Cynthia Lee Cartier

WINGS

^{A NOVEL}

This is a work of fiction. The dreams, the challenges and the spirit are not. In writing this story, I was so inspired by the women that sojourned during this time. It is to these extraordinary pioneers that I dedicate this novel.

—CLC

The natural function of the wing is to soar upwards and carry that which is heavy up to the place where dwells the race of gods. More than any other thing that pertains to the body, it partakes of the nature of the divine.

—Plato, Phaedrus’

Chapter One

It was a pretty good day to die. The Jenny plunged toward the earth in a determined spin, and the grassed over farmland spun into a kaleidoscope of a thousand shades of green. A hundred more feet, and it was all over. The plane would be unable to rise after that. A gloved hand bickered with the vibration of the stick and gently coaxed it to the right. Slowly, the twirling of the metal bird, like a top falling out of its spin, uncoiled as it inched up toward the silky blue sky.

The pilot pressed back into the seat and pulled the stick between both thighs. A leather ear-flapped cap framed goggles that shielded the pilot’s eyes from the air that blasted into the open cockpit.

“Good girl, now let’s go again.”

Briefly brushing the blue, the nose of the plane passed up and over curling into a tight inside loop, and the engine screamed with its efforts.

The pilot’s delicate touch moved the stick back to center and trimmed the flight to a straight away.

“Hang on folks, here we come.”

Making a low pass over the crowd in the field below, the buzz sent a gust of wind that flapped at hats and hairdos. As had happened with every approach that neared the spectators that morning, the men, women and children unknowingly shuffled closer together. Moving in unison, they fluffed and scratched at the ground with their feet, like an anxious flock of hens waiting for their rooster—could he do the job?

From the pass over the spectators, the plane lit out over the multitude of cars, trucks and buses parked in the side field. A wave of air tracked behind and rushed in between the automobiles, lifting enough dust to blanket the vehicles as a reminder of the day. Circling back and around and then out into distant view, the pilot twisted through a finale with a series of snap rolls, loops and Cuban eights. Completely captivated, the crowd winced with each risk.

“Oooos” and “Ahhhs” floated like a chorus, building and falling with a hypnotic drone. Women held tight to the arms of their men and firmly gripped the hands of their children until the plane landed and bumped along the dirt strip worn out of the fallow farm field in front of them. A few hundred feet later the wheels settled into some ruts and it was done.

The daredevil sat on the edge of the cockpit and waved to the crowd who let out one communal sigh. Then the pilot slid down the skin of the plane and two feet hit solid ground. The crowds relief was chased by “Hoots” and “Atta’ boys” as they welcomed the pilot back to the land of the living with applause. Chatter grew as the pilot sauntered toward the crowd.

“It’s not natural, up there like that. Not me I tell you, not me ever,” pronounced a woman to her farmer husband.

Still looking out across the field, the farmer said with dazed awe, “Can’t say I’ve seen anything like it, you gotta give him his marks. That was somethin’, just somethin’!”

When in spitting distance, the aviator peeled off gloves, goggles and fly cap. Shoulder length, sandy brown locks tumbled off the pilot’s head and swung around her shoulders.

The crowd took the sigh they’d let out when the plane had landed safely and sucked it back in with a gasp, then passed confused glances between them questioning one another without words, Where’d the pilot go? How did that woman appear out of nowhere? Liddy loved this part almost as much as the flying—well, not almost, but she did enjoy it.

The farmer shot a look of shock to his wife and declared, “Now that there’s unnatural.”

The ovation died down and left disapproval and confusion to float among the crowd. But spots of reserved enthusiasm stilled bubbled up in quiet admiration, which came mostly from the young ladies and girls in the crowd. Lustful yearnings seethed from the pores of the young men. Liddy had an appeal that her collective parts, alone, may not have garnered. And then there’s that something that peaks the attention of the male species when the unknown entity of a female does a thing unexpected.

As was her custom, Liddy walked tall past the gathering, stopping here and there to sign autographs for the future she-pilots. Her crooked grin was full. The older men and women soon lost some of their distrust of the turn of events and they too were fighting the itch to know this anomaly. And an anomaly she was. Goggles left coon-like impressions on her earthy skin, and her hair was smashed and damp with sweat, yet she glowed as people glow that just did the exact thing they wanted to do.

Liddy Lynn Hall was taller than the average woman, or at least seemed to be. She didn’t give a bend to her stance but pushed the top of her head towards the sky she loved. Nothing weighted her down. It wasn’t that Liddy had sailed through her twenty-seven years without grief, but life hadn’t settled on her shoulders as it did on many women during tough times, and men for that matter. She was an accepter of ends, and she worked hard to push disappointment from any dwelling place in her thoughts.

Liddy’s amber eyes had a brown wash, the color of root beer, but light and clear. They were grabbers because they were glazed with luster and filled with adventure. Her hair was thick and flat on top and thinned and curled at the last four or five inches, no matter how long it grew. It was the color of earth that you might see in a newly plowed field or on a dark rock wet from the quenching of a brook. She had the toned body of a committed tomboy. A body that had just enough God-given shape to make the fit of her clothes travel in more than one direction as they dropped from neck to toe. But mostly, she was sure and content. That was what made up most of her look.

All in all nothing exceptional, together though, something that was indescribably interesting. An interest that drew people to Liddy once they knew her but might hold them at bay until then. Some came more quickly to her than others. Some not at all if she was gone before they crossed that bridge. The slower to come would usually be a certain kind of man or woman—the kind that is always afraid that someone might take something from them, and in that they miss so much of life.

To her credit, Liddy took this routine of surprise, disdain and confusion and made the best of it, never allowing a snide remark or disapproving glare to extinguish the joy of her calling. She continued her stride until she reached Daniel who was waiting in between two big sheets of shabby plywood. Both had been propped against old metal oil drums. The wood was lettered with the hand-brushing of brown, drippy paint: airplane show $1.00 a person and plane rides $5.00 each.

“It’s a pretty good day to die, Danny Boy. Go get ’em!” Liddy grabbed the young man’s face and kissed him big on the cheek.

“Please don’t say that, Liddy,” he pled softly.

“Alright, Ace, but it is a great day isn’t it, and what a way to go.”

Liddy had no boundaries in the sky. There she was stronger, she trusted and was free. Her time in the air erased the disappointments of life, and one moment held up by a wing was worth all the ground could offer. She was wholly aware of her mortality and welcomed it. The sky held her soul and on its own willed her heart to soar.

Daniel handed her the cigar box he had been clutching firmly. “Great show, Liddy.”

“Thanks. Now give them a thrill.” And off she strolled toward the barn.

Daniel Cooper seemed much older than his twenty years. He had six inches greater height than Liddy, but life had settled on his shoulders, so you would never think him a tall man. Not that Daniel had met great tragedies in his young life. He came from a fine farm family, and he and his brothers and sisters had enjoyed love and comfort in their childhoods. He just took on all the unwanted possibilities as weights and let them share his day-to-day. Some people are like that.

Why Daniel wanted to learn to fly was anybody’s guess. Liddy thought it was because he had to know he could do something brave. Once he went up, he had the bug. He wasn’t one to take risks in the sky, but he had become a good pilot, and it was his badge of courage.

A line about ten deep trailed out behind the plane ride sign. Daniel took the money handed to him by the woman at the head of it and zipped the bill into his jacket pocket. He led his first passenger of the day to a plane sitting next to the one that was cooling off from Liddy’s go. The woman leaned on Daniel as he guided her onto the wing and then into the cockpit where he helped her strap in and then carefully snugged down the goggles over her eyes. When her whole head of hair slipped backwards, Daniel jumped a little and quickly pulled the wig back into position. The woman was too excited to notice.

Right where she left them, Liddy found Orrin, Jensen and Crik playing cards off a wood crate. Muck was posted at Crik’s side with the scruff of his shaggy neck at just the right height for scratching. The air was scented with the memories of manure and straw but was bullied by the oil and gasoline that fed the barn’s current life. Planes and plane bones were neatly arranged about the place, dwarfing the space and exaggerating their mass. Two huge doors were rolled open on opposite ends of the building. A breeze ran through the room in one door and out the other, leaving the cool spring air to prick at the skin. Liddy tossed her leather gloves onto the makeshift table, making the pot of coins jingle. The men kept their attention on the opportunity in their grasp, and Liddy stood and admired the trio.

Orrin’s rheumatoid tangled fingers balanced the cards so precariously that any advantage a deal might give him was always at risk of being exposed. His shell had the abandonment of a man who was widowed for a good many years—a man who no longer moved fast enough to get done basic chores before the day was done, and a new day dawned and presented its priorities. Orrin had run the post office in town from the time he was a young man, until he retired of age. He had been retired as long as Liddy had known him, which was all of her life that she had memory of. He had delivered mail by plane at some point in there. At least many legends existed that included that detail. So Orrin, as did most of the hanger-rounds, flew or at least used to. It wasn’t the flying that drew old flyers together—it was the tales.

Jensen Laughton was not a flyer. Well fitted in his crisp three piece suit, he sat tight-in like a man wrapped in plastic. His elbows pressed in against his ribs, and he held his cards inches from and below his spectacles. Jensen played poker with the insecurities of a domesticated dog tossed in the wild to fend for itself. All Liddy knew of him was that he worked for the bank, and he found himself to Crik’s place three or four times a week to play cards. Or he’d just sit and sip a pop and watch Crik check and heal the planes. He burned the midnight oil at the bank to make up for his time away during the day and to avoid a wife he feared—that was the rumor anyway. Jensen didn’t fit here. This was exactly why Liddy figured he chose this refuge—it would be the last place anyone would look. Liddy had asked Crik what Jensen’s story was, but he said he didn’t know and didn’t care, which she knew was true. Crik could know a man for years, without knowing him, and be perfectly satisfied with the relationship.

Crik was decked out in coveralls stiffened in spots by layers of old grease. Both pant legs were tucked into his black western boots. His crown was completely free of hair, which suited his smooth, round head. A smudge of grease was on the back of his hand and on his forehead—one was sure to have painted the other.

“She’s still pulling to the left. Thought you went through her, ” Liddy complained.

Crik didn’t look up from his hand. “Soundin’ like your old man, girl.”

“I should be flying somewhere else.” Liddy plucked her gloves from the pot.

“Been sayin’ that since you were sixteen. Why don’t ya’?” Crik tilted back in his chair and reached for the cigar box. Liddy handed it over, and his fingers rapidly flipped through the pile of bills inside. “Did real good, honey, Orrin even heard the whoops.”

Orrin shook as he placed one end of a pounded brass ear trumpet in his ear and aimed it at Crik as he asked for a second go at the words, “What’s that?”

Crik counted and then pinched a stack of cash from the box and held it up the way a deal maker does when trying to entice the seller. Liddy flattened her palm open in front of him, and he laid the bills across it. His sleeves were rolled-up displaying a collection of scars creased in skin that loosely clothed his well used muscles. The scars came mostly from time working on the engines of planes—the deeper ones had come from a plane crash he’d lived to tell about from the first war. A story that was true. He had spent much of the following year in a hospital bed fighting for his life.

It was the telling from Crik’s sister, Liddy’s mother, which assured Liddy of this history of Crik’s. Edda Hall had spent that year in prayer and service to ensure her little brother’s recovery. He was her only living relative and the main focus of her life until she married Jack Hall, Liddy’s father, when she was past thirty. Marriage didn’t release her from the bonds of being older sister to Crik though. After leaving the hospital, Crik went to the Hall home before he was on his feet again. So with three year old Liddy underfoot, Edda was nurse and mommy. Her husband was soldiering overseas at the time, and the presence of a man in the house was a welcome addition.

When the war ended, Crik bought his first Jenny off the Army for two hundred dollars. He hooked up with some war buddies and started storming. Eventually he found a good place with the Great Gilbert Flying Circus, and took his pay from them. In order to draw the crowds, the air shows started to push the risks. Crashes became more frequent, and the government stepped in and wrote some laws. The new regulations grounded many of the planes the stormers flew and called their more risky stunts illegal. The circuit couldn’t make it after that, and Crik returned home to Holly Grove.

He set up dusting farms and put on a show every few weeks during the warmer months. As long as he only drew a crowd to his own place, no one bothered him. And it was useful to have a pilot in farm country. Things needed to be picked up and delivered, including people that needed emergency medical care that a small town doctor couldn’t offer. Farmers wanted to dust more and more fields as the practice took hold, and Crik also became known as the plane doctor. With the exception of the cut he took from the show that Liddy and Daniel flew at his place in his planes, repairing engines, skins and wings was the way he now got by. It had been over ten years since Crik had flown for a crowd.

“Okay, sit down here and give us a stab at that money there,” Orrin prodded Liddy.

“You’ll never give up, will ya?” Crik hollered to his friend.

“It’s worth askin’,” Orrin said to Crik and then looked up at Liddy. “What’s it gonna take for you to sit a hand with us, girl?”

Liddy leaned toward Orrin’s ear, patted his back and raised her voice, “When there’s no chance of losing, you give me a holler.” She stuffed the money deep into her pocket then moved behind Crik, circled his neck with a hug, kissed the top of his head and polished it in with her hands. “See you later.”

As she left the barn Crik called after her, “Tell Jack hi for me.”

From over her shoulder Liddy called back to Crik, “I will.”

While looking up at Daniel’s flight, Liddy wound her path in and out of the cars parked in the field. She could see that wig woman had a life grip on the sides of the cockpit. Daniel was patient—he endured the screeches and screams that Liddy simply couldn’t. He had his niche and she had hers.

In the distance, two ‘good ole boys’, Rowby Wills and one of his side-kicks leaned on a car, her car. The 1927 Dodge Four was pocked with rust and couldn’t remember the last time it wore a top to keep it dry from rain or shaded from the beating sun. Its second round of paint was faded and flaking. Still, somehow it staked out its identity as a car to find fun in.

Rowby leaned with intention. He took great care with the angle of his hat down to the crossing of his legs at his ankles. His side-kick mirrored the pose without the same cool. The third son on one of the biggest ranches in the state, Rowby had the skin of… How do you describe bronzed, flawless, polished-looking skin? Perfect, his skin was perfect, the skin of the gods. It was pulled tightly over high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, but not so tight that two deeply set dimples didn’t sink in at the sides of his mouth, even when he wasn’t smiling.

His jet black hair competed with his dark blue eyes that you couldn’t look into because the color was so thick—your gaze just slid over the surface like they had landed on a frozen pond. His form was carved high and low in all the right places, and he had one of those sexy walks that you can only enjoy as the person is leaving because there is no way to be nonchalant about the viewing.

With all his good looks, Rowby suffered from an anemic self-worth that showed itself in an overactive use of the most inappropriate assumptions. Accomplishments that involved the intellect were lacking in his bag of tricks, and all of his claims laid on the successes of his family and their money—claims he’d decided entitled him to all of everything, anywhere from anybody. The other members of the Wills clan were not only as great an eye feast, they shared a brain function that Rowby didn’t have or understand, leaving him out of family conversation and ventures. And as it usually goes, identity is often a result of the relative experience in the family and circle of friends where people are formed.

It’s too bad that Rowby didn’t possess the self-worth of Liddy’s car. Despite her worn state, she looked offended by the uninvited guests that had planted their backsides on her skin—she knew what she was worth.

Liddy spoke up in her car’s defense, “Hi, boys, watch the paint, would ya?”

The request didn’t stir the two men. “Hey, Lid, we’re gonna take a ride down to Larry’s place, wanna ride along?” Rowby pinched the brim of his hat and moved it up off his forehead. “I’ll buy you supper at the diner when we get back.”

Liddy looked at Rowby as she would a child who just asked if they could raise fish in the toilet. She grabbed him playfully by his shirt collar, pulled him off the driver’s side, swung in around him and grabbed the door handle. She tossed her gear in the back seat, opened the door and slid behind the wheel. Rowby was still straightening his collar.

“Tempting, can’t though. Next week, okay?” Liddy reached under the dash panel and touched two wires that were twisted together to one that was dangling free, and the engine sputtered and rocked.

Rowby’s perfect skin reddened, which was such a shame because the golden tenor was so nice. He clenched his teeth, “Liddy I’m gettin’ tired of…” Then he collected his outer calm and took down a different road, “Marry me, Liddy Hall, and I’ll buy you a car worth drivin’.”

Liddy caressed the body of her jalopy. “May not be pretty, but … if she had wings, I’d take her up.” She popped the gear shift and rolled out, brushing Rowby off the side.

Liddy knew that the Rowbys of the world were fragile and dangerous. Since she was very young, she was guided by a strong intuition, so from the time they were children in school together, Liddy had a sense that a fine line should be kept with Rowby Wills. Still, in high school she had been on a few dates with him, but she soon realized he wasn’t going to accept her on her terms, so she drew a line of friendship. This however, didn’t keep Rowby on the right side of the line, but she was consistent.

Liddy’s tactic had always been to dole out huge kindness to Rowby, hoping for the day when he would be distracted elsewhere. This had happened many times, but nothing had stuck. She did care what happened to him and felt bad for his challenges. Many people with a steady sense of themselves feel deeply for those who don’t have this sense, and Liddy felt for Rowby. She knew how essential it was to her own survival. It was a matter of course for Liddy to depend on what she knew she could count on in herself and stick close to it.

As she pulled away from the field and drove down the dirt road to the town of Holly Grove, Missouri, she tapped a beat on the steering wheel and sang out to the tune in her head, “Comin’ in on a wing and a prayer, comin’ in on a wing and a prayer. Though there’s one motor gone, we can still carry on, comin’ in on a wing and a prayer.” Daniel flew over her as he circled around to land and Liddy thought to herself, Every day should begin in the air.

Chapter Two

A loud stillness falls on a town during wartime. Is it the absence of the hell-raising and of cars that drive too fast down Main Street on Friday nights? Is it the quiet left in the dearth of fluttering girls who have no one to flutter for? Or is it the echo of empty and aching hearts, the hearts of sweeties and mamas and daddies in a land that has sent its young men to battle on foreign soil? Young men have a vigor that only they can live and draw from others. When they’re gone, there’s a pause in living that waits for their return.

The Second World War had all but stripped most small towns of their young men. Some were kept from the effort because of flat feet, weak vision or less than perfect hearing. A few were excused by their lineage. Most that were excused would slink about the streets or stay close to home, hiding from the grip of guilt that stalked them for not being with their friends and brothers. But for some, it just wasn’t their time yet. They hadn’t been called up and wrestled with waiting for the call or enlisting.

The town of Holly Grove was papered with posters calling for the support of their soldier boys and encouraging the purchase of Defense Savings Stamps. Posters called for the use of properly issued ration coupons—HELP US SMASH THE BLACK MARKET. Meat, sugar, coffee, shoes, gasoline and rubber were just some of the things that were dealt out sparingly, all to keep the supply available for the war effort…except for gasoline. It was plentiful. But rubber was not. Japan had been the main supplier of rubber to the United States and those ties were no longer. If people drove they wore out their tires, and a car without gas couldn’t burn much rubber. Since a plane wasn’t seen as a major rubber consumer, pilots were able to get extra gas coupons by showing documents for special needs, and Crik kept the planes in the air. Even with that, the gasoline rationing kept the paying customers closer to home, so Crik cut back on shows as the war dragged on.

Liddy drove through her hometown and felt the lingering, silent fret of people who didn’t know what lay ahead. Blue Star Flags were displayed proudly at both home and business, but following the visit of a black sedan, a blue star would be patched over with a gold one. Fear and anger were camouflaged with pride and patriotism. A façade of resolute determination was erected that no one would confess to or let falter. The War was a fume that permeated every moment and the senses were heightened and then numbed to it.

Liddy parked in front of Tully’s Market where Raymond Tully sat in a rocker on the sidewalk. The old man rocked and scanned the sky through binoculars. It had been over two years since Pearl Harbor had been attacked, but an uneasiness still lived in every man, woman and child that some people were set on killing Americans. Such uncertainty was foreign to people who had only known living on peaceful soil. Liddy left the Dodge and stepped up on the sidewalk where she sat in the empty chair next to the man.

“Hey, Mr. Tully, anything up there?”

Raymond Tully tremored with the frustration and helplessness of a man who could no longer take the battlefield but had a personal knowledge of the battle. In some form, war seems to make itself available to every generation, and he was well acquainted with the moments that were being lived out by the young men of his family and of his friend’s families, many who were young enough to do the job and at the same time, too young to do the job.

“Hi, Liddy. Nope, don’t ’spect there will be. Ain’t gonna catch our boys off guard more than once. Better be safe though. How’s Jack?”

“Ornery as ever.”

“Tell him Ray says hi.”

“I will.” Liddy patted his hand and went into the store. As she pushed open the front door, the bell jingled over her head and she was met instantly by the smell of cellared apples and Lysol. The floor sparkled and the shelves were scrubbed clean where they were ration bare. She took three bottles of Coca-Cola from the icebox and slipped a newspaper from the rack.

Raymond Tully’s granddaughter May brushed past the burlap curtain to the back room and greeted her customer and friend, “Hi, Liddy.” She swept crumbs from her mouth and off the white apron that was wrapped twice around her tall, slender frame.

“Hey, May. How’ve you been?”

“Tired, bored and bloated from eating so many potatoes. When this war is over I plan to never even look at another potato. How are you?”

“Great!” Liddy laid her purchases on the counter and peeled a bill from the wad she dug out of her pocket.

May pushed down on the register keys. “Heard you’re goin’ to the dance in Kirksville next Saturday with Frank Paulson?”

“Who told you that?”

“Frank.”

“He asked, but I’ve gotta work, I told him that.”

“Still shuffling plates at the diner?” May stowed the pop in a brown paper sack and the exchange was made.

“Still,” Liddy said as she scrunched the bag opening in a clutch and slipped the newspaper under her arm. “You and Harlan going to the dance?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why though. He’ll just perch himself on his car outside the hall with the Shelley boys and smoke and drink Clarence Kimmel’s hooch. I’ll end up driving him home, leave him parked in front of his mama’s house and then walk myself home. Quite a life I’ve mapped out for myself, don’t you think?”

“Well, May, you could always get a different map.”

“Wish you were goin’, Liddy. We could have some laughs.”

“Me too. You make it a good day, okay.” Liddy left the store, snapped a salute to May’s granddaddy and climbed into the Dodge.

Beneath the big cottonwood trees that lined the drive, Liddy drove slowly toward the large white building on top of the hill. Spring was drawing out the leaves and Liddy looked up at the specks of green that dotted the sunshine breaking through the web of branches.

The local hospital was housed in the old Newell mansion. The Newell empire had included banks, land and railroads until Arthur Newell decided to go into the oil business—in Missouri. The man was sure he sensed the bubbling brew beneath him, or it may have just been the tumor that was pressing on his brain. Before Arthur died of brain cancer, he had dwindled the family’s fortune hunting for the black gold, so when the coffers emptied most of the Newells scattered around the country, trying to make a way for themselves. Had the family not left the business solely to Arthur, the second eldest of the surviving matriarch, the plunder may have been avoided. But the eldest son and the rest of the family were too busy living on family money, which was a full-time job.

Old Mrs. Newell still lived in a little house in the center of town where she managed to keep herself with the money she made from the sale of her childhood home. The big house she grew up in wasn’t something she could afford to rattle around in, so she sold it and it was turned into a hospital, the only hospital for a hundred miles.

Carrying the sack of pop and the newspaper, Liddy walked down the hall of the hospital where a nurse was sitting at a desk.

“Hi, Liddy, good show today?”

“Always. How’s my guy?” Liddy asked as she sailed by.

“Keepin us on our toes.”

Liddy turned into the room at the end of the hall and side-stepped Ruth who was changing the sheets on the bed. Liddy’s father was sitting in a chair by the window. His robe hung off his right shoulder and wisps of hair floated above his head. Struggle tensed his face as he studied the day, straining to catch his thoughts before they escaped. Life and hard living had swallowed Jack Hall’s mass, even before illness took hold. His sixty-three years sat on him like seventy-five plus. He had big opinions and a big voice that didn’t match his current size, which seemed out of balance to anyone who had just met him.

“Hi, Daddy.” Liddy kissed the top of Jack’s head. “Hey, Ruth.”

The nurse grunted as she swung the corner of the bed up and flipped the sheet under in one fluid motion.

“Crik says hi, Daddy.”

“How’s the old man?” Jack growled.

“Missin’ you. He’ll be by this week sometime.”

“Good crowd?”

“Thick as corn.” Liddy laid the newspaper on Jack’s lap and removed one of the pop bottles from the paper sack. She took a bottle opener from the drawer of the bedside table, popped off the cap, zinged it into the trash can and set the bottle within his reach.

Jack loved his Coca-Cola. It had become one of his familiars. Routine of the senses and of time become an even greater comfort during seasons of change. His body could no longer take his old familiars and the hospital didn’t allow most of them. When he took the bottle and tipped it up for a swig, Jack coughed and some of the pop dribbled down his chin. “Dammit!” he cursed.

Ruth tossed Liddy a pillowcase and she quickly wiped up the spill, until Jack batted her hand away. She pulled up a stool and scooted next to his chair.

“Hey, Daddy, I’m sending out my application today.” Liddy pinched a phantom object between her fingers and pushed it into the fabric of her shirt. “Wings!”

“Did you know my little girl’s gonna be an Army pilot?” Jack asked Ruth.

“A WASP, they’re not enlisted, not yet that is, and—” Liddy tried to clarify.

“You’re gonna serve your country? It’s Army.” Jack took another, more careful, gulp.

Liddy tried again, “Women’s Airforce Service Pilots and—”

“I know, I know, wasps, bees, whatever. You’re gonna fly to protect this country from them damn Japs and Krauts. I know that!” Jack shook with agitation.

“It’s not combat, Daddy, and I have to get in—”

“Hey, Ruthie, did I ever tell you ‘bout the first time I took my Liddy skyward?”

“Only a hundred times,” the nurse answered as she moved efficiently around the bed lifting, tucking and fluffing. Ruth wore the banner of an ill-temper, but Liddy knew Jack and she went at it like two old pals. He trusted her, and she was the one he preferred to take care of things for him. They were like-kinded.

Jack heard Ruth say, ‘No, but I’d love to hear about it.’ So without missing a beat he continued, “Her Mama was on the ground cryin’ in such gushes that things started to sprout up from where her tears soaked the dirt. The whole time we was up, she cried and cried. When we landed, my little Liddy wouldn’t get out of that airplane. She hung on and bawled and cried to go up again. So she was cryin’ and her Mama was cryin’. Here I was with these two gals, one huggin’ the ground, while the other was reaching for the sky. And that’s the way it was from that day on. Props are in the blood ya’ know, and this girl here’s got her daddy’s blood for damn sure.”

Jack tossed the newspaper to Liddy, and she read the headline, “AIRSTRIKES INCREASE. U.S. and Allies Mount Air Offensive.” Jack listened as Liddy read every story, every announcement and advertisement. Then she re-read the parts that Jack wanted repeated. When his head began to bob, Liddy coaxed him to his bed and continued to read until his lids gave up. Because he would sometimes snap awake and scold her for her silence, Liddy waited. When a consistent rumble slowly bellowed up from his gut and pushed its way out his mouth and nose in turn, she set the newspaper on the bed table.

Liddy watched Jack sleep and tried to remember when he looked young. Ageing had steamrolled the man when he lost his wife. He hadn’t married till he was thirty-five and then he’d settled into the arrangement like a contented cat. Jack once told Liddy her mother was the first sweet thing that had ever loved him and let him love her back.

Edda had given birth to Liddy in her first year of marriage and handled her transition without a twitter. Nurturer was always her role and although she adored her brother, caring for a husband and child was the easiest loving she’d ever known. She was a quiet woman, but didn’t hesitate to call Jack down when he was excessive in his excesses. After the war, Jack flew the circuit with Crik for a few months, but Edda didn’t see that was working for their unit. Jack stayed home and dusted from then on, and Edda kept the little family tightly knit and loved.

Liddy had no photos of her mother and didn’t remember her look. Her folks were simple people and not the sort to spend money on extravagances. Edda’s folks must not have been either. Liddy had never seen a picture of her mother or her uncle as children.

Three memories of Edda lived in Liddy: She remembered her to be a tall woman—images of Edda standing level with men and above the ladies floated in her memory. And she remembered how Edda would screw a silly face when she wanted to lighten a mood or raise a spirit. But her nose, mouth, eyes, and skin had long ago faded. So Liddy would draw a face for her mother, which changed as Liddy grew. The face would fit the feelings she kept of her, feelings that reflected how her mother made her feel. From Edda Hall she had felt loved and safe. This was the strongest memory Liddy had of the woman who so briefly made the Hall house a home. But Liddy knew feelings were funny things, much of the time they had little staying power and those that chose to stay were so influenced by time and space.

The Coke bottle was drained dry and Liddy placed it in the trash can by the bed and gathered up the brown bag that cased the two remaining pops. At the nurse’s desk she turned in the bag for rationing. Jack would drink them all in one sitting if he could.

Liddy was strolling down the hall of the hospital when she saw Dr. Bradley cross the lobby. He drove up from Columbia and was only at the little hospital three days a week. Making a sharp swift turn, she quickly rounded the corner—it was too late.

“Liddy, Liddy Hall, come here!” She heeded the man’s orders, turned on her heels and walked back.

“You know what I’m going to tell you, don’t you, Liddy?”

“Do I?” Liddy rubbed her finger on the bridge of her nose and avoided looking at him.

“These are tough times. Every room means expenses. We have to transfer your dad to the state facility if you can’t pay for his care here, and I—”

“I brought everything I could in last week—”

“I know you did, but—”

“I’ve got a big show coming up and I’ll—”

“The paperwork is on my desk, right now. If there was anything we could do that we haven’t already done…”

Liddy reached into her pocket and pulled out her stash and offered it up. “I’ll get the rest, I promise—all of it by the end of the month. Okay?” she pleaded and then thought to herself, I have a plan Doc, can’t tell you about it though.

“I’m beyond serious this time. Do you hear me?” The doctor looked at the cash in his hand and tightened the side of his mouth. “Liddy, the state hospital isn’t a bad place.”

“But it’s three hours away, isn’t it?” Liddy turned and walked away. Her strut was gone and she was left with a heavy step. She walked out the front door of the hospital and to her car, trying not to think about things she could do nothing about, for the time being.

She grabbed the driver’s door of the Dodge and pulled to open it. Her arm stretched out and popped her shoulder, but the door didn’t budge.

“Come on, girl. This isn’t a good time. Be a pal and open up now.”

She pushed down harder on the hammer and pulled again. Then she twisted her whole body back and forth. She pulled some more and then kicked the door, smashing her toe. “Ow.” She grabbed the toe of her shoe and hopped back a few steps. “Alright, if that’s the way you’re gonna be.”

Liddy stepped on the running board, sat on the top of the door and swung over and into the seat. She leaned back and took a deep breath.

“I don’t need any guff from you today.” Her hands fished under the dash and pinched the wires between her fingers. “I’m not fooling around. If you don’t start for me, I’m leaving you here and you’re getting home on your own.” Gently, she tapped the shaggy copper tails together and heard a few of the usual sputters, then a rattle and a steady chug. “Good, girl.”

Liddy pulled out of the hospital parking lot and left her words with Dr. Bradley on the road with the dust. Soon she would be back in the sky.

Liddy’s backside was perched in the air and her head plunged deep inside the cockpit of a shiny new civilian Fairchild PT. Her hands explored the body, while she studied every detail of the ship’s guts with her eyes.

Jerry Bluff entered the hangar. “Liddy, you climb down from there!”

She ignored the order and continued her inspection. “Can I take her up?”

“No, definitely no,” Jerry yelled. His aggravation chopped his breathing, pushing his middle-aged paunch in and out in a quick rhythm. His effort to cross the hanger taxed him, his exhales stressed his shirt buttons, and perspiration broke out on his forehead.

Liddy looked at Jerry from over her shoulder. “The engine hasn’t been broken in, has it?”

“Yes, it has and listen here, you’re not taking up this plane or any other until you reconcile your account.” Jerry folded his arms across his chest, not realizing his tie had flopped clumsily over his arms.

Liddy dug into her pocket before remembering her take from the show that day was gone. She jumped down from the plane and approached Jerry. He tightened up the lock of his arms as if he was creating a shield from Liddy.

“You don’t want me to head off to serve your country having only flown those old ships of Crik’s and the skeletons you’ve been letting me fly, do ya’?”

“Skeletons? None of my planes…” Jerry held his ground. “This is a business, Miss.”

“I have a big show coming up. I’ll get caught up, I promise.”

Jerry maintained his stern disposition but was quick to give Liddy some slack. “At Crik’s place?”

“Yeah,” Liddy fudged and thought, I’ll start the day at Crik’s place.

“What’s so special about this show?”

“There’s four or five buses coming over from Genner Springs,” still fudging. Surely someone might be there from Genner Springs. There could be a bus.

“Completely paid up?”

“In full,” Liddy said with the kind of confidence that was hard to doubt.

“Okay, but I’m not blocking any time for you. You only go up when the schedule’s clear, and no more, definitely no more.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Liddy trotted back to the plane and jumped up on the wing, “So, can I take her up?”

“No, definitely no.”

The instrument panel glinted in Liddy’s eye as she taxied the blue and yellow Fairchild out of the hangar. She waved at Jerry from the cockpit. He didn’t return the wave but kicked at the ground and shuffled back into his office. Liddy rolled out to the runway and waited at the end of the blacktop for clearance.

Her fingers walked over the panel—not a scratch. What a day. A new plane. A first—Jack would be impressed, Crik too.

A crack over the radio startled her out of her spell, “All clear, Bluff 19A.”

She throttled, stepped gently on the rudder and felt the plane scoot and sway obediently. The thrust of the engine caught up her whole body and Liddy was giddy. Next thing she knew, she floated above the strip. She drew the stick to her and drifted up and up until she caught full air and was where she wanted to be. She clocked the odometer to a hundred plus and sat back to glide.

Liddy had no questions when she flew. Everything made sense and she was lost and found. Free from the worries that hem in a life. Worries that have no place until you’re down again, if you ever are. The hospital bill, her account with Jerry, Jack’s health, it all floated away. You didn’t know Liddy unless you had flown with her, so few people actually knew Liddy Hall. The power floated her free and there was nothing or no one that she wanted to be but her. It had always been that way. The sky had chosen her. This was something she knew for sure.

As Liddy flew along the highway she spotted a patrol car. An officer had pulled over a motorist and was approaching the driver’s door. She took the stick forward and gunned it, picking up speed as she dove, heading straight for the vehicles. She swept in low, and the papers on the deputy’s clip board ruffled from the blast of air. His hat flew off his head and bounced and spun on the asphalt.

“Ahaaa!” Liddy yodeled.

The officer chased his hat down and then ran into the middle of the road. He attempted to read the ID numbers on the plane but Liddy banked sharply to keep them from view.

“I’m sorry, Joe, were you trying to read my tail?” Liddy quipped.

She flew in a circle, banking left and right leading the man into a kind of back and forth figure eight. Once she got him good and dizzy, she rolled out and flew off into the distance.

Defeated, the policeman returned his attention to the roadside where his patrol car sat alone. The motorist had left the scene and was a speck in the distance. He slammed his ticket board to the ground and followed that with his hat.

Seventeen little Johnsons burst through the screen door of a dilapidated farm house, out of the barn, from the garden and the yard they spilled out and gathered together. Liddy was watching for them as she flew above the homestead. The Johnson farm was leaning all over the place, but it was whitewashed with love. Charlie Johnson was the son of a farmer and he and his wife were the saviors of the county. Always providing meals for the sick, rebuilding burned-down barns, gathering up orphans, which accounted for the numbers of their brood—all this in the absence of two pennies to rub together. The Johnson clan was an army of sacrifice and goodwill.

Charlie had come from a long line of servants. It was his parents who swooped in to care for Liddy and her father when her mother became ill and died in just a few short months. Liddy was twelve. Helping Mrs. Johnson clean and cook in her mother’s stead taught Liddy to do the needed tasks around the house. It hadn’t occurred to her to take up these activities when her mother was alive. It was never expected. Edda Hall had accepted that Liddy’s heart wasn’t in the kitchen but had set itself on her father’s interests.

Liddy looked down at the dilapidated farm and thought how poverty was never associated with a Johnson. They never radiated any need, and were a complete and happy lot. Their happiness filled the air as the children flailed their arms to get Liddy’s attention. She rocked the wings up and down as if to say ‘I see you’. From tall to small the tribe stampeded into the field, dragging the littlest Johnsons between them. Tiny hands were clutched in the grip of their older siblings. Their small bodies swung up and down as their feet touched the ground briefly and floated back out. When they reached a steep pile of chopped straw, they circled it, hand-in-hand.

Charlie Johnson emerged from the barn and met his wife in the yard where she had been hanging out the family’s clean wardrobe. His grin pulled full across his face as he screened his eyes with one hand and peered out and over the field. With his other arm he squeezed his wife’s waist in excitement.

Liddy flew out about half a mile, headed back and tilted forward on the stick. She aimed straight for the children who were dancing like popping corn around their hill of gold. The closer the plane came to the troop, the more some of them jigged, while others tightened up, tucked their chins to their chests and braced themselves.

Closer—closer—Liddy skimmed the air above the pile and it exploded into a cloud of golden bits. The children’s clothes flapped and waved as they bopped in merriment with their arms stretched to the sky. The hay hung on the air and then wafted leisurely down onto the dancers who leaped and spun about. Remnants of straw set down on their heads and carpeted the ground at their feet and the big band blended into their dance floor. Liddy flew in circles watching the party. With her last pass, she tilted and waved at Charlie and his wife, double rolled and then sailed away.

Back at the airport, Liddy sat at the end of Jerry’s desk. She folded her WASP application with precision and placed it in an envelope. Jerry leaned back in his chair watching. She licked the envelope, sealed it and held out her hand as she shot him a needful look.

“Sure, next you’ll want my car or my house maybe. I’m sure my wife won’t mind.” Jerry pulled open his desk drawer and retrieved a stamp. The phone rang and he answered it, “Bluff Air.”

Liddy reached for the postage pinched between Jerry’s fingers and he pulled it back. He drew the phone a distance from his ear, and shouting reverberated from the receiver, but Liddy couldn’t make out the words.

“Well, Sheriff Squim, if you can give me the ID numbers, I can tell you if it was one of mine.” Jerry squinted suspiciously at Liddy and more hollering floated into the room. “Liddy Hall? Yes, she still flies out of here.” Still watching Liddy, Jerry accused her now.

Liddy returned a shrug of innocence.

“Today? I’d have to check on that. Can I get back to you?”

The Sheriff’s voice boomed from the phone. This time his words were distinct, “You damned well better check on that.” The rant continued but retreated back to a muffled rumbling.

Jerry moved the mouth piece just close enough to end the conversation, “Thanks for the call, Sheriff.”

The lawman’s roar continued to spill from the receiver as Jerry gingerly set the phone in its cradle. He pulled his desk drawer open and removed a little box. Jerry dropped the stamp that he held between his fingers into it and pushed the whole lot toward Liddy. “Make sure you get enough postage on that.”

Liddy stood in front of the mailbox. She checked every word she had carefully written on the envelope and then set it on the ledge at the opening of the slot. When she let go, the letter teetered and then was still. She picked it up again, re-examined it and then bounced it in the palm of her hand, checking for weight. The sky was graying. She had missed the day’s post and debated holding on to the application until the morning but decided against the stall. Liddy again set the envelope on the ledge. This time she tapped the end and it slid down the chute. She peered in to see where it landed, but the box was dark. It was done. Liddy Lynn Hall had applied to be a Women Airforce Service Pilot. Now she would wait.

Chapter Three

When Jack Hall first saw the magazine cover with a woman sitting on the wing of an Army plane, he assumed it was war propaganda. But when he found out that the article was about a program to train women to fly for the Army, he shoved it at his Liddy. The two of them battled about her not wanting to go away and leave him and Jack demanded that he didn’t need another nurse. Jack won and Liddy accepted his determination for her and admitted her own to herself.

Liddy had secretly dreamt of someday being more than a country show flyer. That kind of flying wasn’t respectable in the minds of some who were serious about aviation and it didn’t offer new challenges for her or the financial means to help take care of her and Jack. But it was what she knew, and she thought she had settled on it. So this new direction churned all kinds of excitement in Liddy. That magazine had become worn and ragged from the hours that she’d spent poring over the photos and text.

It chronicled the journey of Jackie Cochran, under the supervision of Army Air Force Commander General ‘Hap’ Arnold, to establish the Women Airforce Service Pilots program. Cochran, who was a pilot and a woman of influence, saw a need that female flyers could fill in the war effort. She used her influence to develop the program to train novice to advanced women pilots to do noncombat duties at home, freeing the men to fight overseas. It was a civilian program, but Cochran had her sights set on militarization for the WASPs.

Aviation was government regulated by the 1940s, but some of the flying was still being done that wasn’t licensed, especially in farm country. Farmers needed dusters and aviation wasn’t something local law enforcement cared much about. So as long as no one created a reason to step in, no one did. Liddy flew at such a young age without a license, and over farm and field, that the need to get one had never come up and there was the issue of money. So her flying time had not been logged.

When she had learned what was required to qualify for the WASP, she set about to line things up. She would need a license and thirty-five hours of logged flight time. At Clayton Airfield, in the next county, she found that strong stands about female pilots were the norm. Common opinion was that it was fine for a woman to fly, just not their planes and not in their air.

Jerry Bluff was the only one to give her time and he took some heat for doing it. He only went up with her once and then cut her loose. He realized he couldn’t teach her anything she didn’t already know. It was just a matter of logging hours and he scheduled her in. Even with Jerry’s support the task was difficult. Airfield flying was expensive and the $4.60 an hour was hard to come by. Liddy flew the occasional show and worked at the diner to scrimp and save everything she could. She didn’t let on to Jack how thin she was spread. If he knew money might keep her out of the program, there was no telling what he might do.

The goal of the WASP program changed everything for Liddy. Not having had a license, and wanting to stay close to home, kept the urge to fly long distances from her dreams. But once she had that license, her boldness grew. She craved the journey and couldn’t wait to take it in the Army. The weeks that followed sending the application to the WASP dragged, so Liddy tried to focus on spending time with Jack and making money. When she received word back that she could interview and undergo a physical examination for a spot in the program, everyone banded together to make it happen. Jerry flew her to St. Louis where he guided her in her first big city airport landing. Crik chipped in for the fuel, but Liddy knew it didn’t cover what it cost Bluff Air. Daniel and his girlfriend Celia surprised her with a hand-me-down blue-gray suit that had belonged to Celia’s older sister. It was new to Liddy, fit her perfectly and she loved it.

The personal interview was formal, and it was the first time that Liddy could remember that she had to search for her confidence. The physical exam was conducted by an Army doctor who asked her some questions and looked her over from across the room. He may have never had a female patient, so even if he had attempted a hands-on, he probably wouldn’t have known what he was looking for anyway. She was given a pass for the physical exam, but the interview would be taken into consideration. She flew home that day not knowing about her future with the WASP. Again she would wait.

For someone so full of confidence, doubt circled Liddy often, trying to land. Her life had been simple and familiar, which she hadn’t realized was the case until now. She was excited and unsettled and didn’t like the contrast.

As Liddy entered the diner one evening, she shooed away the doubt that was clinging to her when she saw Rowby Wills perched at the counter. He was surrounded by his posse and pretty Ula Troy was sitting next to him. Her hands were clasped on his shoulder, while she captured and nibbled every word he said. Liddy was not at all surprised and was ready to have some fun. She walked up to the counter and slipped in between the stools next to Ula.

“Hi, Liddy, thought you had the night off?” Sally, the waitress, asked as she walked by with plates lined up and down her arms.

Upon hearing Liddy’s name, Rowby snapped his head to see her standing on the other side of his gal pal. He peeled Ula off his shoulder.

“I do, just here to meet someone.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Just some coffee, thanks.”

“You got it.”

Liddy turned to Rowby and Ula. “Hey, Rowby, Ula. Ula how’s your mama doing? Heard she took sick a couple weeks back.”

“Touch a lung trouble. She’s doin’ much better now.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Liddy took the hot cup that Sally poured for her, left a nickel on the counter and moved to a booth. Her face beamed with amusement at Rowby’s lack of clear direction. Poor boy never really knew if he wanted to come or go. It was these moments that Liddy counted on, moments that gave Rowby the heads up that he had no right to any expectations where she was concerned and there had been plenty of these moments. But still, Rowby was persistent in his determination that nothing existed he couldn’t have, if he wanted it.

Rowby left his seat and was hot on her heels.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight,” he said.

“Calm down, boy. We both have our own business. I suggest you go take care of yours.”

Daniel entered carrying a stack of papers. He slid into the booth and sat across the table from Liddy.

“This is your business?” pouted Rowby.

“Rowby, I don’t think our business is of the same nature. You’re doing just fine.”

He walked back to his subjects. Ula, sweet girl, tried to resume her lounge on his shoulder, but Rowby rejected her affection. He sat facing Liddy with his elbows planted on the counter. One of his ‘good ole boys’ noticed his surly disposition and saw the object of his irritation sitting in the booth across the room. “What’s Liddy doing here?”

“Driving me crazy,” Rowby grumbled.

Back at the table Daniel spread the papers in front of Liddy. She studied them and listened, while Daniel talked and rifled through the pile.

In the light of the black and blue moon, Liddy rumbled down the dusty road toward home. She sorted her conversation with Daniel and played with her thoughts of being accepted into the WASP. She pulled onto the long drive that led to the farm and saw the flames of a small ground fire lick the air. Liddy parked in front of two small hand-built trailers that she and Crik called home. When Jack went into the hospital Liddy had to give up the little house she’d grown up in, and she moved out to the farm with Crik. She had everything she needed in her little space. Crik was family and she was surrounded by planes, so it made for a comfortable little life.

Crik, Orrin, two men and a woman sat around the glow of the blaze. Stragglers always hung around on show days. They’d look at the planes and talk to Crik. If he took a liking to them, he’d keep the stories coming and the visit might last late into the night.

Liddy went into her trailer and came out munching an apple. She grabbed a bucket, swung it over and took a seat in the circle. Muck was lying across Crik’s boots. He forced himself up and limped over to Liddy, brushing up against her knees. Liddy pulled the mutt in and rolled his skin away from his muscle, and he moaned.

Crik found the dog as an abandoned pup. Her uncle had woken one night to the sound of a piercing squall coming from the woods that bordered the field. In the morning, he tramped through the trees and heard a low whimper echo at the bottom of an old well. The pup was sinking in a puddle of sticky clay, whimpering with the last bit of cry he had in him. Crik rigged a line and brought out a furry ball of muck, and so he was named.

Crik was well into a bout of storytelling, “…we was poppin’ straight down on them dogs and spinnin’ to miss their guns. Well we’d just about knocked them all out when this hot fella in the squad, Ticking Tom, got himself wound up like a top, and we was sure he wasn’t gonna be pullin’ out of it. All us other flyers could do was decide, were ya’ gonna look till the end, or just wait for the report? I decided I was lookin’.” Crik attempted to intensify the moment with a slow pass by each pair of eyes that shone above the flush of the flames. He was sure he could lay a veil of suspense on his audience, except for Liddy, who liked the story but had heard it many times before, and Orrin who had heard it too but now couldn’t hear a cricket dancing on his ear drum.

“So this Tom was spiraling down in a blur—it was mesmerizin’—faster, smaller, then, all the sudden—”

“Don’t forget the leaf,” Liddy reminded her uncle and smirked.

Crik hushed Liddy with a stern glance and continued, “All the sudden that machine stops spinnin’ and starts to fall like a dried up autumn leaf, helpless in the wind, like it weighed nothin’, nothin’ at all. It floated back and forth, back and forth. Then what seemed inch by inch, inch by inch the nose starts to pull-up, pull-up, pull-up, and ‘ventually loops back out level.”

“How?” asked the woman.

Crik leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands on the back of his head. “Back at camp, Ticking Tom is struttin’ and everyone wants to know what kind a magic he had in that pit. He’s real cool like and says, ‘mashed potatoes.’”

“Mashed potatoes?” the men questioned in unison.

“Mashed potatoes,” Crik affirmed. “And he won’t say no more. ‘ventually he’s got about twenty-five pilots and engine jocks ‘round him and says, ‘Haven’t flown till ya whipped ya a bowl of mashed potatoes in the cocker. Ever the old girl won’t do nothin’, grab the stick and whip ya a big bowl of mashed potatoes’.”

“That’s it?” asked one of the men.

“Guess so. Somethin’ about crankin’ the stick like that that’ll pull ya outta a hopeless stall I guess.” Crik got up and stoked the fire.

“Ever done it?” asked the other man.

“Has anyone ever done it? That’s the question,” Liddy teased.

“You hush, girl. Never had to. Old Jack, Liddy’s daddy has though. Shoulda had him in the skies that war.”

“Think of the stories,” said Liddy.

Crik flashed another stern look her way. All flying legends pick up speed as they’re told, so they’re best not analyzed, just accepted and enjoyed. Liddy believed this, but part of her wanted to peel away the layers and know for sure. The other part wanted to leave it alone, so she quickly got Crik going again. “Flying with the stars?”

Crik was more than happy to paint the picture for her. “You’ll get there, honey. And you won’t ever wanna come down. ‘Cuz being up at night is like floatin’ on nothin’ and into nothin’.”

Liddy leaned back and took in the sprinkles that filled the black bowl overhead. She drifted off on the calm of Crik’s voice and the gurgle of Muck’s pleasure as she worked her fingers through his fur and scratched his hide.

Chapter Four

Morning reveille was called out by the rooster. This was his third round and he was clearly hitting his stride. Liddy was awake but lay in her bed with the covers drawn up under her chin. She listened to the sounds of a farm that didn’t know animals, other than chickens, mousers and Muck.

