Wings. Part 26

"I haven't done those in a while."

'they get old."

"I lost my brother at the one the following year, it kind of took the fun out of them for me after that."

"I'll bet." And then he remembered the trick she had pulled, with admiration. "You almost ate it the time I saw you."

"Nah, just looked like it," she said modestly, and he laughed.

"Nervy broads. You guys are all the same. All guts and no brains." He laughed and she grinned at him. To her, it was almost a compliment. She liked the guts part.

"Gee, thanks." She smiled at him, and for an instant he reminded her of Billy.

"No problem."

By the time they arrived over England, they had become friends, and she hoped to fly with him again. He was from Texas, and like all of them, had been flying since he was old enough to climb into the c.o.c.kpit. He promised to look her up the next time he was in New Jersey.

They'd been lucky that night, there were no German pilots scouting for them. He'd gotten in a couple of dogfights before, and he was happy they hadn't for her first trip. "No big deal though," he rea.s.sured her. And much to her delight, he let her land the plane, and she had no problem, despite her father's dire warnings. It was wonderful being treated as an equal.

She took the paperwork to the office they had told her to report to.

They thanked her politely for the paperwork, and handed her a slip of paper with her billeting. And as she walked back outside again, the pilot she'd flown over with invited her for breakfast. But she told him she had other plans. She did, but she wasn't sure where to start looking. She had his address but it meant nothing to her. Not yet, at least. She pulled the piece of paper she'd written it on out of her pocket, and was staring at it, fighting the exhaustion of the flight, when someone jostled her, and she looked up first in irritation, then in amazement.

It was ridiculous. Things didn't happen that way. It was too easy. He was standing there, staring down at her, looking as though he'd seen a ghost. No one had warned him she was coming. And there Ca.s.sie stood, in uniform, looking into the startled eyes of Major Nick Galvin.

"What are you doing here?" He said it as though he owned the place, and she laughed at him, her red hair framing her face as the autumn wind blew through it.

"Same thing you are." More or less, except that his job was a lot more dangerous than hers. But they both had their jobs and their missions. And several ferry pilots had already been killed by Germans. 'thanks for all the great letters, by the way. I really enjoyed them." She tried to make light of the pain he had caused her by his silence.

He grinned boyishly at the comment. He could barely make himself listen to her, he was so overwhelmed with just seeing her again. The last time he had seen her was the morning after they had spent the night at their secret airstrip.

"I really enjoyed writing them to you." He quipped back, but all he wanted to do now was reach out and touch her. He couldn't keep his eyes from her, his hands, his arms, his heart, his fingers. Instinctively, he reached out and touched her hair. It still felt like silk and looked like fire. "How are you, Ca.s.s?" he said softly, as people in uniform milled around them. Hornchurch was a busy place, but neither of them seemed to notice. They couldn't keep their eyes off each other. Despite the hardships they both had been through, nothing seemed to have changed between them.

"I'm okay," she answered him, as he led her to a quiet spot, where they could sit down on a rock wall for a few minutes, and talk. There was so much to say, so much to catch up on. And he felt guilty suddenly for his silence.

"I was worried sick about you when you went down," he said, and she looked away, thinking of Billy.

"It wasn't much fun," she was honest with him. "It was pretty rough, and..." She had trouble saying it, and without thinking, he took her hand and held it in his own."... it was awful when Billy..."

"I know." She didn't have to say the words. He understood perfectly. "You can't blame yourself, Ca.s.s. I told you that a long time ago. We all do what we have to. We take our chances. Billy knew what he was doing. He wanted to fly the tour with you, for himself, not just for you." She nodded, knowing the wisdom of his words, but it was small comfort.

"I never felt right that I made it back and he didn't." It was the first time she'd said that to anyone, and she couldn't have said it to anyone but Nick. She always told him all her feelings.

'That's life. That's not your decision. It's His." He pointed toward the heavens, and she nodded.

"Why didn't you call when I got hack?" she asked sadly. They had gone right to the important things. They always did. He was like that.

