The ships were very quiet as they zigzagged across the Pacific to avoid submarines. There were no parties at night, no one was in the mood. They just wanted to get to San Francisco safely. And Cassie was amazed at how long it took. After flying everywhere all her life, traveling by ship seemed endless and incredibly boring. She hoped she never had to do it again, and the entire ship cheered as they came through the Golden Gate and into the port of San Francisco five days later.
She was even more surprised when she stepped off the gangplank, carrying her one small bag, and saw her father. She had traveled under the name of Cassandra Williams, and only a handful of people had realized who she was and talked to her. The rest of the time, she kept to herself and minded her own business. She had a lot of thinking to do, and some quiet mourning. But when she saw her father, relief turned to excitement. And her mother was right behind him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked with wide eyes that filled instantly with tears. They were all crying as they hugged each other, her mother more than anyone, but Cassie and her father too. It was the reunion she had thought of a million times on the island. And then as they hugged and talked, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Desmond. He had set up an entire press conference to greet her. There were at least eighty members of the press to welcome her and ask her questions. But as Cassie noticed them, she saw her father's mouth set in a hard line. He was having none of this. Desmond Williams had gone far enough, and he would go no further.
“Welcome home, Cassie!” a flock of reporters shouted at her, as her father grabbed her firmly by the arm, and propelled her through the crowd like a snow-plow. Oona was following them closely, and Pat was heading for the car and driver he had hired to meet her. And before the reporters could say anything, she was being pushed into the car, and Desmond had come toward them.
“You're very kind,” her father was saying warmly to the members of the press, “but my daughter's not well. She's ill and she's had a traumatic experience in the hospital at the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Thank you… thank you very much.” He waved his hat at them, shoved his wife into the car after his daughter, and climbed in behind both of them. And then told the driver to pull out as quickly as he could without hitting them. Cassie was laughing at Desmond's expression as they drove off. They had completely foiled him.
“Does that man never stop?” her father said irritably. “Has he no heart at all?”
“None whatsoever,” she assured him.
“I don't understand why you married him.”
“Neither do I,” she sighed, “but he was very convincing then. Until afterward; then he didn't think he had to hide his moves anymore.” She told him about his threats to go after her now with his lawyers.
“You owe him nothing!” Pat raged at her, incensed at what Desmond had told her.
“Mind your heart, dear,” Oona warned, but he had been fine since the summer. Even during Cassie's ordeal, he had held up surprisingly well. And now he was only angry.
“He'd better mind my fist, not my heart,” Pat said bluntly, as they drove back to the Fairmont. Her parents had taken a suite for the three of them, and they spent two days there celebrating her safe return. Before they went home, she went to visit Billy Nolan's father. It was a sad and difficult visit, and she told his father that Billy had died in her arms peacefully, and he hadn't suffered. But even knowing that, it was difficult to console him.
It dawned on Cassie afterward, that with the war now, there would be many young men like Billy dying. It was an awful thought. And she had never been as happy to go home as she was this time.
Her father had brought a co-pilot along, and flown the Vega out for her. Halfway back to Illinois, he turned the controls over to her, and asked her if she'd like to fly it. And much to his surprise, and her own, she hesitated, but he pretended to ignore it.
“It's not as fancy as what you're used to, Cass. But it'll do your heart good to fly again.” It was a nice plane to fly, and he was right, she loved the feeling of flying again. She hadn't been in a plane since she'd gone down in the
She told him about the crash then on the way home, and she and her father discussed what might have caused the fire in the engines, but it was anyone's guess. Desmond had brought back what was left of the Plane, and was hoping they could learn more about what went wrong. But it was unlikely they would find much, the explosion had been so powerful.
“You were damn lucky,” her father said, shaking his head, as she flew his plane for him. “You could have been killed on the way down. You could have been blown to bits, or never found an island to light on.”