The land had forgotten the sown and grown, and the soil was deep and well rested. Weeds hid the rock and cement foundation of the farmhouse that once jeweled the property—it had burned years before Crik and the show. Wind did the only talking as it skimmed the barns and out buildings and whistled against the wood and tin of the trailers. Liddy lay very still to see if she could feel any rocking, and was reassured that it was only a breeze with enough gale for a few soft notes, but thankfully no real push.

Jack’s old aviator watch sat on a little wall shelf above her bed. It no longer had a band, and the shine of the chrome had long ago been scratched away, but it could still be trusted. Liddy scooped it into her hand and checked the time. It was three minutes to nine and Liddy watched the hour hand circle until it clicked nine sharp. Then she flipped off her bedding and sat on the edge of the mattress.

Liddy pinched a match from the Mrs. Barleys Beans can at the back of the stove, turned the knob, struck the match against one of the grates and held it near the burner ring. The flame danced for a few moments, waiting for the gas to seep out. The mixture lit and she placed yesterday’s pan of coffee on the heat.

Her arms reached up and when she stood, she pressed the palms of her hands flat on the ceiling and arched her back in a good long stretch. She washed her face in the little sink and pulled on the clothes that were laid over the back of the little chair. When the coffee sizzled, Liddy poured it into a cup, gulped the brew and ate a biscuit with jelly. She swept Jack’s watch into her hand and slipped it into her jacket pocket, grabbed her cap, gloves and goggles and ducked out the door into the snip of the morning air.

Crik was behind the barn, where he stood on a ladder bent over a plane engine. Liddy approached the spot and waited silently for a moment. She rolled her words over in her mind and swished them around her mouth before she spoke, “Hey, Crik.”

“Hi, honey. Whatcha doin’? Figured you’d already be in town.”

“Slept in.”

Crik popped his head up, looked her over and then looked at his watch. “I guess you did. Not like you. Feelin’ okay?”

“Fine.”

Liddy was unusually demure and Crik caught it and set out to study the why.

Liddy’s tongue felt thick. “Thought I’d take the Jenny out for a run, see how she’s clippin’, if that’s okay?”

Crik left his work and planted himself in front of her before he answered, “Sure you can. But you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Liddy removed herself from Crik’s inspection and moved toward the plane he was working on. She drummed her fingers on the fabric skin. “How’s she running?”

“This old girl? I think she may be tryin’ to tell me she’s parts.”

Liddy didn’t look up at Crick but stared at her fingers as they tapped out a beat. “No, Jenny. How’s she running?”

“Great,” said Crik.

“Great,” said Liddy.

Liddy walked to the Jenny and began to circle—she tugged, pushed, pulled and she slid her bare hand over the seams and bends of the old girl’s body. When she was done with that, she climbed onto the wing and bounced gently. Crik took the rag that tailed from his pocket and polished his wrench and watched her.

Cars were everywhere, parked every which way, an unexpected splotch on the wide open landscape. Meadows rolled into the hills and back down into open spaces. Not one house, barn, or fence dotted the view. The car park was bordered by a dried-up river bed and a railroad bridge on one side; a bustle of seedy-looking characters mixed about like a busy pile of ants on the other. It was a foreign invasion in a pure land.

In the distance, the Jenny could be seen flying into view. Liddy took a tour over the bridge and along the sandy trail that it crossed. She knew this land—she’d studied it—but examined it again, etching every rise and fall in her memory. An urge to make one more pass over the stretch nagged her gut, but she knew a crowd was waiting and watching. She flew around and set her path to land in the meadow and the plane waddled as it rolled along the contours of the virgin run earth.

Liddy jumped from the wing and waited for Daniel who emerged from the crowd and jogged out onto the field.

“How’s it going?” Liddy asked.

The furrows that were rutted across Daniel’s forehead twitched. “We’ve raked it in. It’s a lot of money, Liddy, a lot of money. Half of them didn’t know a lady was going up till they got here. Bets started flyin’ and odds shot through the roof when word spread.”

Stupidity working in our favor… Good! “Everything’s set then?” Liddy could feel the nay-say swell her confidence.

“Yeah, the bets are closed, Buck and Hal are trying to look tough, and Celia’s posted the final odds,” Daniel reported.

“What are they? No, don’t tell me. Well, I better get up there so we can clear out of here.”

“Liddy, are you sure about this?”

“No turning back now, Danny Boy. We try to back out on this rabble and… I’ll have to figure out a way to get all five of us in this plane and onto another continent.”

“I should never have let you talk me into this.” Daniel squirmed.

“I need to do this. I need the money, you know that. This payday will be good for all of us. For sure for you and Celia and the boys no matter what happens.” Liddy winked and grinned and mussed Daniel’s hair before jumping back up onto the wing of the plane.

“Not funny, Liddy.” Daniel worked his hands into his pockets and squinted up at her and asked, “Can you do it?”

“Heard it’s been done, even upside down, I’ll do that next time. Besides—”

Daniel interrupted, “Don’t say it, Liddy.”

“Sorry, friend, I have to. I’ll wait till you’re out of earshot though. Relax, Danny, It’s gonna be fine.”

Liddy was about to climb back into the cockpit when Daniel said, “Oh, Liddy, I forgot something. You have to take your cap off so everyone can see you’re really a woman.”

“Why, Daniel Cooper, I’m surprised you didn’t make a deal that I’d do this thing topless.”

“Liddy, I didn’t—”

“I’m just kidding.” Liddy snapped back the flap from under her chin, pulled off her cap and waved it triumphantly, and then she shook her hair wildly.

The mob hooted and cheered.

Liddy hopped into the cockpit and fit the cap back on her head. She was careful to make sure all of her hair was securely tucked away, and she set her goggles over her eyes and snugged the band. She pulled on her gloves, buckled her seat strap and tugged to test its hold, then looked down at Daniel. “Hey, Danny.”

“What?”

“You’d make sure Jack was taken care of?”

“Liddy, you said it’s gonna be fine.”

“It is. I just need to know. You’d take my share and take care of everything?”

“Yeah sure, you know I would. But, Liddy—”

“It’s gonna be fine. I promise.”

She throttled and gave Daniel a thumbs-up and he jogged back toward the crowd as she balanced the rudder between her feet and bumped the plane around to face the long reach of the field where Liddy told herself, “It’s a pretty good day to die.”

The Jenny sat motionless for a worrisome amount of time. Daniel and Celia, who had the coffer clenched to her breast, waited nervously. The crowd stopped their chatter and paused in silence.

“Daniel?” questioned Celia as she reached over and squeezed his hand.

Daniel’s gaze was frozen on the plane. “Everything’s fine. Liddy knows what she’s doing.”

Finally, the plane began to move. Daniel and Celia relaxed—slightly. Elbows nudged and the babble resumed. Picking up speed until the wheels hopped off the ground, Liddy climbed, leveled and circled wide. She straightened out and headed back toward the sandy river bottom.

Pressed firmly against the seat back, Liddy shot the plane along the trail of trees and overgrowth. Gently, she moved the stick forward, taking the nose of the plane lower and lower. She mashed down and dipped the plane closer to the ground as she approached the bridge.

Liddy tried to remember what she had recorded about the terrain and she focused her view to the underbelly of the bridge like it was a target. The air was cool and damp as though the memories of the water that had run to a shore somewhere or had trickled away down the line, were reminding her how close she was to the earth and that this was not the sky.

Liddy disappeared under the bridge into a flash of shadow and in an instant the plane emerged from the other side into the sunlight, but she was flying low, too low. Wings, belly and wheels of the bird brushed violently against the limbs of trees and shrubs. Liddy was knocked with furious jolts around the cockpit. Clumps of branches and foliage consumed her view ahead.

“Pull up, pull up,” she commanded herself.

Liddy dodged the brush and boughs that were slapping her goggles, head and upper torso from all sides. She struggled to see as she pulled the stick back between her legs. Gradually the plane began to rise out of the hedge, and the scene became one of blue sky. Liddy’s hands were numb; she couldn’t feel the stick in her grasp, and the plane swooped back and forth like it was in a luge tunnel.

“Not now, not now. Come on not now.”

Back at the crowd, the gamblers were abuzz with the jubilant winners and the dashed losers and they were no longer paying attention to the final stage of Liddy’s flight. She made it under the bridge and that was all they needed to know. Daniel and Celia were fixed on the plane as it dipped up and down erratically above the tree tops.

Liddy began to pray, “Oh, God, give me my hands.” She took the stick between her wrists and thighs and squeezed in. Her limbs were doing the best they could, but she couldn’t guide the stick or rudder smoothly. The plane fought from side to side as it circled toward the meadow.

When Liddy found the ground, the landing was still uncertain, and the wheels clumsily bounced up and down. Too far right then too far left, the plane leaned side to side like a tightrope walker losing balance. Finally, the bird centered itself and rolled awkwardly to rest still on the earth. Daniel and Celia grabbed each other and twirled triumphantly, and he kissed her long and hard, then patted her bottom as she left to make the pay offs.

“Daniel.” Celia batted his hand and smiled as he shrugged and grinned.

Liddy’s body was stiff. Her hands were frozen in an empty clutch and her wrists and thighs ached. She tried to slow her breathing but was distracted from the task when she saw blood dripping down her jacket. Liddy pulled her fingers open against the stick and lifted her arms from her elbows. Pinching the fingers of her gloves between her teeth, she tugged the sweat-soaked leather from her hands and then dropped the pair to her knees where they laid pale and lifeless. She rubbed her impotent paws together until they begin to tingle and burn.

Back at the crowd, Hal and Buck, shotguns posted against their chests, pillared themselves on either side of Celia, and she tended to the line of winners.

Daniel skipped joyously out to the plane. He bounced onto the wing and cheered, “You did it! Can you believe it?”

Liddy lifted her head and turned to Daniel. Her goggles were cracked, her face deeply scratched and pale as paste. An ooze of blood ran from her left cheekbone to her chin. Her expression was unrecognizable to him.

“Liddy, my word. Are you okay?”

She couldn’t get enough air to speak and she reached over and set her hand on his arm. Daniel waited till Liddy shook her head yes and then helped her release her safety strap and carefully take off the cap and goggles. He supported her wobbly weight when she climbed out of the pit. Just as he helped Liddy to the ground, two Sheriff’s cars pulled through a stand of trees and onto the field, flanking the nose and tail of the plane.

Dust puffed from the earth as the rough horde ran to their cars, jumped in and sped away. Sherriff Squim calmly opened the door, stepped out of the car and sauntered over to the plane. He had no interest in any of the gamblers, just Liddy.

The pain didn’t flair up as long as Liddy laid stone still on the cot. Daniel was in the next cell, sitting on the concrete floor. His back was to the wall, knees up and his face was cradled in his hands—all of the unwanted possibilities had come crashing down.

Sheriff Squim walked down the hall and unlocked both cell gates, said nothing and left. The two jailbirds exchanged queries. Liddy rolled from the cot, left her cell and looked back at Daniel who hadn’t moved.

“You coming?”

Outside the office Liddy climbed into Crik’s truck and Daniel followed. Crik’s arms wrapped the steering wheel as he looked straight ahead and asked, “So, good day?”

“Had better,” Liddy answered.

“Tell me about it.”

“Scariest damn thing I’ve ever done.”

“How’d the Jenny do?”

“I landed her, but she’s sure to be pretty banged. I’m sorry, I really am sorry, Crik.”

Crik leaned back and took an appraisal of Liddy. “Not all that got wrecked looks like.”

“Why did Squim let us go?” Liddy asked Crik.

Crik slid his hand into his jacket, pulled out a Western Union and presented it to Liddy. “Russell Talbot pulled up with it right after you left this mornin’.”

Liddy opened up the fold and moved her eyes over the words: ‘AVIATION CADET EXAMINATION SUCCESSFUL PD ADVISE BY RETURN WIRE IF INTERESTED IN OPENING NINE MAY CLASS WASP TRAINING PD IF SO FURTHER PAPERS WILL BE SENT FOR COMPLETION SIGNED COCHRAN= ARNOLD COMMANDING GENERAL AAF.’

A tightness knotted high behind her chest bone as she read the telegram again. Liddy folded it back to its crease and looked at her uncle.

“Squim said he’d rather see you get on a train than have you loose, or even locked-up in his county anymore. ‘Let her be the Army’s problem,’ he said. Don’t think he was too sure what he’d charge you with anyway. And without the perpetrator he could hardly hold the accomplice.” Crik shot a look at Daniel who stared blankly out the windshield, lost in his distress. Crik picked up the envelope that was balanced on his knee and handed it to Liddy. “Celia asked me to give you this.”

Liddy thumbed the bills. “I’ll pay for the damage to the Jenny and—”

“Look, honey…” Crik squeezed Liddy’s hand. “…I’ve done my best to do for you and Jack, but it hasn’t been what I’da liked. I think you showed yourself a fool today with that stunt, but it’s done. Let’s consider what was taken out of the Jenny my contribution, okay.” He paused and Liddy saw his eyes fill with tears before he continued, “But you promise me, you go off and do this Army thing, you don’t go makin’ stupid. You’re a good pilot, and you can do better stuff than just about anybody, but some things are just too much. You hear me?”

Liddy wrapped her arms around Crik’s neck and squeezed. “I hear you, and I promise.”

The bridge affair was added to the book of tales and no one told it better than Crik. Liddy told Jack about it in bits, and she wasn’t sure if he believed her or thought she had learned to weave a good yarn.

In the weeks that followed, Liddy’s body healed, but she was left with a reminder of her deed in a two inch scar that underscored her left cheekbone. She spent the time before she had to report to the WASP base in Texas preparing to leave the only world she’d ever known. She made the rounds with her share of the bridge venture, beginning with the hospital, and then she made good on her account with Jerry at the airfield. At Tully’s she stocked-up on some familiars for Jack and was loading them in her car when she caught Rowby’s walk from her side view. He ambled to where she stood and leaned his hip against the driver’s door. “Did ya’ hear, I’m drafted?”

“I heard. Did you hear I’m leaving too, and I got the money to take care of things and for my train ticket?”

“Yeah, I heard about the stunt you pulled. Whole county’s talkin’ ‘bout it,” Rowby bragged, “It’s legend now.”

“Well the government doesn’t pick up my tab you know.”

“You’re a strange bird, Liddy Hall. Don’t know what I see in you. You’re paying to get into this mess and I’d do anything to pay to get out of it.”

“I’m sure you could if you wanted to—your family and all.” Liddy saw something she didn’t recognize in Rowby and tilted her head to study it. “But you don’t really want to, do you? You’re going to be fine, Rowby, just fine.”

He looked down at the ground and rolled some little stones under the tip of his boot.

“I was planning on seeing you at the farewell party tonight. Feels kind of funny to be lumped in with you soldier boys, but May insisted it was for me too. Buck, Harlan and two of the Wilson boys are leaving next week. Are you pulling out with any of them?”

“I don’t know, haven’t talked to ‘em.”

“Well you’ll see them tonight.”

Rowby forced a weak smile and nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’ll be there, right?” Liddy leaned over to catch his eye.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

It was strangely difficult to leave Rowby standing in front of Tully’s that afternoon. His vulnerability was nearer the surface than Liddy had ever seen it, and she saw a kind of surrendered desperation in his eyes that made her feel helpless for him.

She still had the shadow of his face hanging in front of her as she carried Jack’s rations into the hospital. Walking down the hall, she decided she was going to dance a slow one with Rowby Wills that night, maybe more than one. She set the box on the nurse’s desk in front of Ruth. “Don’t let him know you have this. He’ll make a raid and it’ll be gone in a week.”

When Liddy entered Jack’s room he was curled-up asleep on the bed. Liddy sat with him until the room darkened with the setting sun. Although she read the paper to Jack that morning, she felt too empty to leave the room now. She wanted to see his eyes and store up the sound of his voice. Reluctantly, she stood up and moved to his bedside. She smoothed his hair to his head hoping it would awaken him gently. His breaths kept a smooth cadence and he didn’t stir. She kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Love you, Daddy. I’ll be back when I have wings.” And she left the room.

Jack’s eyes opened as he heard his daughter’s steps fade into the hallway. He had always let Edda do the praying for the family, even after she died. But here in this moment, he buried his face and whispered into his palms and uttered one of many prayers to come, “Please, keep my Liddy safe.”

Chapter Five

Liddy slid behind the wheel of the Dodge to leave the hospital and kicked something with her foot. She reached down to the floorboard and picked up a small box wrapped in shiny blue paper and tied with a gold ribbon.

She spun the box over and couldn’t find a tag. Liddy scanned the area, but all she saw were a few parked cars. She carefully untied the bow, removed the wrapping and took the lid off the white box. Inside was a new aviator watch, but still no note, and Liddy sorted the possibilities.

It wasn’t like Rowby to do something good he wasn’t going to take credit for, but, he wasn’t quite himself, was he? Jerry Bluff was over in Monroe, and it just didn’t work out in her mind that he would drive to Holly Grove and do such a thing. Why would someone give her the gift anonymously, and who had the money?

Liddy took the watch from the box and examined the detail. The black leather band was smooth and soft and the chrome case sparkled. The steel hands were painted white. With the click and precision of a little toy soldier, the second hand swept over the black face, and the small sub-seconds dial peaked through the bottom edge of the black circle. The numbers were tiny and perfect. The winding pin was long and had a fat head that could be wound with gloves on. On the back was engraved, Go Get Your Wings.

Liddy did attempt to uncover the identity of the giver, but never did and it remained a treasured mystery.

With the mystery of the gift swirling in her head, Liddy pulled into the Alley and wiggled the Dodge back and forth until she was wedged into the long line of cars that were parked on both sides next to the buildings, leaving a one way strip in the center. Halfway down the corridor, a blast of light spilled through two large doors that had been propped open with barrels. Even before Liddy heard the music, she felt the beat in the air and on the earth.

If you didn’t see the crates and shelves pushed up against the walls, you’d never have known you were in a warehouse. The Tullys had set quite a spread. A huge sign had been painted on old bed sheets that read, Good Luck Boys and Liddy, and the high ceilings were hung with long streamers that had been laced through cardboard cutout stars. Fabric and war posters had been pinned to the walls. A food table was brimming with punch, cake and cookies and Mrs. Tully ran back and forth keeping it full.

Crazy Jay, as he was called and called himself, kept the music spinning. He had bulging eyes and wild hair and was always decked out in city clothes that he ordered from Sears and Roebuck. He would laugh wildly for no apparent reason and he talked with a rhythm that made it sound like he was singing. He had a vast collection of 78s and loved to play them for a crowd, so all of his eccentricities were overlooked, and he became a welcomed and expected fixture at parties.

Liddy danced the fox trot, shuffles and swings, none well, but she fit right in. Daniel had recovered from the trauma of being jailed, and the whole ordeal seemed to thicken him. He, Celia, May Tully (Harlan was outside sitting on his car with the Shelley boys) and Liddy danced the Charleston together until Frank Paulson arrived and cut in. Frank was a man that Liddy took in a movie with on occasion, and they ran with a group that drove around the county to the different parties and dances. But she never made herself exclusive to him, or him to her, and it worked out well for both of them.

Big Buck Cob clung to his tiny little girlfriend Trilby. When he had downed enough spiked punch, he set himself at the end of the room and belted out a little ballad he called Truly Tilby that went something like this, “Truly Tilby, Truly Dear, Truly Tilby, Truly Dear, Truly Tilby, Truly Dear.” And so forth. It looked as if other lyrics were in him somewhere, but he never did get past Truly, Tilby and Dear. When he was Trulyed out, he held his little gal and danced slow with her for the rest of the night, regardless of the music that was playing. It was sad in more ways than one. The girls all tried to maintain a compassionate face, but his friends snickered. Buck didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, he was never coming back, and they all knew he might be right.

Practically everyone in Holly Grove was there, except Rowby. Crik, Orrin and even Jensen Laughton showed up for a while. They sat with Raymond Tully and some of the other men swapping stories.

The Rollins brothers joined the party about ten with their strings in tow: a base, a fiddle and two guitars. These music men wound everyone up again. Without a break, they played their rowdy version of rockin’ country swing until midnight. When Liddy saw some of Rowby’s posse, she searched the gang, but no Rowby.

Crazy Jay spun the last song for the night and he made it a slow one. Frank Sinatra confirmed, “A heart that’s true, there are such things. A dream for two, there are such things.” And the center of the room overflowed. Liddy was wishing it had been less crowded so that Frank Paulson may not have been so free to let his hands and assumptions wander.

“I’m gonna miss you, Liddy.” Frank gave her a long, sapped-up look.

“Thanks, Frank.” Liddy looked over his shoulder and rolled her eyes.

“I thought we could drive down to the river tonight,” he whispered in her ear, “this being your last night in town and all.” Frank was fun on Friday nights and nice looking, but he wasn’t the first man to suggest that a memorable roll in the hay was in order when the war came calling. Liddy had never fallen for it before, and sadly for Frank, it didn’t look too promising for him now.

“We don’t go down to the river, Frank.”

“I just thought it might be comforting,” he said empathetically.

“I’m the one going away, remember? And, I don’t need any comforting.” …And certainly not from you.

The last lyrics of the night floated above the vinyl, “So have a little faith and trust in what tomorrow brings. You’ll reach a star because there are such things.” Liddy looked past Frank’s shoulder hoping to see Rowby saunter through the door, but he never did.

That night Liddy drove her Dodge into Crik’s barn and parked it in between two cannibalized planes. She tucked it in under a canvas tarp, more out of respect than necessity, and then for more than two hours she strolled around the barn and then out into the field with the half-lit moon. It was after three a.m. before she went to her trailer to try and get some sleep.

Muck was waiting and hopped in when she opened up the door. He slept on the floor next to Liddy’s bed and she hung her arm over the edge and scratched his head with her fingernails. That was the first time since he’d been pulled out of the well that he hadn’t slept the night on an old horse blanket under Crik’s table. Liddy appreciated the gesture.

Morning came slowly and she was up before Crik’s rooster crowed. Liddy had the blue-gray suit laid out and her small suitcase had been packed for a week. Once she was washed, dressed and fed, Liddy sat at the table feeling lost for the first time in her life. A knock on the little door sent a twitch up her spine. It was Daniel who had come to ride along when Crik drove Liddy to the station.

“You ready to go?” His eyes were red and he had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, which rounded his shoulders.

“Ready, Ace!” Liddy picked up her suitcase and stepped outside.

“Is that all you’re bringing?” Daniel looked at what Liddy was carrying as she stepped down from the trailer. “When Celia went to Kansas City to visit her sister for a week, I hauled three suitcases to the station.”

“Guess that’s why she always looks so pretty. You’re a lucky guy, Daniel Cooper.”

Daniel looked sideways with a little boy smile and his face reddened to match his eyes.

“One suitcase is all I’m allowed. Besides I don’t think I’m going to need much where I’m going.”

Traveling to the train, a truth filled the truck cab. A beginning was about to bring an end. Liddy’s life—all of their lives—were setting themselves to change, and none of them liked it. The talk was labored and finally they gave up altogether and sat in silence for the remainder of the drive. When they pulled up in front of the depot deck, Daniel hopped out to get Liddy’s suitcase from the bed of the truck.

“Take it easy on Daniel. He’s not ready for loops.”

“Crowds are gettin’ thinner. I’ll be closin’ down for awhile, ‘till you go end this war.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Liddy joked. “I’ll write. Make sure Daddy hears my letters, okay?”

Crik patted Liddy’s cheek with the back of his hand. “You look real nice, honey. Seen you in a dress two days in a row now, can’t remember the last time before that.” Crik searched his memory. “It was the St. Patrick’s Dance over in Shelby, since you proved you had legs I think. Your mama would be real proud. You look more like her dressed like that.”

Liddy smoothed the fabric of her skirt. “Well I don’t think it’s gonna last. I don’t expect to see this suit for months once I take it off.” She looked at Crik and tipped her head. “Do I look like Mama, Crik?”

“I think so.”

“You remember what she looks like then?”

“Oh yeah, I remember.”

“How come you’ve never told me that before, that I look like her?”

“No reason. Just didn’t come up.”

Liddy studied his face for a moment. When she saw the moisture rise in his eyes, she kissed him on the cheek and climbed out of the truck. Daniel handed her the suitcase. His cheeks shined where he had been wiping away his tears, and his eyes pooled with the next pour.

“Look after Crik, Danny Boy. Make sure he keeps busy.”

“Alright, I will.” Daniel used the cuff of his flannel shirt to soak up the tears that were blurring his vision. “Liddy, be careful. No crazy stuff.”

“Why, Daniel, have you no confidence in me at all?”

“Sheer confidence, that’s what worries me.”

Liddy didn’t wait for the whistle. She squeezed and kissed the men and turned to board the train. When she hit the second rung of the steps, she stopped for a moment, then took the next two and entered the car without looking back.

Chapter Six

Inside the train, Liddy stood at the end of the aisle and looked for the empty seats. She surveyed her choice of traveling companions: an elderly couple, three very proper middle-aged ladies (definitely not) and a petite redhead who was intently reading Wings Over America.

Liddy strolled up the walkway and plopped down across from the unsuspecting fly girl. “Long ride to Sweetwater, should know each other pretty well by then.”

A chewed nub of a fingernail shot up to the woman’s mouth and the nail, what was left of it, clicked between her teeth as she bit at it. She puzzled over Liddy’s omniscience. How did this woman know where she was going?

Liddy motioned to the book and leaned back to take a long look at her traveling mate. Red ringlets bounced like springs on the top of her head. Her tailored suit matched her navy blue eyes that had a cat-like slant. Her skin was cream-ware white and matched her blouse. How patriotic, Liddy mused to herself.

“Oh, of course, the book. For a moment I thought my parents had sent a chaperone after me.” The young lady grinned, relaxed and held out her hand to Liddy. “I’m Betsy Bailey. Bet, call me Bet, okay?”

“Okay, Bet it is.” Liddy rocked Bet’s hand side to side like a swinging hammock. “I’m Liddy Hall.” Liddy slipped out of her jacket and folded it over her arms. “Call me Liddy.”

“Okay.” Bet tilted her head like a confused pup. “You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I’m kidding.”

“How long have you been flying?” Bet scooted her bottom to lean back on the seat and her feet dangled above the floor.

“My dad said I flew out of the pumpkin patch. Thought I was flying the first time he took me up. I’m not really sure when it was actually me in control, I guess.” Liddy smiled at the fact.

“Is he an Army pilot, your dad?”

“No, he was infantry in the first war. Army pilots take a written test—my dad couldn’t.”

Bet’s blue eyes fluttered and she shifted uncomfortably. She picked up the book in her lap and asked, “Ever read it?”

“I can read if that’s what you’re asking?” Liddy said with a tease of sarcasm.

“No, I was just—”

“Changing the subject, I know. Look, everyone that flies in our county, the state maybe, was taught by my father or by someone who learned from him. He was taking up experiments when he was just a kid. He’s jumped off some pretty high places with some strange things strapped to his back. And he’s sat in contraptions that would never be recognized as an airplane today. If someone had an idea, my dad was there to help them test it. I’m proud of him.” Liddy set her suitcase on its side between the two seats, pushing half of it under Bet’s feet, and propped her own on her side.

“Thanks,” Bet smiled and pinched her hands between her knees as she rested her feet on the case.

“Now back to your question, Miss Bailey. It is Miss, isn’t it? You don’t have a hubby and pack of children you’ve run off and left, do you?”

“No, I’m not married.” Bet looked sideways at Liddy. “That was a joke.”

“Yes it was.” Liddy kicked off her shoes and swung her feet under her skirt. “You’re catching on fast, Bailey. Again back to your question. No, the answer is no, I haven’t read…” Liddy grabbed the book from Bet and ran her finger past the title, “… Wings Over America, The Inside Story of American Aviation. All those book ideas about flying, kind of takes the fun out of it.” She tossed the book back to Bet. “So when’d you take to the blue, Bet Bailey?”

“College, just last year. My parents weren’t too keen on the idea.” Bet blew a red curl away from her eye and tucked the book between the seat and the wall. “So I used my clothes allowance to pay for flight time.”

“That’s some clothes allowance. And who needs clothes anyway?” Liddy tossed her jacket and let it fall on the seat.

“Well, I have plenty, but my mother can’t bear the thought of her only daughter wearing anything out of season.”

Bet’s shoulders relaxed as the two women settled into a comfortable rhythm. She was full of questions. So much so, that she’d ask one before Liddy was able to finish responding to the previous two or three. And her questions of Liddy spun into her own experiences and ideas. It was quite a trail of words. She also let Liddy in on a huge collection of observations about the people she knew and the places she’d been. Bet led her on a tour from coast to coast and across three continents. For such a young gal, she had been around.

Liddy’s head began to throb with its need for some rest, and Bet’s energy seemed to have no end. “Sorry, girl, I gotta get some sleep.” Liddy folded her jacket for a pillow and curled up on the seat. “I couldn’t unwind last night.”

“Oh, sure, I’m sorry. I can get carried away. Hey, I can hold your seat, if you want to rest in your sleeping car.”

“No sleeping car, sister, I’m on a budget. And don’t apologize for the chitchat. I love hearing about all the places you’ve been. I haven’t traveled more than two hundred miles from the place I was born.” Liddy’s jaw strained to control a yawn and her eyes were already shut.

It was torture for Bet that she couldn’t ask why someone who had been flying so long hadn’t traveled more than two hundred miles from home, but she let Liddy be, and set about to rearranged her space. Her thoughts had soon moved on, and she grabbed her book, clicked a fingernail between her teeth and read.

The train rocked Liddy into a deep slumber that lasted until late afternoon. When she woke up from her snooze, she and Bet went to the dining car for some supper. Both ordered potato pies and fresh corn off the cob. Liddy watched as Bet inhaled her food, including two glasses of milk and second and third helpings of rolls and butter. She wondered where it was settling in the little gal.

“Hey, I was thinking. I have two bunks in my sleeping berth. Why don’t you take the other one?” Bet slathered butter on a roll like frosting.

“I’m a coach passenger. I don’t want to get kicked off the train.”

“It’s silly to leave it empty. And they’re not going to boot a lady for trying to get a good night’s sleep.”

“Hey, watch who you’re calling a lady.”

“Besides, my parents paid good money for that car. If I want to have a guest, then I should be able to.”

“Thought you said your parents weren’t too keen on you flying. Why would they pay for a sleeping car so that you can go fly for the Army?”

“The thought of me sleeping amongst strangers where I might be groped in the night…” Bet got a wild eye and ran her hands over her body. “… well, it was just too much for my mother to bear.”

They got to laughing after that and stayed in the dining car talking, while Bet had dessert.

That night Bet snuck Liddy into her sleeping berth. The walls were covered with oak paneling, and two bunks were mounted on the left side of the shoebox-sized space. On the other wall, a white satin robe and two tiny slippers hung from the brass hooks mounted at the bottom of a high shelf. At the end, a little window looked out onto the passing landscape. And that was about it. But it was a bed for the night, and Liddy felt rich.

“You can have the bottom bunk.” Bet tossed her shoulder bag in the corner.

“No, you take it.”

“Really, I’ve been sleeping up here.” Bet stepped on the second ladder rung and flipped herself onto the bed. “My mother has never wanted me to sleep on the top bunk since I was a little Betsy. We’d visit my grandmother’s lake house in the summers and I was always relegated to the bottom shelf.” Bet pushed off her shoes and let them fall near her purse on the floor. “She said I might roll off and split something open.” Bet puffed out her chest and held her fists out in front of her. “The minute I walked into this car, I decided I was going to live on the edge and sleep dangerously.”

As they got undressed and put on their night clothes, the fly girls laughed and gabbed and then slipped into their beds. Yak-yak between the bunks continued until Liddy drifted off. Bet was chatting away when she realized she hadn’t heard her new friend say ‘really’ or ‘u-huh’ in a while. Her curls stretched and bounced when she hung off the side of the bunk to check out the situation. Liddy was sleeping peacefully.

Bet pushed up and flopped back on the mattress but wasn’t tired, so she sprung back up and switched on the wall sconce. She bunched up her pillows behind her head, propped her book open on her bent knees, twirled a ringlet, clicked a nail and read.

When Liddy woke the next morning, Bet was standing at the little window crying.

“What’s wrong?”

Bet blubbered something incoherent.

“What’s wrong?” Liddy pushed off the blankets and sat on the bed.

Bet pointed out the window. “Look at it.”

Liddy left the bunk to see what Bet was so distraught about. The passing landscape was desolate—dotted with mangy bushes and swirls of dust spun just above the ground that was patched with curly yellow grasses. The view spread for miles with no interruption of hill or mountain. She looked back at Bet. “What?”

“Look at it.” Bet blew her nose into a brightly flowered handkerchief.

“What were you expecting exactly?”

“I knew what it might be like. I spent a summer in Oklahoma with my Aunt and Uncle when I was nine—the worst summer of my life.”

“And you’re here because?”

“No one believed I’d get on the train.”

“No, what’d they think you’d do?”

“Chicken out and go back home to Boston. Go home and marry some man my parents fall in love with.” Bet sopped the snot from her nose. “Sure they bought my ticket, but they didn’t think I was actually going to use it. You should have seen them. My parents, my brothers and their families when they took me to the station… they stood there at the train car door patronizing me with their eyes, Isn’t she amusing? When is she going to stop acting like a child and give up this silliness? You know I even chose to take the train instead of fly because it meant I would have to leave sooner. I couldn’t stand the scrutiny.”

“So, you’re running away from home are ya’?”

“I like to think I’m running to something, although I don’t know what that might be.” Bet pressed her forehead against the window with her eyes shut tight. “What have I done?”

Liddy slipped her arm around Bet’s and squeezed her hand. “You want to know what you’re running to, Bet Bailey?” She waited for Bet to lift her head and search for the answer. “Wings, girl, pretty silver wings.”

The rail to Texas rolled on, and restlessness set in. With each stop the train made, the hope of someone interesting climbing aboard filled Liddy and Bet with anticipation. From the seating car they watched out the window as the passengers said their goodbyes and boarded the train, while others disembarked to be greeted by their loved ones.

An older man left the train and looked lost. He stared up and down the emptying platform until the whistle blew for departure. Then, without an apparent greeting or word, a young lady approached him and took his suitcase, and the man followed her as they walked away. He got Liddy and Bet making up stories about the strangers.

“Ooh, that man right there.” Bet tapped the glass and pointed. “You start.” Three porters were loading five large trunks into a luggage car, while a smartly dressed man instructed them.

“Okay,” Liddy squinted with concentration. “His name is Neville Brink and those trunks are filled with jewels and priceless masterpieces.” Liddy flipped her palm over and gave Bet her cue.

“Okay, okay I’ve got it.” Bet studied the scene out the window. “He stole them.”

“Is that all?”

“No. Patience!” Bet held her hand up. “He stole them from his employer, Carlisle Worthington the III, a cruel and ruthless man.” Bet flipped her hand back at Liddy.

“Very nice, Bailey.” Liddy gave Bet a nod and drummed her fingers on the glass. “Neville had worked for Carlisle Worthington for many years and had given up everything for his job, even love—”

“Oh, oh, I got, I got it. Let me go.”

Liddy shook her head and grinned at Bet. “Okay, but it better be good.”

“It is,” Bet promised. “But he did love and her name was Vanessa. Vanessa was the daughter of…” she searched for her next line.

“The town’s shopkeeper,” Liddy offered.

“Okay, good… Vanessa was the daughter of the town’s shopkeeper, but Neville knew his job was to be in total service to his employer. So he had to smother the flames until the day he would have enough money to take Vanessa for his bride.”

“But,” Liddy cut in, “Worthington found out about Neville’s plans—”

“How?”

“He read his diary, okay?”

“Okay.” Bet nodded with satisfaction.

“He didn’t want his servant to leave him. It wasn’t that he was fond of Neville, but he believed he owned him and it infuriated him that this man thought he could choose to leave. So…” Liddy waved a hand-off to Bet.

“So, Carlisle Worthington crafted an evil scheme.” Bet shifted her eyes. “He set out to woo Vanessa and make her fall in love with him and succeeded.”

“Wow, Bailey, you’re scary.”

“Thank you.” Bet raised her eyebrows. “When Neville found out, he was devastated.” She pointed at Liddy.

“He knew he had to get away, so he told Carlisle Worthington he was leaving. Worthington was maddened that his plan had failed. So he used his influence to drain Neville’s bank account, and he went through his room and found what cash he had hidden. Neville knew he had no recourse because he was only a servant and he felt trapped like a caged animal. And then Worthington…” Liddy pointed at Bet.

“Worthington broke off his relationship with Vanessa…” Bet held up her hand and closed her eyes for a moment and then continued, “… and told her that he had never loved her. He asked her how she believed he could possibly love someone so beneath him. Vanessa ran back to Neville. He still loved her and couldn’t stand to see her in pain. So he took her back and the two of them came up with a plan to bring Carlisle Worthington the III to ruin.”

“I don’t know, Bailey. I don’t think Neville would take her back. She obviously didn’t really love him.” She nodded off Bet’s choice with a grimace.

“You can’t do that. You have to continue with whatever I say.”

“Okay,” Liddy agreed reluctantly and continued, “So they hatched a plan to ‘bring him to ruin’. They hired Vanessa’s seedy cousin to rob the estate of the most powerful family in the local society and they had him hide the goods in Worthington’s private quarters.”

“I’ve got it, Hall. Let me wrap it up.”

“Be my guest.” Liddy sat back and folded her arms.

“Vanessa tipped off the police and Worthington was arrested and shamed. He had no family and the estate was left without an heir. Neville and Vanessa took what they could fit in five large steamer trunks and set out for an exotic island where they would live out their days in love and luxury.” Bet took a bow from her seat, collapsed back and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.

“Well, maybe he was in love,” Liddy questioned. “But I’m afraid Vanessa may be a bit of a gold-digger and a tramp.”

“Liddy.”

“Okay, they lived happily ever after, in ‘love and luxury’.” Liddy applauded Bet’s finale. Just then ‘Neville’ walked into the car with a beautiful woman on his arm, and Liddy and Bet looked wide-eyed at each other and laughed until tears streamed down their cheeks.

None of the scenarios they came up with for their next story subjects was anything but sad. After leaving the train, two little girls held onto each other tightly as they walked nervously to an elderly couple, where they reluctantly accepted cheek kisses and rigid embraces. Liddy and Bet watched the girls follow the couple down the platform until Liddy said, “Cards?” The guessing ended and then began the first of many hands of Gin.

As the train rolled to yet another platform, Liddy and Bet saw a couple dozen service men waiting to board, and they both brightened. They hoped some of the men would choose their car. When eight of the uniformed gods appeared in the walkway, Liddy waited till the men were situated in their seats and then wasted no time.

“Lucky us, come on.” Liddy grabbed Bet’s hand, pulled her out of the seat and pushed Bet down the aisle. “Hello, gentlemen,” Liddy greeted. “You’re just in time to save us from death by boredom.”

Making no attempt to hide their pleasure, two of the soldiers were first to jump up and move their duffle bags to the overhead rack, clearing seats for the women. Bet took a seat and Liddy was still standing when an officer entered the car and met her in the walkway. She stood, blocking the aisle and found herself looking up at the man.

His evergreen eyes were so sure and full of life, and he held a smirk that sent a weakness tingling through her body. She scanned his decorated chest and stumbled on the shiny metal wings. Liddy had never been caught up in a man and wasn’t even aware that she was staring.

“Excuse me,” the man said in a low, smooth voice as he smirked down at her and looked into her eyes.

She turned sideways and he settled in across the aisle. One of the sergeants interrupted her daze and offered Liddy a seat. She sat down next to Bet who was already chatting up the men. Liddy tried to appear as though she was listening to the conversation, while she fought with the impulse and apprehension of engaging the officer, sitting just feet away. Then she heard his voice, “Excuse me, Miss.” Liddy turned to face him.

He reached across the aisle and offered her his hand. “Reid Trent.” With confidence, he looked at her so fully. And it was a confidence she knew he had earned.

Liddy placed her hand in his, and he wrapped it up in a firm, warm grasp. A current ran through this man that Liddy couldn’t quite read, but it unraveled her just the same. He continued to hold her hand in his until she introduced herself, which was no quick thing. “Liddy,” was all she finally managed to utter.

“Nice to meet you, Liddy.” He looked straight into her eyes and smiled. And then his eyes roamed over her face and she felt flushed.

Within minutes, Bet had two soldier boys sitting across from her and two others leaning over the backs of the seats. The young men shared story after story, just to hear her giggle.

Liddy and Reid Trent leaned into the aisle on the arm rests. He had calmed her with his relaxed manner and quick wit, and soon they were making small talk about train travel. It was the kind of easy and exhilarating talk that you have with someone you’ve only just met, yet feel you’ve known for a lifetime.

He removed his cap and passed it playfully hand to hand. The short clip of his dusty blonde hair couldn’t hide its natural wave. Liddy searched to determine his age, but his sun thickened skin had a ruggedness that didn’t match the boyish twinkle in his face. He didn’t wear a ring, but she knew that didn’t mean a thing.

The light outside dimmed. Time disappeared with the words and the long moments when Reid Trent would look at Liddy and she at him and they would just stare, without words, sometimes with a smile, sometimes without. It was such a luxury to be able to study his face, as much as she wanted, and not have to look away. Something she had never done with any other man, or had the desire to do. And he took her in without any hesitation. Listening to this man, looking at him made her feel completely happy and calm.

“So what are you ladies doing on a desert-bound loco?” one of the men ask Bet.

“We’re headed to Sweetwater, Texas to train for the WASP,” Bet answered.

“WASP?” another man questioned.

“Women Airforce Service Pilots,” Bet said.

Reid was telling Liddy about all the lost and founds he’d discovered when he was a teenager and had a job cleaning train cars one summer. He stopped mid-sentence and looked wide-eyed at Liddy.

“Did you hear that, Major? These ladies are gonna be flying Army.”

Reid Trent’s eyes had changed and Liddy saw the moment he locked her out. He rose from his seat and spoke but didn’t look at her. “Miss, I’m sorry I didn’t catch your last name.”

“Hall.” Liddy looked up at him, trying to catch up with what was happening.

“Miss Hall, it was nice to meet you.” The major looked in her direction, but not at her, and extended his hand for the second time and accepted hers briefly before releasing it. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to some business. Have a safe trip.” He took his bag from the compartment overhead and left the car.

Liddy felt abandoned like someone had cradled her, dropped her to the floor, and then stepped over her and walked away. She was stunned but tried to appear detached from what had just happened, whatever it was. Liddy shifted toward Bet’s chatterfest and feigned an interest, while she tried to make sense of the sudden turn in Reid Trent. She soon accepted what she knew was true. The more she stewed, the more her irritation grew.

She had never cared what anyone thought of her being a pilot before. It had never put a chink in her, but this time she cared. When enough time had passed since Major Reid Trent had left the car, she excused herself and went back to her seat and then to the sleeping berth. She unbuttoned and let her clothes fall to the floor and buried herself under the blankets. An ache filled her that called for home and kept her awake, but when Bet came into the room, Liddy laid still and pretended to be asleep.

Chapter Seven

Major Reid Trent didn’t return to the car that night or the next day, which was fine with Liddy. She had dismissed the whole thing and scolded herself for being such a sap. The call for Sweetwater, Texas came just after lunch and the soon-to-be WASP trainees gathered their luggage. With her suitcase in hand, Liddy climbed down from the train. Bet followed with her red case clutched in one hand and her matching bag slung over her shoulder.

After traveling in the rocker for so many days, it would take some time before they would have steady legs again, and the women felt the solid ground move beneath their feet. Through the people coming and going, Liddy spotted Major Trent exit a car at the end of the train, and an uninvited yearning reared up, which she immediately hushed. He walked to a waiting Army jeep and was saluted by the driver posted by the passenger side door. The driver took the Major’s duffle bag and threw it in the back seat.

“Now what?” Bet broke Liddy’s trance.

“Huh?”

“What now?”

Liddy snapped out of her daze and read the paper clutched in her hand. “Come on.” She headed toward town and Bet followed.

With their luggage in tow, the women walked street to street. The town was an extreme contrast to what Liddy had known in Holly Grove since it had been quieted by the war. Sweetwater had the dismay and fortune to be the funnel and neighbor to a military facility, which changed a place. And for Sweetwater, the facility was solely to train female pilots to fly for the Army, which was an added oddity. But it covered up the loss of their sons and brothers, so apprehension mixed with the relief of distraction.

The women were aware that they were being watched by the people they passed. When they walked by a filling station, a small girl hopped out of a pickup truck. She shuffled to the sidewalk in shoes that she hadn’t yet grown into. “Ma’ams, are you the pilot women?”

“Yes, we are.” Liddy smiled down at her.

“Can I git your autographs?” The child held up a postcard-sized book that had been put together with paper and string.

Bet was amazed, but it was old hat for Liddy. “Sure, honey.” Liddy took the book and flipped to a blank page.

“I don’t got no pen. Do you?”

Liddy looked at Bet looking down at the girl. She was still stunned, but she slowly unsnapped her purse and felt around the inside. She found a pen and handed it to Liddy. Liddy signed and passed it to Bet, who was now giggling at the whole notion. Bet signed and handed the book back to the child.

The girl’s father came out of the station and disapproved. “Rhonda, you come on now.”

The girl handed the pen back to Bet.

“You keep it,” Bet told her.

“Thank you,” The little fan gripped the pen with her book and didn’t take her eyes off the signatures as she shuffled back to her father’s truck. He opened the door and herded his daughter in.

When they saw the sign, Blue Bonnet Hotel, Bet grabbed the back of Liddy’s arm and squeezed. Their excitement was frosted with the travel hangover that soaked them from head to toe. The hotel was crawling with newly arrived WASP trainees. Women lounged around the lobby and some swooshed in and out of the elevator and the coffee shop. Other guests came and went too, including big cowboys with big ten gallon hats, some with pretty Texas belles on their arms. Families and men and women of all ages walked in and out, but the fly girls were different and Liddy could pick them out. A spirit exuded from these women—it was unmistakable. Liddy heard bits of conversations between women who hailed from the world of female flyers that she knew nothing about.

“Do you know Francine Ladler?”

“Yeah, I met her at the Benton Roundup. Do you know Rachel Middleton?”

Talk of cross country flying, air races and flight clubs, chatter about schools, families and boyfriends, swirled and bounced around the room. Liddy knew from the requirements that the women would range in age from eighteen to thirty-five, but as she looked around she realized this wasn’t what she expected. Not that she knew what she expected, but these women came in all types—short, tall, exceptionally attractive, exceptionally ordinary, quite loud, quite reserved. But they all seemed to know exactly what they were doing. She was glad she met Bet first. It made what she was looking at less overwhelming somehow. Still, when Bet looked at her beaming over the welcome chaos, Liddy beamed back.

Behind the front desk a woman was juggling mail, guest registers and fielding questions from the mob. Bet slipped through the crowd standing in front of the check-in counter and Liddy followed in her wake.

“Excuse me,” said Bet.

“What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Betsy Bailey and…” Bet waited for Liddy.

“Lidia Hall.”

“Lidia, huh?” teased Bet.

“Liddy to you, Betsy.”

The desk clerk continued, “Ya’ll are plannin’ to share a room, I hope. We got all you gals comin’ in and there’s an oil man’s convention in town. There’s no privacy ‘round this place, till tomorrow that is when the cattle car comes round for all ya’ll at ten a.m.”

Bet’s eyes saucered and she grabbed Liddy’s arm, “Cattle Car?”

Liddy and Bet took the elevator to the fourth floor. Other than the Mayfair in St. Louis, where she’d had her WASP interview, Liddy had never been in a hotel. Wall-to-wall carpets were printed with vines and flowers. Two twin beds had curved headboards that were covered in coral tapestry, and the light green wallpaper had a pattern that was a shadow of the same color. Two forest green upholstered chairs sat in front of the window that was trimmed with a dark mahogany and looked out over a busy street. A writing desk was angled in the corner and had a pen and stationary set out and waiting. The room had a private bathroom and Liddy envisioned her trailer back home fitting into the space. It all seemed an odd entry to Army training but Liddy decided she’d better enjoy it.

Bet couldn’t wait to get downstairs and break in with the others, so Liddy sent her ahead and shut herself up in the bathroom and soaked in the tub. She ran the water as hot as she could stand it and sat on the edge of the rolled lip. She dipped in her toes, coaxed in her ankles, then her legs. When her body was warmed up, and the rest of her could take the heat, she slid in up to her neck. Her arms rested on the side of the tub and the porcelain was cold on the thin skin of the inside of her arms.

With her eyes closed she thought about how she had left her life and it was like she was living someone else’s. She heard Doubt knocking on the door but ignored him. Unknowns were layering themselves in her mind, and in those layers Major Reid Trent unexpectedly floated through. She shook her head to clear the thoughts away, then slid under the water and held her breath until she gasped for air. Liddy rolled over and cooled her cheek on the slanted end of the tub. She couldn’t wait to be in a plane again.

After she was good and wrinkled, Liddy dried off and stood at the mirror and studied her face. Mama’s face? Liddy asked herself, Was it there the whole time? She dressed and then sat at the desk and dashed off a note home:

May 8, 1943

Dear Daddy and Crik,

How are you? I’m good. I just bathed in a tub that I could sleep in, and now I’m sitting in a fancy chair, at a fancy desk, writing you a letter on fancy stationary. Such is the life of a WASP trainee.

We arrived in Sweetwater this afternoon. The train ride was long, but I met another fly girl and we made a pretty good time of it. We’re at the Blue Bonnet Hotel for the night. You probably guessed that from the stationary. Tomorrow we’ll be taken to Avenger Field. I’ll write after I get there.

Tell Daniel and Celia Hi for me.

Love, Liddy

Liddy folded the note and addressed it to Crik at the Holly Grove Post Office. She thought about Jack and what his face would look like when Crik read him the letter. And she thought about Rowby and wondered if she should write to him, but she didn’t even know when he had to leave for basic training, or where he was going. He would be alright, she felt sure of it.

Downstairs, Liddy found Bet in the coffee shop with some gals, talking it up big. Without a pause, the discussion was being jumped on by all of them at once. She joined them and listened more than talked. The more she listened, the more Liddy realized what an amazing group of women she would be calling her classmates. She had never known women who had done the things that these women had, and even though she was older than most of them, it made her feel young.