"I thought about it a lot... I almost did call a couple of times," he smiled, "when I had a pint or two under my belt, as they say here, but I figured your husband wouldn't like it much. Where is he now, by the way?" His question confirmed her suspicion and she smiled at him. It was funny sitting here, talking to Nick, as though he'd been waiting for her to arrive. It was all so simple suddenly. There they were, four thousand miles from home, and chatting on a rock wall in the autumn sunshine.

"He's in Los Angeles." With Nancy Firestone. Or someone like her.

"I'm surprised he let you do this... or actually, I'm not," Nick said, looking somewhat bitter. It had torn his heart out when he thought she was lost, and that b.a.s.t.a.r.d had risked her life to sell his airplanes. Desmond was the one he'd wanted to call, to tell him what a rotten sonofab.i.t.c.h he was. But he never did it. "I guess he figured this stuff would look good in the newsreels. Patriotic. One of the boys. Was it his idea or yours?" He wanted it to be hers, because he wanted to respect her for it.

"It was mine, Nick. I've wanted to do this for a long time, since the tour. But when I got back, I didn't feel right leaving Dad. It was hard on him even now. There's no one left to help him. He might even have to hire a few women finally, except that most of them are joining the WAFS, the FTC, or the Flying Training Command, like I did."

"What do you mean you didn't feel right leaving him? Did you stay with them when you got back?" The b.a.s.t.a.r.d hadn't even had the decency to take care of her, and she must have been pretty sick after seven weeks starving on an atoll.

"Yes, I went back to them," she said quietly, looking at him, remembering their one night of happiness in the moonlight. "I left Desmond, Nick. I left him when Dad had his heart attack," It was over a year before, and Nick was stunned to realize he'd never heard it.

"When I went back to LA after the last time I saw you, things were just the way you said they were. He kept pushing me, press conferences, test flights, interviews, newsreels. It was everything you said it would be, but he didn't show his true colors until Dad got sick. He 'ordered' me to do the tour on schedule, and 'forbade' me to go back and see my father."

"But you went anyway, didn't you?" He knew the trip had been postponed, and had seen a newsreel of her at the hospital, so he knew that much.

"Yeah, I went anyway, and Billy came with me. Desmond said he'd sue us if we didn't do the tour, and he made us sign contracts promising that we'd go in October no matter what."

"Nice guy."

"I know. I never went back to him. He never even called me. All he wanted was for me to keep it from the press till I got back. And you were right about the women too. Nancy Firestone was his mistress. Apparently, the only reason he married me was to publicize the tour, just as you said. He said it wouldn't have had 'the same impact on the public' without it. The marriage was a complete sham. And afterward, when they brought me back, he told me in Hawaii that I still worked for him, and he was going to sue me for not completing my contract. I'd promised him fifteen thousand miles in the North Star Star, and only made eleven before we went down. He figured he'd get some publicity out of me even then, but it was all over. Dad took me to a lawyer in Chicago, and I divorced him."

Nick sat utterly amazed at what she was telling him, although the fact that Williams was a sonofab.i.t.c.h wasn't news to anyone, and certainly not Nick. But he was a lot worse than even Nick had suspected. "How did you keep all that quiet before you left?" "He's good at that. That's his business. When I went back to LA before the tour, I stayed at Billy's. No one knew anything. We left a few weeks after I got back from Good Hope anyway, and Desmond dressed it all up in clean linen. He's a real snake, Nick. You were right about everything. I always wanted to tell you that, but I wasn't sure what to say, or how to say it. At first, my pride was hurt, and I was ashamed to admit that the whole thing had been a farce. And then, I figured maybe you wouldn't want to know anyway. You were so definite about not wanting me. I don't know... I figured maybe it it was better to leave it for a while. I kept hoping you'd come home and we'd talk, but I guess after Pearl Harbor, you couldn't." was better to leave it for a while. I kept hoping you'd come home and we'd talk, but I guess after Pearl Harbor, you couldn't."

"We don't get leaves anymore, Ca.s.s. And what do you mean I was 'definite about not wanting you.' Do you remember that night?" He looked hurt that she would say that.

