarke was right, but the next day, when Joe appeared, Kate did not look sorry for him. She looked vivacious and beautiful and excited to see him. And Joe looked dazed as he followed Kate into the dining room and sat down beside her. And as Clarke drew him out during dinner and urged him to talk about his planes, Kate sat watching him, looking awestruck. Elizabeth looked anything but rea.s.sured as she saw the looks of ease and admiration that pa.s.sed between them, and she very definitely had the impression that they knew each other better than either of them was admitting. They seemed unusually comfortable with each other as they chatted side by side.

The letters had created an aura of ease between them that was impossible to conceal from her parents, and Kate didn't try. It was obvious that she and Joe were friends, and equally so that they were attracted to each other. But Elizabeth also had to admit, to herself at least, that he was intelligent, well mannered, and charming, and he treated Kate with kindness and respect. But there was something about him that frightened her mother. There was something cold about him, and withdrawn, and almost frightened, as though he had been wounded at some point in his life, and some part of him was badly hurt. In some ways, no matter how friendly he was, he seemed just out of reach.

And when Joe spoke of flying, it was with such pa.s.sion, that Elizabeth couldn't help wondering if his love for flying was something any woman could compete with. She was willing to believe he was a good man, but not necessarily the right one for Kate. Liz didn't think Joe had the makings of a good husband. His life was full of danger and risk, which wasn't what she wanted for Kate. She wanted her to have a comfortable, happy life, with a man who wanted to do nothing more dangerous than step outside the house to pick up the morning paper. Elizabeth had protected Kate all her life, from danger, from harm, from illness, from pain, but the one thing she couldn't protect her from, she feared now, was heartbreak. Kate had had more than enough of that when her father died. And Elizabeth knew that if Joe and Kate fell in love, there was no way she could protect her daughter. He was far too alluring, and far too exciting. Even his reticence was appealing, it made one want to reach out and help him over the walls he had built around himself. And she could see Kate do it at dinner. She was making every effort to put him at ease and draw him out.

Kate wanted to make him comfortable, and help him feel at home. She didn't even know she was doing it. And as Elizabeth watched them, she knew the worst had already happened. More than Kate herself even knew, her mother sensed correctly that Kate already loved him. What Liz was not sure of was what Joe felt for her. Attraction certainly, and a kind of magnetic pull that he was having trouble resisting, but what lay beyond that, no one knew, not even Joe at this point. Elizabeth felt certain that whatever he felt for Kate, he was trying to resist, but without success.

And as they left the dinner table, her husband whispered to her rea.s.suringly, as he put an arm around her shoulders. "You see, they're just friends... I told you..." Clearly, he didn't see what she did.

"What makes you think so?" she said sadly.

"Look at them, they're talking like old friends. He treats her like a child most of the time. He teases her like a little sister."

"I think they're in love with each other," she said, as they hung back for a moment from the others. They had had a nice group of friends to dinner, and Joe had been a valuable addition. It wasn't his dinner table conversation that concerned her, but his intentions about Kate.

"You're an incurable romantic, my love," Clarke said, and then kissed her.

"No, I'm not unfortunately," she said sensibly. "I think I'm being a cynic, or maybe just a realist. I don't want him to hurt her, and he could. Very badly. I don't want that to happen to her."

"Neither do I. Joe wouldn't do that to her. He's a gentleman."

"I'm not so sure of that, and he's a man, in any case. And a very romantic figure. I think he's every bit as intrigued by her as she is with him, but there's something about him that seems wounded. He doesn't like to talk about his family, and his parents died when he was a baby. G.o.d only knows what happened to him as a child, and what scars lie too deep to be seen. And why isn't he already married?" They were normal questions for a parent to ask, but Clarke still thought she was unduly worried.

"He's been busy," Clarke rea.s.sured her, as they walked into the living room to join their guests. Kate and Joe were sitting in a corner, deep in conversation, and as her mother looked at them, she knew without a question. They were oblivious to everyone else in the room, and he looked as though he would have died for her, and she for him. It was already too late. All Elizabeth could do now was pray.

4.

ON FRIDAY, AFTER THANKSGIVING, Joe had picked Kate up at the house and spent the afternoon with her. They had gone for a walk in the Boston Garden, and afterward went to tea at the Ritz. Kate kept him amused the entire time with stories about their trip to Singapore and Hong Kong, and then regaled him with their adventures in Europe. Anyone who had ever flown with him, wouldn't have recognized him. He was more talkative with her than he had ever been in his life, and they spent the entire afternoon laughing. Joe had picked Kate up at the house and spent the afternoon with her. They had gone for a walk in the Boston Garden, and afterward went to tea at the Ritz. Kate kept him amused the entire time with stories about their trip to Singapore and Hong Kong, and then regaled him with their adventures in Europe. Anyone who had ever flown with him, wouldn't have recognized him. He was more talkative with her than he had ever been in his life, and they spent the entire afternoon laughing.

He took her to dinner that night, and then they went to a movie. They saw Citizen Kane, Citizen Kane, and they both loved it. It was nearly midnight when he took her home, and Kate was yawning when she said goodnight to him. and they both loved it. It was nearly midnight when he took her home, and Kate was yawning when she said goodnight to him.

"I had a wonderful time," she smiled up at him, and he looked down at her with a look of pleasure.

"So did I, Kate." He seemed about to say something more to her, and then didn't. And a moment later, she went inside, and ran into her mother at the top of the stairs. She had just been to the kitchen to check on something.

"Did you have fun?" her mother asked, trying not to look worried. She wanted to ask her what Joe had said, and done, had he kissed her, or done anything he shouldn't. But she was taking her cues from her husband, and didn't press Kate about it.

"I had a really nice time, Mom," Kate said, looking peaceful. She loved being with Joe more than she had ever thought she would enjoy anyone. It was hard to believe this was only the fourth time she'd ever seen him. But their exchange of letters over the past three months had brought them infinitely closer. They felt like old friends, and Kate had no sense of the years between them. He seemed more like a kid at times than an adult.