Wings (15 page)

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.

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.”