"I remember every minute of it. Sometimes that was the only thing that kept me going on the island... thinking of you... remembering... it was what got me through a lot of things... like leaving Desmond. He was so rotten." 'then why didn't you write and tell me?" She sighed, thinking about it, and then she looked at him honestly. "I guess I figured you'd just tell me again that you were too old and too poor, and that I should find myself a kid like Billy." He smiled at the truth of it. He might just have been dumb enough to do that. But that was before she had almost died, before he had come to his senses. Just sitting there, looking at her, made him realize what a total fool he'd been when he left her.

"And did you? Find a kid like Billy, I mean?" He looked so worried that for a minute she wished she had the guts to make him jealous.

"I should tell you that I've been out with every man in seven counties."

"I'm not sure I'd believe you." He smiled and lit a cigarette, as he sat back against the wall, and looked at her with pleasure. It was so good to see her again. This was the little girl he'd always loved, all grown-up now.

"Why not? Think I'm too ugly for any man to take out?" she teased him.

"Not ugly. Just difficult. It takes a man of a certain age and sophistication to handle a girl like you, Ca.s.s. There aren't too many men in McDonough County who could do it."

"You're so full of it. Does that mean you're the right age these days, or are you still too old for me?" she asked him pointedly, wanting to know just where they were going.

"I used to be. Mostly, I was just too stupid," he said honestly; 'they almost had to retire me when you went down, Ca.s.s. I thought I'd go crazy, thinking about you. I went nuts for a while there. I should have flown home as soon as I heard. Then at least I could have been in Honolulu when you got there."

"It would have been wonderful," she smiled gently, but she didn't reproach him. Not for anything. She just wanted to know where they stood now.

"I suppose Desmond was there with the reporters," he said with a look of annoyance.

"Naturally. But I had a great nurse who kept throwing them out of my room before they got a foot in the doorway. She absolutely hated Desmond. That was when he was threatening to sue me for not fulfilling my contract. I think he's convinced I blew up his plane on purpose. It was the d.a.m.nedest thing, Nick," she said solemnly, "both engines caught fire. I don't think they've figured it out yet, and I'm not sure they ever will." She looked far away for a moment as she said it, and he pulled her closer to him.

"Don't think about it, Ca.s.s. It's over." So were a lot of things. A whole lifetime had ended for her, and now it was time for a new beginning. He looked down at her with a slow smile, feeling the warmth of her next to him, and remembered a summer night almost two years before that had sustained him ever since then. "So how long are you here for?"

"I get my orders on Thursday," she said quietly, wondering what was in store for them, what he wanted from her, if it was going to be the same game as before, or if he had finally grown up now. "I'll be here anywhere from a week or two to three months. But I'll be back pretty often. I'm in the overseas ferry squadron, that's what we do, taxi service from New Jersey to Hornchurch."

'That's pretty tame for you, Ca.s.s. Most of the time at least." He was relieved she hadn't found something more dangerous to do. She'd be just the one to do that. For Desmond, she had tested fighter planes to be adapted for the Army. But that was over.

"It'll do for now. What about you? Where are you now?" she asked him, with a look that searched his soul. There was no escaping her question.

At first he didn't understand what she was asking him, and then he laughed, and looked down at her. He understood perfectly. It was no accident that she had come here. The only coincidence was that he'd run into her so quickly.

"What are you asking me, Ca.s.s?"

"How brave are you? How smart have you gotten over here, risking your life against the Germans?"

"I'm smarter than I used to be, if that's what you're asking me. I'm a little older... just as poor..." He remembered his own words easily, and how foolish he had been when he said them. "How brave are you, little Ca.s.sie? How foolish? Is this what you want? After everything you've done and had and been in the last two years, is this what you still want? Just me and the old Jenny? That's all I've got, you know. That, and the Bellanca. It's never going to be fancy." But they both knew she'd had that and it wasn't what she wanted. She wanted him, and everything he meant to her. Nothing more now.

"If I wanted fancy, I'd be in LA"

"No, you wouldn't," he said quietly, with the stubborn look she knew so well.

"Why not?"

