Wings

“You couldn't say we have an awful lot in common,” he said thoughtfully, “but sometimes that works,” he said pensively. “Actually, I'm not sure anymore what works. It's been so long since I even tried to figure it out, I can't remember.” She smiled, and suddenly she felt as though she were being interviewed, but she wasn't sure for what position. “What about you, Cass? Why is it exactly that at the ripe old age of twenty-one and two days, you're not married?” He was only half teasing. He wanted to know just how free she was. He had never been quite sure, although she didn't seem to be too tied to anyone, except maybe the RAF pilot in England.

“No one wants me,” she explained easily and he laughed, and so did she. She was surprisingly comfortable with him.

“Try again.” He lay back on the sand, looking at her, completely amused by her, and very relaxed in her unaffected presence. “Tell me something I'll believe.” She was far too beautiful for no one to want her.

“I mean it. Boys my age are terrified by women pilots. Unless they fly themselves, and then the last thing they want is competition from another pilot.”

“And what about boys my age?” he asked cautiously, as she remembered that he was four years younger than Nick, who was thirty-nine now.

“They seem to get upset about the difference in age. At least some of them do, the ones say… four years older than you are.”

“I see. They think you're immature?” But she wasn't that either.

“No, they think they're too old, but haven't come far enough in life and have nothing to offer me. They fly away to England and tell me to go play with kids my own age. No promises. No hope.”

“I see. And do you play with boys your own age?” He was intrigued by her story. He wondered immediately if it was her father's partner at the airport, but he didn't ask her. He assumed it was, after the way the fellow had tried to protect her from him that first day at the airport.

“No,” she said honestly. “I haven't had time for any boys of any age. I've been too busy flying for you, and going to all the social events you think are important.” She also didn't want to be involved with anyone. She was too much in love with Nick to care about someone else, but she didn't say that.

“Social events are important, Cassie.”

“Not to me,” she smiled.

“You can't be easy to please, Miss Cassie O'Malley.

You've been out five nights a week with a different man each night for close to a year now. And no one has struck your fancy?”

“I guess not. Too busy, no time, no interest. They all bore me.” She didn't bother telling him that most of them were male models, or less than masculine actors. Not that it made a difference to her.

“You're spoiled.” He wagged a finger at her, and she laughed at him.

“If I am, it's all your fault. Look what you've done for me, apartments, clothes, all the planes I could ever want to fly, including a diamond one”— she smiled gratefully, she had written him a thank-you note only that morning—” cars… hotels… fancy restaurants… who wouldn't be spoiled after all that?”

“You,” he said simply, telling the truth, and then he pulled her to her feet and they walked further down the beach in their bare feet telling each other silly stories. They had dinner at a little Mexican restaurant near her apartment, and he told her the food was terrible, but she loved it, and then he took her home and promised to call her the next morning.

“I go to work at four,” she said, “I won't be here.”

“So do I,” he smiled, “we must both work for the same tyrant. I'll call you at three-thirty.” She was surprised when he did. He was the oddest person. And so lonely. His stories of his childhood made her heart ache. It was no wonder he had never loved anyone, no one had ever loved him. It made her want to protect him, and undo it all, and yet at the same time he was always doing things for her. He was an unusual combination of warm and cold, invulnerable, and deeply wounded.

He picked her up at the airport that afternoon, and drove her home, but he didn't come in. And from then on, he called her every day, and took her to dinner several times a week in quiet places. He never did anything more than that, and Cassie never felt they were more than friends, but within a short time they were very good ones. He had never mentioned the world tour again, but she thought of it sometimes when she flew, and all of Nick's warnings. She thought he was crazy to have been so worried. Desmond had no desire to do anything that would harm her or push her. He wanted only the best for her. She was sure of that. More than anything, he was her friend now. He turned up at the oddest times, as she climbed out of a plane, or left for work at four in the morning. He was there for her, if she needed him, he never intruded on her, or asked for more than she wanted to give. He seemed to want so little from her, and yet she always sensed his presence.