They ate dinner in the hotel restaurant and walked up and down Main Street to see what Sweetwater was all about. They had the idea to take in a movie, but the house had been sold out. The days that a new WASP class came to Sweetwater and graduates left were busy ones for the town. The rooftop garden of the hotel was where they ended up. There they reclined on lounges and crowded on benches talking late into the night, the last night without a curfew they’d have for months.

Chapter Eight

Morning came before any of the women were ready for it. Too few hours were left for shuteye by the time the ladies ran out of steam the night before. But the beds didn’t rumble and roll beneath them, and Liddy and Bet had a welcome rest.

The cattle car, as the trainees had nicknamed it, pulled up at ten a.m. sharp. The chunky green Army truck, with an enclosed GI trailer in tow, rolled to a stop in front of the hotel. Women began to file out and form a long line down the sidewalk. An enlisted man helped the women and their bags on board, while the civilian driver took names and ticked off his list. One by one they climbed into the back door of the trailer to take their three mile ride to Avenger Field. As Liddy and Bet waited to board, Bet saw a fashionably dressed woman attempting to maneuver four large suitcases out of the front door of the hotel.

“Looks like someone needs a hand.” Bet tugged Liddy’s sleeve and pointed with the nod of her head.

“Looks like someone didn’t get the word about one suitcase,” said Liddy.

The long scarf that had been wrapped around the woman’s neck was now hanging off her shoulder and caught in the handle of one of her cases. Liddy and Bet giggled, but when the other women began to laugh, they left the line and went back up the walk to help.

“Looks like your luggage is turning on you,” Liddy teased as she untangled the scarf and Bet helped the woman put herself back together.

“Thank you.” The woman’s blue eyes and fair skin sparkled as she smiled a graceful, friendly smile and floated her right hand out in front of her. She squeezed Bet’s and Liddy’s hands gently and introduced herself with a soft soprano lilt, “Marina George. Where’s the bellman?”

Bet asked Liddy, “Is she kidding?”

“Oh, honey, where do you think you are?” Liddy asked Marina.

Marina’s sun-yellow taffeta dress fit snug on her curvy torso, pinched her tiny little waist and flowed into a full skirt that hung just above her ankles. She wore a matching short jacket, high heels and wide-brimmed hat that crowned her silky black hair, which was wrapped in a swirl on the back of her head.

“Mother would be impressed,” Bet whispered to Liddy and giggled.

The three women finished introducing themselves, divided up the luggage and took a spot at the end of the line. Liddy noticed a stream of townspeople parading down the sidewalk on both sides of the street. All were dressed in picnic clothes and carried parasols and baskets.

“What’s the occasion?” Liddy asked the driver before she stepped up into the trailer.

“Folks get out when they can on Saturday, picnic and watch the gals take the planes up.”

“Hoping for a crash,” snickered the enlisted man.

“Hank, shut-up would ya’?” the driver blasted.

“Hey, there was a time they wouldn’t let their children play outside when any of you were airborne. They’re warming up to you broads.”

Liddy entered the trailer and Bet and Marina followed, looking back at the people that passed by. When the last passenger boarded, the women were squished shoulder to shoulder down the benches that lined each side of the trailer. The truck pulled out with a jolt, and the cargo slid down the hard, metal seats and shifted to the rear.

The ride to their home for the next five and a half months was bumpy. The trailer rocked back and forth and Liddy and Bet’s train ride was looking pretty luxurious. By the time the truck pulled through the arch of Avenger Field, many of the women were queasy. Those that still had the stomach, knelt on the benches for a look out the windows.

The Fifinella, the gremlin mascot of the WASP, was mounted on top of the arch that read: Avenger Field. She had originally been designed by Walt Disney for Roald Dahl’s book, Gremlins, and she was a spunky looking gal. Her blue and grey wings splayed from her back, and her curly white horns peaked out of the yellow aviator cap that framed two big, long-lashed eyes.

Even the woozy among them were smiling. They had finally arrived. The trailer made its way past four large hangers and long rows of clapboard-sided barracks. What looked like forty or more women formed two long lines and marched side-by-side going one direction, while another group of the same size came into view from the other direction. The two lines of troops looked as though they might crash, but as they were about to intersect, one group held up and marched in place and the other line hoofed through. The only marching Liddy had seen, till that moment, was at the picture show. Never had she seen women at the task. A beautiful gathering of planes were lined up along a runway, and every stitch of ground seemed to have some form of plane, man or woman on it, but it was mostly women.

Two senior trainees were waiting for the new class when they stepped clumsily from the trailer. The seniors hollered at the women to “line-up.” A jagged line was formed and the seniors led the clumsy parade across the base.

Planes buzzed overhead like busy nectar farmers in a spring garden. The invisible filaments that pull any pilots’ chin skyward when they hear an engine above, tugged and craned the women’s necks to take in the lovely sight.

They passed the flight boards filled with names of students, instructors and planes that were in the air. The line traipsed past the wishing well, or so the round pool of water was called. It had three foot high stone walls and was currently studded with trainees who looked on as a classmate was swung with a splash into the pool. The reason why was relayed down the line of marchers, “She passed her solo. Gals toss a coin in before they go up, then if they pass, they get tossed in to get one back.”

The parade stopped at the administration building to take their Oath of Office. As Liddy raised her right hand and began, “I do solemnly swear…” she thought, What would Daddy say about all this? Having made their Oath, the human snake was off to the recreation hall. Women were playing ping pong, reading and some even found a way to sleep in the mix. Marina George noticed how unkempt and haggard the women appeared. She touched her own face with concern and whispered back to Bet, “Is frumpy part of the dress code?”

Four upper-class women were perched on the back of a sofa and together they inspected the newest batch of trainees. One of them pinched up her little mouth and called out to Bet as she passed, “Hey CT, better pick up the pace or you’re gonna miss your OT and then you won’t get you BA or make it to your CR in the PT to get SEs much less TEs.”

A violet-eyed gal, sitting next to the mocker, grinned at the taunt. Her curly blonde hair was wrapped in a cascading bouquet on the top of her head, and whether by birth or hours of cross country flying, she had Rowby Wills skin. She was striking and had the look of a movie star without any of the effort.

Bet was completely overwhelmed and Liddy caught up to her and pushed her along.

“We’re in a foreign country,” the little redhead whispered back to Liddy as she nibbled furiously on a fingernail.

A tiny no-nonsense woman in uniform jumped up on a table. “Welcome, Class. Gather round and listen up.”

The trainees shuffled into position to hear the orientation. Bet stood between Liddy and Marina and held onto the cuff of Liddy’s jacket.

“I am your Establishment Officer or house mother as you will. I will be taking care of your housing assignments and dealing with issues of moral conduct. Although this program has been successful in supplying the Army Air Force with pilots for non-combat duties, it is still considered experimental, and its future is dependent on each and every one of you. Our rules of conduct must be strictly observed…”

“Here it comes,” Marina predicted.

“…The program’s reputation is at stake. You will not socialize with Army officers, enlisted personnel or civilian instructors. You are to stay out of planes piloted by men with the exception of training flights, checkrides and returning to base from ferry missions….”

“Who needs men? Just the fact that we’re pilots gives us a loose rep,” Marina joked to Bet.

“Isn’t it great?” Bet whispered back.

“…You will be given a list of the expectations for how you are to keep up your bays…”

“Bays?” Bet questioned Liddy.

“Rooms,” Liddy clarified.

“There will be standing inspections every Saturday, and spot inspections at the discretion of the base command. Demerits will be given for any violations. From here, you will report to the supply depot where you will be issued bedding and flight gear. You will be required to purchase general’s pants and white shirts for ground school. And those of you, who are still in the program upon graduation, will need to purchase a dress uniform. If you brought more than one suitcase, pick your favorite, the rest is going into storage…”

Marina gasped and looked down at her luggage. Evidently she didn’t get the word.

“…From the supply depot you will go straight to the barracks and move into your homes for the next twenty-two and half weeks. You will sleep six to a bay, two bays to a bathroom—that’s twelve bodies, ladies. Be quick, be courteous and be clean. You will have twenty minutes or less to clean up from morning flight instruction for ground school. You’ll rise at o-six hundred hours and lights out is at twenty-two hundred hours. Get situated, suit up, grab some grub then report to the flight line for your first checkrides at fourteen hundred hours. You’re dismissed.”

The class shuffled back into line and followed their guides to the supply depot. As they made their way through the room, they balanced the growing pile of bedding and clothes in the crooks of their arms, while still lugging their suitcases. Marina’s gear was an extra burden and Liddy and Bet were struggling to wrangle the load, but Marina still managed to move with grace or at least she attempted to.

Once at the bays, the women were led down the row of barracks that would be filled with their class. There they were left to find their rooms. Bet, Marina and Liddy put in to share a bay and together walked down the concrete porch, looking for their room number through the mesh of the wood-framed screen doors. At B7, Liddy set down her luggage and held open the door.

“After you, ladies.” Liddy waved Bet and Marina in.

Six metal beds with bare mattresses were posted along the two sides of the room, four on one side and two on the wall with the door to the bathroom. A table was attached to the walls on either end and six chairs were divided between them. With the exception of the lockers, which were actually wood boxes (their closets) that stood next to each bed, the walls were sterile.

Three women were already in the room and had staked out their beds. When their new roommates entered they looked up from their unpacking and, “Hi,” and “Hello,” were exchanged with smiles. Marina peeked into the bathroom, which consisted of two sinks, one mirror, two showers and a door to the other bay of six women who would be sharing the facilities.

The empty beds were chosen and all of the suitcases were emptied into the lockers and their cases slipped under the beds. Bet held up her flight suit. The folds fell to the floor revealing an unending run of fabric that made up a gigantic pair of men’s coveralls. “There’s got to be a mistake.”

One of the tallest of her new baymates grabbed her coveralls and took the lead with the garment. “No mistake, one size—44. That’s why they call ‘em zoot suits.” With her coveralls in tow, she did a high spirited shuffle across the room, then saluted and introduced herself, “Louise Parker.”

The wide-legged pants of the zoot suit was a fashion of musicians and the dance set in Harlem at the time. The trainees had become aces at finding the lighter side of the unpleasantries that were part of being a WASP trainee.

Louise wore a cotton dress that was dotted with tiny stars. Her wavy brown hair was pinned back on both sides and a short wisp of bangs lined her forehead. She looked to Liddy to be as old or older than her, which gave Liddy an instant sense of camaraderie with Louise Parker.

“Calli Listo, I mean Duncan. It’s Calli Duncan.” The young little gal held out her hand. Her heavily lashed brown eyes stared lovingly at the shiny ring on her finger. “I just got married.” Her dark brown hair was pulled back with a pink ribbon that was tied in a bow on top of her head. She looked to be only a child.

“And you’re here?” Bet questioned.

“My boyfriend Stephen, I mean husband Stephen has gone overseas, I want to fly…” Calli kicked in a Southern accent, “… and it was this or attend every event of the Atlanta social season with my dahlin’ of a mother-in-law.”

“You from Atlanta? I’m from Atlanta,” the third woman drawled with a genuine Southern spice.

“No, actually, Steven’s family is. Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…” Calli tried to make amends for the mimickery.

“Please, if I never see another woman smothered in cotton candy chiffon again in my whole entire life, it will be too soon.” She bowed to the room and introduced herself. “Joy Lynn Calbert—debutante fugitive and rebel pilot.”

Joy Lynn’s clothes were in piles on the bed like they had exploded out of her suitcase, and she towered like a goddess in the middle of the room. The Southern belle’s blonde hair curled in loops and rested on her shoulders. She had full pink lips and big blue eyes. The cap sleeves of her sheer blouse met a groove of her defined bicep. Her waist was wrapped with a wide belt around a skirt that fit short and tight.

Marina had her suitcases open and was sorting their contents back and forth and muttering. Then she plopped on the bed, opened a compact and touched-up her make-up in the little round mirror. Unaware of the conversation swirling around the room she asked, “Did you see those women? Not a stitch of make-up.”

“I saw some lipstick.” Louise goaded.

“Well maybe, but please.” Marina snapped her compact closed and tossed it on the bed. “And did anyone notice….” She pointed toward the bathroom. “… One mirror—one.”

“Marina, you’re from Hollywood, an actress?” Louise speculated.

“New York. I was an airline stewardess.”

“I’ll take cashews and a ginger ale,” teased Joy Lynn.

“I’m sorry, didn’t I say, I ‘was’ a stewardess?”

“One of the senior trainees was a Hollywood stunt pilot,” Calli informed.

“Who?” Marina asked.

“Jenna Law, that curly topped beauty who was in the rec hall,” said Calli. “Word’s that she’s the hottest wings here.”

Joy Lynn added, “But of course they haven’t seen me up yet.”

“You can have Hollywood. A career in the Army is what I want, getting to fly the newest, hottest planes. And can you imagine being an officer?” Louise dreamed aloud.

“A captain,” Marina chimed in.

“A major,” said Louise.

“Generals run in my family.” Joy Lynn stood at attention and saluted.

The trainees got acquainted as they unpacked and dressed for their checkrides. Liddy fastened the strap of her new aviator watch onto her wrist and slipped Jack’s into her pocket.

Joy Lynn grabbed her hand and whistled. “Now that’s a beauty.”

“Thanks,” said Liddy and she tucked it under the cuff of her sleeve.

Liddy, Louise and Joy Lynn had the height to fill out most of the length of their suits, but the other three women had to cinch and roll to try and achieve some kind of fit.

Bet looked herself up and down. “My mother would be so proud,” she said. And then she jerked and jived around the room. She bounced up and down, twisting her toes in a little pivot on the floor, taking little steps in between. Her shoulders shook like a geyser was about to escape from the top of her head, which sent her red curls shooting up and down like they were trying to lift off as she twirled herself about. Then she’d do it all over again, exactly the same way. “Think the zoot-suited Harlem crowd would be impressed?”

“I think the zoot-suited crowd would think you were having convulsions,” said Marina. “What are you doing?”

“The Lindy Hop, it’s a Jitter Bug,” answered Bet.

“Yeah, I know the Lindy Hop, and that’s no Lindy Hop,” Marina took the floor and tried to show Bet the steps. But Bet was insistent that she had it right. Soon she had all of the baymates on their feet doing the funny little Bet dance until they heard the call outside the barracks to line up. Marina was the last one in the room and she took one last look in the mirror and straightened her pearls.

The class marched to the mess hall and dug in to some of the finest home cooking in Texas. Rationing wasn’t part of Army life apparently. At the table, Liddy watched Bet pick at her food and leaned to her and asked, “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I don’t eat much before I fly. When I go up, so does the food, if you know what I mean.”

Liddy smiled. “You’re gonna be skipping a lot of meals, little Betsy.”

“I’ll make up for it.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Chapter Nine

Military life wasn’t something most little girls had laid in bed dreaming about during the first half of the twentieth century. It was as far from their thinking as building a barn or fighting a duel. Their brother’s playtime was charging the hill, and taking the enemy. Girls, on the other hand, had their dolls, dress-up and notions of being mommies and wives. But when flying got hold of a woman, her world opened up long before the lot of her generation. It opened up in a way that let all kinds of possibilities line up on the doorstep of her mind.

Liddy’s world had always been open, so she was not hemmed in by convention. Still, the restraints and rigors of the Army way were not familiar to the free wander of her spirit. Down the line, looking military was a stretch for the new class. They gave it their all though. Assembled in ranks before the base command, their backs were straight and their knees were tight; they were to be military pilots.

Liddy’s pulse raced when she saw that Major Reid Trent was among the officers. He wasn’t the same man she remembered from the train, but still her mind raced with her pulse. What did this mean? Even if he had walked away from her because of his position at Avenger, the way he walked away still burned her. Or was it that she wasn’t accustomed to being walked away from at all? She thought she knew the ins and outs of herself and how to keep in check, but the yearning that returned had a way of its own. Trent stood with Colonel Lawrence Wate, army officers, a collection of enlisted pilots and civilian flying instructors, a few of whom were women.

Colonel Wate was a big man. The plumpness behind his rosy cheeks and in his form told of the celebration with which he lived life. His smile was wide and exuded anything but military formality. He adored the trainees and was one of the WASP program’s biggest supporters. He greeted the women with words of drill and discipline, but the tone was warm and enthusiastic.

“Attention trainees. I’m Colonel Lawrence Wate. This program has proven to be very successful and I trust this class will continue to display the high standards of past and present trainees. To my right are Major Reid Trent and Captain Ellis Charles. Both have completed three aerial combat tours overseas. Major Trent will be your director of training and in charge of all flight instruction. Captain Ellis Charles will be your ground school supervisor. Major Trent will now call out your first checkride instructions. Major.”

The Major seemed to notice no one. The light was gone from his eyes and his face had a firmness that Liddy didn’t recognize, and it held nothing that appealed to her. Yet something had left her and was floating where she couldn’t get control of it. The sound of his voice, however, she did recognize, and she fought the urge to close her eyes and see the face from the train as she listened. He spoke in lists, the way military people do, and it was odd to hear the cadence and the voice together.

“This is a five and half month program. Although you are not enlisted Army Air Force, you will be flying for the United States Military. Therefore it is expected that you will learn, in that time, to fly the Army way…”

Bet whispered to Liddy, “What does that mean?”

Liddy shushed Bet and gave her a stern look.

“…The checkride you are about to take with your civilian instructor will determine if you will even be allowed to begin that training. If you do continue after today, you will follow a specific schedule. Before your solo you will log twenty-five hours in Primary Trainers with civilian instructors. Each phase of training will be followed by a checkride with an Army pilot. Grades of S and U will be given. After two Us you will fly an elimination ride and then stand a hearing before the board…”

The trainees’ eyes widened.

“…Pink slips will be issued for bad rides in your training phases and conduct or action inconsistent with orders and regulations of the Army Air Force. Three pink slips and you’re out. During training and after graduation you will fly only in the continental United States. Captain Charles will now read the check roster.”

The Captain stepped up for his part. “I will call an instructor’s name and then a list of trainees who are to follow him or her to the flight line. This will be your flight group for phase one, so listen up and fall in. Mr. Strom.”

Civilian instructor Rick Strom, a little rough around the edges, stepped up.

Captain Charles continued, “Adams, Alcorn, Gackle, Roden, Landry.”

The women left the ranks and followed Strom to the benches that lined the exterior of the primary hanger. The instructors were as varied as a crowd on a big city sidewalk. Some had the wild eye of a back woods hermit, while others looked like they had just stepped out from behind the pulpit. Charles called instructors and then trainees as the procession continued in a steady stream of nerves.

A group of new instructors had arrived only the night before and Lewis Gant was among them. When Captain Charles called his name, Gant sauntered up with a chute pack slung over his shoulder that seemed half his size. He stepped forward and stood with an arch that made his slight frame look as though it might snap.

Charles continued, “Bailey, Fisher, Hall, Parker, Vanell.”

The five ladies clipped behind Gant who led them to one of the benches that bordered the hangars. When Gant hollered at the women to “Sit” they were startled and sensed a discord in the making.

“Welcome, ladies. I’m just thrilled to have the opportunity to be your instructor. None of you should be here and I will do everything in my power to bring that little fact to light. Women are inadequate pilots, and this country certainly does not need you to fly their airplanes. You are not, or will you ever be, part of the true military forces of the United States.”

Louise murmured to Liddy out of the side of her mouth, “Like he is?”

“Excuse me trainee, did you have something to say?”

“No, sir,” said Louise.

Liddy and Louise dug in their heels, but the other gals were slowly sinking into the bench. Gant turned and took a few steps toward the air strip and then snapped back, “Vanell, get your ass up. Let’s go!”

Carla Vanell followed the man like a scared kitten. She looked back over her shoulder, and her frightened eyes called for backup. The women watched helplessly. Their futures were beginning to look uncertain, and so they didn’t bother getting acquainted as it might jinx their ride. Quietly they watched Carla go up. When it was over, she followed Gant back from the flight line and sat on the bench with tears streaming down her face. While Gant was still standing there, the others resisted the temptation to question or even look in her direction.

“Bailey, let’s go.”

Liddy shot to her feet. “I’ll go next.”

Gant set his face in front of Liddy’s and let his words out slow, “You will go, when I say you’ll go. Sit—your—ass—down!”

Liddy burned a glare at Gant as she slowly lowered herself to the bench. Bet looked desperately at Liddy.

“Grease it, girl,” Liddy ordered.

After Bet followed Gant to the plane, Carla began to recount the bashing the instructor had dealt out. But she couldn’t get herself to repeat all the things he had said to her, and she bit down on her cheeks to hold back more tears.

Bet crawled the plane to the end of the runway. From the bench, the women watched the ship roll for about twenty feet and stop, then fifty feet and stop, before starting out again. Liddy knew Bet should have been rolling faster when she came down the back end to take off. As she swayed down the mat, Bet jumped back and forth between the throttle and keeping two hands on the stick. The plane eventually lifted and flew an apprehensive pattern.

The gosport was a tube that was attached to the trainee’s helmet in the front cockpit and ran to the rear cockpit, where it was capped with a funnel. The instructor spoke, the trainee listened. This was the line of communication in the trainers for phase one. Two-way radios would come later in the BTs—Basic Trainers.

Gant made good use of the apparatus and was shouting his orders through the little tunnel with great magnification, “Keep it steady, dammit.” And behind that he dished out one curse after another as loud as his little man voice could project.

The profane echo made Bet’s ears throb, and she wanted to rip off the helmet. Her lips were red where she had bitten down, and her body ached from tensing to control her shaking.

“Why are you wasting my time, Bailey? You ever been in a plane? Get this goddamn plane down. I’m done with you.” Bet winced with each attack and couldn’t hear her own thoughts over the tirade.

The landing was a bit of a rock and roll, and Gant was still hollering as he got out of the cockpit. His rant continued, while he cornered Bet at the wing, and the scene was garnering the attention of others on the line. When he was done with that, Gant came stomping back to the bench. Paces behind, Bet’s tear-soaked face pinched her eyes to swollen slits. Liddy was ready to jump the monster when Louise reached over and gave her thigh a squeeze.

“Fisher.” Ruby rose and followed Gant’s puffed-up stride to the runway.

Bet was inconsolable. She kept saying over and over, “My family was right, and now they’re going to know they were right.”

Ruby returned to the bench after her ride with a dazed look on her face. No one asked and she didn’t offer.

Gant called out roughly, “Parker.”

Liddy and Louise exchanged a quick glance, and Louise walked tall as she left for her ride.

She flew the pattern straight and level then came in for her landing. The four women watched anxiously from the bench. Louise sailed in smoothly and greased a flawless touch-down.

Bet’s chest was still heaving when she looked at Liddy and asked in between breaths, “That was good, it was good wasn’t it?”

“Perfect!” Liddy confirmed with satisfaction.

Louise strode defiantly back to the waiting area. Her jaw was locked and a vein throbbed from her right temple. Gant had stopped to talk to another instructor, and Liddy left the bench, walked up behind him and waited.

When he finished his conversation, Gant turned and yelled, “Hall.” He was startled by Liddy’s stone cold face that was inches from his own.

She kept pace with Gant as he berated and cursed her all the way to the plane. She hopped onto the wing and into the front cockpit, where she geared and strapped before Gant’s butt had landed in the seat. She stroked the throttle with the tips of her fingers and she said in a good strong voice, so that Gant could hear, “It’s a pretty good day to die.”

A medley of aircraft flew in the sky above the base. The planes seemed to exchange places in a well-choreographed promenade, except Liddy’s ride. Liddy’s plane was shooting loops and tumbling, diving and spinning.

Back at the benches, the women cringed at the sure torment Liddy was going through. Bet chewed furiously on her fingernails, giving each one its fair share of attention as she and the others watched. The flight had also caught the attention of everyone else on the ground. Major Trent and Captain Charles were watching from the boards.

“Holy smokes, he’s trying to ring her out,” Charles said to Trent.

“Who is it?”

“Instructor Lewis Gant…” The Captain looked at his clipboard. “…and L. Hall.”

“Liddy Hall?”

“Yup, looks like she’s the only Hall we have.”

Major Trent walked quickly to the line and waited until the ride came in. He watched Liddy pop out of the cockpit and strut toward him. Her amber eyes locked into his as she passed and her face held no expression, but it was glowing with her Liddy glow and she kept up a strong gait toward the benches.

Gant was several paces behind her. His face was a greenish-white and his hair and skin were soaking wet with sweat. He didn’t make eye contact with the Major, but he looked out in front of his steps, concentrating on walking in a straight line.

When Liddy was back with the girls, they were still disassembling what they were seeing and what they had seen. Disbelief turned to thanksgiving for sweet justice, and the women couldn’t get over the happy ending. Gant forced his head up as he walked toward the bench silently and their breath sat in their chests, and waited, till he had passed. Then they giggled at the sight of the stain on the rear of his flight suit.

Liddy stood in front of the gals and peeled off her gear. “I’m pleased to announce, you have all passed your first checkride. Let’s get some supper, shall we?”

Liddy waved them up with her hand, and the women sprung from the bench, took one another arm in arm and marched toward the mess hall. How quickly emotions can spin, and they were all as light and happy as they could be.

Although many had tried to get the story, Gant and Liddy never spoke about what had happened that day. And to everyone’s surprise, Gant stayed on as an instructor. He and Liddy had an understanding, and his new-found perspective mellowed him—a bit. He didn’t become a nice guy by any means, but he settled in to do the job he was hired to do, which was to train women pilots to fly for the Army.

With the weight of their first checkride off their shoulders, Liddy, Bet, and Louise were over the moon as they crossed the base until they passed a woman dragging herself and her suitcase to the office—washed-out. Their cheer was smothered and in unison they had the same thoughts and words, “Let’s go find the girls.”

In the mess they found Marina, Calli and Joy Lynn dining from tin trays. A celebration ensued. Bet’s appetite was having a good old time as she rejoiced that she wouldn’t be buying a ticket home, just yet anyway. She scooped and gulped, drawing attention from her new friends.

Liddy watched them watch her and laughed. “Don’t mind her. She won’t bite if you keep your fingers clear of her plate.” Liddy patted Bet on the back.

“My goodness, Bailey, where’s the fire?” Joy Lynn sat back in her seat, disgusted.

“Sorry, bad habit. First of all, I’m always starved after I fly.” Bet winked at Liddy. “In addition, I have three older brothers. Food disappeared before it hit the table when I was growing up. My mother was a big bowl of fluster at meal time, trying to keep us all nibbling and chewing, slowly, slowly. She’s made the prediction that we’re all going to die by choking.”

“How is it that you don’t weigh three hundred pounds?” Marina watched Bet with wide eyes.

“I burn it all right up I guess.”

After the meal, trays were cleared and stacked and the baymates were headed out the door when a trainee entered and called out, “Hall, L. Hall.”

Liddy walked up to the messenger and was handed an envelope. She opened it and peaked inside and was reading when Jenna Law walked up behind her.

“So you’re Hall?”

Liddy pinched the top of the envelope closed as she turned around. This woman had an air that stitched a tightness in Liddy’s jaw, and an irritation grew in her that was exceeding her quota for the day.

“Yes, I’m Liddy Hall.” She shoved the envelope into her pocket.

“That was some stunt you pulled today.”

“It wasn’t a stunt.”

“Well listen, Hall, whatever it was, it wasn’t too smart.”

“You’re Jenna Law, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, listen, Law, what you think about me, or my flying doesn’t matter too much to me. So, save your breath.”

“Look, you may not care how long you last in this program, but it seems you’re going to be a mother hen to those baby chicks. This program hinges on its successes and that includes graduation rates, so try to rein yourself in, would ya’?”

“Your concern is touching, really. But I don’t think you need to worry yourself over me or our class.”

Jenna’s little toady, Rena Naston, walked up with her stiff little mouth and their double disapproval of Liddy was daggers. But Liddy didn’t care, and walked away.

Joy Lynn and Marina were listening to the whole exchange and caught up to Liddy.

“Who does she think she is, the Queen of Sheba?” Joy Lynn griped. “Dam, Liddy, don’t know I coulda stayed so calm.”

“What should she have done, Georgia, popped her one?” asked Marina.

“Just saying, that’s some thick attitude in that woman.”

“Forget about it. I’m going to.” Liddy pushed the door open and left the mess hall.

The name plate read—Colonel Lawrence Wate. Liddy stalled at the office door before she knocked softly and then harder when she didn’t get an answer.

“Come in,” spoke a voice from inside the office.

Liddy entered and the Colonel was sitting behind his desk.

“Sir, I’m Liddy Hall.”

“Yes, Hall, come in and please, sit down.”

Liddy sat in the chair at the front of the desk and rested her hands on her knees.

“Miss Hall, I review all of the initial checkride reports. I’ve received those from today’s rides. It seems there were some problems with yours and, being your first day, I wanted to be the one to discuss this with you.”

“Instructor Gant passed my check, sir.”

“I realize that, but apparently your sequence was not exactly regulation.”

“I executed all of the requirements, sir.”

“Yes, and then some from what I understand. Miss Hall, Major Trent’s notes indicated that he has some concerns about your approach. He’s in charge of the flight line and his orders need to be strictly followed. No Less.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ve discussed it, and we feel it necessary to issue you a pink slip.” The Colonel slid the pink form across the desk.

Liddy clenched her jaw and a heat rose in her face as she picked up the paper without looking at it.

“We have the other trainees to think about. We don’t want anyone to get the impression that orders are negotiable. And unfortunately, everyone saw your negotiations.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re obviously a skilled pilot. I hope you can learn to fall in. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” Liddy stood up and walked toward the door.

“And, Hall…”

Liddy turned and gave Colonel Wate her attention.

“… I know trainees are not always treated with the respect they’re due, but if I had wanted to take my instructor for a ride, I would have taken my plane out of field view.”

“Yes, sir.”

Liddy left the office and walked toward the front door of the administration building. The door opened and Major Trent walked in. She looked right at him and he looked back at her with a blank, or was it a serene face? It almost looked as if he might smile. Whatever it was, it irritated her even more. A small part of her cared what he was thinking, but the rest couldn’t have cared less. Or was it the other way around? As they passed each other, she couldn’t look at him. She pushed the door open and then caught it before it swung closed. If she didn’t say something, she was going to burst. But say what? Liddy changed direction and followed him into his office.

“Excuse me, Major Trent?”

Trent walked behind his desk and turned around. He looked at her with that blank look but said nothing.

“Instructor Gant was out of line today. I was just—”

“Lift level and land—that was your ride, Hall.” He lifted a folder from his desk and walked toward a file cabinet and opened it.

“And I did that.”

He calmly flipped through the tabs, slipped the file in its place and then turned around.

“My assignment here is to make sure every pilot that graduates from this base can fly safely, without risking the plane, themselves, or others. And that means learning to follow orders.”

“I didn’t do anything I couldn’t do safely.”

“Hear me, Hall. If you do not follow orders, I will pink slip you. Is that clear?” Trent’s neck reddened, but his face was relaxed and his voice level. “I have flown with the best pilots in the world—strong, well-trained men who sometimes can’t do the job. Good pilots, that’s what I care about. If you can do the job—”

“I can do the job.”

“You clearly know how to dance a plane around, but will you be able to make a tough decision that will keep you and the plane in one piece if you’re backed into a corner? This wasn’t just my decision. You didn’t leave many choices here.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“This is the Army, Miss Hall.”

“I just wanted you to know why I did what I did.”

“I don’t care why.”

“I can see that.”

“Orders are given for a reason. I will pink slip you if you don’t follow them. Is that understood?”

Liddy wasn’t sure how long they stood there without speaking. She locked her jaw and wanted to shake all the calm, or was it smugness, out of the man. But this was the Army and she’d better get used to it.

She hated that he looked at her so blankly. Finally she answered, “Yes, it’s understood.” She spun around and left. Walking down the hall, she heard a loud bang come from the Major’s office. A grin tipped Liddy’s mouth. It sounded like his file cabinet slamming shut and she thought to herself, Good.

When Liddy walked into the bay, the gals all looked up and waited.

“All clear,” she announced and put on her best, ‘who cares’ face.

A communal sigh of relief escaped into the room. Louise was propped up in bed writing a letter and Marina was touching up her nails. Joy Lynn, Bet and Calli were playing cards.

“Deal me in,” Liddy ordered.

“I don’t know if I can take another day like today. The yelling, the language makes me a nervous wreck.” Bet laid her hand down. “Gin.”

“You can and you will,” Liddy commanded.

“Just pretend it’s a foreign language,” Calli said.

“Another one?” Bet scrunched up her face and let her head fall back.

“That’s what I do. My Father likes to drink. And when he does… so colorful are his words, you can see them chug from his mouth like a circus train.” Calli finished shuffling and began to deal.

Marina tilted a dreamy look to the ceiling. “Give me more days like today and I may choose to never graduate. Who would have ever guessed a man with a name like Homer Nash could be so dreamy. What a looker and he could not have been more of a gentleman. If the cockpit had a door, he would have rushed ahead and opened it for me.”

“Instructor Paxton asked me if I knew where the throttle was. Gosh, how does he think I’ve flown up till now?” Calli complained.

“I know. It was like pilot kindergarten. He gave me a complete tour of the cockpit. Explained everything, ‘til he got to the pee tube,” said Joy Lynn.

“Eww—classy.” Marina looked at Joy Lynn with disapproval.

“That’s what it’s for. Then he realized that was an unnecessary item in my case, and stammered a bit. The tour ended right quick after that. I wanted to tell him, ‘this is Miss HP you’re talkin to here’—”

“HP?” Bet questioned.

“Hot Pilot,” Liddy translated for her.

“But he seemed so proud to introduce me to his little world of flyin’, I just didn’t have the heart to stop him.” Joy Lynn whistled as she arranged her cards in her hand. “Ooo wee! Nice hand, Calli Duncan. Thank you, ma’am.”

Doubt walked in the room and sat down on the bed next to Liddy. She hadn’t seen him for hours and tried to keep the others from knowing he was there. He kept asking, Why did you come to this place? He said, You’re just an air clown. There are real pilots here, and you can’t rate against them. He mocked her for the ache she felt when she thought about Major Reid Trent, a man she barely knew who obviously believed she was—and that’s where Liddy cut Doubt off. She laughed and teased with her roommates and snubbed the unwelcome naysayer for the rest of the night.

“It’s almost ten. Lights out, first full day tomorrow,” Louise said.

Bet gathered up the cards and put them in her locker. The others set about putting their things in order and getting ready to turn in.

“Reveille at zero six hundred hours,” Louise reminded.

Bet looked inquisitively at Liddy.

“Six a.m.,” Liddy translated.

Once they were in bed and the lights were off, Bet’s mind raced. “If 0 one hundred hours is one p.m., then what’s twelve noon?”

“Twelve hundred hours,” Liddy said sleepily.

“That doesn’t make sense. Why doesn’t it start at the first a.m. time, twelve a.m.?” Calli joined the inquisition.

“It does, zero hundred hours,” Louise tried to help out.

“That’s twelve a.m.?” asked Bet.

“Yes,” said Liddy.

“I heard a trainee say, ‘twelve mid-hundred hours,” said Calli.

“It can be either,” Louise clarified.

“Either, only for twelve?” Bet asked.

“Only for twelve a.m.,” Liddy answered.

“So what’s one p.m.?” Calli asked.

Liddy buried her head under her pillow and pleaded, “Sleep, children, sleep.”

“I have the military time down but all of this, PT, AT, RON talk is driving me batty,” said Joy Lynn.

“Primary Trainer, Advanced Trainer, Rest Over Night,” Louise clarified.

The voices of Bet and Calli rose in the darkness in unison, “Rest where?”

Liddy and Louise sat up and pelted them with their pillows.

Chapter Ten

Five foot nothing and belting out morning reveille, the trumpeting trainee was silhouetted against the sunrise. The notes reverberated through the barracks and gave the future WASP their first military wakening.

Bet sat straight up. “What was that?”

“Your wake-up call, missy,” Louise said as she flipped off her covers and sat on the edge of her bed.

“Thank goodness. I thought there was a stampede of horny cows comin’,” Joy Lynn quipped.

“Again, real classy, Georgia,” said Marina.

“Clearly, you’ve never heard a horny cow.”

“I haven’t lived.”

The women got out of bed reluctantly, donned their PT shorts and marched to calisthenics. Then they returned to their bays and zooted up.

Training days would always include marching and no talking was allowed when they did it. First to calisthenics, then to change, then to breakfast they marched. Trainees would then march, without talking, to the line where they were coached or bashed by their flight instructor, then they marched to lunch without talking, marched to shower without talking, and on to the classroom, which of course they marched to also without talking. The order would be reversed for half the class as they were split into two sections.

Marching to the flight line that first morning, the new trainees passed Major Trent and Jenna Law at the flight boards. Liddy saw Trent tilt his head as he chuckled. She wasn’t close enough to see, but she just knew that he looked at the woman with that boyish grin and she was jealous. And it wouldn’t be the last time. Liddy couldn’t remember ever having been jealous over anything but now it set up shop inside of her. It seemed every time she turned around Major Trent and Jenna Law—Jenna Law and Major Trent were together.

Lowering herself into the cockpit calmed her, and the reasons she came to Avenger Field returned. Liddy could always count on a plane to lift her spirits, but for some of the women, the flight line became a place of love and dread. Flying the Army way was full of precision and regulations that didn’t look much like the joy rides they had known. Although a few of the women had been instructors and test pilots, most were not professional flyers, and flying in the program was serious fare.

Their match to an instructor also colored a trainee’s experience in the air. Homer Nash politely helped Marina onto the wing of the plane and into the cockpit, something some women would detest in that environment.

Joy Lynn and Carl Paxton established a rhythm as he loved to praise, and she bloomed when affirmation was showered upon her. She sailed in and greased a landing and Paxton gave her a thumbs-up.

Bet was up with Gant for the second time. When she made a sharp turn that knocked him hard against the side of the pit, she braced herself for the fireworks. Gant’s face lit up, but he held his fury and the attack never came. Liddy flew by the book that day, and to calm Gant’s nerves she found herself making small talk.

After lunch the task of twelve women showering with two shower heads in ten minutes became a group project. Modesty had no place, and no trainee ever washed-out for being tardy, so the women apparently gave up every modest bone in their bodies.

They were still dripping when the call came to line up and march to ground school. Captain Ellis Charles was one of the main instructors for the book work and he made it pleasant, for the most part. Any man dressed in a military uniform at once becomes the boy next door, but Captain Charles was the real deal. He became the charming big brother to the trainees. If they stepped out of line he would come down with firm correction, but he guided and protected them with an unbroken commitment. He took it on as his individual responsibility to make sure each trainee was well prepared.

This was the second class of female flyers he had brought into the fold of military aviation, and he had hit a zone. “You have in front of you a list of the planes you will train on. Starting today you will continually transition from one plane to the next. Those of you who are assigned to ferry commands after graduation, will fly bombers or basics and fighters from base to base for training or from the factory floor to U.S. harbors. Planes delivered to the coast will be shipped overseas. The hardest working, the most skilled among you will move these planes at the bottom of the page.”

Liddy studied the list and heard Doubt snicker.

“These are fighter planes, pursuits. These planes are designed to pursue the enemy in battle. Transition to pursuits as well as the bombers will take place at additional training facilities where WASPs train and study alongside male cadets. Those of you good enough to be assigned to ferry pursuits or bombers, will get to crack open a few more books after graduation.”

The class listened intently as Captain Charles talked about what they would be studying: flight theory, communications, navigation, weather conditions and the History of Aviation made up part of the list. Liddy had to lock her neck to keep from looking at the planes out the window. Sometimes you just have to do one thing to be able to do another.

Scoping out the ropes and sizing-up the other trainees were part of the first week of training. The baymates debriefed each other every evening, reporting on what was what, who was who, from where, and what their flying background was. Some of the women had just enough hours to get into the program, while others had logged a hundred hours or more in the pit.

Most of the female pilots in the country who had more than five hundred hours in their log books had been recruited, before the WASP program, by Nancy Love for the Woman’s Auxiliary Ferrying Squadron. Before a program had been established in the United States to utilize female pilots for non-combat military flying, Love had assembled this elite group of women. She took them to England where they were allowed to ferry planes for the war effort.

The WAFS were very experienced pilots. The majority were well educated from well-to-do backgrounds. But a WASP trainee couldn’t be put into a mold. These women were as different as a cat is from an elephant. They were experienced aviators and novices, rich and poor, young college graduates and married women in their thirties.

The original Army sponsored program established by Jackie Cochran was the Woman’s Flying Training Detachment. As opposed to the WAFS, it was developed to train average female flyers to not only ferry planes, but to do other non-combat flying for the military. General ‘Hap’ Arnold made the decision that the two programs should merge if they would both be serving in the states, and the WASP was born. But, in their minds, the women who had been WAFS remained WAFS, even though they all did the same flying for their country.

Joy Lynn and Louise had learned to fly in a Civilian Pilot Training Program, Marina and Bet had received private instruction, and Calli’s Steven had taught her. Her roommates knew Liddy’s father had taught her to fly, but she didn’t go into detail beyond that. It was a big stew pot of women, but the main ingredient was that they were all pilots who wanted to fly to serve their country.

After supper, the baymates had staked out a group of chairs and sofas in the rec hall and sat back for their nightly reports. Songs that drew the gal’s hearts to memories of home, fun and sweethearts drifted through the fabric panels of the big floor radio. The girls shared the skinny on what they’d learned about the base, the program and the other trainees.

Jenna Law walked in carrying on with some of her classmates, and Joy Lynn set her elbows on her knees and leaned in toward the gals. In a hushed voice she said, “Did any of you see Jenna Law up today?” Joy Lynn whistled quietly. “I was impressed, and I don’t impress easily. That was some smooth junk. Don’t know I’ve ever seen a straighter dive.”

“That’s one confident lady.” Louise raised her eyebrows and shook her head.

“I don’t think there’s one bone that can be shaken in that broad.” Joy Lynn sat back and twirled her hair.

“She’s nice,” said Bet. “She showed me how to keep my chute straps from sliding, and she got me a couple of seat cushions to move me up in the pit.”

“She may be nice as long as you don’t mess with the rules, huh, Liddy?” asked Marina.

“I’m glad she helped you, honey.” Liddy squeezed Bet’s knee.

“Hey, Bailey, you know how to play ping pong?” Joy Lynn kicked at Bet’s feet that she had propped on the sofa table.

“I have three older brothers. What do you think?”

“I’ll take you on then.”

Joy Lynn and Bet picked up the paddles and went at it. And Liddy snuck off to the canteen. Liddy had discovered that the canteen wasn’t much of a hot spot. It was small, a little shabby and quiet. It became her place to be semi-alone, as any aloneness was a rare state since she boarded the train in Missouri. She wasn’t accustomed to having people around all the time and there were moments, many moments, she missed Crik’s place and her little trailer.

She’d close her eyes and listen to hear the sounds of the farm when everything slept, or the tires of the Dodge, jumping from rut to rut on the dirt roads and no one in the car but her. Even in the air she was accompanied by an instructor. She craved the day when training would move past solos, and she would have her time in the sky to herself again.

Before she slipped away to the canteen, Liddy took pen and paper from her locker to write home before lights out. She wrote to Daniel and Celia, and she jotted off a note to Rowby. She would tuck it away until she heard word from Daniel where she should mail it. She was careful to make sure it was light and friendly. She knew how natural it would be for him to make what he wanted of it. And then she wrote to Jack and Crik again:

May 12, 1943

Dear Daddy and Crik,

Well my time of luxury is over, but the food at the mess here would put Carol Ann at the diner to shame. The kitchen puts out quite a spread and encourages the trainees to pile it high. I had eggs and brains for breakfast. I think it must be like what I’ve heard Earl talk about. He’ll be glad to know I’m taking some risks. The barracks are crowded, but I’ve been bunked with some gals that are sure to make the next five months interesting.

I flew a PT-19 the past two days. It’s a heavy ship and like all the planes here, has some miles on it, but boy are there lots of planes. When you look out on the main strip, there must be 100 of them lined up and then there’s more on the back fields and in the hangars.

Texas is dry and I’m bracing myself for the heat of summer. People keep talking about the blistering heat to come like it has wheels and is going to roll over us like a freight train.

We haven’t been back to the town of Sweetwater. We’re restricted to the base for the first two weeks “quarantined” but the townspeople seemed nice, a little unsure of us, but nice. I think of the show and how just one lady pilot knots up the sensibilities of our little crowds, and Sweetwater has hundreds of lady pilots on their spot of the earth, all at one time. I guess that’s a lot for a groundling to handle.

Try to put your heads together and write me a letter okay? I miss you both. Tell everyone I said hi, and give Muck a scratch for me.

Love Liddy

The first few weeks of training were just the beginning of a long line of exhaustion hangovers. Each day got tougher and ended with the women dragging themselves into their bays and flopping into bed. And the following day was always a struggle to drag themselves out again. It wasn’t unusual to wake up full of confidence one morning and then run on empty the next. That was the gauge that determined the spring in their step.

The women’s interest in a look in the mirror faded until they no longer visited the spot at all. Marina hadn’t opened her paint bag in weeks, and the thought of having pearls rubbing against her sweaty skin made her feel claustrophobic.

The inspections were another weight. The quarters were to be neat and tucked at all times. Sinks had to be dry and polished, shoes lined up, beds wrinkle free, nothing in the trash can and no dust. The list went on.

Joy Lynn was collecting demerits like coins, and both sides of the bay were put on restriction for her transgressions. The twelve women were confined to the base for two weeks, which was supposed to teach everyone a lesson. The disciplinarians didn’t know that the grounding would have had to last for at least a month to have had much of an impact. When two or more girls get together they have a way of finding fun, no matter where they are. Joy Lynn’s housekeeping did improve somewhat, but it was the others picking up her trails that really kept her and the rest of the bay in the clear.

Liddy, Bet, Louise, Carla and Ruby were stuck with Gant for phase one. None of them really minded though. He turned out to be an excellent pilot and his tone had leveled to a rumble. Each morning he would lead them through the day’s agenda with as much patience as he could forge. “I expect you to have this checklist down by tomorrow,” he growled one day.

“We memorize it?” Bet whispered to Liddy.

Gant stepped in front of Bet. “No, Bailey, you have to know it. And the flight forms have to be filled out for every flight: name of pilot, time, class, flight, signature. Got it?”

As the temperatures climbed, heads bobbed and eyelids drooped during ground school. Surprise examinations became the norm but they still somehow caught the gals off guard, especially Liddy, who found so much of the information useless. She hadn’t needed it up till now and couldn’t imagine what would possibly change that.

With every ambush Captain Charles would say the same thing, “Hope you reviewed the material that was presented yesterday because you’re being tested on it today. Have fun, ladies.”

Liddy didn’t really think she needed to know when and how the first plane was built. She knew how it worked and that, she thought, was what mattered. But with each day she was introduced to instruments, weather patterns, or some other new territory and realized she had better try and make some connections. What she did know, which was a great deal, she found difficult to pull from her intuition and put down on paper. Ground school took flying from Liddy’s heart and worked it through her brain like a clothes wringer.

Liddy knew more about the engines than some of the mechanics on the field—Crik had taught her well. Word spread through the Avenger underground that Liddy had some skill with a wrench. When a particularly stubborn problem plagued one of the engine jocks, he might quietly seek Liddy out and ask her a question or two.

Ground school also included time in the Link Trainer, which was also more difficult in the heat of the summer. The Link was essentially a wood box with wings and a tail that had been outfitted with a control panel and was mounted on a swivel. Forerunner to the flight simulator, it was used in a classroom to work on instruments and navigation skills. A trainee would be shut up inside the enclosed chamber and then spun and rocked at the instructor’s discretion.

It was after Marina’s first work in the enclosed trainer that she rushed back to the bay and put her beauty bag at the bottom of her locker. When she climbed out of the box that day, her hair hung like vines, and her make-up had melted and was sliding off her face. She passed Homer Nash in the hall and was devastated. Even though they couldn’t date the men, there was no reason to frighten them.

Surprisingly, marching was one of the greatest challenges. It was quite a jumble, and became the source for group humiliation. One afternoon the new trainees marched past the senior class who stepped in meticulous unison as they sang to the tune, Swinging on a Star.

“Would you like to loop round a star, ferry ATs home from afar, and be better off than you are. Or would you rather be a WAVE?…”

The younglings craned their necks to take in the show, until their jumble became a tumble and most of them ended up on the ground entangled with one another.

The senior class enjoyed the spectacle and continued on, “… A WAVE may be an ensign or a seaman first class. Her uniform of navy blue will pass. As the Navy says her weight in gold she’s worth, but who could want to be confined to earth? As for me, she can keep all of those things—I’d rather have my silver wings.”

Liddy was still on the ground when she looked up and saw Jenna Law marching past her. Jenna grinned down at her and snapped a salute. That was not Liddy’s best day.

Following the other classes to Avenger did have its advantages though. Previous trainees had figured out how to keep cool at night by dragging the beds outside. They passed on their knowledge of what the town of Sweetwater had for them to do on Saturday nights, which wasn’t much. And they discovered that when turned upside down onto a towel or an army blanket, the chairs from their rooms made great lounges for sun bathing or for just lounging against while shooting the breeze.

The first weeks of training were tough. But despite the flying, marching and studying, the women did find time to relax, or rather, to collapse. The night air had begun to cool, but the day’s air was still trapped inside the bays. Texas had let loose its summer balm early, and the trainees were outside reclined against their makeshift lounges.

Louise and Calli sat under the funnel of the yellow porch light beam writing letters, while the others just sat. Gosport, the base cat, prowled around and between the women until he flopped onto Liddy’s lap. His tabby fur bristled as he rolled over so she could rub his belly.

Joy Lynn puffed on a cigarette and blew smoke rings past Marina’s face.

“Watch it, Georgia. You may not care if your hands and teeth turn yellow, but I don’t want that stuff anywhere near me. Please, keep your nasty habit over there.”