"Because I wouldn't let you. I'll never let you go back to that. I shouldn't have let you go in the first place." They had both learned some expensive lessons. But they were wiser now. They had both come for, and paid dearly for everything they learned and wanted. "I love you, Ca.s.s, and always have," he said quietly as he pulled her close to him, and she looked up at him and smiled. It was the face she knew so well, and had always loved since she was a child. The same lines around the eyes from squinting at the sun, the same face she had grown up with. It was a handsome face with character and purpose and kindness, the only one she wanted to look at for an entire lifetime. She had come here to find him again. And she had. With Nick, she had everything she wanted.

"I love you too, Nick," she said peacefully as he held her close to him, feeling the warmth of her, the nearness he had longed for so often. It had been h.e.l.l being away from her, a h.e.l.l he'd made for himself, and bitterly regretted, but didn't know how to get out of. It took Ca.s.s to come over and find him.

"And if either of us doesn't come back from this?" he asked her honestly. "What then?" He still didn't want to ruin her life, tying her to him, and then dying. That was the price you paid sometimes for loving a flier.

'That's a chance we both take every day. We always have. You taught me that. If this is what we want, we have to have the guts to live with that. And each let the other do what they have to." It was a high price to pay for loving someone, but they had always been willing to do that.

"And afterward?" He still worried about all that, but she had crossed those bridges long since, and she wouldn't have cared anyway if he'd had absolutely nothing.

"Afterward, we go home, my father retires eventually, and he gives us the airport. And if we live in a shack because that's all you've got, so be it. I don't care, and if we do, we'll change it." This time he didn't argue with her. This time he knew it was enough for both of them. They had had more, and less, in their lives, and it didn't matter to them. All they needed was what they had, each other, and a sky to fly in.

He kissed her gently, and afterward she looked into the autumn sky and smiled, remembering the hours they'd spent in his old Jenny. She reminded him of her first loops and spins, and he laughed.

"You used to scare the pants off me."

'The h.e.l.l I did... you told me I was a natural." She pretended to be insulted as they stood up and he walked her slowly toward her barracks. They had resolved a lot that morning.

"I just said that because I was in love with you." He laughed happily, feeling like a kid again. She did that to him. She always had.

"No, you didn't. You weren't in love with me then," she argued with a broad smile, wondering if he had been.

"Yes, I was." He looked happy and at ease and young. And he felt immeasurable pride as he walked along with her.

"Really?"

They laughed and talked and teased like children. Suddenly, life was very simple. She had done what she had come here to do. She had found him, and everything he had always been to her. She was home at last. They both were.

WATCH FOR THE NEW NOVEL FROM.

DANIELLE STEEL.

On Sale in Hardcover June 27, 2006 COMING OUT.

Olympia Crawford Rubinstein has a way of managing her thriving family with grace and humor. With twin daughters finishing high school, a son at Dartmouth, and a kindergartener from her second marriage, there seems to be nothing Olympia can't handle ... until one sunny day in May, when she opens an invitation for her daughters to attend the most exclusive coming out ball in New York-and chaos erupts all around her....

From a son's crisis to a daughter's heartbreak, from a case of the chickenpox to a political debate raging in her household, Olympia is on the verge of surrender... until a series of startling choices and changes of heart, family and friends turn a night of calamity into an evening of magic. As old wounds are healed, barriers are shattered and new traditions are born, and a debutante ball becomes a catalyst for change, revelation, acceptance, and love.

Please turn the page for a special advance preview.

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COMING OUT.

on sale June 27, 2006

Chapter 1.

Olympia Crawford Rubinstein was whizzing around her kitchen on a sunny May morning, in the brownstone she shared with her family on Jane Street in New York, near the old meat-packing district of the West Village. It had long since become a fashionable neighborhood of mostly modern apartment buildings with doormen, and old renovated brownstones. Olympia was fixing lunch for her five-year-old son, Max. The school bus was due to drop him off in a few minutes. He was in kindergarten at Dalton, and Friday was a half day for him. She always took Fridays off to spend them with him. Although Olympia had three older children from her first marriage, Max was Olympia and Harry's only child. was whizzing around her kitchen on a sunny May morning, in the brownstone she shared with her family on Jane Street in New York, near the old meat-packing district of the West Village. It had long since become a fashionable neighborhood of mostly modern apartment buildings with doormen, and old renovated brownstones. Olympia was fixing lunch for her five-year-old son, Max. The school bus was due to drop him off in a few minutes. He was in kindergarten at Dalton, and Friday was a half day for him. She always took Fridays off to spend them with him. Although Olympia had three older children from her first marriage, Max was Olympia and Harry's only child.

