James was coming. He had not written to tell me of his arrival, in fact he had not written to me at all since I had been in France. I had gotten his address from Nanny, but none of my letters had been answered. I assumed his silence had been one of defeat at being balked in his desire to go toFrance. But now I was not so sure. It took me a few minutes to realize that the Lieutenant Colonel Winthrop, Inspector, whose name was being tossed about, was indeed my brother. A lieutenant colonel? The last I had heard from home had been that he was a captain. How had that happened with such speed? In spite of Papa’s meddling, it seemed he must have done well for himself. I was filled with relief, and a strong desire to see someone from home. I could still see his face alight with hope and promise as he left Chicago for training camp. I hoped his escape had been as satisfying for him as it had been for me. I knew he would be busy with official business, but I was sure we could find some time to spend together to talk about home and family. He was the only person left with whom I could share Arthur and Trixie, who understood the whole fabric of our childhood.
The canteen was electric with the news. Those who felt that Matthew’s discipline was too harsh were assuming that the visit was going to be a rebuke from headquarters, and those who approved of what he was doing felt it was a commendation for what he had accomplished. The arguments raged around the canteen.
I was clearing the staff table one night a few days later when Matthew stopped to talk to me. “Do you have a day off coming up soon?”
I looked up in surprise and answered in spite of myself, “In two days. Miss Farleigh has given me Thursday afternoon off.”
“How about a tour of the base then? You spend too much time in this canteen, and you need to get out and see some more of what goes on here. I think it would help in your job if you knew more about the training. Are you game?” His words were casual and his face bland.
I struggled for a few seconds trying to figure out what to say, and finally just nodded my agreement.
“Wear your oldest shoes and meet me in front of the canteen at two.” And he was gone leaving me confused, but filled with a pleasure that puzzled me. I looked around the canteen quickly to see who might have seen us, but Rosie had the afternoon off, and Margaret and Fay were busy in the kitchen with Miss Farleigh.
Thursday I was in front of the canteen well before two. I was dressed in a fresh smock, newly starched, that crinkled softly when I walked. I had brought along my cape, but decided to leave it inside as the day was bright and sunny. I stood on the top step of the canteen and looked out over the Instruction Center spread out over the flat plain. Huge hangers dotted the landscape connected by dirt roads and in the distance, the flying fields lay peacefully in the heat of the afternoon, the planes swooping gracefully over them like giant dragon flies. I thought back to the mud drenched place Rosie and I had arrived at six months ago and marveled at the change that had been wrought.
A door to the Headquarters opened, and I stepped back into the shadow of the porch as Matthew emerged into the sunshine. He put his cap on his head and gave a tug at the bottom of his jacket. He walked down the stairs, and then with an easy swinging stride started towards the canteen. His boots gave off little poofs of dust in the road, his arms swung easily at his sides, his back straight, his shoulders swelling out his uniform.
I walked out from the shadow of the canteen, feeling a sudden lift of joy and promise. Now I knew how Trixie felt entering a ballroom and wished that I might tell her that I finally understood. My ball gown was my working uniform, which suited me more than any creation our dressmaker had made in an attempt to turn me into something I could never be. It blew about my ankles in the slight breeze over brown leather shoes scared and scuffed with use, and more beautiful to me than any dancing slippers I had ever owned. I stepped off the duckboard walk as if walking down a spiral staircase to a ballroom and walked as confidently as Trixie ever had to join Matthew in the road.
“If you think the walk to Notre Dame and back was a long one, wait until I finish with you today,” Matthew said with a smile.
I smiled back, our easy companionship of that night restored. “You know I can take whatever you dish out.”
“Let’s go to the flying fields first,” he said pointing at one in the distance. “That’s Field Seven, and they are working on taking offs and landings today. I think you will find that exciting.”
As we walked, he talked about the problems of getting the proper lift, of calculating which direction the wind was in and how to use it. His face was cleared of all anxiety and strain, and I listened carefully as he tried to unravel the intricacies of flying for me.
“It’s all so new and exciting,” he said. “It’s like being in on the creation of the world. This flying business is only just getting started, and who knows where it will go.”
I was filled with a sudden yearning to able to be up in those clouds in one of those fragile looking craft. What a sense of freedom, what a new way of looking at the world. “What does it feel like to be up in the clouds like that?”
“There’s nothing like it. The first time I did it I was hooked for life. There you are with the earth below you, the people look so small and everything that was important down there suddenly doesn’t matter. You are alone with the wind in the hollowness of the sky. The world lays at your feet and above you is nothing but open sky going on and on forever. And then you start to loop and roll, dancing in the empty space, flying with the birds.”
We walked up to the edge of the field, my mind still whirling with all he had said. A plane was beginning to take off, bumping and hopping as it rolled down the uneven grass field. The area was no bigger than the front lawn that rolled down to the lake at Grandpapa’s. It seemed impossible that the machine could lift into the air at the end of such a short space, but it did.
“That pilot’s one of our better youngsters. A little rough perhaps, but he’s got a real feel for it.” He began describing various maneuvers that the plane was making. His hands darted about, swooping and rolling in the air like the planes he was describing.
I smile to myself. Youngster he had called the cadet pilot, yet how old was he? Only a bit older than the students. It was the responsibility that set him apart. The responsibility, not just for himself and a plane, but for all the pilots and all the planes. It was hard to think that the man who stood beside me, describing a complicated air maneuver, his face flushed with enthusiasm, his hat on the back of his head, was the same man who sat at the staff table every night, his back ramrod straight, his face stern and immobile.