“Excuse me, Uptown. Maybe I should move myself to the runway?”

“Great idea.” Marina shoved Joy Lynn with her feet.

“You can’t washout because you’re the marching equivalent of circus elephants, can you?” Calli asked the others.

“You mean drunk circus elephants, don’t you?” Liddy twisted her mouth and looked at Calli cross-eyed.

“Maybe not washout, but you could expire from pure humiliation.” Joy Lynn reached off the side of the porch and crushed her cigarette into the ground.

Louise looked up from her writing. “That cannot happen again, ladies.”

“And what about when the senior class moves out? We have to march in review at their graduation,” said Marina.

“And we need a song,” said Bet. “If we can’t talk and march, it would be nice to at least sing.”

“I heard one today,” Joy Lynn straightened her posture to deliver the tune.

“No you don’t, Georgia! That song is cruder than even you are.” Marina covered Joy Lynn’s mouth with the cup of her hand, but the songstress pulled away and belted, “We’re hot and not just—” Marina tackled her and Joy Lynn rolled away. “Come on sing it with me, Uptown.” And then she continued, “bet your tight cockpit sittin’—”

“Come on,” Liddy interrupted as she laid Gosport on the blanket and stood up.

It was pushing lights out when the baymates gathered their class together behind the mess hall. Liddy and Louise led them as they practiced marching in rank. Navigating by scattered flashlight beams, they accidentally guided the troop into the wall where they crushed each other. After that, they had to convince the women to fall back in and continue, but they did.

Then, for the next week all their free time was used to practice marching and to write their song. Grub was eaten on the run and they marched while they chomped and swallowed their meals.

The flight line was Liddy’s refuge, but the classroom was another story. Her test scores were not going to keep her in the program, and she resigned herself to studying, which it seemed to her she was doing more of than anyone else. All the trainees had to have a high school diploma to be accepted into the program. Liddy had one, but just barely. Jack had never put much importance on schooling. To him, Liddy’s time in the air was just as valuable, or more so. So once Edda was gone, Liddy attended school at her leisure. She was somewhat of a wild child, with a wild daddy. Although there was talk, people looked the other way. Loss of a wife and mother had to be considered. Liddy was regretting her days of hooky now.

Some of the women had a college degree too, and most of them were much younger than Liddy. Bet, college degree or not, was smart as a whip. She may have been the last one to get a joke, but she was the first one to work out a navigational calculation or to memorize a check-list. She wasn’t the only quick study, and it seemed to Liddy that the other trainees just decided to know something, and they did. She had to carefully wrap the information in and out of the corners and recesses of her brain to make it stick, and then to know where to look for it when she needed it. But wrap she did and her grades rose with her spirits, and the studying continued.

Marching in time drives home an air of conviction and purpose that can unite minds and hearts. The day the new trainees debuted their song and sent it into the airways above their perfectly timed step, was truly a day of conviction and purpose. The women were convinced that they were the class of all classes and their purpose was to let everyone know it. Marching to the mess hall that afternoon, they chimed out with a swell that could be heard across Texas, “We’re the HPs of Avenger Field. Wings of silver will be our shield. Watch us fly you’ll know it’s true. We’re the queens of the open blue…”

The senior class was posted and taking instruction as the underclass passed. The pompous cadence soared through the confined ranks and it was abrasive, “… So take note all you recruits. If you wanna be tops follow suit. Then you’ll be an HP of Avenger Field. Wings of silver will be your shield. At the end of the war, you’ll be part of the great WASP lore. We’re the HPs of Avenger Field. Wings of silver will be our shield.”

They were sure no class had ever looked so smart in zoot suits, and no sight or sound was ever so grand. It was a day that set some things straight, and honor had been restored.

Chapter Eleven

Weekends meant some free time. If their flight schedules were up to date, those two days every week belonged to the trainees, and they could do as they pleased, as long as it wasn’t with any of the staff at the base and the lights were out by ten, eleven on Saturday night. Liddy was perched on a table in the rec hall studying, not doing as she pleased, but doing as she must. Bet and Joy Lynn were bickering over the last point in their game of ping pong.

“I’m not giving you that point, Bailey. Your serve skimmed the net.”

“It did not. It’s my point. Liddy, did you see that? It didn’t hit the net.”

Liddy kept her head down and grunted.

“Okay, you can have the point, Bailey. I’m about to take you out anyway.” Joy Lynn swaggered from hip to hip and waved her paddle through the air. “Get ready to take on the champ, Liddy.”

“Not now, I’ve got to get this reading done.”

“For someone who thinks that reading about flying takes the fun out of flying, you sure have been buried in those books a lot,” said Bet.

“Yeah well, washing-out because I don’t get the grades would kinda take the fun out of it too.”

A trainee trotted through the room and hollered out, “Softball—North Field…”

Liddy wasn’t interested and didn’t look up.

“…senior class against the unders,” the trainee continued breathlessly.

Liddy’s head popped up. “Did she say seniors against the unders?”

“I think so,” said Bet.

Liddy hopped down from the table and gathered her books. “Let’s go.”

Joy Lynn and Bet dropped their paddles and followed.

The softball game was in full swing. Jenna Law was at bat and a runner was on first. Ruby, June and Virgie stood in the outfield. Louise was at the mound, Joy Lynn was on first, Bet on second, Carla at short stop and Liddy was on third.

Louise pitched, Jenna looked—it was a ball. Louise pitched again, Jenna looked—ball two.

“Come on, Louie girl, find it now,” encouraged Liddy.

Louise pitched—Jenna swung. It was a hard drive down the third base line. Liddy scooped it up and zinged it to Bet who was covering second. The runner was out. Bet turned and over-threw to Joy Lynn at first. Jenna was safe.

The next batter approached the plate. Liddy looked at Jenna on first, then she checked out second base. With a stern stare she alerted Bet and Carla—she was counting on them to cover second.

Louise pitched—the batter swung and tipped it back.

Louise pitched—the batter looked—strike one.

Louise pitched—the batter swung and hit the ball flat and long through second base and into center field. Ruby fumbled then recovered. Jenna had rounded second and was headed for third. Liddy was stretched and ready. Jenna raced to beat the throw. Ruby threw and Jenna slid.

Jenna’s foot thudded against the bag and a split second after, the ball smacked into Liddy’s glove.

“She’s out!” called Bet.

“She’s safe,” Liddy said.

“Looked out to me,” said Joy Lynn.

“I said she’s there,” Liddy snapped.

“Good call, Hall,” said Jenna.

“It’s what it was.” Liddy walked away from the base and was getting ready for the next batter when Marina came running onto the field. She rambled uncontrollably to Liddy, and the baymates gathered round, then together they ran off field.

Rena Naston was on deck swinging a warm-up, and she called out as they passed, “Too much pressure, Hall?”

“Oh go piss yourself, Naston,” yelled Joy Lynn.

The women ran across the base and swept into their room. There they found Calli gathering up all of her belongings and packing them into her suitcase. She looked up with vein-riddled eyeballs and a red, swollen nose. When she saw her friends, she collapsed onto the bed.

Through Calli’s sobs she choked, “We were only together for a week before Stephen got shipped out. I can’t believe it.” Calli heaved so hard the bed jiggled.

“One pop’s all it takes. My granny calls it ‘Bunny Bounty’. Ya’ know, rabbits.” Joy Lynn wiggled her nose. Marina pinched the back of her arm. “Ow!” Joy Lynn rubbed her skin and shrugged. “Jeez, sorry.”

“I really wanted this. I wanted to fly. I wanted to serve.” Calli sobbed.

“Can’t you start up with another class?” Bet asked.

“Yeah, I could. I was told, ‘You can return as soon as you have eliminated your condition.’ Can you believe that? The doctor actually said those words, ‘eliminate your condition’. I wanted to say, ‘I’m pregnant you big, stupid man’. He treated me like I had a disease or something. I’m not coming back. I can’t bear the thought of leaving my baby with Mrs. Wilson Mayfield-Duncan.”

“Maybe it’s a girl and she’ll like cotton candy chiffon.” Liddy tried to lighten the mood.

“And if it’s a boy child, I do have an uncle who carries off pastel puffy better than any woman in Georgia,” continued Joy Lynn.

Giggles and tears mixed back and forth.

“What about your parents?” Louise asked.

“No,” Calli said emphatically. “That would be a disaster.” Her chest collapsed with another round of tears. “When I did have a baby, I wasn’t planning on doing it alone.”

Louise sat down on the bed next to Calli and clamped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re not alone, sweetie.”

Liddy sat on the other side of the mommy-to-be and the rest of the baymates huddled on the bed behind her. Liddy doubled over Louise’s arm. “You have before you five god-mothers with wing power.”

An impromptu baby shower was thrown for Calli that night. The mess crew made a cake and sweet tea, and the hall was crowded with trainees. Everyone was sad for Calli, but they were thrilled to be at a party that wasn’t bidding farewell to a washed-out classmate. Everyone brought gifts that were presented in some unconventional ways. Scarves and old flight maps were just some of the wrappings. Presents were the highlight and infused the gathering with lots of silliness and laughter, all in an attempt to brighten Calli up. The baby was showered with hair ribbons, a little metal airplane, a hand-made Fifinella doll, but mostly lots of jewelry. That was going to be one decked-out baby. Everyone signed Calli’s flight book, and they passed the hat so she could buy a real baby gift when she got home.

By Sunday night Calli’s bed was stripped clean. Bet, Joy Lynn and Marina were asleep. Liddy tried to sleep, but she was restless. She heard Gosport mewing outside, left her bed and slowly opened the screen door to the porch, which only prolonged the screech. Louise was sitting under the yellow porch light writing a letter again. Liddy slid down one of the overhang posts, and Gosport snuggled up next to her. Both sat and watched Louise who stopped writing and looked up at them. “Yes, can I help you?”

“So who’s the beau that you’re always writing to, a soldier boy maybe?” Liddy glinted.

“No beau.”

“Then who,” Liddy pushed.

Louise bit her lip as though she wanted to keep the answer from escaping from her mouth.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry. I was being nosey.” Liddy didn’t know anything about Louise, other than that she was a good pilot and came from Colorado. But then all Louise knew about her was that she was a good pilot and came from Missouri. Only among the gals they’d been rooming with, could they have gotten away with such privacy. Their chatty baymates were all so full of their own stories that there was never any void to be filled. But, people who don’t want to talk about themselves encourage that kind of narcissism, so you could hardly blame them.

“My kids,” said Louise and then gave Liddy time to hear what she’d said. “Surprised? Think I should be home, go home like Calli?”

“No, no I don’t.”

Louise reached into the cigar box beside her, pulled out a photo and handed it to Liddy. “Bonnie’s eight and Tommy’s six.”

“They look like great kids. They’re really beautiful, Louie.”

“They are and they are,” said Louise, and then she took the photo back from Liddy and gently touched the little faces with her finger, studying them while she spoke. “My parents are taking care of them. When the WASPs are militarized, my Army career will give us security. The Navy has the WAVES, the Army has the WACs. Why wouldn’t the Army Air Force militarize the WASP who are flying for them? We’re serving aren’t we?” She rubbed her wrist against her bent knees in agitation and then looked back at the photograph and her breathing slowed, her shoulders dropped and her voice got quiet, “But sometimes…” Louise rested her head back against the wall and took a deep breath. “I just miss them so much. I don’t know if I can do this.”

Louise loved to fly as much as Liddy did, a flyer could tell. And she was good at it. Liddy didn’t want to imagine training without her.

“When they were born…” Louise shook her head and puffed air up from her bottom lip to cool her eyes and keep in the tears. “… the love I felt for those little babies, it just devoured me. I was never so happy. They’re sad with me gone. I know my mom is trying to keep it from their drawings and letters, but I can tell. I’m making my babies sad, Liddy.” She shook her head and closed her eyes to push the tears back in.

“My first thought was to get a defense job, but there’s so much talk that the women will be shut out of those, sent back to their ironing and bridge clubs when the war is over, so that seemed a temporary solution. And I want to fly. I want my babies and I want to fly. Before the WASP, I hadn’t been up in a while. I just couldn’t afford it. Getting up every day and moving a plane around the sky, it feels so extravagant, and every day I feel so selfish and question my choices.”

Not until this moment did it occur to Liddy that Louise wasn’t released from the weight of life in the sky like she was. To Liddy that just happened. That had always been much of the appeal to her. Disappointment, hurt, pain, anger, all the bad stuff melted away in the air. Or was it when Louise touched down that the worries returned to her, but she had the moments of white, bright, clean, exhilarating bliss when she was up. Liddy wanted to believe that Louise had those moments, that her mind cleared and her spirit soared with the plane. But she didn’t ask, she just hoped it was true.

As she sat there thinking about Louise’s situation and thinking what she could say to her, Liddy realized it probably wasn’t true. Louise’s mind maybe never cleared. She was juggling two great loves and couldn’t have both at the same time, at least not for now.

“We’re over halfway through Louie, and there’s lots of talk we’re going to be commissioned any time. We’ll have our wings and careers.”

“I pray it happens, Liddy. I pray it happens.”

Liddy and Louise sat out past curfew, risking a demerit and told each other their secrets. Liddy learned that Louise had been married to a policeman who ran off with his best friend’s wife. She hadn’t heard from him in over a year and had submitted papers for a divorce.

Liddy told Louise about Jack and growing up in Holly Grove and about Crik and the show. Liddy’s intuition had always told her who she could trust. When she heard herself telling Louise about meeting Major Reid Trent on the train, and how she had never been so irritated by her feelings for a man, she knew her intuition could be trusted.

Liddy had never completely emptied out her heart. She knew it wasn’t something that should be done to just anyone. She loved and cared for many people, but most of them would leak a secret without any ill intention, they just couldn’t help it. Louise, she found, was the kind of person who comes along maybe once in a lifetime. Someone you know accepts everything about you and loves you anyway, someone who will keep your heart carefully guarded forever, someone you respect and would follow into battle.

As time went on, Liddy told her other baymates about losing her mother when she was twelve, flying the show and what her life had been like before the WASP. The Major however, remained a topic she didn’t discuss—she and Louise shared that alone.

Louise pulled out the pictures of Bonnie and Tommy, and their drawings, and hung them up in her locker. It took a few days before the other women noticed them, but when they did, they were full of questions and Louise answered the ones she wanted to.

Liddy had never been knit with a girlfriend, but she had never known any fly gals either. She ran with some of the girls back home, but the friendships had always been more of acquaintances as neither side really understood the other. Being at Avenger with these women had made Liddy feel a sort of ordinariness that she treasured. An oddity among many is no longer all that odd. These ladies had become not only friends, but sisters, sister-friends, and to them she was knit for life.

Chapter Twelve

Army checkrides were like the opening night of a Broadway play. The butterflies arrived in the morning. When the curtain went up, you gave it everything you had until the last line. If the reviews were good, you got to go back on stage every night. If not, you left the theatre, and the curtain came down for good.

The class stood at attention and Major Trent approached the trainees. When he was posted in front of the class, it always meant a fork in the road. And his presence always stirred up things in Liddy that were manageable when he was out of sight. A visit from Doubt would soon follow, bringing all kinds of questions, questions she didn’t want to think about.

“Class, you will be Army checked today for spot landings. Your Army check-officers and flight times are posted on the boards. You will make a three point landing. A line has been marked on the auxiliary field. To S your ride you will roll to the line, and not past it. You will be graded on the landing and your final position.”

This would be the first time any of the class had done spot landings or been up with an Army pilot, instead of their civilian instructors. To add to the pressure, Texas winds had decided to kick up some thick dust, and heat waves wobbled across the horizon. When Trent dismissed the women, they checked the boards for their flight time and the Army pilot they would go up with. Lewis Gant was with his trainees every step of the way.

The baymates found a spot on the short wall that bordered the runway and watched the rides come in. Marina’s landing teased the runway. The plane floated slightly wing right then left. The gals drew in their breaths and held them until they saw the wheels touch-down simultaneously, and she glided into the zone.

Louise landed smoothly—the belly of the plane straddling the line. Gant was waiting when she jumped down from the plane. She grabbed him to join her in her celebratory jig. He ducked away, but Louise continued to relive the landing as she walked with Gant back to the benches. He tried to ignore her enthusiasm.

Liddy came in for her landing, she touched down smoothly, rolled gently toward the line and stopped. Liddy and the Army check pilot hopped out. Gant was close behind as they walked up to the mark where the wheels rested on the strip painted on the runway. The Army Officer and Gant stood there shaking their heads and then turned to walk back to the flight line, but Gant stopped and looked back—he couldn’t believe it.

It was time for Bet’s go. She walked over and stood in front of Liddy, took off her friend’s flight cap and rubbed the top of her matted hair with both of her hands and said, “For luck.”

Gant walked with Bet out to the plane and before he turned her over to the Army Officer he said, “All right, Bailey, don’t make me look like an idiot up there. You get it right. All three of those little wheels hit the ground at the same time, you got that? Not two, you hear me. And then you get to that line and no further. And watch that boulder of a foot you have or you’ll spin right past it.”

“You’re making me nervous, and I think I have to pee.”

“If you’re not sure, you don’t have to. Get a hold of yourself, Bailey.”

Bet’s shaking hands made it impossible to tighten the chute strapped over her shoulders. Gant impatiently cinched and checked it for her.

“There,” he said and patted the top of her head like she was a puppy.

“Thanks.”

“Okay, okay, now you keep it together up there.”

Bet followed the Army pilot to the plane. She wasn’t in a hurry when she climbed up on the wing and lowered herself into the cockpit. And by the time she was geared and strapped, she was a wreck. Not an ounce of stillness was in her, and her stomach began to cramp.

The ride was a series of blunders, and when the tower cleared her for landing, she couldn’t find a smooth spot in the stick or rudder. The plane swayed precariously as its belly neared the runway. The wheels hit a two point landing and then bounced back up. One wheel touched down and then all three up again. Two down, then three hit the mat and stayed there.

“Going too fast, you’re going too fast,” Bet told herself. She panicked and broke too hard. The plane jerked abruptly to a stop. The nose tipped forward and teetered as if it was toying with executing a full bow and then the tail slammed back down. The plane rested, yards from the intended mark.

Bet hoisted herself out of the cockpit and dragged in, while Gant prodded her along, “It’s one U Bailey, get over it. You won’t get another one, do you hear me?”

The days that followed had all of the trainees working hard to make strides in their weak areas and they all had at least one. The base canteen was empty, except for Liddy. She had her text books open in front of her and she sipped on a Coke as she pictured Jack chugging on a bottle of his own. She had read letters from Daniel who had enlisted and would be joining the AAF at the end of July, and one from Crik and Jack that went something like, Jack wants to know this, and Jack wants to know that. Take care of yourself, Love Crik and Jack. She also, finally, received a letter from Rowby. Since she found out where he was in basic, she had written him twice. He was on a ship now or maybe off already, and this was the first she had heard from him. Nothing in the letter sounded like Rowby, but it was hard to tell in the one line:

Liddy,

Hope you’re doing well. I’m fine. I don’t really like writing, so don’t worry about writing me.

Rowby Wills

The postmark read July twenty-third and Liddy didn’t hear from him after that. She didn’t write anymore either, but she was still sure he was going to be fine.

She was working a navigation calculation for the third time when she saw the Major enter through the front door, and she snapped the lead of her pencil. She didn’t look away before he looked back and walked toward her. Liddy dropped her head and pretended to read.

“Trainee, Hall.”

She looked up into that face and braced herself.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a gentleness that confused her.

“I’m playing Tiddlywinks.” Trent grinned, and Liddy saw a hint of the twinkle that she was beginning to think she’d only imagined. “I’m not breaking any rules or regulations, am I?”

He grabbed the back of the chair across the table, leaned forward and looked steady at her. Liddy felt challenged to return the gaze and she did. “No, Hall, Tiddlywinks is an approved activity, I think.”

His grin broadened into that smirk, and a familiar weakness ran under Liddy’s skin. She wanted to say, ‘Hi, I remember you. We met on a train once.’

“Great check the other day.”

“Thanks.” Liddy’s hands were shaking so she hid them on her lap under the table.

“Gant’s still bragging about it.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He claims you’ll be training men for combat.”

“Why not flying combat?”

Trent looked at her a little sideways and shook his head. “Staying in one piece isn’t a priority for you, is it Liddy Hall?”

“There’s nowhere I feel safer, Major Trent.”

“Trust me, when you’re strapped into a big hunk of metal, with metal flying under, over and through you, you don’t feel very safe.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I think combat is… like I thought I could… I was just kidding. Not that I should kid about that, I just…” She wanted to reach in and grab her tongue to make it stop.

“I know, Hall.” Trent laughed softly and looked at her long and hard, moving his eyes over her face, the way he did on the train. “You could do it though, if you wanted to. I have no doubt of that. I’m guessing there’s nothing you can’t do.”

A blush rushed-up from her neck to the top of her head, and she could see from Trent’s smirk that he noticed and enjoyed it. Captain Charles entered the cantina and Trent stepped back from the table. “Well, you have fun, trainee.”

“How could I not?”

He left and sat down with the Captain. The rest of Liddy’s study session was pointless as she tried to reign in her heart and pretend Trent’s presence wasn’t consuming her. Minutes before lights out, she tore herself away. Coolly she gathered her books and left the place, and she had to sprint back to the bays to make it before ten. In the dark, she undressed and slipped into bed. She pulled the covers in tight, closed her eyes and was replaying the evening when she heard a whisper from the next bunk.

“Where ya’ been, Hall?” Louise asked.

“Studying, Parker, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”

Liddy had always known when a man was interested in her, until Major Reid Trent. She thought she read an interest from him on the train, then he dropped her and Liddy sensed nothing since then. Tonight it was back, she thought, but Doubt told her she was imagining it. Give it up, said Doubt, even if he was interested, you’re a trainee, so it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re making yourself crazy, all for nothing. She couldn’t keep her thinking still enough to see anything clearly, so she set Major Reid Trent’s face in front of her, listened to his voice and told Doubt to mind his own business and go to sleep.

Chapter Thirteen

When Liddy and Louise returned from a walk and talk the next night, their baymates had gossip dripping from their lips and couldn’t wait to share it. “You’re just in time ladies, wait’ll you hear this.” Joy Lynn sat on the bed with her arms wrapped around her knees, wiggling her toes with anticipation. “Tell ‘em, Uptown.”

“No way. I don’t believe it,” Bet said to Marina.

“What, no way?” asked Louise as she flopped back onto her bed and folded her hands behind her head.

Marina stood up and posted herself at the end of the room with her hands on her hips and leaned forward a bit. “There’s a rumor that Jenna Law is engaged to one of the Army Officers.”

Liddy’s chest seized, and a weight rested on her brain that filled it with a hum and rocked her head back. The girls continued with “It can’t be” and “I don’t believe it either” and “She’s gonna get kicked out.” But Liddy could only hear her friends’ muffled voices, and didn’t make out a word they were saying.

Louise had sat up on her elbows and saw the shock in Liddy’s face. “Which one?” Louise asked.

“I don’t know, no one’s saying, but it’s not exactly regulation.” Marina lifted her eyebrows. “Now is it?”

“Guess you can marry them, just not date them.” Bet shrugged her shoulders.

“Doesn’t sound like much fun to me,” said Joy Lynn.

“What do you think, Liddy Lou, how do you go about getting a proposal from a man you haven’t dated?” Bet looked at Liddy and waited for an answer. “Liddy.”

“Huh.” When Liddy looked up, Bet saw a far-off look in her eyes.

“You okay?” Bet asked her.

“Yeah, fine.” Liddy pulled her night clothes from her locker and undressed.

“And she was jumpin’ on your onion about following orders and regulations,” griped Joy Lynn.

“Might be called a ‘crock-a-coon crap’ in your neck of the woods, huh, Joy Lynn?” Bet asked.

“Why, Miss Bailey, that there’s disgustin’ talk. Miss George, your ears, are they okay, dahlin’?” Joy Lynn needled her friend and Marina stuck her tongue out at her.

“Hey, after graduation it’s open season, right? WASP date who they want?” asked Bet.

“Yes indeedy, Red. Well, with the exception of enlisted beef. We’ll be ranked as officers, although not Army officers or civilians, ranked somewhere in no-man’s land until we’re commissioned. Regardless, we’ll be some kind of officer, and the Army doesn’t like its own socializing below their rank…” Joy Lynn rolled her eyes. “… but all the officers and civilian men we want. And I’m gonna find me a man out west, or north of the Mason Dixon Line, way north,” Joy Lynn declared.

“We’ll be women again—Oh, happy day!” Marina twirled around the room.

“So Liddy, doesn’t it just chew you up?” prodded Joy Lynn.

Liddy ignored the question as she pulled on her night dress and twisted her hair into a pony tail. “Big day tomorrow. I’m turning in.”

Bet grimaced, she didn’t want to be reminded. “Solos.”

“Now that’ll be a great date, just me and the open blue—no chaperone,” said Joy Lynn.

Liddy grabbed her toiletry bag from her locker and walked into the bathroom. She looked at Louise as she passed, and her sister-friend saw a sad emptiness in her face. At the sink, Liddy turned on the water full blast and let it splash every which way. And when she scooped some water up to her face, she tossed it with such abandon that it dripped off her hair and her nightgown. She felt the need to be completely wet, so she whipped off her gown and underpants and let everything fall to the floor at the sink and turned on the shower. She stood under the spray and rotated slowly several times. Rumors—usually false? Usually true? Engaged?

Liddy knew that forbidden relationships blossomed on the base. There were looks between instructors or military men and trainees, everyone saw them. And not long after Calli went home, one of the gals from the senior class left for the same reason, but she wasn’t married and left quietly. No baby shower. And not long after that, Instructor Carl Paxton’s name disappeared from the flight boards and trainees were reassigned to new instructors, and there were rumors. But Major Reid Trent and Jenna Law—Maybe—Probably.

Rumors—Liddy didn’t like that word. She never thought about it before, but she didn’t like it at all. What are you supposed to do with a rumor? They should be completely ignored, but that never happened. They make a place for themselves in the room of possible truths and just lounge around, snickering and daring you to figure them out. What nasty little things—Rumors.

Liddy let the water run on her face, until she couldn’t breathe, and held there until she gasped for air. She did that several times and then thought, That’s enough of that and turned off the water. She didn’t dry off with a towel, she just slipped into her nightgown and let the cotton soak up the wetness and plaster itself onto her skin like transparent wallpaper. She tossed her underpants in her locker and went to bed.

The next morning, Liddy made her way through the chow line and was walking across the mess to join her friends at a table. Jenna Law was clearing her tray when she spotted Liddy and trotted to catch up with her. “Hey, Hall,” Liddy kept walking. “Hey, I’m sorry about Calli. She was a good pilot.”

“There goes your graduation rate.”

“Let up, Hall. This isn’t a competition.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Hey, look, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. My fault I guess. I’d like to—”

Just then, a distressed trainee burst into the cafeteria and ignited the spread of some news. With ever-increasing momentum the tension in the room billowed, until everyone rushed out the door.

One of trainees and her instructor had gone down and been killed. Trainees, instructors and staff had gathered at the flight line, and a tearful commotion was brewing. Although the WASP program had one of the best safety records in the Army, military pilots were killed on and off the battle field, and WASPs were no exception. At least one woman a month was killed in training or while out flying their command, but this was the first one that was killed on the base since Liddy’s class had arrived. Liddy and Louise tried to keep Bet and Marina calm, while they waited for news.

Joy Lynn parted her way through the crowd. “It was Ruby. They don’t know why, but she spun in on the other side of the auxiliary field.” Joy Lynn gulped to catch her breath. “Today’s training, including solos, are still happening.”

Bet and Marina both sobbed, and a deep pain filled Liddy’s chest. Bet looked desperately up at her as she wiped her face and nose with the side of her hand. Liddy set her face in front of Bet’s. “Listen, what happened, it’s terrible, but it happened and there’s nothing…” Liddy swallowed hard and a lump caught in her throat. “… nothing’s gonna change it. We’re soloing today, let’s grease it.”

Liddy had known a lot of pilots in her life, but Ruby was the first one she knew who was killed in a plane. It took every bit of Liddy’s strength to keep her emotions in check.

Major Trent walked onto the line with Captain Charles and some of the senior class, including Jenna Law. One of her friends had been killed and still, jealousy found a place in Liddy. What is wrong with me? She asked herself. She left the others and walked away. Bet followed and jogged to catch up with her.

“I can’t solo today, Liddy. I just can’t.”

“You can get all tied up if you want. It’s your choice. You’ve worked hard to be ready for today.”

“It’s not the crash, well not just the crash. I’ve never flown alone,” Bet confessed.

“What?”

“I’ve never actually soloed, no one else in the plane, never just me.”

Liddy shook her head at Bet. “There’s other girls who haven’t soloed.”

“I just can’t do this.”

“Look, Bet, male cadets come into pilot training for the Army without having flown at all. You’ve had the same instruction they get, and then some. You just need to get up there and do what you know how to do.”

“I’m not ready. You don’t understand. It’s like breathing to you. I just feel like there’s something, some mystery that I haven’t figured out yet, that someone forgot to tell me, and if I go up alone, I’m going to realize what it is and it’ll be too late.”

“There’s no mystery, Bet. You can do this. I know you can, but not doing it is an option.”

“But I want to do it.”

“You just said you didn’t want to do it.”

“No, I said I can’t do it.”

“Well you’re wrong there. You can.” Liddy held Bet by the shoulders. “You can, you can, you can!”

Liddy walked with Bet to the bays to grab their gear. She tried to get Bet’s mind off her solo, but her little friend kept asking questions about angles, patterns and speeds like she was in a race for information. Bet didn’t trust herself in the air and Liddy no longer trusted herself on the ground. Both of them needed to get a grip.

The soloing class marched past the wishing well and each of them flipped a coin into the air above the water. As they hit the surface, it looked like it was being pierced with a storm of big fat rain drops.

The troop continued to the flight boards where they lined up in front of the base command. Colonel Wate addressed the class, “Ladies, there was an awful tragedy today. It is a loss for which we are all deeply saddened. But the acceptance of certain risks is a fact of any line of military service. It is necessary that we do not let these events deter us from moving forward with the training for which you have all sacrificed so much.” The Colonel had to take some pauses, but he eventually got through what he had to say. Then he sent the trainees out to the line.

Liddy, Bet, Louise and Carla sat on a bench waiting for Lewis Gant to speak. He ran his hands through his hair and then set them on his hips. Gant was shaken, but he still offered up a gruff and somehow encouraging pep talk to their flight group, minus one, “You will lift, circle the pattern and shoot three landings. Whatever you do, don’t get up there and panic yourself out of landing at all. When I was in the CPT a student did just that. He flew round and round the field until he ran out of gas, stalled and crashed. Get up, get down. Alright who wants to go first?”

Liddy stood up as Gant knew she would. “Okay, Hall, show them how it’s done.”

Liddy walked out to the strip as the others looked on. She took off without hesitation and traveled the pattern. She came in and greased her first landing. Took off again, brought it back down and greased number two. Up again and back in for number three.

“Boy, she makes it look easy,” said Bet.

“It is easy,” said Louise, and she squeezed Bet’s hand. “You’re gonna do great.”

Louise and Carla went up and sailed in smoothly.

Bet slowly rose from the bench, walked over to Liddy and rubbed the top of her head.

“Maybe you’d better try Louie this time,” Liddy scrunched up her face to lighten Bet’s mood.

Bet decided she’d take no chances. “Give it up, HPs.”

The three women tilted their heads forward and Bet proceeded to rub, for luck, down the line.

Bet was in the cockpit and ran through her check. As she scooted down the runway, she ran everything she knew about flying through her mind like a scroll. She made it into the air just fine but with so much to do and see, Bet was at a loss with only one pair of eyes. She kept reading the scroll as she circled and approached for her first landing.

The waiting audience hummed a mantra, “She can do it. She can do it.”

Carla couldn’t stand the suspense and covered her eyes. Liddy and Louise looked on with faith.

Bet lined up and brought it down slowly. “You can, you can, you can,” Bet repeated Liddy’s words to herself. When the wheels hit, she timed the touch-down until she knew she had to pull up and sail around again. And off she went for her second pattern.

Liddy and Louise smiled big and Carla peaked up through her fingers and asked, “Did she do it?”

“One landing down, two to go,” said Liddy.

Carla sat up and watched the rest of Bet’s flight.

The crotch of the trainees’ zoot suits were hanging around their knees from the weight of the soaked fabric. Liddy and Joy Lynn grabbed Bet and tossed her in. When the soggy redhead got back to her feet, her eyes lit with triumph. She threw her arms up and waved them wildly as she kicked the water into the air before she fished on the bottom to find a coin. She found one and held it to the sky and the trainees all jumped in. They dosey doed each other until they spotted Lewis Gant in the distance. They knew what they must do. Hurdling out of the pool, they made a run for the little guy, carried him to the well and threw him in.

Death, then victory, then celebration, it felt strange, but necessary. Liddy thought about the men she knew that came back from the war and never danced or laughed again and the men that came back and did. That’s what living is, she thought, to just keep living.

After what happened to Ruby the very day their class was to solo, Liddy really wasn’t sure if Bet could pull herself together. But she never let on. Bet had to dig deep for what she needed to get through; Liddy knew that. When she did, no one was more pleased or impressed than Liddy.

Losing a friend, a classmate, ‘soldiering’ on, soloing, it was a huge day for everyone. Training solo became the norm, and buddy rides followed—two trainees, no instructor, no Army pilot, just gals. Bet didn’t starve herself before every flight after solo day. Her confidence grew and so did her nails.

After their first solos they went directly to ground school. The trainees stood at the window of the classroom and watched as two coffins, one a pine box, were being loaded into a truck.

“A pine box?” Bet was appalled.

“Guess which one Ruby’s in?” said Joy Lynn.

“That’s what non-military get. No death benefits, no transport, escort or military burial, not even a flag,” said Louise.

“There’s a collection being taken to pay expenses for Ruby’s body to be shipped home and for Carla to travel as the escort.” Marina pressed her finger across her eyelids and wiped away the moisture.

“Sweetwater’s planning a memorial,” Liddy watched the tears stream down Bet’s face and she reached over and squeezed her hand. “Some of the gals were saying they always make sure it’s real nice.”

Captain Charles entered the room and coaxed the trainees to their desks, “Class, please, take your seats.”

The trainees settled in, but their minds wandered and thought of Ruby. One more classmate gone, how they wished it was because she had washed-out. And they wanted to know why she had crashed. It was somehow easier when you knew why, though they never did.

Chapter Fourteen

The next few weeks were sheeted with a sadness that took some of the snap out of the marching and some of the joy out of the flying. It was also a time of heightened awareness that this was risky business. Still the pace of checkrides, drilling and ground school didn’t leave room for much reflection. A craving for distraction ran through the base like spring fever, and this was the day.

The air control tower was shuffling its usual overload of traffic. Three civilian controllers, two men and a woman, sat at the radios communicating with the menagerie of planes in the sky.

“PT-13, hold your pattern.”

“All clear AT-6, bring her in.”

“BT-14, pull up and go around.”

The verbal dance was layered like a well made bed. One of the controllers leaned back in his chair and turned up his radio. He waved for the attention of his coworkers and called into his mike, “Repeat USAF40.”

A voice crackled from the speaker, “Army Air Force Pilot requesting permission for emergency landing for USAF Squadron 347…”

The controller shot a wink to his fellow bird wranglers.

The pilot continued, “… executing a cross country formation and have a rough engine. Need to check it out.”

The controllers grinned at one another and one of them asked, “Rough as in cutting out, or is it a steady bumping?”

“Confirming a combination of that description, sir.”

One of the controllers signaled to the other to keep up the stall. “Any smoke or flames USAF40?”

“Negative, but it’s a definite possibility.”

“We’ve got a lot of action down here officer. Are you aware that this is a training base for the Women Airforce Service Pilots?”

“Is that right, sir?”

“This base has one of the busiest air pockets in the country. There are female pilots everywhere. You say you just want to quick, check it out?”

“Yes, sir.”

The controller covered the mike with his hand and said, “I bet he wants to check it out.”

Eight Army Air Force Pilots landed and hopped out of their planes, collected their equipment and headed in from the flight line. It was unexpected landings like these that led Jackie Cochran to eventually close down the base to outside traffic. The success and reputation of her girls was nothing she was willing to gamble with. In the wake of her decision, Avenger Field took on the alternate name of Cochran’s Convent.

When Liddy and Louise entered their room that day, Bet, Marina and Joy Lynn were tearing through their clothes.

“Get dressed, we’re goin’ out,” Joy Lynn instructed.

“Out where?” Louise asked.

“Marina and Carla have made plans to get us a ride to the Lake Sweetwater Inn. We’re being picked up at the gates at seven.”

Marina couldn’t find anything to wear and she was visibly frustrated. “Men, I didn’t keep my men clothes. They’re all in storage.”

“I didn’t bring men clothes,” said Bet.

“Me neither, it wasn’t in the brochures,” Joy Lynn said sarcastically as she flipped through her choice of outfits. “We heard those Air Force Pilots that force landed, are RONin’,” she announced to Liddy and Louise.

“Resting Over Night,” Bet translated.

“Thanks for clearing that one up.” Liddy looked at Bet and rolled her eyes.

“The boys have checked out a couple jeeps. They’re going to the Inn to meet some trainees.” Marina looked down at the clothes on the bed and shook her head.

“Wait a minute, socializing with military personnel is off limits remember,” Louise reminded the trio.

“Hasn’t stopped Jenna Law,” said Joy Lynn.

Louise glanced at Liddy who had turned to the window. “And didn’t I just hear you say they’re meeting some other trainees, not any of you?” Louise tried to clarify.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Parker, there’s a serious man shortage around this place. The one who gets the man, gets the man, if you know what I mean,” said Marina. “Besides, they’ll be lots of people there, not just military men. But…” Marina grinned. “If we happen to bump into one of them, oh, well.”

“And as for the rules, the rule makers are here, and we will be there. See how that works?” Joy Lynn tempted.

“And they’re not personnel from this base, right? Joy Lynn said that makes a difference. Right, Joy Lynn?” Bet asked.

Liddy decided to cheer up. She grabbed a chair, spun it around, straddled it and sat down. “Did she? Well if Joy Lynn said it’s okay, then it must be. Don’t you think, Louie?” Liddy flashed Louise her crooked smile. “Looks like there’s no stopping them.”

“Yup, they’ve obviously made up their minds.” Louise was happy to see Liddy bounce back. “So you know what we have to do?”

They waited on each other to speak and did in unison, “Chaperone!”

Louise set her hands on her hips. “For the good of the WASP.”

“We can wear our traveling clothes,” suggested Bet.

“Hey, Uptown, what do ya’ think?” Joy Lynn jokingly held up a pair of general’s pants and a white blouse in front of her.

These clothes had been issued early on in the program when some high ranking government officials, including an influential General, were scheduled to visit Avenger and check out the WASP. Not wanting the trainees to look like a bunch of rag tags in their baggy zoot suits, tan pants and white shirts were issued. The trousers from then on were referred to as general’s pants and were worn to ground school, graduations and any other time the higher-ups didn’t want the WASP program to look like it was breeding hobos.

“I’m wearing my zoot suit,” said Liddy.

“Me too,” agreed Louise.

“Over my dead body,” said Marina.

“We don’t have a lot of options here.” Joy Lynn dug in the bottom of her locker. “Let’s just wear our traveling clothes, like Bet said.”

Louise drummed her fingers on her chin. “Or maybe, my birthday suit.”

“Very funny.” Marina sat down on the bed, discouraged. “I didn’t even keep out my traveling clothes. It’s all such a blur. I know I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time.” Then a light bulb appeared over her head. “Oh, yes, yes, yes.”

“Yes, now you’re thinking, Miss George,” Joy Lynn praised.

In a split second, the Calbert and George brain trusts had converged, and it had to be good.

“What?” Bet asked.

Joy Lynn and Marina grinned mischievously at one another.

“What?” Bet asked again.

The hangar was dark. The baymates had gathered outside the locked storage room where the excess luggage, including Marina’s, was held captive. While Joy Lynn picked at the lock with a bent-open hair pin, Marina aimed a flashlight at the knob of the door. Bet huddled behind the burglars, and Liddy and Louise stood to the side.

“I don’t think we should be doing this,” Bet whispered nervously.

“Oh, we definitely shouldn’t be doing this,” said Liddy.

“Georgia, what makes you think you can pick a lock?” Louise asked.

“I was pickin’ the lock of my Granddaddy’s liquor cabinet by the time I was twelve. My Uncle Johnnie taught me.”

“Would that be Uncle Pastel Puffy?” Marina giggled and the light bounced above and below the knob.

“Uncle Geoffrey, you kiddin’ me? Never, he’s a straight n’ narrow.” Joy Lynn’s tongue rubbed the corner of her mouth as her ears waited to hear the release. When she heard the tink, she turned the knob and opened the door. Then stood back, bowed and waved Marina in. “Entre’, Mademoiselle.”

Inside the storage room, Marina directed the light beam up, down and over. A shadow caught her eye and Marina jumped back and screamed as she pushed the girls away from the entrance and slammed the door. Bet screamed too, and Liddy held the cup of her hand over Bet’s mouth.

“What is it?” Liddy asked with some irritation.

“I saw someone, I think a man.” Marina cowered behind Joy Lynn.

“You saw someone, a man?” Louise asked with skepticism.

“I saw something,” said Marina.

“Well, let’s think about this. Before the door was opened it was completely dark in there. What might someone, a man, be doing in a completely dark and locked storage room?” Liddy asked.

“Also looking for something to wear?” Joy Lynn chuckled.

“Uncle Pastel Puffy,” suggested Bet.

The women giggled uncontrollably.

Liddy grabbed the flashlight from Marina. “Give me that.”

“Someone should go with you,” whispered Bet.

“Okay, let’s go, Bailey.”

Bet stood hunched over behind Louise and didn’t move.

“I don’t need anyone to go with me, but thanks anyway, brave Betsy.”

Liddy opened the door and followed the beam of light into the room and scanned the perimeter. She saw Marina’s attacker and shook her head. When Liddy came out of the room, she was holding a man’s Army dress uniform hung on a hanger. “Does this look familiar, Marina dear?”

“Definitely not Uncle Geoffrey,” Joy Lynn cracked.

Discrete moonlight lit the path to the waiting car, and Marina walked briskly as she clipped on earrings. She was being followed by a parade of women in differing stages of dressing themselves. Joy Lynn’s arms plunged into a little jacket of Marina’s that was too small for her, and Bet and Louise buttoned, tucked and cinched as they all trotted along.

Marina had taken great care to put together something fashionable for all her friends. Jewelry, wraps, belts and safety pins dressed-up and altered what was available. She was good, but not quick and now they were late. Carla was waiting with the two men from town who would be their ride. Marina put on the breaks and gracefully walked the last few feet to the car.

“Hello, gentlemen. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Marina George.”

She set her hand in the air and both men took turns shaking it like they were working it loose.

Carla opened up the door and Marina murmured to her, “Classy.” The two ladies giggled, while they moved to the middle of the front seat, and the two men sandwiched in on either side of them and shut the doors.

Bet stopped at the back door. “Where’s Liddy?”

“She said she’d be right behind us,” answered Louise.

Joy Lynn opened the door and she, Louise and Bet slid in.

Liddy’s fly pals had talked her into wearing a strapless number that Marina said was lucky. Liddy was taller than Marina, and Marina had a shape that never failed to catch and turn a man’s head—pure boy bait, so the fit was not custom for sure. She tugged and pulled at the bodice, while muttering to herself, “What am I doing?”

In addition to the clothes, Bet and Marina had painted her up more than Liddy would have liked. She only let them do it at all to shut them up and was now wishing she had held her ground.

Liddy had decided she would go to the cars but send the gals on their way without her. All she wanted was to head back to the bays and climb into her own skin. As she rounded the corner of the building, Liddy slammed into someone and staggered back. A strong grasp clutched her upper arms and pulled her erect and steady.

“Are you all right?” Major Trent’s voice startled Liddy more than the collision. She looked up at Trent who still had his hands on her bare arms. “Hall?” He tightened his gaze. “I didn’t recognize you.” Sheer amusement danced on his face as he surveyed the get-up. “Are you all right?” His grin tightened and with a low chuckle he asked, “What are you doing?”

Liddy’s face heated-up, and then she frosted it over and said coolly, “I’m fine. Thank you.” She pulled away from his hold and took a step back. “It’s my understanding that I can do what I want on the weekends, as long as it’s not illegal and I don’t do it with any ‘Military’ personnel.” Liddy locked into Trent’s eyes and glared. “Excuse me?”

Trent rocked his head back slightly and widened his eyes. Amusement was gone and a hurt look took its place. He turned to the side to let her pass.

The way Liddy had spoken to Major Trent made her feel ugly. But it was a reaction, and she didn’t know what to do about it now. It wasn’t in her at that moment to be cordial to Jenna Law’s assumed fiancé. The weariness that filled her anytime she thought of him had worn her thin. Liddy brushed by him and walked hurriedly to the waiting car in the distance. Going back in the direction where Trent was still watching wasn’t an option, so she piled in with the party and headed to the Inn.

The Lake Inn had company that night, and her hands were full. Every chair in the joint was occupied, the dancing was shoulder to shoulder and the skirts were flying. One of the Air Force pilots held on to Marina’s hips as they rocked with her chachacha. Joy Lynn was doing some wild thing with another pilot and he moved his feet spastically, just to keep up with her. Neither man looked much like he was resting. Louise was being pushed and pulled across the dance floor by a little cowboy that looked to be half her size.

Bet and Liddy sat at a table talking with three dolled-up country boys. A big Texan approached the table and positioned himself at Bet’s side. “Hello, Miss, I’m Farrell Stark. Would you like to dance?” he asked Bet timidly.

Liddy gave Bet a little shove. “Go on, girl. Then we better get going back to base.”

Bet reached for her drink and Liddy covered it up with her hand. “Just go dance. You’ve had enough.” Sweetwater sat in a dry county, but only in the sense that the spirits couldn’t be sold there. Bringing in your own bottle was allowed or overlooked. Where the bottles came from didn’t seem to matter—no one went thirsty. Liddy never touched the stuff. She didn’t like the idea of not having hold of herself at all times, but Bet had indulged, and Liddy suspected it may have been the first time.

Liddy watched Farrell Stark guide the wobbly little redhead, who didn’t stand past his shoulder, away to the dance floor. And bobbling through the crowd toward her, she saw Instructor Gant staggering across the room as he ricocheted off the dancers. He stumbled to the table and caught himself on Bet’s empty chair. The chair bucked back and took Gant to the floor. When he pulled himself up, he rose like a three string marionette. “Now, Trainee Hall, these are not Army personnel persons you’re schmoozin’ with, are they?” Gant fell onto Liddy’s shoulder as he tried to take a seat.

One of the boys rose to take care of the drunk.

“It’s okay,” Liddy assured the willing bouncer.

The man sat back down.

“I could get your butt kicked out of your little Waspy program for that, kicked right out,” Gant slurred.

“The rules apply to you too, ya know. No socializing with WASP trainees. You could be fired without recommendation. You might want to find another place to park it. You know how people can talk.”

“She is a spark, do you know that, a god damn spark,” Gant spittled at the men and then swung his attention along with his swaying posture back to Liddy. “I wouldn’t try to have you booted. You know why?” Gant sputtered before he got his next sentence out. “Because you’re the best damn pilot I’ve ever seen.” He looked back at the men. “Cranky disposition, though.”

“Maybe you can help me with that. You’re such a beacon of grace and gentility.”

“Yeah, I’ll help you, Hall, anyway I can.” Gant’s eyes opened wide as if he’d just got a shock in his seat. “And I can’t be fired because I got orders, Hall. I’m goin overseas.”

Liddy saw desperation in his eyes that took her back to the day she said goodbye to Rowby in front of Tully’s Grocer.

“See, that’s what you’ve done to me. Why do you think I’m here wasting my time with you damn women? It was supposed to be a deal. I would teach, not that I can teach you anything and that would be my service to my country. But they don’t need me here anymore. They’ve got you damned women to deliver the planes, teach how to fly them, test them. You’re doing it all. So they’re sending me there.”

Gant clumsily poked out a finger with a straight arm and pointed across the room. Then he rubbed his head in his hands, leaving long strands of hair at tilted attention. “They’re sending me there to fight the bloody fight.” Gant pointed in the other direction then collapsed onto the table in an emotional pool. His sobs were violent, but brief, and then he popped up with a hateful look in his face and grabbed Liddy by the arm. “I don’t want to go. Do you hear me?”

All three of the men were up this time ready to toss Gant when he released Liddy’s arm and smoothed himself out. “What’s the big damn deal? Right? Nothing could be as dangerous as flying with you crazy women, especially you. What are you gonna do without me, Hall? None of the other instructors want to take you up. It was my curse.” Gant swung his head to the men. “She’s the best damn pilot, but craaaanky, woo-whee, cranky.”

At the end of the night, Liddy agreed to join her baymates on the floor for one last dance—the Bet dance. After that, getting the women out of the inn and into the car was like herding ants, but finally they were headed back to the base. Joy Lynn’s eyes were closed and she was softly humming something that sounded like a combination of Mary Had a Little Lamb and Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree. She and Bet were sandwiched between Liddy and Louise in the back seat. Marina and Carla sat in the front between the driver and his buddy. What song had been their favorite on the juke and how many turns they’d had on the dance floor, and with who, kept them chatting quite happily.

The car rumbled down the road, washing the alcohol over Bet’s brain. “Hey, Liddy, Farrell asked me out.”

“That’s nice, honey.”

“He’s never been to college.” Bet tried to center her finger over her lips. “Shhh, don’t tell my parents.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Liddy smiled at Louise.

Bet laid her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes. Her head rocked with the washboard of the road. “I love Texas. Don’t you think the friendliest people live in Texas?” When no one answered her query, Bet lifted her head and demanded a response, “Don’t you?”

“Oh, definitely,” Liddy wrinkled her brow and nodded her head in agreement.