Olympia and Harry had restored the house six years before, when she was pregnant with Max. Before that, they had lived in her Park Avenue apartment, which she had previously shared with her three children after her divorce. And then Harry joined them. She had met Harry Rubinstein a year after her divorce. And now, she and Harry had been married for thirteen years. They had waited eight years to have Max, and his parents and siblings adored him. He was a loving, funny, happy child.

Olympia was a partner in a booming law practice, specializing in civil rights issues and cla.s.s action lawsuits. Her favorite cases, and what she specialized in, were those that involved discrimination against or some form of abuse of children. She had made a name for herself in her field. She had gone to law school after her divorce, fifteen years before, and married Harry two years later. He had been one of her law professors at Columbia Law School, and was now a judge on the federal court of appeals. He had recently been considered for a seat on the Supreme Court. In the end, they hadn't appointed him, but he'd come close, and she and Harry both hoped that the next time a vacancy came up, he would get it.

She and Harry shared all the same beliefs, values, and pa.s.sions-even though they came from very different backgrounds. He came from an Orthodox Jewish home, and both his parents had been Holocaust survivors as children. His mother had gone to Dachau from Munich at ten, and lost her entire family. His father had been one of the few survivors of Auschwitz, and they met in Israel later. They had married as teenagers, moved to London, and from there to the States. Both had lost their entire families, and their only son had become the focus of all their energies, dreams, and hopes. They had worked like slaves all their lives to give him an education, his father as a tailor and his mother as a seamstress, working in the sweatshops of the Lower East Side, and eventually on Seventh Avenue in what was later referred to as the garment district. His father had died just after Harry and Olympia married. Harry's greatest regret was that his father hadn't known Max. Harry's mother, Frieda, was a strong, intelligent, loving woman of seventy-six, who thought her son was a genius, and her grandson a prodigy.

Olympia had converted from her staunch Episcopalian background to Judaism when she married Harry. They attended a Reform synagogue, and Olympia said the prayers for Shabbat every Friday night, and lit the candles, which never failed to touch Harry. There was no doubt in Harry's mind, or even his mother's, that Olympia was a fantastic woman, a great mother to all her children, a terrific attorney, and a wonderful wife. Like Olympia, Harry had been married before, but he had no other children. Olympia was turning forty-five in July, and Harry was fifty-three. They were well matched in all ways, though their backgrounds couldn't have been more different. Even physically, they were an interesting and complementary combination. Her hair was blond, her eyes were blue; he was dark, with dark brown eyes; she was tiny; he was a huge teddy bear of a man, with a quick smile and an easygoing disposition. Olympia was shy and serious, though p.r.o.ne to easy laughter, especially when it was provoked by Harry or her children. She was a remarkably dutiful and loving daughter-in-law to Harry's mother, Frieda.

Olympia's background was entirely different from Harry's. The Crawfords were an ill.u.s.trious and extremely social New York family, whose blue-blooded ancestors had intermarried with Astors and Vanderbilts for generations. Buildings and academic inst.i.tutions were named after them, and theirs had been one of the largest "cottages" in Newport, Rhode Island, where they spent the summers. The family fortune had dwindled to next to nothing by the time her parents died when she was in college, and she had been forced to sell the "cottage" and surrounding estate to pay their debts and taxes. Her father had never really worked, and as one of her distant relatives had said after he died, "he had a small fortune, he had made it from a large one." By the time she cleaned up all their debts and sold their property, there was simply no money, just rivers of blue blood and aristocratic connections. She had just enough left to pay for her education, and put a small nest egg away, which later paid for law school.