“Let’s go across to Field Nine. They are working on stunt flying over there.”
He climbed back onto the road. As we crossed it, I looked down where the road wandered off into a quiet field. Wildflowers grew in the long grass and the field was dotted with white crosses.
I looked over at him. “You know there was a funeral every day before you came. I think people were beginning to accept it.”
Matthew looked in the direction of the white crosses. “I never can. Every time someone is killed, it tears away a little piece of me. I always think, if only I had done this or that or thought or this or that, maybe that plane would have stayed in the air --- maybe that pilot would have known the one thing he needed to and didn’t.” He was silent as we walked along, lost in thought. When he spoke again, I could hardly hear. “Then I write the letter --- to the mother or wife --- and what can I really say to fill the emptiness that my letter brings.”
“But you are doing something just by being here. Len says this whole center would have closed down if you hadn’t come.”
“Well, it sure needed someone, and I was chosen for the job. It’s a job I never wanted and I will do it with everything I have, but Val----“ He turned to me his face filled with longing. “I want to be flying, flying up at the front with my own squadron.”
With a sudden jolt I realized how empty this place would seem if Matthew were suddenly gone …. if he got his wish, and were sent to the front. And with a further realization I knew that I would not feel the same about Bazz if he were to get orders tomorrow. I had been angry at Matthew’s rudeness and disregard, but my anger had only masked the fact that the dream of a sixteen-year-old girl was still alive somewhere inside of me, in spite of all that had happened in the intervening years.
That afternoon we walked and walked and walked. We went around the all the flying fields, we saw shop after shop. Through it all Matthew kept up a steady stream of stories and comments, as if the sheer volume of his words would carry me along on the stream of his enthusiasm. On my part all I wanted to do was stay out here in the fields under the bright sun and walk with him forever. I never wanted to go back to the canteen, and the smell of cooking, and the chatter of the other girls. I did not want to lose this time and this feeling. It was fragile and could be broken in a minute by outside forces beyond our control. I had learned that with Trixie.
But soon the day began to darken, and it was time to return to the canteen for the evening rush. Matthew suddenly said, “I was reading over the dossiers on the Red Cross personnel last night.”
My heart sank. Here it comes I thought as I managed to choke out a reply.
“Leafing through them, I found out that you are Valerie Winthrop of Chicago.” He looked over at me. “James Winthrop’s sister.”
You’ve known my name for a long time.”
“But I had no idea that you were the girl I met in Chicago. That Valerie Winthrop.” He looked at me accusingly. “You knew me in Paris, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
“And in Bordeaux?”
I nodded again becoming even more miserable.
“What sort of game were you playing? Why didn’t you just say who you were?”
“I was waiting for you to say something,” I said inadequately. How could I tell him about some silly dream I had held on to for so long?
“Well, I would have said something if I had had the slightest idea who you were. My God, Valerie, you were just a little kid with a short dress and a big sash and freckles. How could I know that you would turn into------ How old were you anyway? Thirteen?
“Actually, I was sixteen.” Against my will my face flushed, and I looked away. But Matthew was in mid remembrance.
“No. You couldn’t have been. And your sister, that pretty sister? How old was she?”
“Through gritted teeth I said, “A year younger. She was my younger sister.”
“But she had herself all fixed up so that you’d remember her. Is she still…”
I broke in hastily. “You’ve changed too you know.”
“Not much. I look pretty much the same, just older. You --- you’ve changed entirely. No one could have recognized you.”
Suddenly the afternoon was no longer the golden day it had been. The house on Ellis Avenue had come between us, and I was once again that tongue tied awkward girl with the freckles and red hair. Could I never leave that behind no matter how far I came? Lost in my misery I caught one word “guardian angel.”
“What?”
I turned to look at Matthew. “Well, you were you know. You were my guardian angel that night. I was scared to death. James was hoping I wouldn’t eat with my knife. Your sister was hoping that I would. Your mother was set to be kind to the country bumpkin no matter what he did. But that girl in that hideous blue sash fought for me with everything she had to make me look better than I was. I’ve never forgotten it.”
I suddenly felt a wave of emotion wash over me, and it was impossible to say a word. I thought that dream had been mine alone, but he had remembered the evening as well after all.. It was a small flame that had burned all these years.
“And your father. He did not approve of me at all. Come to think of it I’m surprised he let his daughter loose in France.”
“He didn’t”
“You jumped the traces?”
“I just had to.”
“Then I am glad you did. It takes something to cut loose. And what about James? I suppose you knew before any of us that he was coming?”
“Not really. He didn’t write to me. I heard about it in the canteen.”
Matthew looked at me for a moment, eyebrows raised, gauging something. The he continued. “I had no idea when I asked for an inspection that the Inspector General would send James.”
“You asked for it?”
“Sure. If topside doesn’t know where the rotten parts of the foundation are, they can’t do anything about it. My first night here I wrote a report, and sent it in. I was burned, and I wanted them to be mad too. At least they are coming to see for themselves.”
‘You’ve made it better already. Even I can see that.”
“And it will be better still by the time your brother gets here. It will be better every hour I live, if I have to break every individual and collective back to make it that way.”
We had reached the canteen steps. The afternoon had come to an end. “Thank you for the tour. It was wonderful.” I tried to put my whole heart into those two words.
Matthew seemed to understand. A smile slowly lit his face, one that even reached his eyes. For a moment the years dropped away, and he looked as he had in our dining room years ago.
“You’re very welcome,” he said and turned and left.