“Don’t you?” Bet barked at Louise.

“I do,” answered Louise.

Again, Bet let her head fall onto the back rest and continued talking with her eyes closed, “So, am I here because I want to be here, or because they don’t want me to be here?”

“I don’t know,” said Liddy.

“Could it be the same thing?” Bet’s eyes popped open. “Whatever the reason…” She raised her head and drew close to Liddy’s face. “… I met you.” She turned to Louise. “And you and Joy Lynn.” Her head collapsed back again. “She’s a joy isn’t she? Joy’s a joy, and pretty Marina and sweet Calli. Her baby is going to be so beautiful, don’t you think?” She flipped her head back up and asked impatiently, “Don’t you?”

“Gorgeous,” said Liddy.

“A regular beauty queen,” said Louise.

“Or beauty king maybe,” Bet added with a giggle.

“My parents said I was the most pretty, perfect baby, that’s what they said about my brothers too. But I wasn’t a pretty baby and my brothers were down-right scary little creatures, crinkly for months. There are lots of pictures to prove it. They think a woman shouldn’t be a pilot, not just me, any woman. Have I told you that?”

“No,” said Liddy.

“So here I am, not so perfect anymore, am I?”

“Nope, you’re a mess,” confirmed Liddy.

“Thank you, Liddy.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

Then Bet flopped over onto Liddy’s lap and passed out.

It was eleven thirty when the baymates were dropped at the entrance to the base. Liddy and Louise got out of the car.

“Now what?” asked Louise.

“We get to the bays as quietly as possible and hope there hasn’t been a bed check,” Liddy said matter-of-factly.

“Us maybe, but them?” Louise looked back at Joy Lynn and Bet who were staggering out of the car and talking in the amplified tones of the inebriated.

Getting the sloshed sisters back to the bays was like escorting sacks of live potatoes. The four sober women staggered under the weight of their drunken friends and Marina snapped a heel and cursed.

“What was that, Uptown?” Joy Lynn laughed and opened her mouth with shock. “Miss George, was that a curse word I just heard come out of your hoity-toity mouth?”

“Oh, shut-up, Joy Lynn.” Marina stopped and looked for her heel, but she couldn’t see anything in the dark. So she squatted down to look and ended up on her hands and knees as she brushed her hands over the ground.

“No really, did I hear profan-ni-profan-nanitty from your perfect, uppity little mouth?”

“So help me, Joy Lynn, if you don’t shut-up, I’m gonna smack you.”

“Go for it, sister.” Joy Lynn stuck her chin out toward Marina.

Marina stood up and cranked her arm back and Liddy grabbed her. “Whoa, missy, let’s just get back to the bays and you can settle your differences there.”

The language could get pretty rough at Avenger, and it found its way into the mouths of most of the trainees. Marina wasn’t a most though, and she took pride in not joining in, for a while. Then she let it slip like the rest of them. But every time she did it bothered her, for a while, and then she found that propriety had no place in this life. She’d made a commitment she would return to graciousness when she was delivered back into the outside world. The troop continued on, now with Marina doing her own little lop-sided stagger and cursing the whole situation under her breath.

Joy Lynn broke into song, “We’re the HPs of Avenger Field…”

Bet joined in, “…Wings of silver will be our shield.”

“Shut it, ladies,” Louise ordered.

As they passed the admin building, Liddy saw Major Trent standing at his office window watching the violation. When he lowered the blinds, Liddy could see the curtain of the WASP program closing on them all.

Chapter Fifteen

To the eyes of a WASP trainee, pink slips glowed like a red hot coal. Nothing could bring a hush and set off the inner alarm so quickly as a pink slip. From a distance of a hundred yards, a trainee could zero in on one and would immediately shoot up a prayer that it wasn’t headed in her direction. Liddy hadn’t told her friends that they had been spotted coming in late the night before, no need to worry them. They’d get the news when it came.

The regular training schedule was interrupted with firearms instruction, which was a day of dread for many of the class, for a few it was intrigue, and for even fewer it was old hat. While they listened to the shooting range instructor lay out the drill, the trainees examined a row of .45 caliber automatic pistols set out in a row on the ground.

“All right, trainees, listen up. Some of you will be assigned to ferry bases. And some of the planes you will deliver will be the most advanced expensive ships ever made. Some may even have top secret equipment on board. Firearms are standard issue for every ferry flight. Once you man a plane it will be your responsibility to protect it.”

The mere thought of this sent some snickers through the ranks. The instructor taught the women how to hold, load and fire the guns, and fielded questions like, “How do I get the bullet thingy to pop open?” and “How hard do I need to pull the trigger?”.

In groups, the trainees stepped up to the line, took a pistol, aimed and fired. Looking down the line, the grips on the weapons ranged from a gentle embrace to, ‘I’m gonna squeeze the life out of you’.

Joy Lynn stepped to the line, fired and hit dead center with a full round. “To my mama’s dismay, my daddy took me huntin’ and target shootin’. That’s what happens when you’re the oldest of five sisters and no brothers. What else can a Southern daddy do?”

Louise shot with accuracy and a sense of familiarity, but didn’t share why this was so. Liddy knew a rifle and a shotgun, but had never held a pistol, so her aim was unsteady but improved with each shot. Marina and Bet squeezed off the required rounds, with their eyes closed, and no more. Neither woman had their sights set on a ferry command, which was a good thing.

From the shooting range the women marched to the flight line, then to the mess for their noon meal and then back to the bays. There they hit the showers quickly in order to get to ground school on time and then off to supper. As the day came to a close, Liddy laid in her bunk puzzled that the pink slips, or worse, never came. The why of it bothered her more than the possibility of the impending discipline did, and she didn’t get much sleep that night.

Three days had passed and no pink slips or anything else. They were in the clear. But when Marina, Joy Lynn and Bet decided to spend the next Saturday at Lake Sweetwater, Liddy decided to play it safe and stay behind. Louise joined her and later they regretted the choice.

Their baymates made plans with some local boys, including Bet’s Farrell for the day. Afternoon rolled into evening, and the men decided things were going to go further than the girls intended. Farrell got pretty rough with Bet, and Joy Lynn lit into him. The two other men stepped in to take Joy Lynn out and Marina, bless her prissy little heart, tried to help. She took a square shot between one of the gent’s legs, taking him to his knees, but then caught a punch from a fist or elbow that was flying and was knocked unconscious. Joy Lynn swung one way and then the other until two men were down and bloody and the other had taken his leave. Never cross a Georgia peach.

Talk was the beating was bad enough to get Joy Lynn charged, but the men’s egos were too whooped to have admitted the incident. Whispers from those at the lake that night made their way around the base, and although Joy Lynn was still her same goofy self, she became a force that no one thought to challenge after that. Rena Naston even seemed to be warned, as she never had another snotty comment for any of the underclass again.

Decked out in crisp Santiago blue dress uniforms, the senior class clicked a march past the rows of planes and underclasswomen that were all neatly arranged at the edge of the ceremony area. Graduates filed into the rows of chairs and stood at attention until they were given the ‘at ease’ and sat down. Liddy’s class moved up as they watched the new senior class take their place at the head of the formation.

It felt to Liddy as though her day would never come, and she grew weary and anxious. She lay in bed that night thinking about Jack and Crik. She yearned to hear a voice from home, but any calls that were made had to be collect and Crik didn’t have a phone anyway. Liddy relied on letters to keep in touch. She had counted on Daniel to give her updates because Crik hadn’t been the best at writing. When Daniel enlisted, the line to home had been severed. She saw Doubt sitting across the room and was about to get up to make him leave when an alarm rang across the base.

Bet jumped up and staggered. “Up, up, I’m up.”

The women tried to orient themselves.

“That’s not rev,” Liddy told Bet.

“It’s the fire bell,” said Louise.

“Fire?” Marina screamed and scrambled to her feet.

“No, the graduates,” said Liddy. “They set the fire bell off.”

Each graduating class was allowed an extra measure of rowdy, and this class was taking every inch.

“Let’s go,” Joy Lynn flipped the covers off and ran out the door. Marina followed.

Shadowy silhouettes flashed past the window as the bays emptied. Barefoot and in their bed clothes, the women rushed out to the concrete porch to catch the celebration.

Bet stopped at the doorway and looked back. “Aren’t you girls coming?”

“I’ll wait for your stories. They’ll be better than the real thing anyway.” Louise rolled over and pulled her blankets over her head.

“I might come out,” said Liddy. She sat up in bed for a few minutes and then decided she didn’t want to be alone with Doubt. She kicked off her bedding and walked outside to join the party. By the time she was on the porch, Joy Lynn, Marina and Bet were lost in the crowd, and Liddy leaned up against a post and watched for a while. She saw Jenna Law at the end of the bays, and took a deep breath before she walked over to her and held out her hand.

“Congratulations, Jenna.”

“Thanks, Hall.” Jenna shook Liddy’s hand. “Maybe, now that I’m leaving, we can get off on the right foot.” She smiled.

“Okay, let’s do that,” Liddy agreed.

“Right foot or not, you probably don’t want to hear a pep talk from me, but these gals look up to you, Liddy. Even the girls in the new senior class think you’re the one to watch. You know, we all know that ten successes are nothing against one failure in this program. You want the WASP to go military just as much as I do.”

“Why do you care if we get commissioned? I heard you’re getting married.”

“Which means I don’t fly?”

“Some men wouldn’t like having an Army wife.”

“Wouldn’t be too smart to marry one of those, now would it? Ellis got leave, so before I report to Palm Springs, we’re going home to San Diego and getting married. Then I’m off to pursuit training.”

“Ellis?” Liddy repeated, confused.

“Captain Charles, my fiancé. I know the word got out.”

“Your fiancé? Captain Charles?” Liddy repeated the words and replayed the last few months in her head.

“I know, no fraternizing with the base staff, but we’ve known each other since we were kids. Our parents were friends. We started dating long before I joined the program and before he was assigned here. Kinda odd how it all worked out. The base command understood the situation. But we still had to keep it professional.”

“Wow! Congratulations, Jenna. Really, that’s great, really great!”

“Thanks.” Jenna searched Liddy. “Who did you think I was marrying, Hall?”

Liddy changed the subject. “I heard you got pursuits—congratulations for that too.”

Jenna stared at Liddy for a moment but let it go. “You’ll have them too, you know that.”

Liddy heard Doubt whisper, If you don’t get kicked out.

“Liddy, do you know how many people get the opportunity to fly for their country? And how few of those will fly fighter planes? And how few of those will be women?” The porch light shone on the wetness that washed over Jenna’s eyes. “We’re the beginning of something big.”

“Do you have your wings on you, Jenna?”

Jenna reached in her pocket and opened her fist. Shiny silver wings sparkled in her palm.

“So, is it true, are you a Hollywood stunt flyer?”

“No, haven’t you heard? I’m a Women’s Airforce Service Pilot.”

Each graduation was followed by a few days of restlessness. The trainees yearned for their own day of recognition and their release from the confines of Cochran’s Convent. But the distraction was soon replaced by the reality of their journey. As Liddy’s class moved through each phase of training, more trainees washed-out and were killed on the base and WASPs were killed out on their commands. The most recent had been a senior trainee and one of the civilian instructors, who went down five miles north of the primary field. A rancher saw the flames when the plane was still in the air. It was determined that a fuel line broke into the carburetor and lit up the engine like a blow torch. They didn’t have a chance.

The glamour had long ago faded but the commitment had only deepened. The women came to accept the risks of flying for the military. There were a few of the girls that let it weaken them and would eventually washout or leave on their own—most, however, learned to adapt to the Army way. Defeat was not an option. Future generations of women would benefit from or pay for what they did, and they knew it.

With all the ups and downs, Liddy was thankful to finally receive a letter from home. Celia wrote with updates from Holly Grove and she asked twice what Liddy had heard from Daniel. Daniel wrote Celia often, but the heart-broken girl wanted every last bit of information she could get. Celia wrote of the men who had been drafted, enlisted, come home or died. More Holly Grove boys had been killed including both of the Wilson brothers, which deepened Celia’s anxiety. She wrote about everything she knew of each death and Liddy didn’t understand why she would spend so much time thinking about it, but Celia did think about it, a lot.

It was from this letter that Liddy learned Rowby had returned home, just two months after he finished his basic. He was with his infantry pushing the German lines when he took a bullet in the flesh of his upper arm. It was an injury that wouldn’t have kept most soldiers from being sent back up, but his mama had had enough worrying and made his daddy call some friends in Washington. Rowby was honorably discharged.

He wasn’t alone when he came home to Holly Grove. He had a ring on his finger and a Roman goddess on his arm, who was to be his final distraction. A double sense of relief came to Liddy and she couldn’t wait to meet her.

Standing at the door of their last eight hours of primary training, the class again posted for instruction from Major Trent. Liddy had done a pretty good job of hardening her heart against her feelings for Major Reid Trent until she found out he wasn’t the other half of Jenna’s engagement, and all the wonderings started again. But Trent wouldn’t even look at her since the night she was so cold to him, and then he saw her and her friends traipsing in after curfew, which brought a whole new pain.

“Trainees, when you finish your acrobatics instruction and have logged your hours, you will take an Army check. If you pass, you will move on to Basic Trainers. After lunch today, read the flight boards then check in with your instructor. You’re dismissed.”

Lewis Gant had gone overseas and Liddy’s flight group was to be shuffled to other instructors to finish their primary training. Basic training would follow and again, they would be assigned to a new instructor and they were feeling a bit like orphans.

At the flight boards Trent saw a group of instructors involved in a heated conversation and walked to the boards to check out the reason. “What’s the hold-up, gentlemen?”

“We haven’t finished the board yet.”

“I can see that. Well, finish it.”

“We’re still filling out the roster, and there’s one trainee left and…”

“And what?” said Trent impatiently.

They all looked at each other like mutes.

“Who is it?”

“Well, sir, we have to find spots for Gant’s trainees and we still have Hall, sir.”

Trent turned away from the men to hide a full grin and listened as the instructors continued to argue in whispers behind his back.

Everyone was bubbling or fretting over acrobatics and what they were in for or up for after lunch, except Bet. Lewis Gant had developed a slow and easy approach with Bet and she had come to trust him in the pit. Liddy hadn’t seen her pick at her food since before solos and she knew the little redhead was missing the grumpy little man.

“I don’t mind some looping and spinning, I just don’t want to go into a stall,” Marina scrunched her forehead into furrows.

“They’re gonna make you stall on purpose anyway. You’ve got to learn how to pull out of one,” Liddy coached.

“Besides it’s a great feeling,” added Joy Lynn.

“Like a leaf wafting in the wind,” said Liddy.

“No thank you,” said Marina.

As they got up to clear their trays, Louise sauntered over and looked at Liddy with a grin. “What?” Liddy asked Louise.

“Oh, nothing, the boards are finished. Bet you’re with Kyle Dixon, Carla is with Cheryl Williams and I got Strom.”

Liddy looked over at Bet who was wringing her hands. “Hey, don’t worry, Dixon is gonna be pitted right behind you. He’s not gonna let anything happen to his pretty boy self.”

“Liddy don’t.” Bet grimaced and shook her head.

“What? You know a mirror is part of his check list. He can’t take his eyes off that pretty face of his.”

“Liddy, that’s enough,” said Louise.

“What’s with you guys. You know it’s true.”

Louise widened her eyes and looked over Liddy’s shoulder, and Liddy turned around and saw Kyle Dixon standing right behind her.

“Thanks, Hall, maybe we could discuss my ‘pretty boy self’ over a cup of coffee.”

“Sorry, regulations, strictly forbidden,” said Liddy, showing her lack of interest.

“You ready, Bailey? I’ll be at the line in ten.”

Bet took a little luck from the cap of each of her sister-friends’ heads and dragged herself out the door behind Joy Lynn and Marina.

Liddy got up from the table and asked Louise, “Hey, who’d I get?”

“Trent,” said Louise with a huge smile.

“Trent?”

“As in Major,” Louise clarified and practically knocked Liddy through the wall with the swing of her hip.

Bet had just got to the point that she could relax and enjoy the straight flying and now her world was going to be turned upside down—literally. She and Instructor Dixon were cruising and he called out to Bet, “Over, Bailey!”

Bet held firmly to the stick with her right hand and the old shake returned to her body.

“Roll it, Bailey! I’m growing old back here,” said the instructor and actually growled with frustration.

Bet closed her eyes and tilted the stick right. The plane rolled 360 degrees and a little more.

“That’s enough now, bring her up,” Dixon called out.

Bet opened her eyes and gave the stick a little tap to the left and the horizon leveled.

Bet bopped back to the waiting area and circled her arms around Liddy’s waist. “Now I know what you’re talking about, hot-ziggety. Think your Crik will give me a job when the war’s over?”

Louise convinced Liddy she wasn’t teasing her. Still, Liddy read the boards herself. Even then, it might have been a mistake or a joke, assuming a sense of humor was allowed in the Army. She showed up at the line for her scheduled flight time and was as nonchalant as she could be. It wasn’t a mistake or a joke. Major Reid Trent walked across the mat, suited-up in flight gear, and he looked playful.

“You ready, Hall?”

Liddy nodded and smiled. Neither of them said a word as they walked to the plane or when they did the ground inspection. She took the forward pit and got situated. “It’s a pretty good day to die,” she said to herself.

“What’s that?” Trent asked.

Liddy hadn’t checked the radio, it was switched on. “Nothing, just running my check.”

The silence returned as Liddy took them up, and then Trent’s voice came over the radio, “Okay, Hall, let’s get away from this airway and see if we can teach each other a few things. You first.”

Liddy mashed down and picked out some sky above the Nolan Valley. She double rolled, dove into an outside loop and then stretched it to the heavens, came back down, dove again and looped inside.

“Very smooth, Hall,” Trent praised. “Now it’s my turn.”

The Major climbed straight up and then pushed the nose down and spiraled toward the earth. He pulled out and up and let the air roll over the nose and the plane floated into a stall. It drifted, and every inch of Liddy felt weightless and free.

Over the radio, she heard a soft humming that was low and sweet. She smiled when it became louder and quicker as Trent pulled out, leveled and pushed back up. When she controlled the stick it was quiet again, but the Major hummed a tune every time he took over.

The exchange continued until the fuel gauge was tanking out, and they headed back to Avenger. On the ride to the base, Liddy hummed, Comin’ in on a Wing and Prayer, into the radio and Major Trent joined in. They took turns wagging the wings to the rhythm. By the time they landed and jumped to the mat, the line was empty since most everyone was in mess.

“I’ll sign you off, Hall. Just need to log your hours now.” He shook his head as he slipped his chute from his shoulders and slung it onto the wing. “You can sure fly. Your file says you only had thirty-five hours logged when you applied. What’s the story?”

“Maybe I’m just a fast learner.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Liddy’s face reddened. Her blush again seemed to please him, and he leaned on the wing and studied her.

“I have a strong feeling there’s a good story behind that scar on your cheek too.”

Liddy lowered her eyes and touched the scar with the tips of her fingers. People were shy about asking about it, so they rarely did and she would forget it was even there. When they did ask, she’d avoid answering or she’d say jokingly, “Never wrestle with a cranky tiger.” Till this moment, the scar had never mattered. It was how she got it that she didn’t want to talk about. That was something she thought would only paint her as a liar or a fool.

Liddy looked back up at the Major and saw concern in his face, and she realized he thought he had offended her. He had noticed the scar the moment he looked down at her in the aisle of the train, and had wondered about it ever since. He typically wouldn’t have asked a woman such a question, but to him Liddy was not typical and he was lost in that when it came out.

She tilted her head to catch his eye and flashed her crooked smile. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you. And if you did believe me, you’d probably kick me out on the spot.”

“Fair enough,” he said as he grinned and grabbed his chute. Together they walked in from the flight line, making that comfortable small talk that Liddy had remembered, line by line. At the dining hall, they parted and she walked into the building, while Major Trent walked back to the administration building. Louise had been watching the door and perked up when she saw Liddy enter. The women snuck off after supper, and Liddy recounted the flight, including every last detail.

Chapter Sixteen

The trainees were in their bays suffering through a Texas heat wave and had stripped down to their bras and panties. Two electric fans spun on either end of their bay and they were sprawled out to catch the breeze. Each of them took turns reading a letter that Calli had written to all of them and then they shared their mail that came from graduated WASPs.

“Listen to this,” said Louise. “Higgins and Lang are instructing male cadets and Hadie Gale is towing targets and running strafe missions—”

“Strafe missions?” Marina questioned.

“They dive at the troops…” Louise folded the pages she was reading to use them to reenact the mission, “… that are at training campouts, and the men track the planes with their guns to simulate combat conditions, shooting live ammo at targets they’re towing.”

“Targets in the air?” Bet scrunched up her nose.

“Long muslin tubes. And the pilots dump boxes of tin foil balls out of the cockpit to mess up the radar,” Louise explained.

“Legalized buzzing, that’s aces,” said Marina.

“Wrap me up in a huge hunk of dreamy airship—Bombers. Oh, how I hope I get Bombers,” Joy Lynn wished dreamily.

“Knew you were the Cadillac type first time I laid eyes on you, Louise too—big planes, powerful, but stable like her,” said Liddy.

“Now you, Miss Hall, are the fast little sports car type, down the line. Fast little machines that are more likely to catch up than be caught,” said Joy Lynn.

“What about me?” Bet asked.

“Now you’re a puzzle. Not too big, not too fast. I predict copters may be in your future,” teased Liddy.

Bet shuddered at the thought and changed the subject. “What’s Jenna say, Liddy?”

Liddy scanned the letter in front of her, “She said she’s been picking up new planes off the factory floor and doing occasional swaps between bases.”

“Read it, Lid,” requested Bet.

Liddy moved back to the top and read, “‘Dear Liddy, Hope all is well for the unwashed. We WASP out in the world wish you all a hidey-ho from the sky. Enjoy Avenger while you can. Sweetwater is an icebox compared to Palm Springs. It was like being on the moon with trees (very few trees) and the sun seemed to hang directly over the place like a big huge light bulb. After six weeks of training, I was so glad to leave that place, I jitter-bugged out the door.

Me and two other gals were flown to Delaware in an old cargo plane that looked like it had been shot up pretty good and then patched and spackled. She was big and heavy. You really have to marvel at the magic of the air’s action and reaction that the thing could float. We boarded with a couple dozen enlisted men just out of Basic. The lot of us were squished in between pallets of rations and what looked like sections of a troop glider. None of it looked to be too well battened down, so we really relied on the pilot to keep it smooth. He did, and we made it to Delaware safe and sound. The day we arrived at New Castle base, we were sent out on our first run. We were with four other women who knew the ropes, but for some reason, I was still nervous—’”

“Jenna Law nervous, that I’d like to see,” said Joy Lynn.

“‘We’ve been up every day, except Sunday. We’ve been flying mostly new planes off the factory to one of the coasts for shipment, but sometimes we move ships between bases for training. We delivered Mustangs two days ago and what a looker and a thrill. We weren’t supposed to punch it past 250, but I clocked 300 and one of the gals, Teresa Hinton, she’s a hot ticket, jumped ahead and claimed she hit a hundred more than that. Just got the call to mount-up, so I’ve got to go. We’re headed out to move some PTs to Arizona. Tell everyone I said to hang in there. Jenna.’”

Liddy folded the letter and the gals sat back and imagined life out in civilization and listened to the whip of the fan blades. Joy Lynn noticed the uninterrupted run of tan skin that started from Marina’s hair line and disappeared under her bra and panties. “Uptown, will you explain to me how you have avoided the wonderful sun rings the rest of us are sporting?”

Cross Country flights in open cockpits tanned the women’s skin but only where the sun could shine, so they were patched up like cream and brown quilts, except for Marina.

Louise’s eyes widened and she dropped her jaw in a gaping smile and chuckled. “You’re not?” She looked at Marina.

“Not what?” asked Bet.

“I can’t believe you.” Louise tossed a magazine at Marina.

“What? What?” Bet begged to know.

“The cockpit striptease,” Louise answered.

“Hey, take it off.” Marina taunted. “Well, not everything.” She picked up her bra strap to show the white strip that was hidden underneath. “It’s cooler, and you might as well get some benefit out of those long rides.” Marina snapped the strap to her shoulder.

“Girl, you coulda said somethin’ sooner. Next time I hit the beach I’m gonna look like an Easter egg,” said Joy Lynn.

“Striptease in the cockpit?” Bet still didn’t get it.

The women got to choose their squadron for their next cross country drill. So, the baymates went out together. Once they were up, they stripped off their shirts and the wind dried the sweat on their skin before it had a chance to drip.

Formation flying and instruments were the skills to hone on these runs. Most of the trainees had little to no experience in either. But the real appeal of these flights was that they refueled at another base before they returned to Avenger. The change of scenery was welcome, especially since the scenery wasn’t crawling with women but with men. It was also an opportunity to leave their zoot suits in their lockers. Flight jackets, general’s pants and white shirts were the required dress for these trips, which made them feel almost feminine in the pit.

Liddy found that formation flying brought out cautiousness in her that she’d never known when she flew. Some gals would get squirrely and she didn’t always trust their skills. So, she tended to be the party pooper in the pack. She liked being up with Louise on these trips, since she was reasonable and a faithful back-up. Louise spotted a group of planes flying toward them and called over the radio to the others, “Company, HPs. Suit up!”

“Who is it?” Liddy asked.

“Looks like a Navy Squadron. Hoping for a peak no doubt,” answered Louise.

Bet saw the planes getting closer and panicked as she wrestled with her shirt that was flying free in the wind. The wind flapped it from her grasp and into the sky. She called frantically to Liddy, “Liddy, I lost my shirt.”

“What?” said Liddy.

“My shirt flew out of the cockpit, it’s gone,” whimpered Bet.

The gals all heard the dilemma over the radio and were laughing.

“Hey, you guys, it’s not funny. What am I going to do?”

“Do you have your flight jacket?” asked Liddy.

“No it’s in the back. What am I going to do?”

“Calm down. It’s okay. When we fly in we’ll get your jacket for you,” Liddy assured Bet.

“What about the Navy boys?” Bet asked.

“You move to the middle and I’ll peel off and play a little follow the leader. Louie, go on ahead and I’ll catch up. Louise will land first and get your jacket for you.”

Liddy fell out of formation and waited for the Navy planes to pull alongside, then peeled off leading the flyboys away from her squad. She picked them up on the radio and called out, “Hello, boys, I’m here to instruct you in dog fighting 101.”

“We’re not here for a lesson.”

“Well you’re gonna get one.”

Liddy dropped down and rolled away from the squad. The Navy boys accepted the challenge and rolled out after her. She was flying topside of one of the flyers and he tried to roll over her. She rolled the other way and gained the upper position.

“So, you like to be on top, hey, Army?”

“Much better view,” Liddy said.

She gave those boys a wild ride that day. The planes tumbled and rolled until Liddy pulled up alongside their commander and called out, “Hate to leave you all alone out here, but I gotta get back on course.”

“Nice flying, Army.” The pilot snapped a salute and peeled away.

Liddy was correcting her course when she grabbed her radio and dialed in her squad, “Avenger 77, I’m headed your way—” Sparks snapped like the fourth of July from underneath the panel. “Dammit.”

Liddy dropped the receiver and it bounced around the floor of the cockpit. When the sparks died down, she reeled the mike in by the cord and then clicked in over and over, but the radio was gone. When she tossed it into the panel out of frustration, she noticed that her instruments were not registering. She tapped and then pounded the dials, but the tags bounced lifeless at the rims.

The sun was sinking on the horizon, and the wind whipped a screech around the base. Major Trent stood in front of the day’s flight boards, which were cleared off except for Liddy’s name.

Kyle Dixon jogged to the boards and asked, “Hall still isn’t in yet?”

“No. Did you check Hobs?” Trent asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Well, do it now!” commanded Trent.

The mess filled and emptied, and the buildings darkened as curfew grew near. Trent stood in the doorway of his quarters and watched the lights of the planes up for night training. He searched in between to see one that was flying dark. The plane Liddy was in didn’t have night-fly equipment. If she came in before morning, the other pilots wouldn’t see her, and it would be a scramble in the tower to clear a spot for her.

A trainee had never gone missing since he reported to Avenger. But what was racking him now was more than concern for someone under his command. A weight filled his chest and everything went gray. He spent the night in a chair with a view out the window, and he waited for the phone to ring and feared the moment that it would.

Liddy’s baymates had all been called in to report on their missing squad member. Surely, Liddy would be booted if they told why she had left formation, so they agreed that they would all say that she was gone before any of them had noticed. But they were pretty sure that Major Trent and Captain Charles didn’t believe them. If they did, their story made them all look like a bunch of idiots, but they didn’t care. No one slept; instead, the women lay in their beds worrying. In the dark they listened to the planes buzzing overhead, hoping one of them was Liddy.

“We should have told the Major and Captain Charles the truth,” sobbed Bet. “It might have helped them figure out where she is.”

“It wouldn’t make any difference, Bet. We told them where we were when we saw her last, none of the rest is gonna help them find her.” Louise tried to keep the concern from her voice.

“But maybe they could have tracked down the Navy squadron, and they might know something.” Marina wiped her wrist across her nose.

“What? Call out the whole Navy?” asked Joy Lynn, “Ask if they know what happened to the hot fly girl that was junkin’ around with one of their squadrons? I didn’t get any plane IDs. Did any of you?”

A silence hung in the air. Doubt made his rounds to their beds and told them they had made a big mistake.

“Look, if she comes in, it’ll be better for Liddy that we kept quiet,” said Louise.

“If?” Bet and Marina cried out together.

“When, I mean when,” assured Louise, “Look, she’s fine, I can feel it.”

When morning came, word had spread across the base that Liddy hadn’t come in and the worst was assumed. Bet couldn’t get out of bed to go to calisthenics or the flight line, and her friends said she was sick to keep her from being pink slipped. It was mid-afternoon when a truck drove through the front gates and Liddy climbed out. Marina came and told Bet, who ran across the base in her nightgown.

Major Trent was on the phone when Liddy burst into his office. Tired and dirty, her body and mind wrung out, she held up a pink slip. “Thanks for the homecoming.”

“Excuse me, sir, I’ll need to call you back.” Trent hung up the phone and stood up behind his desk. “You left your squad. And if you emergency land, you call for a pick-up.”

“Your plane is fine. I landed it clean.”

“This is not about the plane.”

“What’s it about then?”

“It’s about following orders.”

“The electrical went haywire. My radio and instruments went dead. I was in the middle of nowhere by the time I tanked out.” Liddy tossed the pink slip on the desk. “Phones were a little scarce.”

“You should have waited with your plane, Hall, that’s procedure.”

“And I’d still be waiting. I saw a ranch before I found a place to land. I walked and was there by dark, but they didn’t have a phone, but I did get a ride.”

“There have been planes up since last night looking for you. Your plane was located two hours ago, plane and no pilot. A crew has already gone out to retrieve it. You should have waited through the night if you had to.”

“I waited… but then I…What if it had been days before I was found?”

“Staying where you land is the safest procedure for the pilot and the plane. Staying with your squadron would have avoided the situation altogether.” Trent clenched his jaw and stared at her. “You could have been out for this. Why did you leave your squad?”

Liddy knew she couldn’t tell the Major the reason she had left formation, and she couldn’t lie to him. The cockpit striptease would get them all pink slipped or worse, most likely worse. Liddy froze.

“Hall?” Trent waited for Liddy to answer. He wanted her to answer, but she didn’t. “You left your squad. You landed and you didn’t stay with the plane.” His voice and his face were so hard. Maybe it was anger, hurt or disappointment. She couldn’t read it. It never occurred to her that it might be fear. “You will not pick and choose the procedures, regulations or orders you will adhere to. Those are not your planes out there. This is not your playground. This is the Army.”

“Yes, sir,” she said it softly, averting her gaze to the window as she fought back tears.

“Maybe this isn’t the place for you.”

Liddy looked up at him. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

Her eyes burned and filled with tears. She lifted her chin and looked straight into his eyes. “Maybe it isn’t.” It certainly wasn’t the place she wanted to be at that moment. She wanted to be anywhere other than Avenger Field. Her heart hurt and fired up with anger, frustration and sadness all at once.

“You’re dismissed, Hall.”

Liddy grabbed the pink slip off the desk and left.

When Liddy entered the bay, the girls sat somberly on the beds, waiting for the news. She was holding the pink slip and all eyes zeroed in on it. She folded it neatly and tossed it in her locker. “Control yourself, HPs, you’re overwhelming me with your excitement.”

“Liddy, I’m sorry, this was all my fault,” said Bet. “What happened?”

“I lost my radio and instruments. I didn’t know how far I’d flown off course with the Navy boys and then my fuel clocked-out. I’m here. Am I the only one who’s happy about this ending?”

“I need you to stay here, Lid.” Bet sniffled through her raw nostrils.

Liddy sat next to Bet on the bed and wrapped her arm around Bet’s shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere. Pink really isn’t my best color you know.”

“That’s too bad, because you almost have enough of it for a nice dress,” said Joy Lynn.

The issuing of pink slips and washing-out seemed to be happening more and more frequently. Increasing difficulty of the training and the level of exhaustion were a combination that didn’t foster success. The baymates moved to the head of the class at the last graduation, but the weeks ahead looked like months to them.

“Sometimes I think washing-out would be a blessing, and then I’d get some rest.” Marina curled up on the bed.

“Give us rain,” Louise called out to the sky and she and Joy Lynn linked arms and did a rain dance up and down the bay.

“A good storm would ground us, wouldn’t it?” asked Bet.

“Maybe the Fifinella can help us out.” Marina rolled onto her back and opened the student newspaper that was lying next to her, “Says here that the ‘foot high, curled horned little Gremlin that sits on top of the archway to the base has been known to be responsible for all kinds of aid and mischief’.”

Joy Lynn grabbed the paper. “Let me see that.” Joy Lynn continued to read, “‘The little Gremlin has been seen dancing on the wing, swinging on the throttle and known to lock the rudder forward’. Goes on to say, ‘All students must carry used postage stamps to pacify the Jinx.’”

“Used postage? What a crock,” Bet scoffed.

“I don’t know, there’s gals who’ve said they’ve seen them,” Louise teased.

“Definitely better to be safe,” Joy Lynn added.

“Did you know about this?” Bet asked Liddy.

“Oh, sure,” Liddy confirmed.

Bet looked around the room. “You all knew and didn’t tell me? You carry used postage when you fly?”

“Why not,” said Louise. “Couldn’t hurt.”

“Wouldn’t go up without it,” confirmed Marina.

“Slipped deep in my back pocket every time,” said Joy Lynn.

“How much postage?” Bet asked.

“As much as possible,” said Louise.

“Anyone have extra?” Bet asked.

They all shook their heads. Bet stormed out of the room and they all howled. Liddy couldn’t keep up the farce and chased after her. Laughter slowly chugged itself out and a hush draped over the room. Marina grabbed the paper back from Joy Lynn, scanned the text and questioned Joy Lynn with her eyes. Then she rolled off the bed and she and Joy Lynn began to pillage the cancelled postage from their old mail.

The first new class, since the gals had become the seniors, arrived at Avenger and timidly walked into the rec hall. As they passed by, Liddy and Bet were perched on the back of a sofa, and Bet zeroed in on one of the new trainees and called out to her, “Welcome to HP HQ, ladies. WC and FS in the SD are a little OS. Still have to make it to the FL by ten hundred hours so don’t OV.”

The girl’s eyes got big and her forehead wrinkled up in confusion as she stumbled into the back of one of her classmates.

“OV?” Liddy questioned Bet.

Bet shrugged with a grin and Liddy shook her head at her little HP friend, and then asked her, “You’re going up for your night-fly tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Take me with you,” said Liddy.

“Why?”

“I’m practically at the bottom of the list. I’ll never get up there.”

“What’s the big deal?” Bet asked.

“I’ve never been up at night.”

“How is that possible?”

“Even if Crik had the batteries and junk to light his ships up, they couldn’t take the weight. I hadn’t talked Jerry into letting me do nights. He was on the airfield’s shitlist for letting me go up at all.”

“But it’s supposed to be a solo,” Bet said.

“I’ll just ride, hands off.”

“What if we get caught?”

“We won’t. I’ll walk out with you to do your ground check, help you with your gear and just won’t come back in.” Liddy cocked her head and smiled at Bet. “Come on, hey a lot of the other gals have done it. Carla went up with Virgie a couple nights ago,” said Liddy.

“Oh, so if they jumped off a cliff, would you?”

“No, Mother, I wouldn’t. But I would fly off a cliff in the dark with Betsy Bailey at the stick.”

“I don’t know, Liddy, you get one more pink slip, and you’re out.”

Liddy had already thought about that, but when she got her second pink slip and Trent said what he said, stubbornness kicked Doubt’s butt and took his place. Stubbornness dared Major Reid Trent to issue Liddy another pink slip. Did he have it in him to end her WASP career? Did he want her gone?

“What a way to go, don’t ya think?” Liddy raised her eyebrows at Bet.

“No, I don’t.” Bet raised her eyebrows at Liddy. “It would be a stupid way to go, I think.”

Chapter Seventeen

The following day turned into an exceptionally dark night. Bet was nervous about letting Liddy sneak onto her night ride, but she was more nervous about flying in the blackness alone. Knowing Liddy would be there calmed her. Liddy carried Bet’s chute as they walked out to the plane. Their eyes scanned the flight line.

Bet climbed onto the wing as a group of instructors walked by. “Here’s your pack, Bailey, have a great flight.” Liddy said and tossed Bet the chute.

“Thanks, Hall, I will.”

Bet swung her leg over the pit wall and strapped in. When it was clear, Liddy hopped onto the wing and rolled her body into the rear cockpit. She crunched down low and waited for Bet to take them up.

The plane was airborne and Liddy’s hands were stretched high as they sailed away from the flare pots that lined the runway and flew into the darkness. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful and mysterious? Have you ever been in such nothingness?”

“Liddy, keep your eyes open. This is the creeps. I don’t like wondering what might be in front of me.”

“You’re doing great. Try to enjoy yourself, HP.” Liddy leaned back in the seat and looked up at the stars. “Show me your stuff, Bailey. I wanna look at the twinklers upside down.”

“Not a chance, Liddy, this is supposed to be a straight up flight,” said Bet.

“Come on, scoot out a ways and let’s have some fun.”

“No way,” Bet refused.

“Loop,” Liddy commanded.

“No, Liddy, I’m flying it straight.”

“Loop.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll loop her.”

“Liddy, do not touch that stick!”

“Spin her.”

“No, Liddy.”

“I’ll take it then.”

“Hands off, it’s mine.”

Bet mashed down and put some space between them and the base. She tilted the stick to the right and rolled the plane over, one revolution, two revolutions and still going.

“Okay, Bet, pull back up,” said Liddy.

“I can’t!”

“You got me, Bailey, but really. You better pull out.”

“I can’t, there’s nothing in the stick, no tension, nothing!”

It felt as though the spin flattened and tossed the plane like a disk.

“I’ll take it!” Liddy yelled.

“No!”

Liddy watched the altimeter drop as the plane kept spinning. “Bet, let me take it!”

“No!”

Without grabbing it, Liddy gave the stick a bat back and forth and could feel no resistance. Her stomach and her head were feeling the spin and she heard a whisper, ‘Mashed potatoes, mashed potatoes.” And she called out to Bet, “Bet, listen to me, whip the stick around like crazy, like you’re beating a bowl of mashed potatoes.”

“What?”

“Crank the stick like you’re mashing a big bowl of potatoes.” Liddy watched the altimeter drop and screamed at Bet, “Do it, Bet, and do it now or I will!”

Bet gripped the stick and swung it furiously around again and again.

Liddy’s pores leached sweat and heated as it bathed her fiery hot skin and the plane continued to fall. Suddenly, a jolt rocked the plane as it caught air and the stick began to respond. Bet leveled out and pulled back up to get some altitude.

Liddy collapsed back into the seat. “What do you know, thanks, Crik!”

Once on the ground, Bet snapped off her belt and flipped out of the cockpit like it was on fire. She didn’t wait for Liddy and bounded back to the bay. Liddy was double-timing it to keep up with Bet’s 5′ 2″ stride.

“You did great, Bet!”

Bet’s expressionless face was beet red. She ignored Liddy and stomped on. Liddy hopped out in front of her, but Bet sidestepped her.

“Hold up, would ya?” Liddy tried to catch Bet by the arm.

Bet pulled away from Liddy, stopped and faced her. “If you hadn’t been up there, I would have flown it straight. I was supposed to fly it straight.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have let us crash, you know that.”

“Crash, you wouldn’t have let us crash? Do you know what happened up there, because I don’t? I rolled it over slow. What happened?”

Bet burst into tears and collapsed against Liddy’s chest and Liddy held her.

“What happened?” Bet cried.

“I don’t know,” Liddy conceded.

Bet sobbed for a while then she pulled away from Liddy and ran back to the bays.

With so many trainees and all at different phases and points in their flight schedules, some information came a little later than needed, sometimes just a day late. The day after Bet and Liddy stalled during Bet’s night-fly, Captain Charles was covering spins and stalls in ground school, “…Another reason for an unintentional spin or stall could be added weight, which you need to compensate for during any rotation. This applies to cargo, passengers and night-fly equipment.”

Liddy looked over at Bet who returned a look of anger. She wasn’t sure if Bet would ever forgive her, and she didn’t know that she would ever forgive herself. Of all the people to put in that position, Bet didn’t need the negative experience in the air. Flying under the bridge at home was a risk she’d chosen, but she had never put anyone else at risk. Wanting to take back something you’ve done is such a heavy weight. Liddy knew she couldn’t turn back the clock, but she could fly by the book and she was determined that’s what she was going to do.

Louise and the girls sensed something had happened. But neither Bet nor Liddy talked about it, and the soul of the bay was fractured. When the next buddy flight rolled around, Bet Bailey had still not forgiven Liddy Hall.

Trainees were spread out on the floor of the ready room checking maps. Instructor Rick Strom entered and called out the drill, “Listen up. This buddy trip is an instrument flight. The lead is to follow the course that the buddy pilot lays out. You will not land until you get back to base. You will be graded on time and record of landmarks. Look around, trainees. Your class is getting smaller every week. Many of you are one U from packing your bags. Your next instrument flight will be an Army checkride, so use your time well today. Shoenfeld, Campbell fall-out. Bailey, Hall fall-out.”

Bet looked apprehensively from across the room in Liddy’s direction. Strom finished listing the assignments and Bet approached him. “Excuse me, Mr. Strom, about my buddy assignment?”

“Is there a problem, Bailey? You put in for these assignments two weeks ago. I believe this was your first choice.”

“Well, yes it was, it’s just that I—,” Bet stammered as she saw Liddy watching her.

“You just what, Bailey?”

“Nothing, sir. No problem, sir.”

Bet had the map out and only spoke to Liddy when she needed to give her a navigation lead. On the return leg of their flight, Liddy sat in the front pit listening to the report of the engine, and carefully reading the wind and the grayness of the clouds. She was going to do everything she could to make sure the flight went smoothly.

Bet watched the instruments in the rear pit. “Okay, now head… Oh, brother.”

“What is it?” Liddy asked.

“Look right, about three miles.”

Flames licked the roof at the corner of a ranch house in the distance. The pilots circled over and saw a woman, waving frantically, holding a baby and two small children were wrapped around her legs.

“We have to help,” Bet insisted.

“We’re not authorized for a landing until we get back to base. And what about the time? They’re tabbing us.”

“You can gun her and pick it up.”

“Bet, think about this.”

“I am, Liddy. Let’s get down there. We have to see if we can help.”

Liddy landed the plane and the two women burst from the cockpit and ran to the woman. She was frantic and Liddy and Bet ran inside and came out less than thirty seconds later with a toddler they found hiding under a bed. Just then two trucks pulled up and five men jumped out, grabbed a ladder from the bed and leaned it on the house. Liddy and Bet joined a bucket line that was formed from the well and the water was tossed on the roof.

“We might as well be pissin’ on it,” said one of the men, and then they started to break from the line in defeat.

Bet yelled at them, “We can’t just watch it burn.”

“Did you feel that?” Liddy asked.

Everyone looked up just as a canopy of clouds burst open and dumped on the land. Texas weather was as unpredictable as a roll of the dice and it rarely came quietly.

The help was encouraging and Liddy called to Bet, “Let’s go.”

Bet filled buckets and Liddy climbed the ladder to dump them. The men rejoined the effort, but the flames were defiant. A section of the roof collapsed inside itself and the ladder jolted forward.

“Liddy,” Bet screamed.

Liddy jumped off the ladder as it fell into the flames and she landed on her rear in the mud. Bet helped Liddy to her feet, and they stood back and watched the showers roll billows of smoke off the flames that shot from the broken structure.

Bet and Liddy cried with the woman as she stood with her children and watched her home disappear, as the rain clouds blew off into the distance as fast as they had appeared. The house was left in a smoldering black pile of mush. Mother and children were helped into a truck, and Bet and Liddy slopped back to the plane. It was surrounded by a mud bog.

“There’s no way we’re getting out of here without picking up a ton of mud. They’ll know we landed,” said Bet.

“Yes they will.”

“This is the end of us, Liddy.”

“Get in!”

“What are you thinking?”

“Do you want to get back to base and drag this muddy evidence all over the strip?”

“No, I can hear it now.” Bet tilted her chin forward and said in a low voice, “You’re not firemen, you’re pilots, dammit.”

“Trust me then?”

Bet gave her a nod and they climbed in.

Liddy got the plane back in the air and headed for the storm clouds that had flushed themselves on the fire. “Hang on!” she called to Bet. Liddy gunned it and sailed under the cloud taking a couple of slow rolls through the downpour. The shower rinsed the mud off the wheels and over the sides of the body and then Liddy pushed the nose up, topped over the storm and headed back to the base.

To this day, stories are passed around Nolan County about phantom pilots: a farmer’s sick child was flown to the Fort Worth hospital, medicine was picked up and delivered, and there’s one about two pilots who swooped down and pulled a child out of a burning building and then flew straight into a rain cloud.

When they got back to base, Liddy and Bet were soaked to the bone, but they were on time and the plane looked like it had been spit and polished. When they reunited with Joy Lynn, Marina and Louise that night in the barracks, Bet shared the adventure with breathless enthusiasm. The near-death crash of her first night-fly eventually became part of Bet’s repertoire too, and Liddy wanted Crik to hear how the little redhead told the tales; he might learn something.

The camaraderie returned to the modest abode and Liddy and Bet were knit again, and nothing ever changed that. A great flyer once said, “A pilot’s ability grows with experience, smart don’t cut it.” Bet became fearless and she no longer dreaded the unknown but called it out, strapped it on and marched.

Liddy laid pretty low as she finished up her last days of training. Getting up at midnight for night-flies took the thrill out flying in the dark for a lot of the women, but not Liddy. The quiet of it, the peace of it, however, left her mind to wander where she didn’t want it to go. And waiting for her orders brought the reality that it would be a good long time before she was to live among Crik and Jack again, if ever. The graduates would be given a ten day leave but then it would be on to a command or more training.

The week before graduation and the week the orders were to be handed out, Marina and Bet came running to the flight line and told Liddy that Louise’s husband had showed up and was making a scene. Liddy threw off her chute, dropped her gear and sprinted across the base. When she got there, Louise’s husband was screaming at her, “You stupid whore, you think you can run off and abandon my kids and I’m gonna let you get away with it? Get your ass in the car, or I swear I’ll beat the living daylights out of you.”

Louise’s 5’ 9” frame had shrunk and she cowered under the humiliation. Apparently, the divorce papers had finally caught up with the man and his little fling had started to sour. So the louse went back home to discover Louise gone and their children in the care of their grandparents. When he got out of a neighbor where she was, he took off after her and was planning to take Louise back to Colorado.

Liddy, Marina and Bet took Louise by the arms and started to guide her away, which incensed the lunatic, and he lunged through the women and got a hold of Louise’s neck. Captain Charles, Major Trent and some of the instructors dashed around the corner as Louise fell back and hit the ground. Her husband looked like he was stuffed with feathers when the base staff pulled him off of her. He got locked up in the county jail, and someone must have done something to the man because he never again bothered Louise after that. Joy Lynn was in the air at the time, and one couldn’t help but wonder what the creep’s fate might have been if she had got to him first.

Louise never shed a tear that day, but Liddy heard her cry beneath her covers that night, and a few nights after that. But when the orders came, her strength returned and she sprung back even taller than before. The friends stood in line together for their assignments but made a deal that they wouldn’t look at them until they got back to the bays. It was like Christmas morning when they each took turns opening their orders. Marina took her nail file and carefully slit the top of her envelope.

“What did you get?” Bet asked Marina before she had even removed the contents.

Marina unfolded her orders, and read to herself. Then she waved the papers jubilantly. “March Base, I’m gonna be working out the boys in gunnery school. Buzzing, speed and sunny California.”

Marina tossed the nail file to Louise who slit, then read, then announced with joy and relief, “Bomber training in Colorado.”

“Near your kids, that’s great Louie,” said Liddy.

Louise tossed the nail file to Joy Lynn who caught it in the air and fell off the bed. When she opened the envelope, the gals were still laughing and Joy Lynn was still on the floor where she had landed. Every word was read aloud and by the last line she had risen to her full Amazon height. She would be joining Louise in Bomber training. “B-25s and men too, I’m gonna float away.” Joy Lynn touched the back of her hand to her forehead and fell onto the bed.

“Give me the file. It’s my turn,” Bet ordered. She practically tore the envelope in two as she charged it with the blade, and then she read the words with wild eyes, “Alabama, I got Maxwell field, engineering and repair depot testing. That’s where Carla’s going.”

Liddy had forgone the file and her orders were already out of the envelope and folded in her lap.

“Well, Miss HP. Let’s hear it,” said Marina.

As Liddy read the words she remembered the day she sat in Crik’s truck reading her acceptance telegram from the WASP, and she remembered the day she left Holly Grove and the drive to the train. This was another beginning, which meant an end and she was overwhelmed. Her vision was blurred with tears by the time she finished the last word, “Pursuit School in Palm Springs.”

