Lorewyn merely sighed. “New Sylestia didn’t come to the aid of the Woodmen of the Eldermark until it was too late, Blackbird. Not until Pryllok’s army had wiped out their society and was marching on our borders… not until we were directly attacked and the safety of our realm was personally threatened.”
She said nothing more and got up a moment later to make some tea.
Through her work as a test pilot for Hughes, Rhianyn had met Nancy Harkness Love, a fellow pilot. Nancy had joined the civil service in Baltimore, her husband having been called to active duty for the war effort. Rhianyn received a phone call from her a few months after the U.S. entered what was now being called the Second World War.
“Antonia,” Nancy said, calling Rhianyn by her familiar alias, “I need your help. You’re one of the best pilots I know. I’m trying to put together an auxiliary group of women pilots to assist the Armed Forces. They’re calling every qualified male pilot to fly into battle, leaving hardly any men left to run supplies, train new recruits, transfer personnel… well, you get the idea. There’s a need for us, to help the military, to serve our country! I want you to help me draft this proposal and get this program off the ground. Can you meet me in Washington?”
Rhianyn wasted no time in calling up Hughes and requesting a leave of absence. She was denied. So, in her true fashion, she told her boss that he wasn’t going to stop her from doing what she felt was right… and she quit, signing up for the civil service the very same day and arranging for a flight to Washington D.C.
Lorewyn was obviously supportive of her wife, without reservation. But she felt justified in voicing her concerns as well.
“I know you won’t be on the front lines… but please be careful,” Lorewyn had expressed. “I really don’t want you to come home in a body bag because you pull another stunt like you did with the H-1 and almost fall to your death from the outside hull of the plane in flight, executing a Dragon-styled maneuver from your younger days and being the beautiful raven-haired heroine whom I love and adore.”
Rhianyn tried to say something, but Lorewyn had her lips pressed up against hers and was kissing her farewell before she could utter a response.
“You’re clever, Blackbird, but I always know,” she said again, smiling.
Although already trained and a highly skilled aviator, Rhianyn underwent some training with the newly formed Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASP’s) in Houston, Texas, and was stationed for the next two years at Avenger Field in Sweetwater. There, she trained new recruits through the 31st Flying Training Wing under the leadership of Jacqueline Cochran. Rhianyn flew mostly domestic missions during her time with the WASP’s, but was involved in one particularly risky personnel run to the Philippines in 1944, transporting a unit of the Women’s Army Corps Battalion home… including Sergeant Johnnie Phelps.
Lorewyn only got to see Rhianyn once during those two years. Rhianyn had called her beforehand, saying that she’d be flying a plane into the Barstow airfield for some modifications that the War Department had commissioned. She’d be in Barstow for a couple of days. Lorewyn was in the middle of working on the film Laura, doubling for Gene Tierney. There were brief segments in a couple of scenes that the actress wasn’t comfortable doing. She spoke to the director, Otto Preminger, and tried to get him to delay filming the scenes where she was standing in for Tierney. But he refused, saying that if Lorewyn didn’t fulfill her contractual obligations, he’d notify the studio.
Lorewyn was visibly upset, knowing that Rhianyn had only a narrow window of time. Tierney had noticed that Lorewyn was clearly distracted and asked her if everything was okay. Lorewyn had broken down, confiding in the actress that her cousin was serving in the WASP’s, that she hadn’t seen her in over a year, and that she was really wanting to find some way to get to Barstow for a while to visit.
Tierney listened with a sincere and understanding ear, then went to see Preminger. She insisted that Lorewyn get the flexibility to go see her “cousin,” and that she would handle the scenes personally. Preminger knew that Tierney had a recent history with health issues and tried to talk her out of it. But the actress was adamant.
Lorewyn thanked her before she departed for Barstow. Tierney didn’t say anything that directly implied that she suspected Lorewyn’s “cousin” story to be a fabrication in order to hide the true nature of the relationship, but she did offer a bit of insight into her reasons for convincing Preminger to let her go.
“Miss Chambers, I know what it’s like to have someone but not have love, and to be apart from someone you actually do love. We work in the movies, but that’s not real life, and it’s not real love. Life is not a movie.”
