Cynthia Cartier - Wings

She was a hundred yards across the mat when the Lincoln pulled up beside her. The back window lowered and Alan Bradon looked out. “It’s that obvious is it?”

“Painfully so,” said Liddy as she kept walking and the car rolled along with her.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you again.”

“So you bought a four thousand dollar airplane to take a five minute ride to my gate?”

“Actually, I was hoping we could have dinner.”

“I have a plane to catch.”

“Miss Hall.” He opened the door and hopped out of the car that rolled alongside the two of them now. “I’m sorry, really, it was a stupid thing to do. It seemed like a rather romantic idea at the time, but—”

“Romantic? I don’t even know you.”

He shuffled out in front of Liddy and held up his hands as he stepped backwards. “Please, just stop for one minute, please.”

Liddy stopped walking and clenched her jaw.

“Haven’t you ever made a mistake? I made a big mistake. Please forgive me.”

“Okay, I forgive you. Now I’d like to catch my plane.” Liddy stepped around him and started walking again.

“I don’t believe you’ve really forgiven me. This doesn’t look like forgiveness to me.” He walked backwards in front of her, but to the side. “David, does this look like forgiveness to you?” he called out to his driver and looked at Liddy with his happy face.

What a goofball . Liddy couldn’t keep a slight smile from breaking through and she stopped and stood in front of him. “Okay, I really forgive you.”

He raised his eyebrow with distrust.

“I promise, I really, really forgive you okay.” Liddy held up her hand in oath. “But now, I have to catch my plane, Forgiven Man.”

“Stay and have dinner with me and I’ll get you another flight.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told.”

“No,” said Liddy. “For three reasons, “One: I don’t know you. Two: I’m dressed for flying not for dining. And three: Then you win.”

“Is that so bad? I’ll let you win next time.”

“Now there’s already a next time? Mr. Bradon, has—”

“Call me Alan.”

“Mr. Bradon, has anyone ever said no to you?”

“Once or twice maybe, I can’t remember.”

“Well, try to remember this, No,” Liddy said firmly and started walking again.

Alan kept pace beside her. “You can’t blame me for trying, and I just want to touch on One and Two for a minute. One: You do know my name, you know my planes and where they live and you know David.” Brandon looked over at the car and called out, “David, you remember Liddy Hall. And Two: I had dinner brought to the hangar—you’re dressed perfectly.”

Liddy stopped and shook her head at the man. “Again, you are unbelievable. You’re going to follow me all the way to my gate, aren’t you?”

“Well, actually, I hadn’t thought that far. I’m just doing as I go here.”

“If I have dinner with you, then what? You kidnap me and I’m never seen or heard from again?”

“No, no kidnapping. I get you a flight home, I promise, but you have to call me Alan.”

David drove Liddy and Alan back to the hangar, and Alan wasn’t kidding, he did have dinner waiting, along with a chef and a waiter. The whole production was set up in the office, complete with linens and candles. So Liddy sat with this pretty man in his pretty suit, and she with her mangled helmet hair in her leather flight jacket and seat-wrinkled slacks. But somehow, Alan didn’t seem to notice. Liddy wondered what was wrong with this man—surely something was.

He had the meal choreographed perfectly, and he was the show. The last time she had laughed that much, she was sitting around with a bunch of fly girls. When Alan left Liddy at her gate that night, she left him with the number where he could reach her at Clayton Air Field, and as she did, she questioned her judgment.

Jerry Bluff was at his desk when Liddy walked into his office the next morning. He leaned sideways, peeking out from behind a rather large vase of yellow roses that were sitting in front of him.

“Who’s the admirer, Hall?” asked Jerry.

“If I took a wild guess, I’d have to say a crazy man,” said Liddy and she plucked the tiny envelope from the arrangement. Inside was typed: Call me collect, Lakeview 387. Alan

“Can I leave these here?” she asked.

“Oh, please do. I’m enjoying the lovely fragrance,” Jerry sniffed at the air.

Liddy sneered at Jerry and left to teach her instrument class. Her classroom students were mostly men, but three were women. The gals wanted to know everything about Liddy’s time as a WASP, and she was sad they wouldn’t have the experience. She found she made a good teacher, in that she knew the subject well, and she had patience for those students that didn’t get the information as quickly. She knew that Jerry had lost some enrollment because he had a woman teaching, but he didn’t seem to care so neither did she. It was all part of the cost of progress.

The classroom door had a window, and Jerry strolled by every once in a while that morning with one of the yellow roses between his teeth. Liddy was beginning to think everyone around her might be losing their minds.

After her class she gave two flying lessons. Then she called Alan to thank him for the roses and tell him that she was sure something was seriously wrong with him, and he should see a doctor. He promised he would, and they made a date for the weekend.

Liddy flew to Chicago and took Alan up for a lesson. He had been working with an instructor every day since his first plane had been delivered, but he still didn’t even seem to know which way to tilt the stick. His forehead wrinkled up, and he had a ridiculous look of concentration on his face that made Liddy laugh.

“What?” Alan asked.

“You look like your head’s going to explode,” Liddy giggled.

“Well as long as yours doesn’t, we’re okay.”

“You need to relax. I’m doing most of the flying here. You realize that, don’t you?”

Alan shook himself out and looked like he was convulsing. “Okay, I’m relaxed now.” And he slid down in his seat like a drunk.

Liddy flew home and was happy. During the weeks that followed, she met Alan in Kansas City, St. Louis and back in Chicago. No matter how she felt when she left to see him, she was always light when she returned home. You couldn’t droop around Alan Bradon, it just wasn’t possible.

When Alan kissed her it was sweet and soft and it made her smile. He made her smile. Together they flew all over the East Coast and Alan’s flying skills didn’t improve a bit. Maybe it was because he was so busy talking or maybe it was because some people love being in the air, but not at the controls.

They spent a lot of time together driving the back roads all over New England and eating at little mom and pop places. They’d explore, eat and then go back to whatever little field they had landed at, climb into the plane and fly home.

Alan insisted they tell each other their life stories from A-Z. It was like talking to a girlfriend. No subject failed to interest him. One day as they broke peanuts out of their shells and tossed the husks on the plank floor of a little burger joint in Vermont, they talked about everything and nothing.

“Okay, your first kiss?” asked Alan.

“Rodney Carter, seventh grade in his daddy’s barn, during one of Holly Grove’s biggest snow storms ever.”

“First kiss?” Liddy asked.

“Eileen Cromwell—”

“Cromwell, of course,” said Liddy with a haughty air.

“Hey, she was very hot, first grade at her mother’s birthday party.”

“First grade? A little young.”