“Well, well, Miss Hot Wings, we knew you’d get ‘em. Gotta say, I like bein’ the best, but I at least can say I slept with the best,” drawled Joy Lynn.

“Here, Here!” cheered Louise.

And then the others joined in. “Here, Here!”

Joy Lynn bolted from her bed and dug to the bottom of her locker and came up with a bottle. The brew was contraband, but the gals learned the men didn’t rummage through the lockers when doing inspections, for fear of stumbling on female things. The room was scavenged until a menagerie of mugs and glasses had been assembled, and they filled their cups and raised them to the sky.

“To no more inspections or morning reveille,” said Joy Lynn.

“Or nightmares about horny cows.” Marina laughed.

“To no more studying, heat stroke or marching,” added Liddy.

“You’re going to Pursuit School remember, in Palm Springs,” Louise pointed out.

“Well, to no more marching then,” Liddy raised her cup again.

“No more checkrides,” said Louise.

“You’re going to Bomber training remember,” said Liddy.

“Well no more marching then,” Louise laughed

“Or…,” Bet looked around at her friends.

Together they yelled out, “And no more ZOOT SUITS!”

Liddy stood up and gave the final toast, “To the hottest HPs ever to grace the air above Avenger Field. We’ve made it, girls. WINGS!!!”

“WINGS,” they all shouted.

Chapter Eighteen

Dr. Bradley arranged for Liddy to make a collect call to the hospital in Holly Springs. She held the receiver to her ear and listened to the static that popped through the line as she waited. Her new dress uniform lay in the crook of her arm and she fingered the space where her WASP wings would be pinned. She tapped her foot to the tune of Deep in the Heart of Texas playing over the rec hall radio. She smiled and thought, Not for long.

“Hello,” Liddy heard Jack’s voice.

“Hey, Daddy, it’s me. How are you?”

“Kickin’, honey, how are you?”

“Great, I got my orders. And I just bought my dress uniform and—”

“So, did you get the fast little buggers?” Even on the phone Liddy couldn’t complete a sentence before Jack jumped in.

“Yeah, I got the fast little buggers.” Liddy smiled and soaked in Jack’s voice.

Jack Hall warned, coached and prodded his little girl for the next ten minutes, and it was all food to Liddy. After her phone call, Liddy found Louise in the bay putting things in order.

“Did you pick up your uniform?” Liddy asked.

“No, I was gonna head over in a bit. Can’t believe I’m gonna be wearing something tailor made for me from Neiman Marcus.”

“That Jackie Cochran doesn’t spare the bucks when it comes to our fashion or our wings.”

“Not too surprising when you think about her strutting across the base in her heels and furs when she drops in for a look-see at her Avenger girls.”

Bet entered the bay carrying a glossy white box. Pink ribbon and tissue were hanging out the sides.

“What’d ya get?” Louise asked.

Bet tossed the box on the bed and pulled out a bra, panties, slip and stockings. “Mustn’t graduate without new ones.”

“From a beau?” asked Liddy.

“Liddy,” Bet scolded with a blush. “No, my mom brought them. The folks got in last night. They’ve decided this is an amazing thing I’ve done. They’re very proud.”

“And we whole-heartedly agree with your folks. Don’t we, Louie?”

“You betcha!”

Joy Lynn and Marina entered with the latest news dripping from their lips. “Two more instructors have been drafted—Nash and Strom. They’re shipping out the week after graduation,” Marina reported.

“Captain Charles and Major Trent are being shipped out too,” Joy Lynn added, while she kicked off her shoes and sent them flying with a thud into the wall.

Louise looked at Liddy, who turned away. It would soon be over. She would leave and he would leave, and the wonderings, the frustration, the yearning would fade. Liddy looked forward to it. She wanted to be free of it. She was tired and drained. She wanted him out of her heart, and her mind and her sight. Soon it would be done.]

The soul of Avenger Field always soared on graduation day. All the classes got a day off from training and they would all be part of the celebration. Family and friends arrived and there wasn’t a zoot suit in sight, which gave the impression to the visitors that the base was a kind of dusty resort.

The senior class gathered at the ceremony area before breakfast. Captain Charles was working hard to get the gals to line up for their second run-through and was losing his patience. The women giggled and goofed.

“For such a competent group of flyers you women are acting like damn fools,” Charles barked, “Let’s start back at the beginning and let’s make it military this time.”

A trainee climbed the steps to the platform and handed Charles a note. He read it and called out, “Hall, report to the admin.”

Bet looked wide-eyed at Liddy. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing, I didn’t do anything.”

Marina grabbed her shirt sleeve. “What didn’t you do then?”

When Liddy arrived at the administration building, she was directed to Major Trent’s office. As she walked down the hall, a rumble of panic trickled down her spine. She always had some idea why she was being called down—she didn’t like surprises. When she knocked on the open door of the office, Trent looked up and saw Liddy standing in the doorway and hesitated before he spoke, “Come in, Miss Hall.”

Liddy walked in the room and stood half-way between the desk and the wall, she didn’t want to be too close to the blast. It was usually was more of a stern, controlled gale but it still felt like a blast to her. Trent left his seat, shut the door and walked over to where Liddy was standing. He set himself so close to her that she could hear him breathe, and he handed her an envelope.

“What’s this?” Liddy looked up at him.

“A telegram.”

Liddy turned the envelope over and walked past Trent to the corner of the desk. She slowly removed the paper, unfolded it, and read: We regret to inform you of the passing of…. Liddy’s hands trembled and increased with each word she digested. She muttered to herself, “I just talked to him on the phone two days ago, he seemed fine.” But did he really? Liddy asked herself. And she tried to remember all his words and how his voice sounded. As she re-read each line again, she became light-headed and nauseous and she steadied herself on the desk. The paper slipped from her hand and floated to the floor.

Trent moved behind Liddy and spoke softly, “The front office got a call from your uncle. The hospital wasn’t able to reach him before they sent you the wire. He’d like you to call him. He left a number where you can reach him.” He reached over to touch the tips of her fingers. “I’m so sorry, Liddy. I’ve spoken with Palm Springs. You can start your ten day leave immediately. Take as much time as you need, and then report to your assignment when you’re ready.”

Liddy widened her eyes and blinked to fight back the tears. She walked to the door and turned to face the Major. “My father would want me to be at my graduation. It was important to him. All of this was really important to him.”

“He must have been very proud of you.”

“He was.”

“If there is anything we can do—”

“There isn’t anything the Army can do. I’m not enlisted, don’t forget. Not military. I’m on my own.”

“I meant…” Trent hesitated.

“What? You meant what?” Liddy looked at Trent with a vacancy. The luster was gone from her eyes and she stared at him with a sadness that made him feel powerless. He couldn’t comfort her the way he wanted to, and the frustration made his whole body tense.

Liddy turned again and left the office. Trent shut the door, walked over to pick up the telegram from the floor and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Enthusiasm is contagious when you want to be infected, but when you don’t it will scrape your spirit like sandpaper. Liddy kept her pain to herself and didn’t tell her friends, not even Louise, of her loss that day. She stretched a big smile and followed any lead to joke and laugh. They had all worked so hard for this day and Liddy didn’t want to put one ounce of damper on it. But even through the pain, the day was one of purpose and a quiet joy bathed Liddy. She imagined Jack walking effortlessly and flying again. And she wondered if he would be able to watch the whole deal, which he wouldn’t have been able to do from his hospital bed. What a kick he would get out of it all.

As they prepared for their graduation ceremony, great attention was given to make-up, hair and the proper button and tuck of their new WASP duds. The mirror was giddy over the attention it was getting, and everyone lined up for a turn at Marina’s paint bag.

Forty-one women, almost half the number that began with their class, still remained and the survivors assembled outside the barracks to march to the line. As they paraded around the primary hanger, the graduates could see row after row of WASP trainees set in columns in front of the planes on the line. All wore their crisp white shirts, general’s pants and overseas caps. The planes were also decked out and paid tribute to the graduates. Parked in perfect rows and standing at attention in all their shiny goodness, the planes honored the graduates as well.

Wrapped up in their Santiago Blues, the graduating class marched silently. All that could be heard was the tap of their heels until they reached the underclasswomen who were waiting for them. The trainees sang out with the words of the graduate’s own song as they passed, “There goes the HPs of Avenger Field. Wings of silver will be their shield. Watch them fly you’ll know it’s true. They are the queens of the open blue. So take note all you recruits. If you wanna be tops then follow suit.”

The chorus got louder as each class fell into the procession behind the graduates. The tribute filled the soon-to-be Women Airforce Service Pilots with tremendous pride. “Then you’ll be an HP of Avenger Field. Wings of silver will be your shield. At the end of the war—you’ll be part of the great WASP lore. There goes the HPs of Avenger Field. Wings of silver will be their shield.”

Mr. and Mrs. Bailey were at the edge of their seats, waving enthusiastically as their daughter marched by the audience. Calli sat with Joy Lynn’s family, and she cradled her swollen belly in her arms.

The Calbert Clan was a noisy and jolly bunch. Mama and Daddy Calbert, Joy Lynn’s four younger sisters, aunts, uncles and a few cousins—a full Southern brigade was there to cheer on their Joy Lynn. The hair was high and the hats were big. Pretty silver flasks were safely tucked in pockets and purses, and clearly they had already been tilted a few times. It was easy to see they were Joy Lynn’s people. Uncle Geoffrey was there—yes, Uncle Pastel Puffy. He flitted about in a striped silk suit that was touched off with a bright violet satin vest and tie. A flowered silk hanky draped neatly from his breast pocket. Liddy had never seen such beautiful clothes on a man.

The new senior class took their place at the head of the formation, which signaled the graduates that they were no longer trainees. The women sat reverently in the front rows, listening to Colonel Wate gush over them from the podium. Finally, he said the words they were all waiting to hear, “Graduates, will you please stand to receive your wings.”

Those glorious words broke the formality that had its grip on the women, and the women wore a sea of smiles. With a respectable military clip, the graduates rose from their seats and filed out and up to the platform. Captain Charles called each name and the women crossed the stage to shake Colonel Wate’s hand. He had a word of praise or encouragement for every graduate, and genuine happiness glowed on his rosy cheeks. The graduates then stepped to Major Trent to receive their wings.

“You fell in, Hall. Congratulations!” were the words Colonel Wate had for Liddy.

Trent had his right hand extended when Liddy stepped in front of him. She placed her hand in his and he held it tight as he set her wings in her left hand. He looked down at her and didn’t let go, even when another trainee was waiting to receive her wings.

After the ceremony, parents and in some cases husbands, aunts or uncles pinned the wings on the WASP graduates. Bet’s mother did the honors for her. Geoffrey insisted on doing the pinning for Joy Lynn. He was after all the one who would make sure it was done correctly. Calli pinned Marina, Louise and Liddy and, for the rest of their lives, they would remember the moment with crystal clarity.

A reception was held in the rec hall and then the graduates scattered, but came back together in the evening to set off the fire bell and offer up their last dose of rowdy to the base. The following day they would leave Avenger Field and have long trips home for most of them, but that didn’t get them wound-down any earlier. The girls slept less than three hours before they heard reveille, which wasn’t for them, and they rolled over and smiled.

All of the mattresses were stripped bare and the lockers were empty. Gosport’s tail floated back and forth as he strolled along the porch, saying goodbye to his fans. After he had bid his final farewell, he found a warm spot where the October Texas sun had heated up the concrete, and he stretched out to wait for his next round of admirers.

The baymates were in their dress uniforms as they finished packing. Four suitcases were laid across Marina’s bed and she shuffled her belongings between them.

Bet sat on her suitcase, while Liddy tried to latch it for her. “I had room to spare when I got here.”

The suitcases were click, click, clicked closed just as Joy Lynn came into the bay. “The cattle car just pulled in with some of the new class. Now it’s ready and waiting for us, ladies.”

“They’re wasting no time booting us outta here,” complained Bet.

“They can boot away,” Marina pushed her cases to the end of her bed.

“Our chariot awaits, HPs,” said Louise and she and Joy Lynn each grabbed their bags and one of Marina’s and walked to the door. Louise looked back at Liddy and Bet and asked, “You coming?”

“We’re right behind you,” said Liddy as Bet took one last swipe at some luck from the top of their heads before they walked out the door.

“Hey, watch it, Red, this isn’t flight hair here,” Marina said smoothing her silky mane.

Liddy clicked her suitcase closed then walked into the bathroom and stood at the mirror where she carefully buttoned her jacket and stared blankly at her reflection.

“Are you okay?” Bet asked.

Liddy snapped out of her trance. “Yeah, fine.”

Bet rubbed the top of Liddy’s head.

“Don’t take it all, Bailey.”

“I need to store it up.” Bet looked hard at Liddy and studied her, deep in thought. “What if you’d climbed into another train car the day we met and we hadn’t shared a bay and…? I feel like I can do anything now. And I don’t believe I would have made it, had you not chosen that train car.”

“As much as I’d love to take the credit for giving the world a fabulous pilot, there’s nothing I could have done to give you what you had to have inside. You just didn’t know it was there.” Liddy wrapped her arms around Bet’s little frame and gave a tight squeeze. She brushed her hand over the red curls and said, “For luck.”

They picked up their suitcases, took one last glance around the room and left their bay for the last time.

Twenty-two and a half weeks earlier these women stepped onto Avenger Field for the first time. They were all so very different from one another, different backgrounds, education, families, pasts, but with one thing in common—they were fly girls. That day they all left the base in WASP uniforms with a common purpose, a common dream and wings.

Solemnly, the women climbed into the cattle car to take the three mile ride to Sweetwater. There they would board trains and buses, or climb into an automobile to take a ten day leave before they began the next chapter in their lives. The newest batch of Women’s Airforce Service Pilots didn’t talk but sang their song softly to one another.

Major Trent watched from a distance as the graduates disappeared into the trailer and the truck pulled away. War complicated life, and life complicated war and an urgency to do something brave ran through him.

The trailer rolled out the front gates of Avenger Field and bumped and shimmied over the ruts in the road. Joy Lynn and Marina broke the somber mood in the car when they started battling with one of their crude and proper bits. The gals laughed and soon the dreaming and bragging picked up speed. The trailer filled with celebration as the women reveled in their accomplishment.

A mile or so back, a cloud of dust was kicked up behind an Army jeep and gained on the WASP cargo by the minute. The trainees heard the honking of a horn and looked out the window to see the jeep lining up with the cab of the truck.

“It’s Major Trent,” Bet reported.

“Hey, Hall, looks like they forgot to give you a pink slip,” Carla Vanell cracked. The gals all hooted and joined the tease.

The cattle car driver hit the brakes and rolled to a stop. Trent skidded alongside, parked the jeep and walked to the back of the trailer. He stood at the end of the car and called out, “WASP Liddy Hall.”

The women’s eyes widened with surprise—had their prophecy come true? All attention was on Liddy as she left the bench and opened the door. She stood in the opening and looked out at Trent who was out of breath and glistened with sweat.

“Miss Hall, can I see you for a moment?” He walked to the side of the trailer and waited for her.

Liddy took the steps to the road, walked around the corner and stood in front of him. Even in her confrontations with him, the Major had always had an air of calm and it had aggravated her. Standing here in front of him now, he was anything but calm. He had the glow of someone who just did the exact thing he wanted to do—and was surprised that he had done it. She saw the twinkle and sensed the current, and the smirk was about to break through.

Major Trent pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “You left this in my office.”

Liddy looked up and saw face after face peering through the windows from inside the trailer, and she turned her back to the nosey WASPs. On the inside of the envelope was the telegram from the hospital, bringing her the news of Jack’s death. On the outside was written, Please write to me: Maj. Reidburn Trent, and the address where she could send letters to him overseas.

Liddy looked up at him, smiled and said simply, “Thanks.”

She slipped the envelope inside her jacket and took in as much as she could of the man. His smirk jeweled his face and she stored it in her mind as she climbed back into the trailer. When she sat down on the bench, the heat of curiosity zinged at her from every side, back and corner of the space.

“Hey, Georgia, you were telling us about the first thing you were gonna do when you hit civilization, don’t leave us hanging girl,” Louise demanded.

Joy Lynn chomped on the bait and kicked right in where she had left off. Soon the gals were laughing and sharing their own plans. Liddy looked at Louise with thanks.

When the sister-friends parted to go their separate ways, the goodbyes were purposefully brief. Bet would be driving to Dallas with her parents and flying back to Boston, and Joy Lynn would drive home with Calli and her folks in the Calbert Caravan.

The cattle car dropped the women at the Blue Bonnet Hotel, and Bet and Joy Lynn met up with their families. Liddy and Marina walked together to the station, but left Sweetwater on different trains. Marina was going to California and Liddy home to Missouri. Louise took a bus home to Colorado, so she had waited with some of the other gals in front of the hotel.

Liddy’s train had its share of WASPs and servicemen, but she kept to herself for most of the trip. She wasn’t sure what to write, but she wrote a letter or really more of a note to Major Reid Trent that day:

October 28, 1943

Dear, (what should she call him?)

My ride into Sweetwater was bumpy, of course, kind of like flying the Vultee. I hope to be home by the end of the week. My father’s funeral will be on Saturday and I will spend the rest of my leave at home in Missouri.

Wishing you safety overseas,

Liddy, (should it be just Liddy, or Liddy Hall, or LLH—she couldn’t decide.)

Liddy held the note for over a day and past many stops where she could have mailed it. It was pretty impersonal, very short and she thought, kind of pointless. But she did write something, and didn’t know how she could write more. She wanted to but couldn’t.

Liddy wanted to tell him that she wished he wasn’t going back to the war. But that was something she would never tell a man who was going to fight for his country. She wanted to blather on, thanking him for chasing down the cattle car. She wanted to tell him what the first day they met had meant to her, had done to her and how miserable and thrilled she had been since then. She wanted to explain things, ask him things about himself, about everything that had happened at Avenger, about how he felt about her. But finally, she settled on the pathetic little note that she kept reading and cringing over.

When she gathered a big scoop of courage and filled in Major Trent and Hall, she decided the next stop was where she would post it. When the train rolled to the platform, she left the car and dropped it in the mail slot like it was on fire.

Back on the train, she thought more about the letter she would like to have written and got out a pen and wrote five pages. But that letter stayed tucked into her pocket and it did not get mailed.

Chapter Nineteen

Crik and Celia stood with Liddy by Jack’s graveside on a crusty layer of frost. She was in full uniform and knew how pleased Jack would have been at the sight of her. Daniel had managed leave, but he wouldn’t be home until the afternoon train.

Crik squeezed Liddy’s hand. “We’ll wait for you in the truck.”

“No—you go ahead. I’d like to walk back.” Liddy waited till she was alone. “Hi, Daddy.” She tugged at the hem of her jacket. “Fits pretty good, doesn’t it?” She cleared her eyes with her sleeve. “Remember when Mama died and you said I should talk to her whenever I felt like it. I know I was only twelve, but I’m gonna go ahead and keep talking, but to both of you now, Okay?”

The pain was so great. Liddy crouched down and ran her fingers in the grooves of Jack’s name on the headstone—JAQUE “JACK’ NATHAN HALL, and ‘BELOVED HUSBAND, FATHER, FRIEND AND PIONEER OF THE SKY, was etched below.

The marble that held Edda’s name was dusty and had no sparkle, but Jack’s was polished and new. A marble headstone was a luxury that Jack didn’t question when he buried his wife, and Liddy and Crik had decided Jack’s would be a match.

Liddy thought of the two of them side by side in this place and how, as a child, she had worried about her mother being alone when she died, while Jack and she still had each other. Now it was she who was alone, but Liddy was happy that they were together. This was how Edda had felt so many years before—Liddy was sure of that.

She told her parents all about graduation, her command to ferry pursuits and about the other WASPs. She told of Joy Lynn—the big tough beauty queen, dear proper Marina, steady Louise and sweet Bet. She didn’t leave out her fifth roommate, and she saw her mother screw a silly face when she said that Calli claimed she would be naming her baby Betsy Joy Marina Liddy Louise Duncan.

She laughed out loud when she realized she was leaving a pause here and there for Jack to interrupt her. Liddy’s mother had been a good listener, or at least appeared to be. Maybe it was that some people just don’t have the need to say a lot. Edda and Jack Hall would be a good match for eternity.

Liddy surprised herself when she hesitated telling her parents certain things. If they were alive, she would have kept from them anything that might make them worry, and she wouldn’t have told them about Major Reid Trent, not yet, maybe never.

But she decided to open up and let it all go. She told them how many women had died at Avenger, and about her ups and downs in training. And she told them everything she could think of about the Major and how she wished they could have met him.

Her fingers kept returning to the metal wings on her chest. They truly were Jack’s wings too. She wouldn’t have them if it weren’t for him.

“I’m still waiting to be militarized,” she said, “They keep saying it’s gonna happen any day, but I’m beginning to understand that doesn’t mean any day soon.” Liddy floated her fingers over the wings. “But I do have wings. Now we all have wings.”

It would be a week before Liddy had to report for pursuit training in Palm Springs, and she didn’t take for granted a minute of her time at home. She flew the old Jenny and scratched on Muck. Crik listened to every story that Liddy had collected the past few months, and she did her best to do justice to the delivery. She, Daniel and Celia ran around the county kicking up their heels and steering the conversation from talk of Daniel going back overseas. She drove over to Clayton Airfield to see Jerry, and he insisted on taking Liddy up for an unofficial checkride. Liddy’s flying had gained a precision that took every bump from the air. Jerry was impressed but only said, “Okay, Hall. I’m giving you an S this time, but work on that take-off. You don’t need to punch a hole through the floor of the pit ya’ know?”

Liddy received a letter from Major Reid Trent that had been sent the day she left the base. Crik had picked up the mail when he was in town. He handed Liddy the letter and watched her as she read the return address. Of course Crik didn’t ask about it, and Liddy was glad her uncle wasn’t a prier. She went into her trailer and sat in the corner on the bed. She studied the handwriting before she opened it and as she read the letter, her heartbeat quickened:

October 28, 1943

Dear Liddy,

I hope you had a safe trip and are enjoying your leave. I am truly sorry about your father’s death. He must have been quite a man to have raised you.

I realized I never actually told you congratulations on getting your wings, so, “Congratulations!” The Army is fortunate that you will be flying for them. I’m sorry that I said Avenger may not be the place for you. I regretted it the moment I said it and I didn’t mean it. You were right where you were supposed to be the last few months, I hope for more reasons than to become a WASP.

The base is quiet today, but the new class and replacement base command are arriving in numbers, so that isn’t going to last long. Captain Charles and I leave tomorrow morning to report to Long Beach for briefing, and then we will join our squadrons and board a carrier.

My tour will last until spring. I would like to see you when I get leave. I hope you will write to me and be safe.

Sincerely, Reid

When Liddy finished reading the letter for the third time, she tried not to dwell on what Reid would think when he read the empty note she had sent from the train; instead, she pulled out some stationary and immediately answered his letter:

November 5, 1943

Dear Reid,—Calling you that is going to take some getting used to.

I received your letter today. Thank you. I don’t know where you will be when you finally get this, but I hope you’re well. I’ll look forward to your leave in the spring. It will be nice not to worry that you might have a pink slip for me when I see you.

My father’s funeral was the day after I arrived home. He knew a lot of people but we were still surprised by the number of folks that came. He was a character, so it was only fitting that the crowd was pretty colorful. I wish you could have met him. He was a flyer. I hope to tell you all about him someday. If you think I’m a challenge, well, I couldn’t hold a candle to Jack Hall.

I leave for Palm Springs in three days. I’m looking forward to getting through the training so I can just fly. There’s so much I’d like to write and will in time. But for now I just want you to know how thankful I am that I was at Avenger and for more reasons than to become a WASP.

Take care of yourself and keep humming,

Liddy

Liddy couldn’t get to town fast enough to post the letter, and she floated for the rest of the week. Crik noticed and was happy for her. Of all the boys Liddy had dated, he had never seen one who made her smile like she was smiling now. Daniel noticed something too but he chalked it up to the fighter planes she was headed off to ride. Flying was the only thing that he had ever known to really wind Liddy up, so it was a natural assumption.

Holly Grove’s first snow of the season drifted in early and dusted the fall leaves, pulling them off the trees sooner than they had planned. It came the day before Liddy was to board a train to California, and it seemed a weighty sign.

Chapter Twenty

At the pursuit training base in Palm Springs, Liddy studied alongside male Army Air Force cadets. When the training was finished, she would be moving the planes from the factory and they would be flying them into battle. It was a class of thirty-two—thirty men and two women. Helen Long was the other female in the group. Liddy hadn’t gotten to know her at Avenger. She was a serious gal, and had a reputation for being somewhat of a loner. Helen came into the program with more hours logged than any of the other women in their class, and she was a by-the-book flyer. Liddy tried to break in with her, but soon accepted their role as classmates, and she missed her sister-friends.

The studying had gotten easier for Liddy and the flying was pure bliss. The planes were always fast and newer than anything she took up in training. She spent her off time writing letters home, and to her classmates who were spread across the country, and to Reid.

Every few days she wrote him a letter and would receive one back. Mail that crossed the ocean was pretty unpredictable, so they didn’t always arrive in the order that they had been written. But when an obvious gap showed itself, they just kept writing and it was all eventually pieced together. Even though he was thousands of miles away, he made her feel safe, safe in a way that no other man had ever made her feel. Not even Jack and Crik. With them she felt safe physically, but her spirit, her heart, it was all so new with Reid.

Liddy knew enough about combat from the war stories she heard growing up that she wasn’t surprised that Reid didn’t write anything about his missions or of the war, even if he could have gotten it by the censors, but he didn’t try. She did learn that he didn’t like the cold, grew up in Florida, and that he loved to fly as much as she did. She thought she could tell him anything and wondered if one day she would have the chance.

News came of the birth of Calli’s baby. She said Betsy Joy Marina Liddy Louise Duncan was born at seven eighteen in the morning and weighed 7lbs 3 ounces and was 21 inches long. His parents had decided to call him James Lee for short.

Bet was doing well and had one story after another about her latest adventures in the sky. Liddy heard from Louise regularly, but Joy Lynn and Marina seemed to be so busy with their love lives that letters from them were few. When one did arrive, the love of their life had a different name each time. Liddy couldn’t figure how they had time to fly.

She heard from lots of other classmates who were overjoyed with the flying, but many were working under attitudes of prejudice. Besides being ignored or berated, some of these women were subjected to checkrides on planes they hadn’t even been allowed to fly or even sit in. And many of the planes the women had to take up were no longer sky-worthy. WASPs were tough, but a few gals decided they were wasting their time or being put at an extreme risk and quit over it.

Liddy knew she was fortunate. The ferry division of the Army Air Force was understaffed, and the ferry command saw early on the benefits of employing pilots that the WASP provided. So, they opened their eyes wide enough to see they were also excellent flyers.

The base at Palm Springs lacked nothing in the social department. Unlike Avenger, women were a scarce commodity and the gals pretty much had their pick of men, and the pool the women had to pick from was mostly officers and flyers that were training to be fighter pilots. These men possessed the self-assuredness needed to do their jobs, an assuredness that brought with it an air that has a strong appeal to most women. And then there was the uniform. But Liddy didn’t have the desire to date any of the men. Not only was she content with her literary courtship, but she was quite a few years older than most of the male cadets and had more of a desire to protect them than to date them.

Cross country runs were part of the training, so she would meet up with her old classmates when she refueled or had a RON at the different bases. It was fun to see how they were getting along and all the many ways WASPs lived out in the military world. Some bases bunked the WASPs with the Women’s Army Core who served as nurses or office staff. Other bases made quarters available away from the men’s barracks, while some of the women had to secure their own housing off base. Regardless of the situation, just like Avenger, the WASP paid for their housing.

Things could get pretty wild with six or more fly girls that had enormous spirits living in two to four bedroom houses. The work they did was difficult and tiring, so they needed to blow off steam every once in a while. And blow off steam they did. Marina dwelled in one of these communes and Liddy could only keep up with this pack for a day or so, before she wanted to crawl into a corner and collapse into a puddle.

Louise was living off base too, but with her kids. She was flying and taking care of her children and Liddy soaked in her happiness. She became Aunt Liddy to Bonnie and Tommy, which, as an only child, she treasured. She never imagined she would have such delicious little people in her life. Good as the times were, they were tough times too, and Louise appreciated the distraction Liddy brought to the little family. Liddy’s visits with the Parkers were quiet, but fun, and she always returned to base relaxed and renewed.

December in Louise’s Colorado could bring snow, or a warm snap, and Liddy and Louise’s daughter Bonnie sat on the porch swing of the little Parker home, enjoying a break in the winter season. Their legs stuck straight out on the upswing and they tucked them under the seat in unison as it sailed back.

“Aunt Liddy, did you know my dad?”

“Not really.”

“But you met him?”

“Once, kind of.”

“Did you like him?”

Liddy stopped the swing and looked down at her little friend. “Why are you asking me this, honey?”

“It makes Mommy sad to talk about him. He wasn’t that nice and I don’t really miss him, but I just want to know why he left us.”

“What’d your mom tell you?”

“She just said she’s sorry for us if we’re sad that he’s gone. She tried to say more, but couldn’t.”

“Well, honey, people do things sometimes they think will make them happy and they hurt other people in the process. You’re dad made choices that were about him. They had nothing to do with you, or Tommy, or your mom.”

“Does it work, those things people sometimes do to be happy?”

“Not usually.”

“Do you think my dad is happy?”

“I don’t know. But I can tell you this, someday you’ll understand it all. It won’t make it easier, though. I just want you to remember that life is good and bad. If you leave the bad alone and keep the good in your heart, you’ll be happy.” Liddy tickled Bonnie’s side and kissed the top of her head. “Think Tommy and your mom have that ice cream churned up?”

“If they do, it’s probably gone.”

“Tommy likes ice cream?”

“Yes, but not like my mom.”

Liddy grabbed Bonnie’s hand and pulled her off the swing. “Let’s stop them before it’s too late.” And they walked into the house.

The weeks of training went by quicker than Liddy was expecting they would, and she was really comfortable and happy to be herself. Exchanging letters with Reid filled her with all kinds of excitement and anticipation. His letters came more and more often and were sometimes pages long and other times quick notes—she could hear his exhaustion in those. Without having to ask all of the questions that lined up in her mind, he answered many of them.

Liddy answered every letter as soon as she could sit and put pen to paper or she started writing in her head, while she was flying. With each letter, she wrote more of the things she’d wished she’d had the nerve to have written in her first letter to Reid, beginning with how glad she was that he chased the cattle car down and that she regretted sending him that sorry first note.

Reid wrote back and teased her that he had laughed out loud, which she believed he really did, when he read it because it wasn’t very bold for an HP like herself. Liddy felt her face flush and redden when she read that, He’s right—it wasn’t, she knew that.

Liddy was glad he didn’t give her a break on that one so they could joke about it, and she wrote back to him, Hey, guy, I said I regretted that first letter. Give a girl a break would ya’? You made me go all red-faced that you thought I had written something so… Not very bold.

Liddy knew he would enjoy the fact that he could make her blush from thousands of miles away. ‘My courage has never been that great, about some things, when my feet are on the ground, but I think you intend to make me all over brave, don’t you?’

They wrote about good things. Liddy didn’t tell him how much she had ached for him when they were at Avenger, and now even more that he was where he was, doing what he had to do. She would someday, but now he needed to hear just good things, to feel good things.

Every letter, both his and hers, had something about Reid’s leave in the spring. Liddy couldn’t wait for that day when she would spend time with him. What would it be like? What would they do? The two of them together, it would be a date wouldn’t it? How strange.

When Liddy graduated from pursuit school, she joined the other WASPs, including Jenna Law-Charles, where they both would serve from New Castle Army base in Delaware. Liddy was suited up for her first hours of paid civilian flying for the Army, and she entered the ready room to check in for her first flight assignment.

Some of the women were reviewing maps while others napped, using their parachute packs for pillows. When Jenna saw her, she hopped up from the floor and crossed the room to greet Liddy, “Glad to see you made it, Hall.”

“Was there any doubt?”

“Didn’t hear about one run-in with you and the powers that be in Palm Springs. Are you losing your edge?”

“Never!”

An assignment officer entered and addressed the WASPs, “Listen up, these planes need to be received by 1900 hours to catch a carrier going overseas. This is a very long flight. For those of you who’ve just come in, it’s highly recommended that you limit your fluid intake. You will have only one refueling stop, each way, so unless you have figured out how to use the tube, I suggest you take this matter seriously. Have a safe trip.”

This would be the longest flight Liddy had ever flown, and the newest plane with the exception of Jerry Bluff’s Fairchild back home. She spun Jack’s watch in her palm before she shoved it deep in her pants pocket, as a rush of adrenaline ran through her and she immediately had to pee.

The day she ferried her first Mustang was one that would stick with Liddy for good, and she couldn’t wait to tell Crik about it. She didn’t write much to Reid about her flying. Her excitement over ferrying fighters seemed so trivial to Reid’s experiences in the same planes. So she wrote about what she saw when she was up and who she met or visited with on the way.

In a cargo plane, the women were taken to the North American factory in Columbus.

P-51 Mustangs were picked-up and Liddy couldn’t get over how Jenna and the other gals were so cool about the ships. Strapped in for the twenty-four hundred mile flight to Travis Air Force Base in San Francisco, the women took off like they were the queens of the air.

The temperatures rose and fell as they crossed the country, but the sky was clear and it was as though the heavens had laid out a carpet for Liddy. As the ferry formation flew over the Rocky Mountains, she marveled at the mass of the range. It was covered with snow, but the granite broke through here and there and it was all set against an icicle-blue sky. Liddy had never seen a landscape that held such power.

She was startled when she heard Jenna’s voice over the radio, “Hey, WASP Liddy Hall, wait for us would ya’?”

Liddy hadn’t realized she had tapped-in and gotten ahead of the others. “Oh, boy, sorry. Guess I’m just a little bit jazzed. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yes it is.” Jenna smiled at the delight in Liddy’s voice. “Enjoy the view, but let’s keep it tight up here.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Liddy teased.

When the WASP arrived at their refuel, they exploded from the cockpits as soon as the planes rolled to a stop and made a mad dash toward the buildings.

Two enlisted men watched the scene and one of them asked the other, “Where’s the fire?”

Every day that followed was a series of transports, pick-ups and deliveries. Flying as a WASP in the military was like being a pioneer in a new land. Liddy knew what they were doing was important for the war, but it was also important for the country and all her American sisters. The war was tearing away at the boundaries that had kept women and minorities from living bigger than the culture had been comfortable with.

Women were working in ever-increasing numbers, doing factory work that was oftentimes dirty and dangerous. Old ways were being tested and the results couldn’t be denied. Women were capable and it was now on the record. Whatever happened after the war, steps had been taken forward. Still, constantly on the minds of those in the march was the lingering hope that the steps forward would not be taken backwards in the future.

Beat-up Warhawks were delivered by the WASPs to Tuskegee Army Air Field in Alabama. Liddy hopped down from the pit and reflected on the times she was living in. As she walked across the TAAF, she looked into the faces of some of the first black men who would fly for the Army. The men looked at the WASPs, and the trailblazers acknowledged one another with a nod and a smile.

Liddy wished the planes they had brought to these men didn’t have so many miles on them and were not in such a worn state. But flying planes other male pilots didn’t want to fly, or in some cases refused to fly, was just one of the things a WASP had in common with a Tuskegee Airman. And the WASPs had a lot in common with these men.

Both had to deal with the opinions of people who didn’t think they were either smart enough or brave enough to be military pilots. Both had to deal with prejudice, but these men dealt with the prejudice every day, in every corner of their lives—not in the air, though. There they would be free and Liddy was happy they had that chance.

One qualified black female pilot did apply to the WASP program. Jackie Cochran interviewed her and explained that a great deal of opposition faced the idea of women flying for the military. Cochran didn’t deny her entry, but the woman graciously withdrew her application, rather than bring more scrutiny on the program.

It would take over thirty-five years for the landscape to begin to level for all Americans. It would always be a teeter-totter, though. It’s a weakness of humankind to want to be on the top of the pile and many people don’t hesitate to step on others in order to stay there.

When they were in Alabama, Liddy and Jenna saw Bet. Liddy liked how Jenna took Bet under her wing. Anything could happen and she knew the little HP couldn’t have too many mother hens. It seemed Liddy and Jenna were more alike than they were different and the two women got on pretty well. But it was still Louise who Liddy confided in.

Every once in a while Jenna would drop some information about Reid from the letters Captain Ellis Charles, now Jenna’s husband, sent to her. The two men had been friends since basic and had flown two tours together abroad. Although they flew in different fighter squadrons now, they were both in Europe somewhere and crossed paths frequently.

Jenna didn’t know anymore than Liddy did about the missions they flew. A husband wouldn’t want his wife to take on that worry, but she would share when Ellis wrote about seeing one of the officers or instructors that she and Liddy had known at Avenger. Liddy tried not to show extra interest when Reid was mentioned. She didn’t know exactly what they were to each other, and didn’t want to discuss it with anyone but Louise.

On one of their ferry runs, Liddy and Jenna stayed in California and spent a three day leave with Marina. Joy Lynn flew in and a big party was thrown. The great Jenna Law mixed right in with the crude and proper sisters, but like Liddy, Jenna couldn’t keep up with them either. “I don’t know how your bay made it to graduation.” Jenna said to Liddy as they flew home after the weekend.

“Sometimes I don’t either.” Liddy chuckled. “It must have been the will of the sky gods, I guess.”

“Or the Fifinella.” Jenna laughed.

Liddy was being flown out with two other WASPs to move three AT-6s from one training base to another. She scribbled frantically to finish the letter she was writing to Reid when the assignment officer called out to her, “Hall, let’s go.”

Liddy folded the letter, stuffed and licked it, then asked Teresa Hinton. “Hey, drop this for me, will you?”

Teresa took the letter and read the address, “Major Reidburn Trent, what’s the story, Hall?”

“Just drop it, please,” Liddy pleaded as she rushed out the door.

The women climbed into planes and out of planes, then into bed and out of bed and sometimes they were so exhausted they didn’t know which was which.

Liddy and Jenna were standing in line to receive their mail and Liddy asked, “Hey, Law—sorry, I mean Charles, in the letters you wrote, you never wrote about this pace. We’ve averaged four to five flights a day or cross countries since I got here. Avenger’s looking pretty sweet.”

“Can’t compare most of these ships to the beat-up buckets we trained on, though. We’re part of it now, Liddy Hall.”

Liddy took her mail from the clerk and walked to the corner of the room to sort through it. Jenna snuck-up behind her and stole it away. She flipped through the letters and read the return addresses, “Woman’s writing, woman’s writing, definitely a man’s writing.” Jenna held the letter up to the light and grinned.

Liddy calmly took the envelope back and turned it over to read the address. It wasn’t from Reid and Liddy’s disappointment washed over her face.

“Not from Major Trent?” Jenna returned the other letters to Liddy who looked back at her with questioning eyes. “Hinton told me she posted a letter for you addressed to a ‘Major Reidburn Trent’. Let me ask you something. The night I graduated, you seemed surprised and then thrilled when I told you I was engaged to Ellis. Did you think it was Reid I was marrying?”

Liddy tightened her mouth to one side and offered Jenna a weak admission.

“How did this come about? The two of you must have been really sneaky.”

“It wasn’t like that. We started writing letters after I graduated. That’s all.”

“That’s all, is it? Does Ellis know about this?”

“I don’t know.”

“If he does, and he didn’t tell me, he’s gonna get an earful.”

“If you need to talk to Ellis, fine, but don’t spread it around, okay?”

“What are you hiding from? You’re not a trainee anymore. He’s an officer, you’re an officer. It’s… what does Bet Bailey say? It’s ‘Open Season’.”

“They’re just letters. Please, Jenna.”

“Okay, Hall, I’ll keep it quiet.”

Liddy wasn’t sure if she would or wouldn’t, but it was out of her control. She took her mail back to her quarters and sat up against the wall on her bed and slit open a letter from Daniel:

March 11, 1944

Dear Liddy,

How are you? Sounds like you’re getting to fly your dream planes. I was thinking the other day that I might be flying a plane that you moved from the factory before it got shipped over here. I like that thought.

Things are a little crazy here. It seems we just get back in and we’re sent out again. I’m flying bomber escort. We lost two last week. I get really scared sometimes. I want to talk to you in person. I want you to make me feel as invincible as you are. So I do the next best thing. I pretend you’re pitted right behind me and giving me what for and that keeps me on my toes. It’s always a good day to die, right?

A lot of guys are having battle dreams. No one says so, but you hear them in the night. I keep having this dream about an endless line of smelly old ladies stretched out like a river across Crik’s field, and they’re throwing tomatoes at me.

Liddy laughed and cleared the moisture from her eyes and then closed them and looked for Daniel’s face. Before she continued reading, she prayed for him.

What do you think it means? It kind of bothers me, but I’ll take it over the other.

When the infantry guys come through the camp, we hear stories of what they’re seeing on the ground. Train cars filled with piles of bodies that are wasted to just skin over bone and filthy concentration camps that are filled with the barely living and more dead. I’m glad I’m in the air.

Thanks for the letters they always take my mind off things. Celia’s having a hard time with me being over here, and her letters are always pretty sad.

Holly Grove seems a lifetime away. I hope to meet you there again soon,

Daniel.

Liddy put the letter back in its envelope and placed it in the side table next to her bed. Before closing the drawer, she took out a stack of letters tied with string. She ran her fingers over the return address and then removed the last one she had received over three weeks earlier and read it:

February 27^th, 1944

Dear Liddy,

How are you? Thank you for the picture I asked for. You look very serious in your uniform, but if I study your face I can see the truth. It’s my favorite face by the way.

My squadron will be moving in a few days, so it shouldn’t be as cold. I’ll be glad to have a break from this air that seems to be made of ice. I’ve tried to think warm thoughts, like walking on the warm sand and feeling warm salt water wash over my feet. I spent much of my childhood in the water, and surprised most everyone who knew me when I didn’t choose the Navy.

Every birthday that I remember, until I joined the Army when I was eighteen, started with being tossed in the waves and ended by a fire that sat in a bowl dug out of the sand. My mother would pack enough food for a week and my dad, brothers and I would eat it all. There were always sparkler sticks in cupcakes after dark.

I’d like to show you the Atlantic Ocean and my birthday beach when I come home. And I’d like you to fly me over the Rockies. The way you described it I felt as though I had never seen them before, and I thought I should take another look.

We ship out to come home the first week in April. Where should we meet?

Be safe and I’ll see you soon, Reid

Liddy curled up on the bed and pressed all of the letters to her belly. How many letters had she written to Reid without getting one back? Was it twelve, fifteen? She wished she had kept track—No, she didn’t want to know. The first week that had gone by without a letter from Reid, Liddy started writing more often. It was as if she was writing for both of them or that she was afraid if she didn’t write it would all disappear, he would disappear. She tried desperately to clear her mind, but couldn’t, and she wished she was flying.

Chapter Twenty-One

The shuffle of boot soles and heels on the linoleum brushed and clicked. Liddy could feel the impatience running through the line that was stacking up behind her, waiting for the phone. She held the phone to her ear and cherished the sound of Bet’s voice.

“How are you, Liddy?”

“I’m good, Bailey. How’s the Army treating you?” Liddy asked.

“Like an ugly stepchild, but who cares. I’m having a ball.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks and wait till you see what we’re bringing in—Very Hot!” Liddy closed her eyes to see Bet’s face.

“I can’t wait! Hey, Liddy, Carla and I found this great dance hall and we’re gonna take you there. We’re all a little worried about you. Sounds like you don’t do anything but work.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Little Betsy. I’m fine.”

“Hey, did you hear about Joy Lynn? She’s engaged to a Navy flyer from Georgia.”

“No, I hadn’t heard. That’s not too far north of the Mason Dixon Line, now is it?” Liddy joked.

“No, I guess it isn’t. But I can’t see taking Joy Lynn out of the South, anymore than I could see taking the South out of Joy Lynn.”

“I think you’re right about that.” Liddy looked back at the restless line. “Hey, I better go.”

“Bye, Liddy. Can’t wait to see you. ”

“I’ll see you first, from the clouds. Bye, bye, Bet Bailey.” Liddy hung up the phone and rushed to stop at the base post office before reporting to the ready room. She had a letter from Louise, and one from Celia; Liddy stuffed them into her bag and felt pain prick at her heart.

Some ferry assignments required the women to fly back to base on commercial airliners. Liddy and Jenna were suited up in their WASP dress uniforms and waited to board their flight.

“How’s the Major?” Jenna asked.

“I don’t know.”

“He hasn’t written?”

“Not for a month or so, just as well.”

“It might just be—”

“No, it’s just as well.”

They heard the call to board their flight.

“That’s us,” said Liddy and grabbed her bag and walked toward the gate.

As the WASPs walked down the aisle to their seats, a male passenger grabbed Liddy’s arm. “Miss, we need another pillow and my wife needs a glass of water to take her medication.”

Liddy took her arm back and shot Jenna a look of disbelief before she responded to the man, “Sir, I’m a pilot.”

Every chin within earshot snapped toward the women.

“Of this plane?” the man’s wife asked in a panic.

“Only if the men don’t show up,” Liddy taunted.

Liddy and Jenna continued down the aisle and took their seats. A ruckus was growing in the cabin. The women enjoyed the fuss as they watched the stewardess try to calm the panic in the cabin.

This was Liddy’s first commercial return, and the American flight, with the exception of a cargo plane, was the largest plane she had ever boarded. The body was cavernous and when it angled and turned it seemed the earth was turning with it. She pictured Louise and Joy Lynn steering the big bombers around the sky and pondered how it really takes all kinds.

When she returned to the base, Liddy checked her mail first thing. The clerk handed her a handful of letters; Louise Parker, Joy Lynn Calbert, Bet Bailey but nothing from Reid. Captain Charles never wrote Jenna about the men who died. Did he know? If something had happened to Reid, his family would have been told, but she didn’t even know his family. Did they even know she existed? What Liddy knew for sure, was that Reid would have written if he could have, and everything went gray.

Liddy had seven hours before she was to be back in the air. She knew she had to get some sleep. She willed herself into a black hole and slept the sleep of death. When Jenna shook her awake, she only had fifteen minutes to shower, dress and report to the ready room. Everyone was taking their instruction when she bolted through the door. “Nice of you to join us, Hall,” said the AO.

Liddy made her way through the next week like a ghost. She would be seeing Bet on the weekend and felt guilty that she wasn’t looking forward to the time she would spend with her sweet friend. Her letters piled up and she answered none. She spent the time she wasn’t flying sleeping and studying the manuals for the planes she would be moving. Liddy entered the officer’s club as a group of servicemen were leaving, and Lewis Gant, now Sergeant Lewis Gant, was among them.

“Hall? Well now. Don’t tell me you’re junkin’ up these skies. That’s it, I’m driving out of here,” Gant goaded Liddy.

“Thought you were overseas?”

“I was there, just rotated out. They wouldn’t let me go up any more, had to let others play. I’m gonna be training cadets, male cadets, for a few months. I getta go back though,” Gant said sarcastically.

“So how was it?”

“I survived. Not near as much fun as Avenger though.,” Gant pushed his cap back on his head. “Hell, you don’t need me to lie to ya, do ya Hall? You’re tough nuts. Actually, it was a nightmare, a pure shitty nightmare.” Gant rubbed his chin. “Did Bailey make it?”

“Yeah, she’s doing great. Slow timing rebuilds and testing repairs. She has to be reined in sometimes—she likes to push the edge.”

“Can’t imagine where she mighta picked that up.”

One of Gant’s buddies popped his head back in the door and yelled, “Gant, we’re rollin’.”

“Hey, Gant,” Liddy started to ask, “you haven’t seen—”

“You comin’?” the man repeated.

“Hold your horses,” Gant yelled. “Seen who?”

“Oh, nobody, you better catch your ride—wouldn’t want you to have to fly out of here with me in the skies.”

“Don’t seem near as cranky as I remember, Hall.”

“I’m working on it,” said Liddy.

As Gant walked to the waiting car his buddy asked him, “Who was that number?”

“One of the best pilots I’ve ever seen,” Gant said thoughtfully, then filled up his chest. “Taught her everything she knows.”

Liddy sat at a table alone and was studying two manuals that she had opened side-by-side in front of her when Jenna came in.

“Hey, where’ve you been, Law? I’ve been waiting.”

Jenna sat down, squeezed Liddy’s hand and didn’t let go.

Liddy could see she’d been crying and asked, “What’s the matter?”

Jenna didn’t answer.

“Is it Ellis?” Liddy asked.

Jenna choked out, “No.”

A numbness deadened every inch of Liddy. “Tell me, Jenna.”

Jenna struggled to speak and tears ran over her cheeks. She clamped both of her hands around Liddy’s who pulled away, but Jenna held on tight.

“Just say it. Say it, Jenna!”

Jenna inhaled and let the words out in a broken breaths, “Bet. She was testing a plane out of the repair shop, the flap tore and—”

“Where is she?”

“Liddy, she’s—”

Liddy pulled her hand away and shot up from her seat and yelled, “NO!”

“Liddy.”

“NO,” she yelled again, drawing the attention of everyone in the room before she ran out of the club.

Liddy sat on the wing of a plane, her arms circled tight around her knees. She couldn’t let go of the pain and the anger, both were too big and uncontrollable and her body ached from the strain of holding them in.

Jenna walked across the runway and looked up at her. “Spot for me up there?”

Liddy stared down with a lifeless gaze.

Jenna boosted herself on the wing and scooted to Liddy and sat quietly trying to think of what to say. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She waited for words or a change of expressions, but Liddy just kept staring. “Planes go down, Liddy. We know it can happen.”

Liddy turned her head from Jenna and bit down hard on her lip.

“It could happen to any one of us. You know that.” Jenna continued.

“Some male pilot messed up that plane, but he doesn’t test it. No, he’s not expendable. Well, neither was she.” Liddy clenched her teeth and her jaw flexed.

