Wings

But all Cassie could think of by then was the summer air show. She was hard at work learning rolls and turns, and some new aerobatics she'd seen at a small airstrip in Ohio where she'd gone with Nick. She was working on her speed, and practicing whenever she could spare the time. By June, she had finished her sophomore year, and she thought she was ready for the air show.

Bobby was annoyed about her participating in the air show again, but he had his own problems at the grocery store, and he had long since understood how impossible Cassie was about flying. They went to see the new Tarzan movie when it came out in June, and it was the only respite they shared as she prepared for the air show.

Finally, at long last, the big day came, and Cassie was at the airstrip in Peoria with Nick at four o'clock in the morning. Her brother was coming in later with Pat, but he wasn't particularly enthused about flying in the show this year. He had been so excited about starting college at Western Illinois University at Macomb that he had hardly practiced. Pat was still pinning all his hopes on him, and despite Cassie's impressive wins the year before, he scarcely ever mentioned her entering the air show.

Nick helped her fuel the plane and check everything, and at six o'clock he took her out for breakfast.

“Relax,” he smiled at her, remembering how he himself had been the first time he'd flown in an exhibition show, after the war. Pat had gone with him and Oona had brought the kids to see him. Cassie had been there too of course, she was only two then. And remembering that suddenly made him feel old. The two had become so close since he had started teaching her to fly years before. They had developed a bond that they would never lose now. But the painful thing for him sometimes was forcing himself to remember that he was old enough to be her father. She was twenty now, and there were eighteen years between them. He still felt like a kid, and he looked far younger than his years, and Cassie accused him constantly of acting like a child. But the fact was, he was thirty-eight… and she was only twenty. He would have given anything to cut in half the difference between them. Not that she seemed to care. But he did. But then again, she was still the daughter of his closest friend, and nothing would ever change that. Pat would never have understood the bond or the closeness between them. Nick knew it was a hurdle they would never overcome, unlike her flying. Pat had gone that far, but he would go no further.

Nick ordered her a plate of eggs, some sausages, a side of toast, and a cup of black coffee. But she waved it away as soon as it appeared at the table.

“I can't, Nick. I'm not hungry.”

“Eat it anyway. You'll need it later. I know what I'm talking about, kid. Otherwise, you're going to go weak in the knees when you're doing loops and negative G's out there. Be a good girl and eat it, or I'll have to force it down your throat, and the waitress might not understand it.” He looked at her in a way that said how much he cared, and she grinned up at him happily.

“You're disgusting.”

“You're cute. Especially when you take first prize. I like that in a girl. In fact, I'm kind of counting on you to do that.”

“Be nice. Don't push. I'll do what I can.” But she wanted to win first prize too, maybe even several of them. For him, for herself, and more importantly, to impress her father.

“He loves you anyway, you know. He just can't stand admitting he was wrong. But he knows how good you are. I heard him tell a bunch of guys at the airport last week. He just doesn't want to tell you, that's all.” Nick understood him better than Cass did. For all his gruff ways and seeming outrage over women fliers, her father was desperately proud of her, and just as embarrassed to show it.

“Maybe if I stacked a bunch of prizes up today, he'd have to admit, finally, that I fly okay… to me, I mean, not just to a bunch of guys.” She still sounded angry when she talked about it sometimes. Her father was always bragging about Chris, who didn't even like to fly. It drove her crazy.

“Would it really make that much difference to hear the words?” Nick asked her, eating fried eggs and steak with her. He wasn't going to be doing loops, but he had ordered himself a healthy breakfast.

“Maybe. I'd like to hear them just for the hell of it. Just to see how it feels.”

“And then what?”

“I go back to flying for you, and him, and myself, no big deal, I guess.”

“And you finish college and become a teacher.” He liked to say the words, but they both knew that she didn't believe that.

“I'd rather teach flying like you,” she said honestly, taking a sip of hot coffee.

“Yeah, and fly mail runs. That's a great life for a college girl”