Wings полностью

“And what about you, Cass? No grandiose ideas of noble plans? You've accomplished a great deal since you've been here. Does that give you any bigger ideas?” She wasn't sure what he had in mind, but he seemed to have an idea he wasn't ready to discuss yet.

“Not for the moment,” she said honestly, “I'm happy here. You've been very good to me, Desmond.”

He couldn't help notice that she had grown up a lot in the five months since she'd been in Los Angeles. She looked very sophisticated, and very polished, in part thanks to Nancy's help. But Cassie had her own ideas about clothes now. She handled herself beautifully with the press, and the public adored her. Not enough of them knew her yet, for his taste, but in the spring, he wanted her to start doing a tour of local air shows. She wondered sometimes what difference that kind of publicity made and if it really sold airplanes. Most air shows seemed so local and small scale. But it was important to him, and he reminded her that he expected her to make a tour of several hospitals and orphanages for a Christmas newsreel.

“You should have time to do that before you go home,” he said firmly.

“Don't worry, I'll take care of it.” She smiled at him and he laughed. Her eyes were always full of mischief, and he found it very appealing. He knew how much she disliked his publicity ideas, and he always wondered if she would balk at them. But in the end, she always did what was expected of her.

“In January, we're flying to New York, by the way,” he said casually, but this time with a glimmer in his own eye. “For a meeting between the queen of the cockpit, Cassie O'Malley, and the illustrious Charles Lindbergh.” She knew her father would be thrilled with that piece of news when she told him. Even she was impressed by that one, as she listened to Desmond explain it to her.

They were taking Desmond's brand-new plane, and Cassie was to fly a brief demonstration for Lindbergh, and then he would give both her and the plane his endorsement. He had already promised it to Desmond, and they were old friends. Like Desmond, Charles Lindbergh knew the value of public relations. And besides Lindy was interested in meeting Desmond's legendary young pilot.

She managed to do her hospital tour as planned, and Desmond was extremely pleased with what they got of it on the newsreel. And then she went home on schedule, for a week. Her mother had influenza, but she managed to be up and around long enough to cook Christmas dinner for all of them, and her father was in fine form. Billy had gone home too, to see his dad in San Francisco. And Chris was all wrapped up in Jessie, his new girl in Walnut Grove, so there was no one for her to play with. But she was happy anyway. She went for a long walk on Christmas Eve, and to church that night with her sisters. She stopped at the airfield on the way back, to check on her plane. She always felt even more responsible for the ones she brought home, they were so valuable and they weren't hers. But it was fun to fly them.

She checked that no one had disturbed anything, that the windows were closed, and the engine was protected. Her father had cleared his best hangar for her, and she knew that all his friends would come to see the plane she'd flown home. Little by little, she was becoming a legend.

After she'd checked on the plane, she walked slowly back into the night air. It was cold and brisk, and there was snow on the ground. It reminded her of Christmases when she was a little girl, and she had come to the airport with Nick and her father. It was hard not to think of him here. There were so many memories that Nick was a part of. She looked up at the sky, thinking of him, and almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice behind her whisper “Merry Christmas.” She wheeled to see who it was, and gave a gasp when she saw him standing there in uniform, like a vision.

“Oh, my God…” She stared at him in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” she asked Nick breathlessly as she flung herself toward him and he caught her.

“Should I go back?” he asked with a grin, looking handsomer than ever, as he held her and she hugged him.

“No. Never,” she answered as he clung to her as powerfully as she held him. He had never been happier than at this moment as he kissed her.

They were golden days. They talked, they laughed, they flew, they went for long walks, they even went ice skating on the pond, and to see Ninotchka with Garbo at the movies. It was all like a dream. Their time together was so precious and so short, it was idyllic. And although they sat and kissed and held each other for hours sometimes, he was adamant that no one know what had changed between them.

“My father knows anyway. What difference does it make?” She was always so matter-of-fact, but as usual he was insistent, and convinced he was right.

“I don't want to ruin your reputation.”

“By kissing me? How old-fashioned can you get?”