“Liddy, these things happen. It’s going to happen. We do what we do to serve. We’re taking a risk every time we go up.”

“You know why Bet was up there?” Liddy’s eyes filled with tears. “Because I pushed and encouraged her. I told her it was all worth it and that she could do it.”

“And she did it. That crash wasn’t her fault. She was a damn good pilot. And she wanted to be flying for her country, just like the rest of us.”

“Listen, I’m here for myself, got it. Not for the WASP, or the war. Myself, that’s why I’m here and that’s why I’m leaving, for myself.”

Liddy’s suitcase was packed and laid open on her bed. She looked out the window. In the distance the moonlight bounced off the shiny planes lined up in a perfect row on the flight line, and she couldn’t bear the sight of them.

The radio dispensed the last note of Who Wouldn’t Love You that floated into a brief silence before a news report broke in with a crackle, “This is David Carson reporting live from KYO Radio, Delaware. We’ve just received an official wire with the war’s latest casualty estimates. Over 200,000 Americans have been killed in the campaign to defeat Hitler. As the United States calls on more and more of its brave soldiers to continue this fight, let us all pray for a swift end to this human devastation—”

Liddy picked up the radio and threw it across the room, then fell onto the bed and broke down into a flood of tears. Jack approved of a tough skin on Liddy, and she hadn’t ever really cried, not sobbed, not even when her mother had died. But in that moment, years of tears flushed out of her like a dam break. She cried for the little Liddy who lost her mother, and for Jack. She screamed out for Bet and buried her face in a pillow when she sobbed Reid’s name. She cried for Daniel and for the hundreds of thousands of men whose mamas and daddies and sweeties were crying too.

Emptiness consumed Liddy. Sadness weighted her down onto the bed. She had lost her way and she had no strength or desire to find it. Liddy’s head pounded with pain and her mind blackened, until she finally fell asleep.

Liddy knocked on the door of the Base Commander.

“Come In.”

She walked into the office and stood in front of the desk. “Sir, I’m WASP pilot, Liddy Hall.”

“Yes, Hall, what can I do for you?”

“Sir, I’d like to request leave to take care of a personal matter.”

A hearse wound its way through the cemetery and a line of cars followed and then parked behind it. A black shrouded procession left the vehicles and grew as it approached the freshly dug grave.

The Santiago Blue of the WASP uniforms stood out among the mourners. Liddy, Louise, Marina, Joy Lynn and Calli, who cradled her baby boy, followed behind Bet’s family. Bet’s brothers held up their mother by her elbows as her feet took weak steps but mostly dragged through the grass. Mr. Bailey shuffled along and hadn’t uttered a word all morning, but every once in a while a little moan echoed in his throat.

The polished cherry wood coffin was carried to the graveside. An American flag the sister-friends had bought was draped over the top. Liddy was glad she had already given away her grief, now she filled her mind with the tilt of Bet’s head when she didn’t get a joke and how her tight red curls would bounce when she did. She saw the dance of her beautiful blue cat eyes when she bopped around after a great run in the sky or when she did the Bet dance. It was a smile that pushed tears onto Liddy’s cheeks.

The minister stood at the foot of the coffin and led Bet’s family and friends into the journey of letting go, a journey that never really has an end. After two of Bet’s brothers sang The Old Rugged Cross, the minister concluded the service by reading from the scriptures. His voice was joined by the sobs of Mrs. Bailey as he finished, “… My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” He closed the Bible and offered up a communal farewell, “Treasured daughter, sister and friend, Betsy Ann Bailey served her country bravely even into death. This dear child has returned to you, Father. Comfort all who love her and keep the flame of her spirit alive.”

The baymates hadn’t all been together since Avenger, but the pain was too raw for them to have joy in a reunion, so they parted after the funeral and went their separate ways. As time went on, though, they made a point of telling Bet stories to each other and anyone else who would listen. The distance that death had put between them and Bet grew to compare with the miles that kept them apart as they fulfilled their WASP duties. Eventually it was as if Bet was just a plane ride away.

Eleanor Roosevelt said, ‘Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints on your heart.’ When they were able to visit with one another, the women brought Bet along and laughed like they did back in their training days. Their hearts had been imprinted and they would be knit in this world and the next.

Liddy returned to New Castle and flew for her country. Sitting in the cockpit after Bet’s death, she ran through her check and stopped before she said it and thought about whether she would. But it had to be a good day to die, she knew that, otherwise she wouldn’t be free. And she had to be free. She had to live without fear. To live was to fly. So she said it and then rolled down the runway.

The months of flying filled her with purpose, but her heart had some room. She picked up her mail less and less often. When she did, part of her still hoped to see a letter from Reid, while the other part had let him rest with Bet.

Jenna had written to Ellis and asked if he had heard any news of Reid. When she received an answer back, she waited until a two day leave to tell Liddy what he’d said. Major Reid Trent had been shot down over the Nazi controlled countryside in France. What was left of his squadron confirmed that he hadn’t chuted out. The plane was behind the German line, so it couldn’t be recovered, but the crash site could be seen from the air and was burned to the frame.

When she received a bundle of letters in her handwriting to Reid, stamped deceased, both sides of Liddy let him rest. She quietly reconciled her spirit to the unbearable wreckage that life can offer up.

Liddy wished she knew Reid’s family and could tell them how sorry she was. She wanted them to know how much he meant to her and that she meant something to him and wanted them to be sorry for her too. Liddy wanted someone to know what they meant to each other, but no one really knew. It was all letters. Letters and talks with Louise. Only she and Reid knew. No one had seen it or felt it but them.

She hadn’t answered Louise’s last three letters, so she sat down to cement the reality of it all—the reality that something almost was, but now it wasn’t, and it was really over.

June 27, 1944

Dear Louie,

How are you? How are the Prince and Princess? Did they enjoy their trip to the Grand Canyon with your parents? Tell them I said hi and that I love them. Sorry I haven’t written in awhile. Louie, he’s gone. Reid was shot down in March and he’s dead. I kept hoping, but he’s gone. I can’t talk about it more than that right now, but I’ll write more later. I promise.

I’m okay, really. Please, please don’t worry. I’ll write soon.

Love Liddy

It took over a half an hour to get out the few lines and Liddy’s tears had soaked the paper. She tore off another sheet from her writing tablet and rewrote it so that Louise might believe she was really okay.

It was a sunny October afternoon when Liddy returned from a Ferry mission and reported to the ready room where it seemed every WASP at New Castle was in the room and red-faced. In hushed tones, they shouted to one another and some of them just sat and cried.

Liddy spotted Jenna who was in a heated discussion with Teresa Hinton and some other WASPs. She didn’t want to ask, but forced herself and walked over and interrupted the group, “What now?”

“We’ve been deactivated,” said Jenna.

“What?”

“It’s over. They’ve sent us packing,” said Teresa.

“But the war’s still on,” said Liddy.

“Doesn’t matter, December twentieth, at midnight it’s over.” Jenna looked at Liddy with tear-filled eyes. “Pack your bags, Hall.”

“But why?” Liddy asked.

“Who knows, politics, public opinion that wants to put us back in our place. There’s been a line of people waiting for us to fail. Guess they got tired of waiting.” Jenna tore a flight map in two and let it fall to the floor.

Liddy couldn’t make the words fall into place in her head, and the disbelief mixed into an irrational concoction that rolled and bubbled inside her. A smile drew itself across her face as a muffled chuckle forced into the air and soon it was followed by an all out roar.

The room fell silent except for Liddy’s howl. The women watched her face cover with tears as she laughed and cried with her whole body. “They’re discharging us and we were never charged. All this time, I was waiting for militarization, to be the real deal. It never occurred to me they’d end it, altogether end it. Why’d they bother even training us?” Liddy’s voice vibrated with the laughter.

“She’s lost it,” said Teresa.

“We’ve all lost it,” said Jenna.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was December 19^th and New Castle had offered up a full dress review to honor the WASPs. Other bases hadn’t been so gracious. Some even locked the women out as soon as they heard the program would be disbanded. New Castle had sent the women up till the last hour and was sad to see them go. The WASPs who hadn’t already left, including Jenna and Liddy, were preparing to leave. “What are you going to do?” Jenna asked Liddy as they sat in the officer’s club.

“Well, it doesn’t seem I’m going to have what I wanted, so I think I’ll try to want what I can have.”

“And what’s that?” Jenna asked.

“I’m not exactly sure, so I’m gonna spend some time figuring that out.” Liddy finished her last entry in her flight log and flipped it closed. “I’ve got me a cushy little instructing job all lined up back home, for now. What about you?”

“I don’t know yet. I wish Ellis…. When he gets back home, maybe I’ll have a baby. See how long I can tilt a rudder with one in the oven.” Jenna pressed her face in between her palms. “Liddy, I’m so disappointed I can hardly breathe.” Tears rolled down Jenna’s cheeks.

Teresa Hinton walked into the room. “Hey, ladies, there’s a couple of hush-hush planes that need to be picked up from the factory and delivered for shipment overseas by 2200 hours. Everyone’s gone or ready to go home and they can’t find anyone who’ll take them.”

“Good, they can go to Hell,” said Jenna.

“I’ll do it.” Liddy pushed her chair back and stood up.

Jenna looked at her, surprised. “Really? Why?”

“Our boys need those planes, Jenna. This is still our country, isn’t it?”

Jenna dried her face and then she set her palms flat on the table and stood up to face Liddy. “Okay, Liddy. Me too, I’ll go with you.”

The WASP quarters had already been filled with new male cadets and male civilian pilots who would be trained to take the place of the fly girls, so Liddy and Jenna had to store their luggage in the office.

Once geared up, they checked out and were dropped at the factory. As they were escorted into the hangar, they were handed manuals that were both typed and handwritten for the ships they would be flying.

Circling the planes, their eyes widened at the sight of the phantom aircraft. Smaller than anything they had ever flown, the ships only resembled what they knew to be a plane. The way the engines were mounted, or rather molded into the metal, made them look like they were growing out from beneath the wings. The sides of the cockpit were low and the rudders, or what looked like they might be rudders, could be seen through the canopy. The skin had the look of crushed coal and if the body had a seam, you couldn’t see it.

Jenna and Liddy read the manuals as they suited up for the flight. Reading plane manuals like they were recipe books was a familiar practice, but this plane was a different animal and the pressure to lift-off was unnerving.

“What’s the landing speed?” Jenna asked as she zipped her jacket.

“I don’t know,” Liddy said. She flipped and scanned the pages. “Did you find the check list?”

“Page twelve. Let’s run it together.”

The women watched as the canopy didn’t track back, but lifted like it was going to float away. A crew of engineers and military personnel watched as the pilots climbed ladders and lowered themselves into the cockpit. The men winced with each move the women made as if the plane was made of fine crystal and they were waiting for it to crack. Liddy and Jenna would never know for certain, but they had a feeling none of this was because they were female pilots.

Ferrying was never done at night, and this trip would be flown across the country in complete darkness. Both women had an eerie sense that choosing a WASP, instead of a male pilot for this assignment, was a calculated decision. Were the ships unstable? The Army had come to rely on the WASP pilots to willingly take up anything they were assigned. This was sometimes to convince male pilots a plane was safe, and too, they didn’t want to waste their cream.

Or was it that the women were somehow seen as less of a security risk? Liddy and Jenna had to sign a statement that they wouldn’t ever talk about the planes they were about to fly—something they had never been asked to do before. Liddy figured the Army was banking that if they did talk, who would believe them? This was also the first time Liddy had been asked to present her pistol and they even wanted to see that it was loaded. The whole thing was a curious end to their association with the military.

Liddy snugged her gloves between her fingers as she scanned the instrument panel and studied the manual that lay on her lap. She put on the headset.

“And the radio is? Eeny-meeny…” Liddy flipped a switch that blasted a piercing signal into the cockpit and she quickly adjusted the neighboring dial. “You there, Law?”

“I’m here.” Jenna’s voice toned in. “Never seen so many bells and whistles in all my life.”

“What is this screen for do you think?”

“I don’t know. Hope we don’t need it.”

“Us, we don’t need any of it.” Liddy flipped the pages stacked in front of her. “Ready to run the check?”

“Not sure it’ll mean anything, but sure, what the heck,” answered Jenna.

The planes were towed out of the hangar, and the women taxied to the runway. Take-off was smooth and the plane fit so tight, Liddy felt like she was wearing it. And it was fast. How fast? Nothing in the thrown-together manual noted top speed, an indicator the plane had never been tested. The weather was pretty punchy from take-off and boiled over as they neared the coast, so they decided they wouldn’t push it. But they were definitely fast.

The night sky had completely settled in and Jenna’s plane was just a shadow. Liddy spotted darker skies and thicker storm clouds in the distance. Over the radio, she called to Jenna, “See that?”

“Yeah, think we can miss it?”

“If we go too far around we’ll lose too much time. If that aircraft carrier has to wait for us… Listen, I don’t want to give them one reason of justification for booting us out. We’re bringing these babies in on time.”

They bounced like Bingo balls in a tumble cage. Rain washed over the canopies, making a blur of the view, but when lighting split the darkness, Liddy could see Jenna’s plane and it looked like a huge raven in the sky.

“There you are, Law. Glad you’re still with me.”

“Me too. This is like flying in a bubbling pot of stew. We’re gonna have to take it down.”

“Twenty more minutes and we got it.”

“Liddy, this is bad. Let’s take it down till this passes. I saw some lights northeast. This is farm country, let’s find a field. We can make up the time when it passes.”

“Alright, I’ll follow you in.”

By the time they found some level field over the Salinas Valley, the planes were being pushed violently from side to side and the women had to stack themselves to keep from being thrown into one another. Liddy circled while Jenna landed, then she rolled through the mud and joined her in the field where they could see lights glow from the windows of a farmhouse in the distance. The women tried to call in the landing, but the storm was blocking the transmission.

“We’re gonna need to see if these people have a phone,” Liddy called to Jenna over the radio.

“Let’s go. There’s lights on.”

“You go. I’ll stay with the planes.”

“That’s crazy, they’ll be fine.”

“I’m staying.”

“Liddy, don’t be a jackass.”

“I’m staying, Jenna.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Jenna hopped down and sloshed through the mud toward the house. Liddy saw glimpses of Jenna when the lightning lit up the sky, and then saw her silhouette in the light that spilled from the house when the front door was opened. Jenna stood outside the doorway for quite a while before she gave Liddy the a-okay wave and went inside.

Liddy closed her eyes and listened to the rain slap against the canopy. Then she opened them and watched the water rush down the glass like God was shedding unbridled tears. She joined him and it made her feel all cleaned out. When she was completely drained, she leaned back in the seat and stared into the darkness.

Liddy was startled when she heard Jenna call over the radio, “You there, Hall? I’m back.”

“I’m here. Did they have a phone?” Liddy asked as she oriented herself.

“Yeah, and after I reassured them we weren’t the enemy, they let me use it. Good thing I was able to convince them too. Young Farmer John was ready to go hunting for the home country. He just couldn’t come to grips that a woman would be out flying an airplane and for the Army.”

“Oh, brother, didn’t think of that.”

“There are a lot of people who didn’t know we existed and now we don’t. It’s kinda hard for some to swallow. Mrs. Farmer John is probably still picking her man’s jaw off the floor, what a mess. Funny, she seemed pretty excited, didn’t seem to bother her one bit. I called in. We’re to make radio contact as soon as we can.”

“You could have stayed inside and kept warm.”

“Get some stories ready, Hall, this could be a very long night.”

The women started off with memories from their training days and then moved on to their families. Jenna told Liddy about growing up with Ellis and how they fell in love and then she paused. “Liddy, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

“What?”

“Reid had talked about you to Ellis. The last time he saw Reid, Reid told him about you and him and your letters and he told Ellis—”

“Don’t, Jenna.” It gave her no comfort, just pain. “Please, don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Liddy. I’ve debated if you’d want to know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Hey, can you watch the storm, I feel like I could sleep for a few.”

“Sure, I got it.”

“Thanks.” Liddy set her head on the side of the canopy and the rain made it vibrate against her skull. She flattened her ear against the glass and pressed in; the sound was pleasantly deafening.

The storm moved east but not in time for Liddy and Jenna to get back in the air and arrive at the delivery point by 2200 hours. But the carrier had to wait long after Liddy and Jenna came in for a Navy squadron that got caught up in the same storm. The WASP had completed their assignment, their last assignment.

Marina picked them up to stay with her until they flew back to New Castle and then home. Home where they would no longer fly for the military, no longer fly as WASPs, and no longer have their Army wings.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Liddy went back to Holly Grove and spent some time with Crik and Muck. She also made the rounds to visit friends. Daniel was still overseas, and Liddy felt for Celia who spent every moment waiting. The poor girl was expecting the worst and Liddy wished Celia would try to harbor some hope, but at the same time, understood the pain of that as well.

Liddy had dinner with Rowby Wills and his wife. She had never seen contentment on the man, but there it was. Rowby stared at his bride and smiled, while she spoke Italian-English a mile a minute.

Trina ‘Tolione’ Wills had become a bright spot in town. She wore the loose cotton frocks that were the everyday dress of Italian farm girls—the neckline hung low on her breasts and her olive skin made it all seem so natural. She rarely wore shoes once the weather warmed up, and her dark, long wavy hair was always down and free. Even though her way and dress wouldn’t have been respectable for a Holly Grove woman, Trina was foreign and everyone grew to love her, so it was overlooked.

Trina had been working as a bed maid in a Rome hospital when she found Rowby curled up licking his wound, and she snatched him up. She matched his beauty, and his ego was nothing that was excessive to her Italian experience. She was also a good match for the Wills clan. Trina’s smarts and wiles brought her and Rowby to the forefront of all the family’s business. It was a very happy ending.

Liddy worked into a routine over in Clayton. She rented a little house and even got a kitten who she named Gosport the II, or Gossy II for short. Liddy cleaned and painted her little cottage and she was surprised how much she enjoyed the domesticity of it all.

She took on some student pilots at the airfield and taught an instrument class for Jerry at his flight school. She also ferried planes for a few Midwest and East Coast manufacturers that she had flown for in the WASP. But never military planes, the government made it clear none of the planes they had contracted for were to be flown by women, even if she hadn’t been a Women Airforce Service Pilot.

Most of the WASP didn’t find flying jobs, there just weren’t that many to go around, and Liddy knew how fortunate she was. The planes she delivered were mostly for private pilots, small airlines and some corporations that had their own fleets. She loved flying the shiny new planes and met some pretty interesting folks doing it.

Liddy used the ferry trips to see the girls when she could, before returning home, usually on a commercial flight. She hadn’t seen Louise for months and not since they had been deactivated. When she pulled up in front of her home, Liddy had the door open before the cab rolled to a stop. Louise, Bonnie and Tommy burst through the front door of the house and met her on the sidewalk.

“I thought you’d never get here.” Louise wrapped Liddy up in a great big hug then stood back and held her by the upper arms. “Let me look at you.” Louise scanned her up and down and then strolled around her while she inspected. “A little thin, but I think we can do something about that.”

Bonnie and Tommy wrapped Liddy around the waist, and she kissed and squeezed them. Tommy took Liddy’s bag from the cab driver and wrestled it up the walk, while Louise and Bonnie each took one of Liddy’s hands and walked her into the house.

A king’s feast was prepared to the sounds of Dinah Shore turning on the record player. After dinner they played Monopoly. Bonnie had added some new moves to the Bet dance and patiently taught the toe crushers. Tommy even joined the jig, which Louise said he never did unless Liddy was visiting.

At the end of the evening, Liddy tucked the children into their twin beds and told them about the day she met their mom. A story they insisted on hearing every time they saw her. She did a high-spirited shuffle across the room to reenact the dance Louise had taken with her zoot suit before Liddy even knew her name, and the children giggled.

When Liddy walked back into the kitchen, Louise was finishing the dishes and Liddy grabbed a towel and dried.

“My Tommy has a huge crush on you, you know.”

“Really? I don’t know about having you for a mother-in-law, but he’s pretty cute.”

“Liddy, you look tired. You okay?”

“That’s what Marina said last time I saw her. You don’t look so hot yourself, pal.”

“We’re a pair I guess, aren’t we?”

After the WASP was disbanded, Louise had found an instructing position with a flying school out of the Denver airport. It kept her close to home, and she was flying, but it wasn’t the Army and the big powerful planes they had flown in the program. Louise’s letters had been filled with Bonnie this and Tommy that but never anything about Louise Parker. She hadn’t gotten over the death of her military career, and Liddy could hear it in every line.

They turned off the lights in the kitchen and kicked off their shoes in the living room. Liddy sat sideways in the armchair with her legs slung over the side, and Louise lay on the sofa with her head propped at the end.

“Man, it’s good to have you here, Lid’.”

“It’s good to be here, Louie.”

“So tell me about your life.”

“Not much to tell. I fly and teach and drive home to Holly Grove when I can.”

“What have you heard from Joy Lynn, I thought she was planning a spring wedding?”

“When I stayed with Marina in New York a few weeks ago, she said it’s been on again off again for months. Seems Joy Lynn and her mama can’t come to an agreement about the details, so Joy Lynn just calls it off every time they hit a stump.”

“Who do you think is gonna win that battle?” Louise lifted her head and raised her eyebrows.

“Mrs. Calbert seems to be a pretty tough cookie, but I’m putting my money on our HP.”

Louise got up and flipped Dinah over and lay back on the sofa. The sister-friends closed their eyes and sang along, “You’d be so nice to come home to. You’d be so nice by the fire. While the breeze on high, sang a lullaby. You’d be all that I could desire.”

Louise rolled to her side and looked at Liddy. “Do you ever feel like you should be doing something about your life, but you don’t know what?”

“I’m just living Louie…” Liddy pushed her fingers through her hair. “… isn’t that enough?”

“I feel like it should be, especially when I look at Bonnie and Tommy and think how blessed I am. But sometimes, I just feel like I should be trying harder to do more.”

“More of what?”

“I don’t know. Do you think they should have a father?”

“If a man comes into your life who loves you madly and who loves those two like they’re the only stars in the sky, then yes, but a father for the sake of a father, no.”

“I let them down.”

“No you didn’t. Their father let them down. Now you’re making the best of it. And you’re doing a bang-up job.” Liddy sat up in the chair. “That’s what life’s about, the way I see it, making the best of it. How are you gonna play your cards? You know what I mean?”

“So do you think about him?” Louise asked Liddy.

Liddy’s mind began to wander, where her heart didn’t want to go. “I try not to.”

“I don’t’ mean to sound insensitive. But I wish I had someone to think about like Reid. I’d think they’d be good thoughts to have.”

“Too nice. Reid makes everything else look gray. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in gray.”

“How’s it all looking now—color wise?”

“Kinda of a light blue, sky blue I think.”

It was these visits with her old baymates and going home to Holly Grove that kept Liddy going. Calli and Joy Lynn were practically neighbors in Atlanta, and little James Lee had become the pride and joy of the Calbert Clan. When Liddy was down south, she got to catch up with both of them and played with her namesake.

Marina had gone back to New York and the airlines when the WASP ended, not as a stewardess though. She earned her commercial license but then wasn’t allowed to use it. The airlines were no further along than the Army, and were in fact watching the WASP program carefully. When the Army tossed the women, the airlines dug in their heels too.

Marina instructed airline pilots who needed to maintain certification in the Link Trainer for awhile. But she eventually left the job, and spent most of her time raising money for the war effort and entering air races across the country.

Turns out Marina had a pretty sizeable inheritance, which never came out when they were baymates. Liddy and Louise weren’t the only ones who could keep a secret. Most of Liddy’s deliveries were in the east, so Marina was who she got to see most. But nothing had changed, and Liddy still couldn’t keep up with her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

By the spring of 1945, the war in the air overseas was winding down, and it was up to the ground troops to move in force and push back the enemy’s lines. In March, Daniel was shipped back to the states to finish out his enlistment at a base in North Carolina. He would be one of the many men that were filling the jobs the WASP had done. When Liddy heard he would be testing repairs and rebuilds her gut twisted, but he had survived the war and she had decided he would be fine.

Liddy went to Holly Grove to help Celia plan his homecoming party. Crik cleaned out the old hay barn and set up fire barrels, and Liddy and Celia did the rest. The day Daniel was to come home, the two women drove to the station to pick him up. He was already waiting when they pulled up to the platform. He had taken an earlier train and the telegram he’d sent didn’t arrive until after he did.

Liddy couldn’t stop giggling as she watched Celia crush her man till she thought Daniel would pass out. When she finally let go, Daniel set down his duffle and hugged her back and kissed her. Then he gave Liddy a big hug, and she kissed him big on the cheek.

“Hey, Danny Boy, you made it.”

“How ‘bout that. But really, was there any doubt?”

“Not in my mind, Daniel Cooper. Welcome home.”

The party was one big reunion and Liddy noticed that Holly Grove had grown up. Married couples and babies had replaced wild young people, and it was a different kind of party from the ones Liddy had known in her hometown. Rowby cradled his seven month old son Tony on his hip while he danced with Trina. In spite of her pregnant belly, she still oozed her Italian sexuality.

Faces were missing—some would return, but many would never appear again. And there were new faces. Like Rowby and his Trina, girls and boys had found each other because of the war. Letters, USOs and the moving of soldiers across the country had brought hearts together and new faces to Holly Grove. But mostly, there were less faces.

May Tully was there without her boyfriend Harlan, who was still fighting in the infantry, and she seemed a little lost without him. Comfortable old shoes, even when they have a hole or two, can be better than no shoes at all for some people. But then there are those people who prefer to go barefoot. Evidently, May was not one of those people.

Liddy hadn’t seen Frank and some of her other old run-abouts since her WASP career ended, and she had no desire for the company of a man. She wondered if parts of a person can just cease to exist. She did enjoy time with old friends, but was happy to get back home to her little house in Clayton and be alone. She sat on her sofa reading Stick and Rudder, while Gossy sat behind her head and purred.

The next Monday morning, Liddy delivered an Ercoupe to one ALB Enterprises in Chicago. When she pulled into the private hangar a Lincoln limousine was waiting. By the time she had shut everything down and left the cockpit, the new owner was circling the plane. She walked up to the man and peeled off her gear. “It’s all yours Mr. …” She looked down at the paperwork on her clipboard and finished, “…Bradon.” Liddy grinned when she saw his shock. It just never got old.

He held out his hand. “Alan Bradon,” he said and smiled with his whole face.

Liddy tucked the clipboard under her left arm and shook his hand and said, “Liddy Hall.”

Alan Bradon was just slightly taller than Liddy. His black hair was slicked back and shined. His blue eyes were part of the whole face smile that Liddy couldn’t help but smile back at. A pinkness glazed his very fair cheeks, and his teeth were gleaming white and perfect. His nose and mouth shared the space on his face with his eyes quite cordially.

His vested suit was as beautiful, although not as colorful, as the one Uncle Geoffrey wore at the WASP graduation. It was tightly tailored to his shoulders and his waistline. His black shoes were so clean and new that they were reflective like his hair. He had the look of money but not the air. He was as pretty a man as Liddy had ever seen.

“I need you to sign here and here,” Liddy said as she pointed to the Xs and handed Alan Bradon a pen. “So are you going to be flying this girl?” Liddy asked and then offered, “I can go through her with you if you want.”

“That would be great.”

Liddy cleared her things from the cockpit and walked the plane with its new owner. She talked about the wing span, weight, top speed, landing speed, and she showed him the instruments. Clearly he knew nothing about planes by the questions he was asking, but he asked with such enthusiasm that it was endearing, so she finished the tour.

“So, what are you going to do with this fine machine, Mr. Bradon?”

“It’s that obvious is it?”

“That you don’t know a flap from a rudder? Yeah, it’s pretty obvious.”

“I want to learn how to fly. I was told this was a good plane for a beginner.” His eyes danced like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Well, she’s not exactly chopped liver, she can scoot, but I guess if you take it slow, she’ll be good to you. I have to get back, got another delivery today. Get yourself a good instructor, Mr. Bradon and good luck.” Liddy shook his hand and zipped her gear into her bag and walked toward the doors.

“Miss Hall.”

Liddy stopped and looked back.

“Can I give you a ride to your gate?”

“Sure, thanks.” Liddy felt pretty silly as Alan Bradon’s driver took her old leather bag and placed it in the trunk of the limousine like it was filled with china. Then he opened the back door for her and she slid in. Mr. Bradon talked non-stop all the way to Liddy’s gate and then continued until she had to interrupt and leave for her flight. He was possibly the most pleasant person she had ever met. The way he made himself laugh as he talked, made her laugh too.

Liddy had a run of interesting deliveries that week. If I can’t fly for my country, this is a pretty good gig, she thought as she flew a Piper J-3 Cub down to New Mexico. The little put-put seemed a toy compared to flying a P-47 Thunderbolt or even a primary trainer, but it took her into the sky and she gave the little girl a loving pat when they leveled after take-off.

At her destination, she was greeted by a rancher and Rusty, his pilot, on a dirt strip that was a mile or so from a sprawling ranch house. Rusty was a week or two out from a shave, and his flight suit and gear had more miles on them than Liddy had days in her life. When Liddy ran through the features and manual with him, she knew he was seasoned.

Rusty reminded Liddy of what Jack would have been like as a man of thirty. She was pleased that the arrangement was for Rusty to shuttle her to the Albuquerque airport to catch her flight home. He wasn’t quite as talky as Jack, but maybe Jack wasn’t either at that age. She took in every word and enjoyed the outback way he flew. He didn’t finesse the plane. He just had complete control of the up and down, and right and left.

The following week brought another order from ALB Enterprises in Chicago and Liddy thought, some people really do have more money than sense. But when she found out that it had been requested that she be the pilot to make the delivery, it seemed that a plane may not be all that Alan Bradon thought he was buying.

Liddy pulled into the hangar and saw the Lincoln and Bradon standing by its door, smiling. She shut everything down and grabbed her bag before she left the pit. “So, we meet again, Mr. Bradon. Your lessons must be going well. This ship is hotter than the last one you bought.”

“Well, I thought it might be good to have a back-up and variety.”

“Nice if you can afford it. No doubt of that.” Liddy held out her clipboard and pointed to the Xs. “If you can sign here and here, I’ll be on my way. The manuals are in the pit. Your instructor will be able to get you familiar with her.”

Alan Bradon smiled as he signed and passed the board back to Liddy, and she picked up her bag and walked away to leave.

“Miss Hall.”

“Yes,” said Liddy as she turned and walked backwards.

“Can I give you a ride to your gate?”

“I’m good walking, but thanks.” Liddy turned back around and left the hangar.

She was a hundred yards across the mat when the Lincoln pulled up beside her. The back window lowered and Alan Bradon looked out. “It’s that obvious is it?”

“Painfully so,” said Liddy as she kept walking and the car rolled along with her.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you again.”

“So you bought a four thousand dollar airplane to take a five minute ride to my gate?”

“Actually, I was hoping we could have dinner.”

“I have a plane to catch.”

“Miss Hall.” He opened the door and hopped out of the car that rolled alongside the two of them now. “I’m sorry, really, it was a stupid thing to do. It seemed like a rather romantic idea at the time, but—”

“Romantic? I don’t even know you.”

He shuffled out in front of Liddy and held up his hands as he stepped backwards. “Please, just stop for one minute, please.”

Liddy stopped walking and clenched her jaw.

“Haven’t you ever made a mistake? I made a big mistake. Please forgive me.”

“Okay, I forgive you. Now I’d like to catch my plane.” Liddy stepped around him and started walking again.

“I don’t believe you’ve really forgiven me. This doesn’t look like forgiveness to me.” He walked backwards in front of her, but to the side. “David, does this look like forgiveness to you?” he called out to his driver and looked at Liddy with his happy face.

What a goofball. Liddy couldn’t keep a slight smile from breaking through and she stopped and stood in front of him. “Okay, I really forgive you.”

He raised his eyebrow with distrust.

“I promise, I really, really forgive you okay.” Liddy held up her hand in oath. “But now, I have to catch my plane, Forgiven Man.”

“Stay and have dinner with me and I’ll get you another flight.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told.”

“No,” said Liddy. “For three reasons, “One: I don’t know you. Two: I’m dressed for flying not for dining. And three: Then you win.”

“Is that so bad? I’ll let you win next time.”

“Now there’s already a next time? Mr. Bradon, has—”

“Call me Alan.”

“Mr. Bradon, has anyone ever said no to you?”

“Once or twice maybe, I can’t remember.”

“Well, try to remember this, No,” Liddy said firmly and started walking again.

Alan kept pace beside her. “You can’t blame me for trying, and I just want to touch on One and Two for a minute. One: You do know my name, you know my planes and where they live and you know David.” Brandon looked over at the car and called out, “David, you remember Liddy Hall. And Two: I had dinner brought to the hangar—you’re dressed perfectly.”

Liddy stopped and shook her head at the man. “Again, you are unbelievable. You’re going to follow me all the way to my gate, aren’t you?”

“Well, actually, I hadn’t thought that far. I’m just doing as I go here.”

“If I have dinner with you, then what? You kidnap me and I’m never seen or heard from again?”

“No, no kidnapping. I get you a flight home, I promise, but you have to call me Alan.”

David drove Liddy and Alan back to the hangar, and Alan wasn’t kidding, he did have dinner waiting, along with a chef and a waiter. The whole production was set up in the office, complete with linens and candles. So Liddy sat with this pretty man in his pretty suit, and she with her mangled helmet hair in her leather flight jacket and seat-wrinkled slacks. But somehow, Alan didn’t seem to notice. Liddy wondered what was wrong with this man—surely something was.

He had the meal choreographed perfectly, and he was the show. The last time she had laughed that much, she was sitting around with a bunch of fly girls. When Alan left Liddy at her gate that night, she left him with the number where he could reach her at Clayton Air Field, and as she did, she questioned her judgment.

Jerry Bluff was at his desk when Liddy walked into his office the next morning. He leaned sideways, peeking out from behind a rather large vase of yellow roses that were sitting in front of him.

“Who’s the admirer, Hall?” asked Jerry.

“If I took a wild guess, I’d have to say a crazy man,” said Liddy and she plucked the tiny envelope from the arrangement. Inside was typed: Call me collect, Lakeview 387. Alan

“Can I leave these here?” she asked.

“Oh, please do. I’m enjoying the lovely fragrance,” Jerry sniffed at the air.

Liddy sneered at Jerry and left to teach her instrument class. Her classroom students were mostly men, but three were women. The gals wanted to know everything about Liddy’s time as a WASP, and she was sad they wouldn’t have the experience. She found she made a good teacher, in that she knew the subject well, and she had patience for those students that didn’t get the information as quickly. She knew that Jerry had lost some enrollment because he had a woman teaching, but he didn’t seem to care so neither did she. It was all part of the cost of progress.

The classroom door had a window, and Jerry strolled by every once in a while that morning with one of the yellow roses between his teeth. Liddy was beginning to think everyone around her might be losing their minds.

After her class she gave two flying lessons. Then she called Alan to thank him for the roses and tell him that she was sure something was seriously wrong with him, and he should see a doctor. He promised he would, and they made a date for the weekend.

Liddy flew to Chicago and took Alan up for a lesson. He had been working with an instructor every day since his first plane had been delivered, but he still didn’t even seem to know which way to tilt the stick. His forehead wrinkled up, and he had a ridiculous look of concentration on his face that made Liddy laugh.

“What?” Alan asked.

“You look like your head’s going to explode,” Liddy giggled.

“Well as long as yours doesn’t, we’re okay.”

“You need to relax. I’m doing most of the flying here. You realize that, don’t you?”

Alan shook himself out and looked like he was convulsing. “Okay, I’m relaxed now.” And he slid down in his seat like a drunk.

Liddy flew home and was happy. During the weeks that followed, she met Alan in Kansas City, St. Louis and back in Chicago. No matter how she felt when she left to see him, she was always light when she returned home. You couldn’t droop around Alan Bradon, it just wasn’t possible.

When Alan kissed her it was sweet and soft and it made her smile. He made her smile. Together they flew all over the East Coast and Alan’s flying skills didn’t improve a bit. Maybe it was because he was so busy talking or maybe it was because some people love being in the air, but not at the controls.

They spent a lot of time together driving the back roads all over New England and eating at little mom and pop places. They’d explore, eat and then go back to whatever little field they had landed at, climb into the plane and fly home.

Alan insisted they tell each other their life stories from A-Z. It was like talking to a girlfriend. No subject failed to interest him. One day as they broke peanuts out of their shells and tossed the husks on the plank floor of a little burger joint in Vermont, they talked about everything and nothing.

“Okay, your first kiss?” asked Alan.

“Rodney Carter, seventh grade in his daddy’s barn, during one of Holly Grove’s biggest snow storms ever.”

“First kiss?” Liddy asked.

“Eileen Cromwell—”

“Cromwell, of course,” said Liddy with a haughty air.

“Hey, she was very hot, first grade at her mother’s birthday party.”

“First grade? A little young.”

“I was an early bloomer.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Liddy shook her head with feigned disapproval.

“Prude. Okay, engagement?” asked Alan.

“Nope,” said Liddy.

“You’ve never been engaged?”

“No, never. You have I take it?”

“How is it possible that you’ve never been engaged? What are you forty-seven, forty eight?” Alan asked with a puff and a grin.

Liddy tossed a handful of peanuts at him, “I’m younger than you old man. Has it occurred to you that some people don’t get into situations without thinking them through?” Liddy opened her eyes wide and cocked her head. “Maybe you’re just impulsive and irresponsible. Oh, of course you are—you’re Crazy Man.”

“Well, if we could all be as perfect as you, Liddy Hall, the world would be a better place.”

“Do you really think so, Alan Lionel Bradon? Thanks. Okay, tell me about this engagement.”

“Engagements actually, there were two. But now I don’t want to talk about it. I feel so damaged.” Alan held the back of his hand to his forehead.

“No you don’t. Spit it out,” Liddy demanded.

“Alright. Well, the first one was my mother’s doing. She’s very sneaky, and I broke that one off. The second one was my doing, and Veronica Wyndham broke it off, thankfully.”

“Really, you mean that? You weren’t hurt?”

“I was at first, for about a week. Then I bounced back like a champ. You’ve gotta look for the silver lining you know? There are too many fishies in the sea, Sweet Cakes, to get tangled in one net.”

“Is that right?”

“Prove me wrong why don’t you,” Alan challenged and lobbed a shell into Liddy’s hair. “Okay, first love?” he asked.

Liddy’s smile fell from her face.

“I saw that,” said Alan.

“Saw what?”

“When I said first love, your face crumbled. What’s his name and I want an address,” Alan tried to get a smile back on Liddy.

She shook her head slightly side to side. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

“Okay, let’s not play, but I’d like to know.”

Liddy stared out the window and broke open a few more peanuts. It had been months since she had spoken of Reid, and she didn’t want to break her silence.

“Please,” Alan asked and set his hand on top of Liddy’s. “Please.”

“He was an Air Force pilot. His name was Reid Trent. He was killed,” she tried not to hear the words as she spoke them or let them draw memories.

“I’m sorry, Liddy.”

“Thanks.” She looked back at him. “Now say something funny.”

“Funny but true or just funny?” asked Alan.

“Funny but true,” said Liddy.

“You make me feel nauseous sometimes, but in a good way.”

Liddy laughed.

“Okay, you now, funny but true,” said Alan.

“You’ve reminded me of someone since I first met you and I finally figured out who.”

“Who?”

“A petite little redhead—she was a damn good pilot. I don’t mean the good pilot part reminds me of you. Goodness knows I don’t mean that…” Liddy rolled her eyes. “… just the little gal herself that you remind me of.”

“Well, I would have preferred you said a big good-looking lumberjack, but okay. Tell me, was she a good dresser?”

“Quite fashionable,” said Liddy.

“Alright, I’m taking it as compliment then.”

“Oh, it is Crazy Man, it definitely is.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Alan was always attending a high-society social function or fundraiser and wanted Liddy to go along. It was hard enough to try and relax in the man’s home with his servants and marble floors, the idea of being in some ballroom or mansion, surrounded by the trappings of pish and posh, was not something she wanted to fit into her day.

Liddy was sitting on a big sofa in one of Alan’s sitting rooms, and he was sitting next to her. Their shoes were off, and their bare feet rested on the gilded sofa table.

“My Aunt Judith’s seventy-fifth birthday party is next month. I want you to come with me.” Alan slid his hand under Liddy’s and slipped his fingers between hers.

“Don’t you mean Birthday Ball, or is it an event?” Liddy asked sarcastically.

Alan grabbed her chin and kissed her. “You’re going with me.”

“Alan, we’ve talked about this. This is where I get to win.”

“No, it’s my turn to win. You wouldn’t go to the Langley Ball, the War Bond Banquet or to my parent’s anniversary party. That’s three wins right there.”

“Alan, why can’t we just keep doing this?” Liddy swung her finger back and forth between them. “I don’t do balls and gatherings, I’m more of a barn dance girl. I wouldn’t even know what to wear.”

“Funny that you should say that…” Alan grinned and popped up from the sofa. He took a large wrapped box from behind the door of the credenza and set it on Liddy’s lap. Then he sat down in front of her on the sofa table and beamed.

Liddy looked down at the gold foiled box that was tied with a gold satin bow. “Alan, what is this?”

“Just open it.”

She looked at him and bit down on her bottom lip and took a deep breath.

“Come on, open it.”

Liddy untied the wide ribbon and let it fall over the sides of her legs. She lifted the lid and the inside was filled to the top with a shimmery bronze fabric. She stared at it for a moment, and then, with both hands, gripped the front edged of the sofa cushion and looked at him.

Alan picked it up and stood to let the length of the dress fall to the floor. “Don’t you like it?” He was beaming.

“It’s beautiful. I think you’ll look lovely in it.”

“Liddy, I’m serious about this. My family and friends are beginning to think I’ve made you up.”

“What exactly is it you’re telling them? You’re hot for a female pilot from Missouri, who lived in a little homemade trailer and now lives in a tiny little house, both of which would fit in their bathrooms. Oh and what about the whole Army thing? How impressed are they Alan? I’m sure they can’t wait to meet me.”

“You’re sounding like quite a snob, Liddy Hall.”

“You’re calling me a snob?”

“No, I just said you’re sounding like a snob. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“Look, just because you don’t want me to meet your family, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to meet mine.”

“I never said I didn’t want you to meet my family, which by the way is an uncle and a dog. Oh, yes and a cat.”

“But I haven’t met them, have I, or any of your friends. Why is that?”

“Are we having a fight?”

“No, we’re having a discussion.”

“It feels like a fight.”

“You’re changing the subject.” Alan moved the box to the table and floated the dress back into it, and then he sat back on the sofa next to her. “This is important to me, Liddy. Please, say you’ll go. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I try never to think about the worst that can happen.”

“Okay then, don’t think about it and just be there with me.”

Liddy took in a deep breath and held it. Then let it out and wrinkled-up her forehead. “Okay, but you’re wearing the dress.”

“You got it, Sweet Cakes.”

Alan booked a room for Liddy at the Drake Hotel and when she checked-in the bronze dress was hanging from the door of the wardrobe. An invitation to the 75^th Birthday Celebration had been left on the bed. Pick you up at 7:00 p.m. had been scribbled across it in Alan’s handwriting.

When he arrived that evening, Liddy had been dressed for half an hour and then sat on the edge of the bed and didn’t move until she heard the knock. When she opened the door, Alan’s eyes widened as he looked her up and down and whistled.

“Not bad, baby, not bad at all.” He twirled her around. “Not sure it wouldn’t have looked better on me, but you do it justice, I think.”

Liddy tried to smile but felt she might be sick.

“What’s wrong?” He held her chin. “Liddy, you’re so beautiful.”

“I’m doing this for you, you know that, right?”

“I know, and it means a lot to me, doll.” Alan led Liddy down the hall, down the elevator and to his car. She had liked the way he had guided her with his hand on the small of her back before, but now it was like he was pushing her off a cliff.

On the ride across town he tried to make jokes, but Liddy felt she needed to prepare herself for the opposite of Alan. And she was right. As they walked into the building, she stuck out like a sore thumb and she knew it. Her hair was down, theirs was up. These women floated and she walked like her feet actually hit the ground; they knew why they were there, and she knew why she shouldn’t be there.

When they hit the door to the main ballroom, Alan’s mother glided over immediately. Mrs. Alan Bradon the III scanned her from head to toe and back again, and then she held her hand up in front of Liddy like she wanted her to put something in it. “Alan dear, is this your Lidia?”

It didn’t feel natural to Liddy to set her hand on top of the woman’s cupped palm that way, but she did. And then Alan’s mother allowed Liddy’s hand to rest in her palm briefly before she drew her hand back to her side like a butterfly retreating from a flower.

“It’s Liddy, mother.”

“Oh, of course it is. It’s wonderful you could be here tonight, dear. There are so many people who are looking forward to meeting you. Alan darling, your Aunt Judith is sitting by your father, why don’t you go and say hello and I’ll introduce Lidia to the other guests.”

Liddy’s eyes practically popped out of her head as she shook, No, No, No, microscopically but firmly at Alan. Before she knew it, his mother had pushed her across the room and Alan was gone.

Liddy met Constances and Reginalds and Carolines and lots of IIIs and IVs. Formality was thick and she forced a smile and said as little as possible. As Mrs. A was running out of introductions, Liddy sensed the probing was about to begin, and she searched for Alan in the crowd.

“So, Lidia, what is it that your family does?”

“It’s just Liddy, and my parents are dead. I have an uncle, and he’s a pilot and works on planes.”

“You’re in aviation then?”

“I’m a pilot. I deliver planes and teach how to fly them.”

“Oh.”

And that was the first of many ‘Ohs’ that she received that night. Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, one of Alan’s old college roommates swept her onto the dance floor. Liddy kicked and tripped his feet until he gave up and escorted her back to the sidelines. The man was actually trying to be nice, she believed that, but she also believed he was now feeling very sorry for Alan, ‘Poor boy, what must he be thinking?’ Liddy ended up in front of Aunt Judith, who looked her up and down grimly and said, “Who is this?”

It was about that time that Alan appeared behind her with his big, stupid, smiling face. She might have taken a swipe at him had they been alone. He took her arm and didn’t let go for the rest of the night. But by that time the damage had been done, and Liddy wanted to crawl into a deep dark hole.

Alan tried to get Liddy onto the dance floor, but the dancers weren’t trotting and swinging. No, they were waltzing a hundred different waltzes. Even with Alan as her guide, Liddy wasn’t going.

Alan seemed to have the time of his life. Unlike Joy Lynn and the Calbert Clan, it was not clear to Liddy how these could be Alan’s people. But everybody loved him, that was clear, and he loved them back.

When Alan finally tore himself away, he led Liddy to the car. She saw David standing at the open door of the Lincoln and a sense of relief ran through her. She wanted to give him a big kiss and tell him, ‘Drive like the wind and get me out of here, brother.’ She practically dove in and then looked at Alan as he slid into the back seat after her, and he was smiling, smiling, smiling.

“That went well.” He leaned over to kiss her.

Liddy leaned back and held her hands up against his chest, keeping him at bay. “What universe were you just on? Not mine, obviously.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“You were great in there! It’s over! You’re still alive!” Alan cheered and grabbed Liddy around the waist and slid her to him. “Let’s celebrate.”

She stiffened and turned to look out the window.

“You’re mad at me.”

“You left me.”

“Liddy, I did not leave you. It wasn’t more than twenty minutes and I was watching you the whole time.”

“Watching for what, for me to melt into a puddle on the floor?”

“Hold on now, you’re getting a little over the edge about this, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know why you wanted me to meet them. Are you trying to get back at them or something?”

“Are you suggesting that I’d use you?”

“I don’t know what I’m suggesting. I just don’t understand why you would want me to meet them. There was no way in…” Liddy set her face in front of Alan’s and said with emphasis, “…Hell, they were going to like me. Tell me, what was the point of that to you?”

“They’re my family, Liddy, and you’re…” Alan took her chin and turned her face to his. “Liddy, I love you.”

The words echoed in her head. Love, what was he saying? This was her buddy, her pal. She didn’t see that coming and was furious at herself for the fact. She kept hearing his words, “I love you.” He was kidding—No, she looked in his eyes, he wasn’t kidding.

She didn’t know why, but she turned and leaned back against him, then she wrapped Alan’s arms around her, gathered up all four of their hands and tucked them under her chin. They held each other like that as they drove back to her hotel in silence.

Liddy went home the next morning. Alan drove her to the airport and said goodbye to her with a kiss but no words. He hadn’t said the L word since he said goodnight the evening before at her hotel room door. There he kissed her gently and said for the second time, “I love you, Liddy.” She just held on to him tightly and was silent.

Liddy wanted to talk to Louise, but she didn’t know what she would say. ‘This gorgeous, sweet, adorable man told me he loves me, and I’m just a wreck about it, poor, poor me.’ It sounded ridiculous to her but it about summed up the way she was feeling.

It took a week and a lot of one-on-one conversations with herself, but she realized there was no way not to love Alan Bradon—it just wasn’t possible. So she settled in to be loved by him, and she was going to love him back.

The date for Joy Lynn’s wedding had been agreed upon, and invitations had been sent. Saturday June 9, 1945, Joy Lynn Calbert would be joined in holy matrimony to Lieutenant Phillip R. Mason. Alan would be Liddy’s guest and he was giddy over the prospect.

They had also made plans to meet Marina and her latest love in New York. It was all part of them meeting each other’s family and friends. Alan excitedly pumped Liddy for information about everyone in her life, as though he was getting ready to dive in and he wanted to know what the temperature would be.

As Alan and Liddy were escorted to a table at the Stork Club, he was bubbling with more enthusiasm than usual. Liddy smiled at him and thought to herself, Big money could be had if you could get just an ounce of his spirit into a bottle.

“Isn’t this exciting? The suspense is killing me,” Alan said dramatically as they walked across the room to their table.

“What suspense?” Liddy asked as Alan pulled the chair out for her.

“I feel like I’m about to get a peek inside the secret world of Miss Liddy Hall. I’m dying here.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and sat down.

