Lone eagle

“Joe Allbright. Do you want some food?” He was direct and clear, and spare in what he said. He only said what he felt he needed to. He had never been one for flowery words. And she had not yet taken a plate at the buffet. As she nodded, he handed one to her. She took very little, some vegetables, and a small piece of chicken. She wasn't hungry, she'd been too excited all night to eat. Without saying a word, he carried her plate for her, and they walked to one of the tables where the others were dining, and found two seats. They sat down in silence, and as he picked up his fork, he looked at her, wondering why she had befriended him. Whatever the reason, it had improved his evening immeasurably. And hers.

“Do you know a lot of the people here?” he asked, without glancing at them, only at her. She was picking at her food, as she smiled at him.

“Some. My parents know more than I do,” she explained, surprised by how uncomfortable she felt with him. It was unusual for her, but it felt as though everything she said counted, and as if he were listening to every inflection in her voice. Being with him didn't have the light, easy feeling that she had with other men. There was something startlingly intense about him. With Joe, it was as though all the frills and subterfuge were stripped away, and what you were left with was very real.

“Are your parents here tonight?” He seemed interested as he ate one of the shrimp.

“Yes. Somewhere. I haven't seen them in hours.” And she knew she wouldn't for several more. Her mother had a way of settling into corners with a few close friends, and whiling away the evening, without even dancing. And Kate's father always stayed close to her. “We came down from Boston for the party,” she offered to further the conversation, and he nodded.

“Is that where you live?” he asked, eyeing her carefully. There was something about her that mesmerized him. He wasn't sure if it was the way she spoke, or the way she looked at him. She looked calm and intelligent, and interested in what he was saying. He wasn't comfortable with people paying such close attention to him. And beyond her obvious intelligence and poise, she was exquisite looking. He loved just looking at her.

“Yes. Are you from New York?” she asked, abandoning her chicken. She wasn't hungry, the evening was too exciting to be bothered with eating. She'd rather talk to him.

“Originally, no. I'm from Minnesota. I've been living here for the past year. But I've lived all over the place. New Jersey. Chicago. I spent two years in Germany. I'm going out to California after the first of the year. I go wherever there's an airstrip.” He seemed to expect her to understand that, and she looked at him with increased interest.

“Do you fly?” For the first time, he looked genuinely amused by her question, and he seemed to relax visibly as he answered her.

“I guess you could say that. Have you ever been up in a plane, Kate?” It was the first time he had said her name, and she liked the way it sounded. He made it seem personal, and she was pleased that he had remembered. He looked like the sort of man who would forget names with very little effort, and anything else that didn't hold his interest. But he was fascinated by her and had noticed everything about her even before they met.

“We flew to California last year, to take the ship to Hong Kong. Usually, we travel by train, or ship.”

“It sounds like you've done some traveling. What took you to Hong Kong?”

“I went with my parents. We went to Hong Kong and Singapore, but up till then we'd just gone to Europe.” Her mother had seen to it that she spoke Italian and French, and a smattering of German. Her parents thought it would be useful for her. Her father could easily imagine her married to a diplomat. She would have been the perfect ambassador's wife, and unconsciously he was grooming her for it. “Are you a pilot?” she asked, with wide eyes, which betrayed her youth for once. And he smiled again.

“Yes, I am.”

“For an airline?” She thought him both mysterious and interesting, and watched as he unwound his long limbs, and sat back in his chair for a moment. He was like no one else she had ever met, and she wanted to know more about him. He had none of the obvious polish of the boys she knew, and at the same time there was something enormously worldly about him. And for all his shyness, she could sense a deep sense of confidence about him, as though he knew he could take care of himself anywhere, at any time, in any circumstance. There was an underlying innate sophistication about him, and she could easily imagine him flying an airplane. To her, it seemed very romantic and powerful.

“No, I don't fly for an airline,” he explained. “I test planes, and design them, for high speed and endurance.” It was more complicated than that, but it was all he needed to tell her.