She married her college sweetheart, Chauncey Bedham Walker IV, six months after she graduated from Va.s.sar, and he from Princeton. He had been charming, handsome, and fun-loving, the captain of the crew team, an expert horseman, played polo, and when they met, Olympia was understandably dazzled by him. Olympia was head over heels in love with him, and didn't give a d.a.m.n about his family's enormous fortune. She was totally in love with Chauncey, enough so as not to notice that he drank too much, played constantly, had a roving eye, and spent far too much money. He went to work in his family's investment bank, and did anything he wanted, which eventually included going to work as seldom as possible, spending literally no time with her, and having random affairs with a mult.i.tude of women. By the time she knew what was happening, she and Chauncey had three children. Charlie came along two years after they were married, and his identical twin sisters, Virginia and Veronica, three years later. When she and Chauncey split up seven years after they married, Charlie was five, the twins two, and Olympia was twenty-nine years old. As soon as they separated, he quit his job at the bank, and went to live in Newport with his grandmother, the doyenne of Newport and Palm Beach society, and devoted himself to playing polo and chasing women.

A year later Chauncey married Felicia Weatherton, who was the perfect mate for him. They built a house on his grandmother's estate, which he ultimately inherited, filled her stables with new horses, and had three daughters in four years. A year after Chauncey married Felicia, Olympia married Harry Rubinstein, which Chauncey found not only ridiculous but appalling. He was rendered speechless when their son, Charlie, told him his mother had converted to the Jewish faith. He had been equally shocked earlier when Olympia enrolled in law school, all of which proved to him, as Olympia had figured out long before, that despite the similarity of their ancestry, she and Chauncey had absolutely nothing in common, and never would. As she grew older, the ideas that had seemed normal to her in her youth appalled her. Almost all of Chauncey's values, or lack of them, were anathema to her.

The fifteen years since their divorce had been years of erratic truce, and occasional minor warfare, usually over money. He supported their three children decently, though not generously. Despite what he had inherited from his family, Chauncey was stingy with his first family, and far more generous with his second wife and their children. To add insult to injury, he had forced Olympia to agree that she would never urge their children to become Jewish. It wasn't an issue anyway. She had no intention of doing so. Olympia's conversion was a private, personal decision between her and Harry. Chauncey was unabashedly anti-Semitic. Harry thought Olympiad first husband was pompous, arrogant, and useless. Other than the fact that he was her children's father and she had loved him when she married him, for the past fifteen years, Olympia found it impossible to defend him. Prejudice was Chauncey's middle middle name. There was absolutely nothing politically correct about him or Felicia, and Harry loathed him. They represented everything he detested, and he could never understand how Olympia had tolerated him for ten minutes, let alone seven years of marriage. People like Chauncey and Felicia, and the whole hierarchy of Newport society, and all it stood for, were a mystery to Harry. He wanted to know nothing about it, and Olympia's occasional explanations were wasted on him. name. There was absolutely nothing politically correct about him or Felicia, and Harry loathed him. They represented everything he detested, and he could never understand how Olympia had tolerated him for ten minutes, let alone seven years of marriage. People like Chauncey and Felicia, and the whole hierarchy of Newport society, and all it stood for, were a mystery to Harry. He wanted to know nothing about it, and Olympia's occasional explanations were wasted on him.

Harry adored Olympia, her three children, and their son, Max. And in some ways, her daughter Veronica seemed more like Harry's daughter than Chauncey's. They shared all of the same extremely liberal, socially responsible ideas. Virginia, her twin, was much more of a throwback to their Newport ancestry, and was far more frivolous than her twin sister. Charlie, their older brother, was at Dartmouth, studying theology and threatening to become a minister. Max was a being unto himself, a wise old soul, who his grandmother swore was just like her own father, who had been a rabbi in Germany before being sent to Dachau, where he had helped as many people as he could before he was exterminated along with the rest of her family.

The stories of Frieda's childhood and lost loved ones always made Olympia weep. Frieda Rubinstein had a number tattooed on the inside of her left wrist, which was a sobering reminder of the childhood the n.a.z.is had stolen from her. Because of it, she had worn long sleeves all her life, and still did. Olympia frequently bought beautiful silk blouses and long-sleeved sweaters for her. There was a powerful bond of love and respect between the two women, which continued to deepen over the years.