“Control yourself, Crazy Man, or I’m gonna be forced to tell people you’re bothering me and that I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“It’s my life’s ambition to bother you, love. Hadn’t I mentioned it before?” He kissed the tips of her fingers. “Let’s dance.”

Liddy looked up and saw Marina and grabbed Alan’s wrist. “They’re here.”

Marina stood at the top stair of the mezzanine and she was exquisite. A gray satin dress draped over one shoulder and loosely hugged her tight curvy figure to just below her knee. The black silk of her hair was swept up in her trademark swirl, and the face paint was spot on. Marina saw Liddy at the table and waved with her warm grace, then she set her hand on her chaperone’s arm and moved down the steps in her high, high heels with a soft drift.

Liddy and Alan stood up to greet them, and Alan whispered in Liddy’s ear as the couple walked toward them, “Looks kind of uptight.”

“Looks can be deceiving, pal.”

Marina grabbed Liddy’s hands and squeezed. “Hey, Liddy Lou Lou, how’ve you been?” She cocked her chin to the side and said, “You look fabulous,” and then hugged her tight and whispered in her ear, “A big improvement from the last time I laid eyes on you.”

Liddy pushed her back, grinned and raised her eyes at Marina, “I don’t need to tell you how you look. You’re perfect as always.”

“Of course, darling. I don’t know any other way to be.” Marina let her lips tip a little smile. She reached over and gently held up her suitor’s hand. “Robert Donaldson, I’d like you to meet Miss Liddy Lynn Hall, and I believe this is Mr. Alan Bradon, correct?”

“Correct,” said Alan and he shook Robert’s hand.

Robert Donaldson tugged at his ascot tie and looked about as comfortable as an Eskimo on a beach. Undoubtedly Marina had dressed him. He looked goo-goo at her, and it would probably have been a challenge to find anything he wouldn’t do to be in her company.

They sat down at the table and ordered drinks and dinner. Polite introductions spooled into Liddy’s and Marina’s days in the WASP. Alan asked one question and then another to find out what Marina could tell him that Liddy already hadn’t.

“Okay, chatty boy, let’s dance,” said Liddy as she set her napkin on her dinner plate.

“I was just getting started here,” said Alan as he rose from his chair and slid Liddy’s out for her.

“You’ve got all night. Let’s dance.” Liddy knew she could cut Alan away from just about anything for a turn on his heels. She had never seen a man who loved to step out as much as he did, but she had never known a man that was as good at it either. She’d learned that he was so striking to watch on the dance floor that it didn’t really matter what she did. No one was going to notice anyway.

Both couples took the floor and strutted all the old standards and popular numbers of the day. Alan was doing a wanting job of teaching Liddy to move with him in a Tango. She kept laughing when he lifted his chin and looked so serious. Liddy was grateful when Marina interrupted the lesson.

“Mr. Bradon, could I talk you into a dance?” asked Marina.

Alan looked at Liddy.

“Have at it. I’d like to see who can keep up with who.”

When Alan and Marina twirled around together, the waters seemed to part—people talked less, and watched the two of them. Halfway through a swirling waltz, Alan felt Marina resist his lead and slow the step.

Marina tipped her head up and set her eyes on Alan’s and said, “We’re all very pleased that Liddy seems to be so happy. We just hope you’ll be very, very good to her.” She scrutinized his face.

“I think the world of Liddy. I wouldn’t think of being anything but good to her.”

“I just need you to know, there’s a posse ready to mount that would mess you up from here to ugly if you ever hurt our Liddy.” The words sounded funny in Marina’s sweet and proper East Coast tongue.

Alan chuckled as he looked down at the little 5’ 3” gal who was bossing him with the fight of a school yard bully. Then he saw the seriousness on Marina’s face. Still, he couldn’t help but grin.

“I’m not kidding, Mr. Bradon. If you go making games with her, you won’t have a shoulder to look over.”

“Don’t start candy coating things now. Why don’t you just come right out and say what you mean?” Part of Alan wanted to give Marina some reassurance, but he was so tickled with the threats and couldn’t resist dealing back at her. “I’d never hurt Liddy, ever, Miss George. Oh, and just call me Alan.” He smiled big and pushed Marina into a twirl across the floor, and they resumed their perfect step and then glided right into a rumba with the band.

Marina’s Robert, or Bob as he preferred to be called, took Liddy onto the floor and they tromped along, taking turns with the lead to keep from crashing into any of the other couples.

When Alan met Liddy back at the table, he put his arm on the back of her chair and leaned to her and asked, “These friends of yours, they don’t have any mob connections do they?”

Liddy looked at him quizzically and grinned. “That depends on what mob you’re referring to,” she said and gave him a sly eye.

Marina had taken care of business, and all was now well between her and Alan. The two couples talked and laughed and swapped dance partners for the rest of the night. When the club staff lined up at the rail of the mezzanine, they took their cue to leave.

Before she got into a cab with Marina, Liddy said goodnight to Alan in front of the club. “Goodnight, Crazy Man.”

“Goodnight, Sweet Cakes.” Alan kissed her and smiled. The two men stood on the sidewalk and watched the car pull away with their fly girls. “Well, Bob, how about a drink?”

Marina’s apartment was lovely and simple. The first time Liddy had seen it she was surprised it wasn’t more done up, but glad of it too. Marina always made sure the guest bedroom was ready for her when she ferried in, and Liddy felt at home there. Both gals had shed their party clothes and changed into their nighties. They were sprawled out on the two matching chaise lounges in the living room.

“Robert seems very nice,” said Liddy.

“He is,” agreed Marina.

“So is it serious?”

“Are you serious?” Marina sat up a little and looked at Liddy cross-eyed. “It’s me you’re talking to here. I don’t get serious.”

“And why is that?”

“What a waste.”

“What does that mean?”

“There’s too many fish in the sea, sister.”

“I’ve heard that somewhere before. So you’ve decided you’re never getting married, huh?”

“I come from bad blood in that area, Liddy Lou. My mother was married five times you know.”

“Really, she was? I always thought you were kidding about that.”

“No joke, five husbands. I’m not even sure the first one was my father, even though that’s what I was told. She was the hottest gossip of New York society. Somehow she stayed in the fold though, despite her many ‘life transitions’ as she called them. She was born pretty high in the social chain and then kept moving up with her marriages.” Marina rested her head back on the chair. “The upper class is a unique set, you know? Their blood is like gold to them. Too, my mother was a magnificent looking woman and she used every inch to get what she wanted. Problem was, what she wanted changed like the direction of the wind, and her drinking didn’t help her judgment very much.”

“You’re not your mother, Marina.”

Marina lifted her head and looked at Liddy. “No, but I’m her daughter, and the Roth name is mud in this town. That’s my name, Roth. George is my grandmother’s maiden name.”

“Why do you stay if it bothers you so much?”

“Did I say it bothered me? This is my town, Miss Hall. California’s sunny and fun, but New York is where my heart beats. I love city life. No social mucky-mucks are going to scare me off.”

Liddy saw Marina’s face go little girl sad. “What is it, honey?”

Marina shook her head and bit her lip. “I want a drink. Do you want a drink?” She got up and walked to the buffet. “Scotch?” she asked Liddy and held up a bottle.

“No, thanks.”

“Oh, that’s right, you never touch the stuff. Soda pop, water, milk.” Marina tried to be silly.

“No, I’m fine.”

Marina dropped ice cubes in a glass, splashed in some scotch and walked to the window where she stared out silently for a long time before she said, “I lost my inheritance once,” Marina kept her back to Liddy. “My mother walked in on number four with his hands all over me and called me a little tramp. It didn’t matter that I was struggling to get away from the creep and was only fifteen.” She spun around and sat back against the window sill. “I think once she saw it with her own eyes, she just couldn’t deny the truth anymore that some of her ‘transitions’ had their way with her little girl. And she had never done… she could sure pick ‘em.” Marina shook the ice in her glass before she took a swallow. “Some people just can’t live with the truth, so she kicked me out and cut me out of her will. Now that was juicy gossip on the Avenue.

That’s why I worked for the airlines before the WASP. I lied about my age and became a stewardess when I was sixteen. When my mother passed away, my brother cut me back in. I was twenty-one by that time. I didn’t give up my job until I was accepted into the WASP, though. I couldn’t get myself to touch the money for a long time. Still makes my gut wrench sometimes.” Marina stood up and set her glass on a table. She wiped her eyes and patted her cheeks as if to slap on a happy face. “But it’s just money, right? There’s nothing living in it. It’s just money.”

Liddy got up from the chair and wrapped Marina up in hug until Marina grabbed Liddy’s shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “Hey, how did you get me talking about all this? Are you some kind of snake charmer or something? And by the way, Joy Lynn knows, but if you could keep it to yourself I’d…”

“Of course,” assured Liddy.

“So tell me about Alan Bradon, is it serious?”

“Marina dear, I think so.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Joy Lynn’s wedding wasn’t cancelled or postponed, so the baymates flew to Georgia the first week in June of 1945 to celebrate the nuptials of Joy Lynn Calbert and Lieutenant Phillip R. Mason, in grand Calbert style.

Marina picked Liddy up on the way down from New York, and they relished the nostalgia of flying a cross country with another gal. Joy Lynn’s parents insisted on flying Louise in from Colorado. So she took Bonnie and Tommy to her parent’s and packed up to have rare, if not non-existent, time for herself.

A week before the wedding they all arrived. Joy Lynn drove to the Atlanta airport in her daddy’s big Packard to pick up her bridesmaids. It would be their first time all together since Bet’s funeral.

They all stayed at Granddaddy Calbert’s big house by the Chattahoochee River, and it was like being roommates again, without the drill. For a week they reminisced, giggled, gossiped and laid around in their bras and panties, drinking sweet tea to cool off from a strong start to the Georgian sweat season.

Calli’s Steven was hoping to get his discharge in time and be home for the wedding. The temporarily single mommy packed up James Lee and they moved in, too, for the week. The baby toddled up and down the halls and was loved on by everyone. When he went down for his naps, Calli would steal away to be just one of the girls.

With the radio playing softly in the background, Joy Lynn’s wedding dress hung from the top of a floor mirror and the sister-friends were lounging around the bedroom staring at it. Joy Lynn sat on the sill of an open window, puffing on a cigarette and blowing the smoke onto the roof of the back porch. Her mama said a lady shouldn’t walk down the aisle smelling like a chimney, and she would come into the room on occasion to conduct surprise inspections, and take a whiff of the dress.

Louise was perched in the window seat and Liddy leaned against a mountain of pillows on the bed. Marina and Calli had multiple copies of Vogue magazines opened on the floor that Miss George had been using to give Miss Duncan a fashion tutorial. Now they were both leaning up against the window seat below Louise, admiring the gown.

“Georgia, that is truly one beeeeauuutiful wedding dress,” said Marina.

“Thank you, dahlin’, you know what a fight it was to get it.”

“How so?” asked Liddy.

“My mama was set on me wearing either her old thing or having Miss Layla in Atlanta whip up some puffy number. Debutante duds are her specialty.”

“Where’d you get it?” Louise asked.

“Marina and I saw it in a magazine and Uptown had it shipped to a store in New York from Paris—ooh la la. My daddy was the winning ticket. He told my mama, ‘She’s only gettin’ married once, Arlena Lee Sweetie, let’s buy her the dress she wants.’ You know how my daddy talks so sweet to her when it suits him and everyone knows somethin’s up but her.”

Marina reached over and set her hand on Calli’s swollen belly hoping for a kick. “Calli Coo, how is it that two people that are separated by a big blue ocean keep managing to make babies?”

“Steven was home in December—Merry Christmas to me,” said the little mommy as a blush filled her cheeks.

“I’m tellin’ ya’, some people just have bunny bounty—like my granny says.” Joy Lynn put out her cigarette on a shingle, walked across the room and flopped onto the bed next to Liddy. “Who’s this man you’re bringin’ to my wedding, Miss George?”

“He’s a lawyer I met at my brother’s birthday party.” She looked up at Joy Lynn and winked. “Very handsome!”

“Aren’t they all?” Liddy asked.

“Actually, yes, this will be our fifth date though.”

“What, are you going for records now?” Joy Lynn mocked.

“Maybe,” Marina swept her silky black mane off her sweaty neck, twirled it onto the top of her head and held it there. “So, Georgia, how did you know Phillip was the one?”

“Have you seen the man, Uptown?”

“Was it love, at first sight?” Calli asked.

“Heck no, I couldn’t stand him when I met him actually. Well I did like looking at him, but I couldn’t stand him. He was with a bunch of Navy flyers that were dishing on female pilots. He had the nerve to come back to the officers club a half hour later and ask me out.”

“You said yes?” asked Louise.

“No ma’am. I made him grovel. It took a month before I let him take me to dinner.”

“That was fine work,” said Marina.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“So, Liddy, what about Alan, was it love at first sight?” Calli asked.

“He’s very sweet,” said Liddy.

“He’s very sweet,” repeated Joy Lynn. “What kind of lame-horse answer is that?”

“Sweet man my ass. Excuse my French, Georgia. He’s a doll. I’ve never met a man who could match me on the dance floor. I could have wrapped him up and taken him home when I saw you two in New York last month.”

“Before or after you threatened him?” Liddy looked at her sideways.

“He told you about that?” Marina chuckled.

“Yes, he did.” Liddy noticed how Joy Lynn, Calli and Louise were doing a poor job of acting like they didn’t know what Liddy and Marina were talking about. “You were all in on that, weren’t you?” She looked at the guilty faces and shook her head. “Idiots!” To Louise she asked, “Even you, Louie? And I thought you were the one with some sense. So, whose line was: ‘There’s a posse gonna mess you up from here to ugly’?’”

“Oh, that was mine,” confirmed Joy Lynn proudly.

“I should have known,” Liddy threw a pillow at Joy Lynn. “And how about, ‘You won’t have a shoulder to look over’?”

Calli slowly raised her hand above her head.

“Calli Duncan, now I would not have guessed that.” Liddy shook her head at the little mommy and Calli shrugged.

“But I put it all together off the top of my head,” said Marina, making sure she got her due credit.

“Wish I could have heard it.” Joy Lynn laughed.

“And, Louise dear, what was your contribution?”

“Oh, I was just cheering them on.”

“Unbelievable.” Liddy gripped another pillow firmly, rolled off the bed and spun around the room beating all of them with it. They all got their own weapons and joined in until they collapsed on the floor, breathless and sweaty, huffing and smiling.

“So, Parker, what’s happening with your love life?” asked Joy Lynn.

“I have kids. That’s my love life.”

“You gotta get back out there, lady.” said Marina.

“No, I don’t.”

“When are you gonna trust yourself again, Louie?” pushed Joy Lynn.

“That’s a good question,” Marina added.

“No offense, ladies, and I love you both to pieces, but what have either of your young, privileged lives taught you about trust?”

Liddy and Joy Lynn both looked at Marina and saw her look away.

“I mean really, what are you both now, twenty-four? Neither of you have ever been married or ever had to worry how to pay a bill or feed a kid. Life without a silver spoon is no cakewalk.”

Marina pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth and closed her eyes to keep her tears in. She got up from the floor, walked over to the bed and pulled on a pair of pedal pushers and a blouse.

Looking at Louise while she zipped and buttoned, Marina said, “You know, Louise, I know you had a shitty marriage, and I’m very sorry about that, but you don’t know anything about my life, really. So I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t assume that you do.” And she left the room.

The music wafting from the radio was too soft to cover the discomfort that the brief confrontation left floating in the air, and it wasn’t loud enough to mask the silence left by none of them knowing what to say.

Liddy looked at Louise and saw the dismay on her face.

“Boy, that went sour quickly. Did I just cause a wreck?” asked Louise. “That was not my intention.”

“Louie, go talk to her,” said Liddy.

Louise got dressed and left to find Marina. Liddy, Joy Lynn and Calli sat quietly listening to the radio until they heard James Lee babbling on the other side of the door.

It was well after dinner time when Mariana and Louise returned to the house. And the sister-friends all walked down to the river and sat under the big oak tree. Not since the WASP were disbanded had they all together shared their pain of losing their Army wings. And not since Bet’s death, had they laughed and cried together about their little redheaded fly girl. And then, until the sun came up, they emptied out their hearts to one another of everything else.

No matter the life, it has pain and much of it finds a place to hide that is deep and sometimes forgotten. The women opened up all those places in their hearts and scrubbed them out. It left them feeling light and free. Everything had been taken off and they were still wrapped up in love.

The girls went back to the house as the sun came up and tiptoed to the kitchen and ate fried biscuits and ham. The morsels were layered with some jelly and washed down with iced glasses of day-old coffee, and then they went upstairs and slept. Early afternoon, they were woken with the rattle and roll of the trucks that pulled up between the house and the river. A crew unloaded a big party tent, tables and chairs. Uncle Geoffrey directed the whole production, and it was best to stay out of the way. So the girls dressed and drove into Atlanta to take in a movie and watch Marina shop.

The morning of the wedding the girls woke Joy Lynn when they flopped on her bed with a basket full of warm Beignets. They climbed under the covers with the bride-to-be and let the crumbs fall in the hills and valleys of the bedding.

Alan had flown in the night before and snuck out to the house in the morning. Liddy ran down the stairs to greet him and jumped into his arms with her friends peeping through the windows, but she didn’t care. She pushed him back into his car and stole him away. Her friends would have to wait for their up-close inspection. Liddy had Alan drive to where the river trickled into a little creek, and they picked out a big smooth-run boulder and set their feet to soak.

“I’ve got good news, and I have bad news. Which do you want first?” asked Alan.

“I want the good news. You can keep the bad news.”

“Okay, good news first,” Alan took both of Liddy’s hands in his. “My birthday is next month.”

“Yes, I know that, but it’s very subtle of you to remind me that way.”

“Well, I never know if you’re paying attention. You’re always so chatty all over the place.” Alan raised his eyebrows with accusation.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll try to rein myself in.” Liddy pushed him and he grabbed her around the waist to keep from sliding into the water.

“Okay, now the bad news,” said Alan.

“I told you, you keep the bad news.”

“Sorry, babe, it’s not bad news to me. I couldn’t keep something that doesn’t belong to me.”

“Alright, go ahead, spit it out.”

“My parents are throwing me a party.”

Liddy sighed and wrapped her arms around her head.

Alan peeled Liddy out of her cocoon. “It’s my 30th. It’s a big deal to them.”

“You’re killing me here. Did you tell them I was going to be there?”

“My mother asked, actually.”

“Did she? She asked like, ‘Will Liddy be there, wouldn’t that be nice?’ Or was it, ‘Will Lidia be there, or have you dumped that broad yet?’”

“I can’t be sure, but I’m thinking optimistically—somewhere in the middle maybe.” Liddy punched him in the shoulder. “Ow.” Alan rubbed his arm. “Hey, you’ve got to understand my mother. If she is really against something, she completely ignores it, like it doesn’t exist.”

Liddy looked out of the corner of her eye and rubbed her chin. “Ignored, not existing, both appealing options here.”

By three o’clock that afternoon the church was full and the girls were pulling up to the curb in a rented limousine. Joy Lynn’s long white satin dress had three wide folds of fabric that wrapped her shoulders, and her torso was snug under a smooth casing of satin that flowed tight and straight in a long run down her tall frame. Marina had swept Joy Lynn’s hair back in her trademark swirl, and neatly tucked tiny white flowers here and there. The bride looked like a fairytale dream.

When Liddy saw the tension on Joy Lynn’s face and then noticed her hands trembling, she reached over and weighted them down with hers. “You okay, honey?” Joy Lynn nodded, but it was the first time Liddy had seen nerves on the Southern beauty or heard her speechless, and she hoped Joy Lynn really was okay.

When they were lined up in the foyer, the bridesmaids were handed their bouquets and then Joy Lynn’s big, strapping cousins escorted them down the aisle. None of the wedding party wore a stitch of cotton candy chiffon. The Southern guests were another story—there, the hair was high, the hats were big, and the dresses were so sweet and full you could smell the sugar.

At the front of the church the girls left their escorts and Marina led Calli, Louise and Liddy to the bride’s side of the platform. They took their places on the steps and then stood in their sky blue satin dresses like angels guarding the gates of heaven.

When the first note of Here Comes the Bride was played on the organ, Liddy was looking at Alan in the pews and he was smiling at her with his whole face. On her daddy’s arm, Joy Lynn came floating down the aisle. Phillip’s smile was as big as Alan’s, and Liddy couldn’t decide who looked happier.

Her Navy pilot groom took Joy Lynn’s hand and guided her up the stairs where the preacher was waiting. Phillip never took his eyes off of his bride and he had her full attention. The couple towered over the little roly-poly preacher—you wouldn’t have known he was standing there if you hadn’t heard his voice. His drawl was so heavy that the yanks in the crowd couldn’t understand a word that was being said behind the happy couple. Marina started giggling, which got the other bridesmaids giggling so hard that their bouquets shook and lost some blooms.

After Joy Lynn and Phillip were pronounced man and wife, they kissed for a good-long-time and then walked down the stairs and down the aisle. Liddy looked at Alan as the wedding party followed the couple out of the church and was happy to be sharing this day with him.

Carla Vanell was among the guests, as were many of the ‘retired’ WASPs, including Jenna who was with her husband, Major Ellis Charles. Liddy hadn’t seen Jenna since they had said goodbye at New Castle. A few letters had been exchanged that were heavy with the sorrow of losing their wings. Then, when Ellis was stationed back in the states, and Liddy was trying to make a life, the letters were clouds that kept growing darker. When she saw them sitting together, it brought back a flash of Reid and it swayed Liddy for a moment, but she thought of Alan and kept walking.

The wedding reception was held on the lawn between the big house and the Hoochee-Coochee River as Marina called it. A glowing white tent had been erected and Geoffrey had it draped with white satin and garlands of laurel and magnolia leaves. The garlands were trimmed with white roses and white magnolia blossoms. In the center, a dance floor of white oak planks had been laid and sanded.

The band was playing when the guests arrived from the church, and the floor filled immediately. The music didn’t stop unless a toast was being made, or the cake was being cut. Even then, the twelve piece band tooted and hit a rim to emphasize the high points.

Two decadent buffets lined the ends of the tent and both were piled high with Southern delicacies like mounds of marinated mussels, crayfish pie and little fried cakes made with everything from crab to black-eyed peas. Drinks with names like Savannah Knee Knockers and Tizzy Dizzies were served off of pretty silver trays, and champagne was passed for the toasts.

Soon after the guests had arrived, Joy Lynn’s daddy took to the floor with a full glass and choked out a tribute to his oldest daughter, “To my baby girl, I wish ya’all the happiness the good Lord can rain down from heaven, I love ya’, dahlin’.” And then he looked straight at Phillip and said, “Welcome to the family, Son. They’s uh mess uh eyes uh watchin’ ya’ boy, keep the view rosy and sweet for my baby now, ya hear.” And then he flashed a big grin at Phillip who looked like someone was tugging on his crotch. The big man raised his glass to finish, “To Lieutenant and Mrs. Phillip R. Mason, live happy and love big.”

The tent filled with cheers and the sound of glass clinking, and Daddy Calbert walked to the newlyweds’ table and gave his daughter a great big hug. And with his Big Daddy smile, he squeezed his son-in-law’s hand long and firm. Then he smacked the side of his shoulder, and Phillip winced.

Alan leaned over, kissed Liddy on the cheek and said, “I know how the poor guy feels.”

The toasts got bigger as they were given-up around the room until Joy Lynn stood up with her glass and said, “Okay, dahlins, that’s enough. Anyone who hasn’t felt enough of a Calbert breeze can join my daddy down by the river. I want to dance.” And she grabbed her groom and swept him into the center of the room, and the band played.

Liddy and Alan danced with each other and then they danced with everyone else. Then Liddy took a break and enjoyed watching Alan as he was passed back and forth between Joy Lynn’s sisters, aunts, cousins and every other female, from those who had just started to walk to those who were just about to give up the skill.

Liddy especially loved when the little belles jumped into Alan’s arms and he twirled them across the floor, or when they climbed onto his perfectly shined, very expensive shoes and he’d shuffle them along. When Alan and Marina coupled James Lee with one of the tiniest of the Southern belles and guided them back and forth in a little waltz, the dance floor cleared and the little couple received a standing ovation when they finished.

Marina’s New York Lawyer seemed a little bored, or was it appalled? It was hard to tell. Still, he sat with Liddy and Louise and tried his best to make small talk. The music played on and the food and drinks kept coming.

Calbert energy was given away like it was water, and it ran through the room like the rush of the Hoochee-Coochee after a big storm. Whether a guest wanted to or not, the Calberts took it as their personal mission to make sure every last one was having big fun. To anyone not from the South, you couldn’t help but want to convert when you saw how seriously they took living.

The newlyweds snuck off sometime after midnight, the musicians packed up and the tent started to clear an hour or so after that. Most of the guests had left, were leaving, or were incapable of leaving. Joy Lynn’s Uncle Johnnie was sprawled out underneath one of the buffet tables. He was missing his shoes and socks and his mama, Granny Calbert, pulled the table cloth down so no one would notice.

Alan was up on the porch of the big house smoking cigars and listening to the grand talk that only fine Southern gentlemen can offer. The Calbert men had taken him under their wing and were bent on teaching the city slicker about hunting, fishing and how to make the big deal.

Louise was sleeping peacefully on the wicker swing that hung from the big oak tree. Calli’s Stephen did get home in time, and James Lee’s mommy and daddy were savoring their reunion alone on the dance floor. Liddy cradled their sleepy toddler in her arms, while his parents swayed to the chirp of crickets and the croak of the river frogs. Marina’s chin was perched on Liddy’s shoulder and she softly sang, “Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey, a kiddley divey too, wouldn’t you?” to try and get James Lee to give it up, but it was Liddy who was lulled by the tune. Her eyes drifted shut and her mind was floating when she heard someone say her name. Liddy looked up and saw Jenna and Ellis.

“Hi, I didn’t know you were still here,” said Liddy and she widened her eyes to focus. “Did you have a good time?”

“Very nice,” said Jenna.

“It was great that you could make it,” said Liddy, “You know Joy Lynn, the more the merrier. It meant a lot to her that you were here.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Jenna grabbed Ellis’ hand and leaned against his side. “We’re just getting ready to go, but could we talk to you before we leave?”

Liddy passed Marina the toddler and followed the couple to a bench down by the river. She had avoided them and they must have been offended. But as she tried to make sense of that idea, her breathing and heartbeat quickened. She was sweating but she didn’t know why.

“Let’s sit down,” said Ellis.

Liddy’s heart raced as she sat on one end, Ellis on the other and Jenna in the middle. Jenna looked at Liddy for a long time and then took her hand and tried to smile as she seemed to search for words. “Liddy.” She exhaled a soft breath and then inhaled before she spoke again. “Reid’s alive.”

Every space in Liddy’s brain filled with heat, and she studied Jenna’s face waiting for her to speak again, but she didn’t.

Ellis placed his arm over Jenna’s shoulder and scooted in closer to his wife. He covered both the women’s hands with his and looked at Liddy. “He was thrown from the canopy before he crashed. A farmer got to him before the Germans did and kept him hidden. When the farmer got word the German lines had retreated he took Reid to an allied camp.” Ellis waited for Liddy to look at him, and she finally did. “He’s back in the states now.”

Liddy didn’t speak and just stared back at the couple.

“Liddy, did you hear what we said?” Jenna tightened her squeeze on Liddy’s hand.

“Say it again,” said Liddy.

“Reid’s alive, Liddy,” Jenna repeated. “Are you okay?”

“No. No, I’m not okay.” Liddy looked across the river. “It just doesn’t…” She tried to swallow but her throat hurt and felt full. “When… how long has he been back?”

“March,” Ellis answered.

Liddy ran it all through her head—three months ago. “Then why didn’t he…?”

“He lost part of a leg and… he was hurt badly,” said Jenna.

Liddy looked at her friend and then back to the river.

“He’s having a rough time of it,” said Ellis. “He didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want us to tell you.”

“Then why are you?”

“We thought he would come around, but it hasn’t happened.” Ellis looked back at his wife.

“We thought you should know.” Jenna squeezed Liddy’s hand tighter as if she was trying to keep her from falling apart.

“Where is he?”

“He’s in a rehabilitation unit at the Navy hospital in Pensacola,” Ellis answered.

Liddy tried to see Reid’s face but it kept floating away. She had spent the last few months not allowing herself to visit him anymore. She had stopped reading his letters and chased away the memories and the pain. She was making room for Alan.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Jenna set her hand on Liddy’s cheek and turned it to her. “Liddy?”

Liddy shook her head slowly. “I don’t know.”

Jenna and Ellis sat with her in silence for a long time until Liddy told them she wanted to be alone. Jenna was worried and made her friend promise to call her, and they left. Liddy stayed on the bench. She didn’t want to move and at the same time, wanted to be where Reid was as fast as she could get to him.

When Alan sat down, he landed with a bounce. He smelled like cigars and bourbon and he was wrapped in complete contentment. He smiled at Liddy and tried to get one back but she didn’t have one to give.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, still smiling.

Liddy closed her eyes and wished she could disappear to someplace dark and still. She needed time. She needed time.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Liddy.”

She looked into the face of that sweet man and thought how wonderful and awful life was. War complicated life and life complicated war, and her life had never been more complicated than in this moment. She wanted to protect Alan but knew she couldn’t.

“You’re scaring me, Sweet Cakes. What’s going on?”

Liddy’s mouth opened to say something, but what? How? She studied Alan’s face and prayed for time to stand still.

“Liddy.” Alan took her chin. “Please.”

“Reid Trent is alive,” she blurted it out and looked down at her hands.

The contentment drained from Alan’s face and he leaned back on the bench. “How do you know?”

“Jenna and Ellis told me.”

The night got quieter the longer they sat without either of them saying anything.

“What are you going to do?” Alan’s words were quiet and slow.

Liddy looked up and saw Alan’s sad face—every part of it was sad. She couldn’t bear it and turned away and closed her eyes. “I have to see him.” When she looked back up at him, Alan was nodding softly. “I’m so sorry, Alan. I have to see him.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Liddy left the Atlanta airport the next morning and flew straight to Florida. She thought about Alan and that whatever happened, she had hurt him deeply. She thought about Reid and what she would say to him when she saw him.

At the hospital she asked to see Major Reid Trent, and a nurse led her down the hall and outside to a patio. It overlooked crowded beds filled with the tall blades of Cannas that held their bowl-sized blooms above their tips. The big leaves of the Catalpa trees cradled their show of pink bouquets, and teacup-sized Glads chimed in. Every growing thing seemed to have its own bloom and must have known nothing of life. The nurse pointed to a man sitting in a wheelchair that faced the garden and went back inside.

Liddy studied the back of the person wearing the pale-gray hospital robe and didn’t recognize anything about the figure. For the first time since she heard the words, ‘Reid’s alive’ from Jenna, she questioned if this is what she should be doing. Her heart was heavy with thoughts of Alan and her mind wouldn’t level.

All the thinking she had done about what she would do in this moment, had not led her to settle on a thing. Before her heart and mind could battle for one more second, she set her feet in motion and grabbed a chair as she passed one of the patio tables. She walked to where the man sat, set the chair in front of him and looked at his face and recognized it. “Excuse me, sir, is this seat taken?”

Reid looked up at Liddy and she realized that she had never seen pure surprise on this face. There were so many things she had never had the chance to see on this face, but it was the face of Major Reid Trent. It was his face, his evergreen eyes and sun-thickened skin that she was seeing unshaven for the first time. His hair wasn’t clipped off short. It was thick and curved softly back and forth for four or five inches, and a curled lock of hair hung to the side of his forehead. A pink scar ran from behind his right ear and disappeared under his collar. He looked thin, but his shoulders were broad and straight.

“Did you hear me, sir? Is this seat taken?”

“No.” Reid’s response was lifeless.

Liddy sat down in the chair and leaned back resting her elbows on the arms and laced her fingers together in front of her. She looked into his eyes and wouldn’t let go. His face didn’t change and held no smirk or twinkle, and he seemed tortured by her gaze. Still, every uninvited desire that she had ever felt for this man ran through her body. A tingling ran over her skin and her muscles tightened. Her heart pounded and in that moment it let her mind rest and told her that this was where she was supposed to be.

“I’ve written you a few letters you haven’t answered. What are you gonna do about that?” asked Liddy.

In almost a whisper, Reid said, “Liddy…” Then he moved his mouth but only air escaped until he finally got out, “… I wish you hadn’t come here.”

“You do, do you, and why is that?”

“Everything is different now.”

Liddy sat up straight and her hands gripped the arms of the chair. “Really, tell me what’s different.”

Reid dropped his eyes and stared down at his hands that clutched the blanket draped over his lap. She could see from the form under the cover that his lower left leg and knee were gone. His hair fell forward and his shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths.

Liddy set her finger under his chin and pushed it up, then she combed his hair off his face with her fingers.

“You don’t have two whole legs anymore—that’s different. What else is different, Reid? You don’t want me to fly you over the Rockies anymore? You don’t want to show me the Atlantic Ocean and the beach where you celebrated your birthday every year until you were eighteen? Or is it how you feel about me that’s different, Reid Trent?”

Reid’s eyes welled up and his mouth widened, but he didn’t answer.

“Reid, when you stopped writing, and then I found out your plane went down…” Liddy’s breath caught in her chest and her eyes filled with tears. “… and then I got the letters back I wrote you, marked…” She closed her eyes and tears soaked her lashes as she concentrated on taking small slow breaths, then she looked back at Reid. “I lost you bit by bit. I’ve had enough loss. Unless you can tell me that you want me to leave this hospital, and you never want to see me again, and that that is the truth, I have no intention of losing you again.”

Pain and sadness flooded Reid’s eyes and tightened the clench of his fists, and Liddy wanted to weep with him. She wanted to hold him and bring him back to her.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Her grip on the chair tightened and the metal pressed on the bones in her hands and they ached.

“I just can’t, Liddy.”

“You can’t what?”

A rush of pain filled her forehead and throbbed deep in her throat. He dropped his eyes again.

“Reid, don’t do this to me. If you want me to leave, just say it, please.” Her breathing became unsteady and she struggled to stay calm. She wanted to scream. “I wasn’t sure until I sat down in this chair, but I’m sure now. Nothing’s changed for me. If it has for you, please, please just say it.”

Reid looked up, his eyes full of tears and his voice trembled, “The day I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were gonna be a problem for me. I didn’t know how much of a problem, though.” Tears rolled down his face and dripped from his chin. “My life isn’t going to be what I was planning on, so I can’t even tell you where I’m going from here.”

“I don’t care where you’re going. I just want to go with you.” Liddy scooted her chair closer to him and set her feet on the rest where his foot would have been, and she pressed her left knee against the one he still had. “I need you, Reid. I love you so much. Even when I didn’t want to, I’ve loved you so much.”

Liddy wiped the tears from his face and loosened his grip on the blanket. Then she brought his hands to her mouth and kissed them and wrapped them up in hers and held on tight. She loved, loved this man. Liddy dropped her face onto their hands. He let his head rest on hers, and they wept months of tears.

When Reid lifted Liddy’s face and dried it with his hand, his voice was still trembling, “Heard there’s an HP in Missouri that can teach me a thing or two, maybe get me back in the pit with a peg leg.”

Liddy laughed softly and sniffled back the tears. “I’ve heard of her. By the book flyer from what I understand.”

“Now what fun would that be?” A smirk spread across Reid’s face and Liddy’s heart lifted off. She stayed with him the rest of that day, and they talked about everything that had happened in their lives the past fifteen months.

Reid told Liddy in detail of his time overseas, including being shot down and about Arman and Mari Gerard, the couple that saved his life. He told her how the farmer had seen his plane ripped from the sky by Nazi gunners, and risked his life when he set out to help the pilot if he could. He found Reid unconscious and carried him back to his home, then hid him for almost a year. Reid’s leg had been shattered in the crash. Infection set in, and again Arman risked his life when he traveled to bring back a doctor from the French underground. He and Mari helped the doctor take Reid’s leg and saved his life for a second time.

Liddy told Reid how hard it was to lose her Army wings, about missing her dad and about Bet, and she cried. She told him about her ferry command and about her life since she left the WASP. And when she came to the part about Alan, Liddy learned something: she could tell Reid Trent anything, and she did. She told him everything. And she told him how she had ached for him, how much she had missed him, and he said he knew the ache, he had missed her terribly, and they cried some more.

Liddy flew to Chicago before she flew home, and Alan knew the minute he saw Liddy’s face. He had prepared a gracious speech and seemed more concerned about Liddy than himself as he held her while she cried and apologized over and over. When her sobs lessened, he lifted Liddy’s chin and smiled. “Hey, buck-up, pal, I’m a fisherman, remember?”

She shook her head at him and fought back the tears—I’m not buying that.

“It’s that obvious, is it?”

“Painfully so.” Her cheeks were soaked with tears.

“Listen to me, Liddy, I really hate this. I mean I really, really hate this, but I know you would never hurt me if you could help it. I couldn’t love you so much if that wasn’t true. I’ve come to terms with the fact that you just can’t help this, Sweet Cakes. It still stinks though, but I’ll land on my feet, you just watch.”

Alan was so good, and as she left him, Liddy thought how one huge pain in her heart had replaced another huge pain, and she hoped it wouldn’t always be that way. Love should always be good, the thought throbbed inside her.

What would she have done if Reid hadn’t come back into her life when he did? What would she have done if she had made a life with Alan and then Reid came back? The pain would have been so much greater, it would have been forever pain, and she was thankful and sad, so very sad, so very thankful.

Liddy flew home and wrote to Reid every day and flew to see him on the weekends. She told Crik, Daniel, Celia, her sister-friends, everyone, even Muck and Gossy about Major Reid Trent.

The first time Reid kissed Liddy, was the first day she saw him walk again. When he appeared in the doorway, he had a cane in each hand but was standing on his own. His steps on the prosthetic leg were unsteady, but he was determined to cross the patio to where she sat waiting for him on a Saturday morning. Liddy was watching him, studying him and smiling. When he was standing so close that his legs rubbed up against hers, he looked down at her, smirked and asked, “Wanna race?”

Liddy pushed the chair back, stood up and set her hands on his. “Okay, but I get a head start.”

Reid rested the cane he was holding in his right hand on the chair. He moved slowly and had to adjust his weight after he leaned over and then stood back up. Again Liddy studied his effort with a smile and he knew that she did, and he liked it. When he had himself balanced again, he slid his fingers across her cheek and held it, then kissed her lips long and soft.

Looking deep inside her, he said, “I only remember feeling real fear twice in my life. When my leg was being cut off was one. The other was when you went missing at Avenger.” Reid kissed her again. “Even then you were a part of me. I love you, Liddy Lynn Hall.”

Reid leaned in and whispered over and over that he loved her and his lips tickled her ear and the words warmed and comforted Liddy to her core. The Cannas and the Catalpas were still in bloom, the Glads had more show on their necks and the daisies had showed up. Maybe they did know something of life.

When Reid was discharged from the hospital, Liddy was there and they walked out together. He was discharged from the Army too, and for a time he was lost, but soon Liddy saw his confidence returning and she knew he would find his way.

Even with all of the thought Liddy had put into what it would be like to spend time with Major Reid Trent, it wasn’t anything like she had imagined. Life rarely does fall in line with our expectations.

When Liddy and Reid had been writing letters, a flutter of nervousness would move inside her when she thought about meeting him in April during his leave. She didn’t know how she should act toward him or what she would say. Their letters had been slow and easy as they shared bit-by-bit their lives and hearts. Imagining actually being with him and not having time to formulate her responses gave Liddy too much to wonder about, which she never liked.

As it turned out, there wasn’t a moment of not knowing how to respond when she was with Reid—it just flowed. The months they believed they had lost each other forever, had deepened their appreciation of the rare something that was between them, and took away any apprehensions of being open with each other about how they felt. From the first day Liddy saw him at the hospital, their time together felt comfortable and safe and at the same time exciting and new.

Not long after Reid was discharged, he brought Liddy to his beach. It was an overcast day and they had it all to themselves. They sat together in the sand, Liddy in front of Reid, leaning back with his arms around her. They listened to the soft woosh of the waves washing in and out against the shore. Liddy was thinking about how she had never been so at peace in the presence of another human being.

“I feel so at peace here with you,” Reid said.

Liddy smiled and nuzzled in closer to him. Loving Reid was so easy and Liddy believed with all her heart that loving him had never been a choice. Choosing to love, that’s important, but loving anything or anyone without making the choice, that’s divine.

Liddy’s time with Reid was divine. From going to the movies to flying, they both cherished being together. After finally flying with Reid over the Rockies, Liddy and Reid spent some time with Louise, Bonnie and Tommy in Denver. With the exception of Tommy’s initial refusal to acknowledge the man who he thought was a completely unnecessary addition to his family’s time with Liddy, their visit with the Parker family was an easy transition from the four of them to the five.

Tommy didn’t come out of his room when Liddy and Reid first arrived, but later that day he did agree to throw a ball with the stranger in the back yard and build a plane model with him in the living room. From the kitchen, Liddy and Louise overheard a conversation between the two men.

“Where did you meet Liddy?” Tommy asked Reid.

“I met her on a train.”

“Hmm,” Tommy was thoughtful.

“Where did you meet Liddy?” Reid asked Tommy.

“On the sidewalk.”

“Hmm,” Reid responded.

“Why do you like Liddy?” Tommy asked.

“Lots of reasons. She’s very nice and fun to spend time with. I think she’s smart, brave and very interesting. And she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

“Why do you like Liddy?” Reid asked.

“Same reasons.” There was a long pause and then Tommy looked at Reid very intently. “Are you always going to like her?”

“Always and forever,” answered Reid and then asked, “Are you always going to like her?”

“Always and forever. And when I’m old too.”

Tommy still made sure Reid knew that he had a history with Liddy—she was his Liddy and nothing was going to change that. The boy warmed up to the idea of having Reid around though, and Tommy became the one to initiate playing catch in the backyard, and he was full of questions for his new friend about flying in the war.

Bonnie had taken a liking to Reid as well and Louise told Liddy, “My Bonnie has a huge crush on your man, you know.”

Louise grew fond of Reid as well and he became protective of her like an older brother. She became the sister he never had.

Reid took Liddy to meet his parents, brothers and their families who all welcomed her with abundant joy. Mallie Trent had a special place in her heart for the woman whose love helped heal her boy, and a strong bond formed between the two women. Reid and Liddy were settling into each other’s lives without a hitch.

When the big bombs were dropped in August of 1945, World War II was all but over. It no longer complicated life, but it had colored it and left its mark. It had taken Liddy all over the country and brought her in and out of people’s lives and in and out of her own skin, her body and her soul. It had changed her, changed Reid, but she found a kind of joy in accepting that life was wonderful and awful, and she didn’t let the heavy parts settle on her shoulders. She began to see that in time life levels and settles and if you wait, something will bloom—it always does.

Liddy took Reid to Holly Grove and introduced him to Crik and to Muck, and they went up in the old Jenny. As she looked above the flames of Crik’s campfire one night, she cherished the wonderful sight. There sat Crik and Reid, next to one another, swapping stories. Liddy watched Crik’s interest as Reid told him about his missions, and she watched Reid’s interest as Crik told him of Liddy as a little girl and about her soloing before she could drive a car. When he told the story of the bridge affair—Liddy had saved that for Crik to tell—Reid looked across at her, shook his head and smirked. The session lasted late into the night and the book of tales grew.

EPILOGUE

The guest list was as follows in no particular order—

Crik Sekrikinski (Muck doesn’t like to fly)

Mr. and Mrs. Reidburn Trent (the groom’s parents)

Dr. Wayland Trent, Miss Mallory and Master Benjamin (the groom’s brother and children)

Mr. and Mrs. Collin Trent, Miss Vivian, Master Robert and Miss Olivia (the groom’s other brother and family)

Lieutenant Daniel and Celia Cooper (Just Married)

Louise Parker, Princess Bonnie and Prince Tommy (the bride’s next husband)

Lieutenant Phillip R. and Joy Lynn Mason (one on the way)

Marina George and Alan Bradon (keep reading)

Stephen and Calli Duncan, James Lee and baby Betsy Ann

Mr. and Mrs. Jerry Bluff

Major Ellis and Jenna Charles (another one on the way)

There were no bridesmaids or groomsmen, just two people who stood on the beach and wanted to officially knit themselves together in front of their family and friends. Watery foam washed in and out, and the white sand was a pure carpet beneath the celebration. Liddy wore Edda’s ankle-length cotton and lace wedding dress and Reid stood, without canes, in a white cotton shirt and pale blue trousers. He didn’t wear shoes—no one did.

A long row of identical white clapboard-sided beach cottages set up against the rocks, and their rusted tin roofs reflected in patches the rays of the warm September sun. Raised wood porches were draped with beach towels and bathing suits, except the couple’s honeymoon cottage. Liddy’s sister-friends had draped it from porch ceiling to deck with yards of sheer fabric. On the door was a heart wreath made of shells.

The portable radio was on its third set of batteries, and the party danced beneath the sun in the sand and then under the moon and the stars. While he tended the fire, Crik sat with Reid’s father and Jerry Bluff. Wedding cupcakes that were exploding with sparkler sticks were held high in front of the little ones as they paraded in and out of the festivities.

Reid’s mother knew how to throw a beach party and she had enough food for a week or more. Liddy sat with Reid on one side of her and Tommy Parker on the other in canvas beach chairs. Empty plates sat on their laps that had hosted fire-roasted corn cobs, shrimp salad and apple cornbread.

Reid’s mother pushed through the sand toward them. “Liddy sweetie, can I steal away your husband to dance with his mother?”

“My husband…” Liddy looked at Reid and smiled her crooked smile. “… that’s you, isn’t it?”

“For better or worse,” said Reid and kissed her.

“I’ll take them both.” Liddy kissed him back, then took Reid’s hand and held it up to Mallie Trent. “He’s all yours.”

Mallie leaned down and kissed her daughter-in-law on the forehead and held her cheek. “You’re the ‘better’, sweetie.”

Liddy watched as Reid and Mallie walked hand-in-hand, talking and laughing as they joined the guests on the dance sand. Joy Lynn and Phillip towered over the group, and Calli and Steven held their blessings as the little family twirled together. Even in the sand, Marina and Alan floated in their step, but they almost looked ordinary—barefoot, with Marina in her simple yellow cotton dress and Alan in his tan slacks and white shirt. Daniel spun Celia, Ellis swayed Jenna and Louise danced with Reid’s brother Wayland until a new song started up, and then they all changed partners.

Marina had called Liddy back in July and flipped small talk back and forth. Finally, she got out that she was wondering how Liddy would feel if she called Alan and invited him to an air race. A pain tugged at Liddy’s heart and then a huge joy washed over her, and she insisted that Marina do just that.

At Alan’s birthday party, it was Marina who was on his arm when they entered the room. Liddy smiled when she pictured Mrs. Alan Bradon the III gliding over to greet them. If anybody could handle Mrs. A, it was Marina George—there was no doubt of that.

At Calli’s 21^st birthday party in Atlanta, Reid and Alan had the chance to get to know each other. Reid joked to Liddy that if he was her, he didn’t know if he would have given up Alan for him. Everyone loved Alan Bradon—it was impossible not to.

Liddy was lost in happiness as she looked around the beach at Reid’s and her friends and family, celebrating their love, when she heard Tommy’s voice.

“Aunt Liddy?” Tommy looked up at her.

“Yeah, honey.”

“How long are you going to be married to Mr. Trent?”

“The rest of my life, I hope.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“I guess so.” Tommy set his hand on top of Liddy’s. “Mommy says I can get married when I’m twenty. I just wanted you to know that.”

“That is very good to know, thank you for telling me.” Liddy took Tommy’s pudgy little hand and kissed it.

“I’m gonna go get a cupcake.” The little man slid out of the chair and skipped across the sand.

Alan had left the dance floor and plopped down in Tommy’s chair. He gave Liddy’s hand a squeeze and smiled at her with his whole face.

“Is this weird?” Liddy asked.

“A little bit,” said Alan.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Liddy patted him on the cheek.

“Me too, pal.” Alan got a rare serious look on his face. “I’m happy for you, Liddy.”

“I know you are.”

They both leaned back in the chairs and watched the dancers and laughed when Joy Lynn and Marina Tangoed through the group, and back again.

“So, how’s everything going with the George and Bradon merger?”

“It’s been very nice, actually.”

“I’m happy for you too, Alan.”

“I know you are. I told you I’d land on my feet. You okay I landed where I did?”

“Are you kidding? It’s so obvious.”

“It kind of is, isn’t it?”

“Joyfully so,” said Liddy, “Perfect really, two of my favorite people in the world being happy together. I’m just hoping the landing sticks.”

Bonnie ran up and grabbed Alan by the hand and took him back to the dancing. It was hard not to speculate if it would last, but Marina and Alan were having a wonderful time of it. Liddy watched the pair and realized there are a few people who have the gift of love and Alan Bradon was one of those people. And she couldn’t think of anyone she wanted him to give the gift to more than Marina George.

Reid finished a dance with his nieces and walked back to Liddy. He reached out for her hand. “Can I have this dance, Mrs. Trent?”

“And many, many more.” Liddy set her hand in Reid’s.

Reid pulled Liddy to her feet and led her into the middle of their people. With the next song, the guests broke into the Bet dance and twirled and bopped around the newlyweds, while the bride and groom held each other and swayed a little hole in the sand. That which willed their hearts to soar would float them free until they were down again, if ever they were, and the sky above and the water below spun into a thousand shades of blue.

Copyright

1st Kindle Edition

Published by

STORY CREEK BOOKS

Post Office Box 27314

Ft. Collins, Colorado 80525

Copyright © 2008 Cynthia Lee Cartier

The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

All rights reserved.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design by Justine Elliott

www.booklayoutguru.com

ebook by EBooks by Design

www.ebooksbydesign.co

For more about the author and her writing, please visit: www.cynthialeecartier.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.