Cynthia Cartier - Wings

“One of the best pilots I’ve ever seen,” Gant said thoughtfully, then filled up his chest. “Taught her everything she knows.”

Liddy sat at a table alone and was studying two manuals that she had opened side-by-side in front of her when Jenna came in.

“Hey, where’ve you been, Law? I’ve been waiting.”

Jenna sat down, squeezed Liddy’s hand and didn’t let go.

Liddy could see she’d been crying and asked, “What’s the matter?”

Jenna didn’t answer.

“Is it Ellis?” Liddy asked.

Jenna choked out, “No.”

A numbness deadened every inch of Liddy. “Tell me, Jenna.”

Jenna struggled to speak and tears ran over her cheeks. She clamped both of her hands around Liddy’s who pulled away, but Jenna held on tight.

“Just say it. Say it, Jenna!”

Jenna inhaled and let the words out in a broken breaths, “Bet. She was testing a plane out of the repair shop, the flap tore and—”

“Where is she?”

“Liddy, she’s—”

Liddy pulled her hand away and shot up from her seat and yelled, “NO!”

“Liddy.”

“NO,” she yelled again, drawing the attention of everyone in the room before she ran out of the club.

Liddy sat on the wing of a plane, her arms circled tight around her knees. She couldn’t let go of the pain and the anger, both were too big and uncontrollable and her body ached from the strain of holding them in.

Jenna walked across the runway and looked up at her. “Spot for me up there?”

Liddy stared down with a lifeless gaze.

Jenna boosted herself on the wing and scooted to Liddy and sat quietly trying to think of what to say. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She waited for words or a change of expressions, but Liddy just kept staring. “Planes go down, Liddy. We know it can happen.”

Liddy turned her head from Jenna and bit down hard on her lip.

“It could happen to any one of us. You know that.” Jenna continued.

“Some male pilot messed up that plane, but he doesn’t test it. No, he’s not expendable. Well, neither was she.” Liddy clenched her teeth and her jaw flexed.

“Liddy, these things happen. It’s going to happen. We do what we do to serve. We’re taking a risk every time we go up.”

“You know why Bet was up there?” Liddy’s eyes filled with tears. “Because I pushed and encouraged her. I told her it was all worth it and that she could do it.”

“And she did it. That crash wasn’t her fault. She was a damn good pilot. And she wanted to be flying for her country, just like the rest of us.”

“Listen, I’m here for myself, got it. Not for the WASP, or the war. Myself, that’s why I’m here and that’s why I’m leaving, for myself.”

Liddy’s suitcase was packed and laid open on her bed. She looked out the window. In the distance the moonlight bounced off the shiny planes lined up in a perfect row on the flight line, and she couldn’t bear the sight of them.

The radio dispensed the last note of Who Wouldn’t Love You that floated into a brief silence before a news report broke in with a crackle, “This is David Carson reporting live from KYO Radio, Delaware. We’ve just received an official wire with the war’s latest casualty estimates. Over 200,000 Americans have been killed in the campaign to defeat Hitler. As the United States calls on more and more of its brave soldiers to continue this fight, let us all pray for a swift end to this human devastation—”

Liddy picked up the radio and threw it across the room, then fell onto the bed and broke down into a flood of tears. Jack approved of a tough skin on Liddy, and she hadn’t ever really cried, not sobbed, not even when her mother had died. But in that moment, years of tears flushed out of her like a dam break. She cried for the little Liddy who lost her mother, and for Jack. She screamed out for Bet and buried her face in a pillow when she sobbed Reid’s name. She cried for Daniel and for the hundreds of thousands of men whose mamas and daddies and sweeties were crying too.

Emptiness consumed Liddy. Sadness weighted her down onto the bed. She had lost her way and she had no strength or desire to find it. Liddy’s head pounded with pain and her mind blackened, until she finally fell asleep.

Liddy knocked on the door of the Base Commander.

“Come In.”

She walked into the office and stood in front of the desk. “Sir, I’m WASP pilot, Liddy Hall.”

“Yes, Hall, what can I do for you?”

“Sir, I’d like to request leave to take care of a personal matter.”

A hearse wound its way through the cemetery and a line of cars followed and then parked behind it. A black shrouded procession left the vehicles and grew as it approached the freshly dug grave.

The Santiago Blue of the WASP uniforms stood out among the mourners. Liddy, Louise, Marina, Joy Lynn and Calli, who cradled her baby boy, followed behind Bet’s family. Bet’s brothers held up their mother by her elbows as her feet took weak steps but mostly dragged through the grass. Mr. Bailey shuffled along and hadn’t uttered a word all morning, but every once in a while a little moan echoed in his throat.

The polished cherry wood coffin was carried to the graveside. An American flag the sister-friends had bought was draped over the top. Liddy was glad she had already given away her grief, now she filled her mind with the tilt of Bet’s head when she didn’t get a joke and how her tight red curls would bounce when she did. She saw the dance of her beautiful blue cat eyes when she bopped around after a great run in the sky or when she did the Bet dance. It was a smile that pushed tears onto Liddy’s cheeks.

The minister stood at the foot of the coffin and led Bet’s family and friends into the journey of letting go, a journey that never really has an end. After two of Bet’s brothers sang The Old Rugged Cross, the minister concluded the service by reading from the scriptures. His voice was joined by the sobs of Mrs. Bailey as he finished, “… My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” He closed the Bible and offered up a communal farewell, “Treasured daughter, sister and friend, Betsy Ann Bailey served her country bravely even into death. This dear child has returned to you, Father. Comfort all who love her and keep the flame of her spirit alive.”

The baymates hadn’t all been together since Avenger, but the pain was too raw for them to have joy in a reunion, so they parted after the funeral and went their separate ways. As time went on, though, they made a point of telling Bet stories to each other and anyone else who would listen. The distance that death had put between them and Bet grew to compare with the miles that kept them apart as they fulfilled their WASP duties. Eventually it was as if Bet was just a plane ride away.

Eleanor Roosevelt said, ‘Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints on your heart.’ When they were able to visit with one another, the women brought Bet along and laughed like they did back in their training days. Their hearts had been imprinted and they would be knit in this world and the next.

Liddy returned to New Castle and flew for her country. Sitting in the cockpit after Bet’s death, she ran through her check and stopped before she said it and thought about whether she would. But it had to be a good day to die, she knew that, otherwise she wouldn’t be free. And she had to be free. She had to live without fear. To live was to fly. So she said it and then rolled down the runway.

The months of flying filled her with purpose, but her heart had some room. She picked up her mail less and less often. When she did, part of her still hoped to see a letter from Reid, while the other part had let him rest with Bet.