It was also during the time Rhianyn was serving in the WASP’s that Lorewyn heard of FDR’s Presidential Order 9066, moving all Japanese-Americans from their homes on the West Coast to inland concentration camps. Horrified, the first people Lorewyn thought of were the kind family who had sold them their home, Norman and Emily Takei. She took the soonest opportunity and drove to their real estate office in the Little Tokyo district of downtown Los Angeles.
But the building was empty. The office had been boarded up. Much of that part of downtown was now vacant, the people gone. Relocated. Forced from their homes and lives and moved against their will to strange, crowded barracks, desolate camps with fences and guards.
Simply because they were Japanese-American, and America was at war with Japan. Because they looked like the enemy… even though they weren’t.
Lorewyn tried to find where exactly the Takei’s had been taken, but that information was restricted, and even had she obtained it, what hope would there have been for her to actually see or visit them? She kept this tragedy in her heart and told Rhianyn about it when she saw her in Barstow.
“We’re no better,” she stated. “It’s like the forced evacuation from Olvenshire so long ago… the Nullification Act. Fear. Except this time, it’s Humans doing it to other Humans. How can this nation, this kindred, this world, survive if this continues? If people don’t learn? If Humans can’t evolve past the demons of xenophobia and hate? How, Blackbird… how?”
Rhianyn had no answer for her at that time, but a year later, when the war ended in the dropping of two atomic bombs on Japanese cities, she offered a thought.
“I don’t know, but those demons are now armed with weapons that can destroy not only the enemy but the entire world as well… and that terrifies me, Yellowfeather!”
CHAPTER 13
Rhianyn found the job market to be rather competitive when she returned to Los Angeles after the war and her service with the WASP’s. Despite her history of working with Hughes, her skill as a pilot, and her time in the civil service, there just weren’t many opportunities for her with so many men coming home from the war.
She had heard that Griffith Observatory, located not far from where she and Lorewyn lived, had been a site for training pilots in celestial navigation during the war. Fascinated by this, she visited the observatory one day about a year after the war had ended. Having always been drawn to the stars, and knowing quite a bit about navigating using celestial bodies while flying, Rhianyn got a ticket to one of the tours, having previously studied up on the observatory, its history, functions, etc.
There were quite a number of visitors signed up for the tour, and they had been waiting for some time. About twenty minutes after the tour was supposed to start, one of the attendants spoke to the group, explaining that the guide had suddenly been taken ill and was unable to be present. He apologized and was about to discuss rescheduling options when Rhianyn spoke up.
“What if I led this tour?” she asked.
The attendant thought she was joking at first, but a moment later Rhianyn had the group listening intently as she described not only what she knew about the observatory, which was considerable, but also her own experiences flying in the WASP’s during the war, her detailed knowledge of celestial navigation, and several other things pertaining to aviation and astronom
y.
The attendant called the director, and he met Rhianyn as soon as the tour was concluded. “Would you like a job?” he asked.
And that’s how Antonia Blackstone, former test pilot and member of the WASP’s, became a curator and guide at the Griffith Observatory, a position she held onto for over twelve years. Lorewyn was even able to get a free tour.
Lorewyn was just about to start work on Green Grass of Wyoming, a Western film in which she’d be doubling for Peggy Cummins, when she woke from reverie one morning with a section of the newspaper folded and lying next to her on the bed. Rhianyn had been up early for work at the observatory and had seen the article, leaving it in plain sight so that her wife wouldn’t miss it.
It was the obituary section, dated June 19, 1947. The article reported the passing of famous longtime Scribner’s editor Maxwell Evarts Perkins who had died in his home in Connecticut two days before. The cause listed was pneumonia.
Next to the obituary was a photo, in customary fashion, taken within the past couple of years, showing Max in his office at Scribner’s, looking much older than Lorewyn remembered the last time she saw him. As a special tribute, as was sometimes the case with well-known people who had died, the paper included a few additional photos of Max during his career… one of which was dated 1925 and showed Max standing next to a young blonde woman, his assistant, identified as Ariel Archer.
Lorewyn wasn’t really sure what happened the rest of the day. She didn’t fully remember getting out of bed, eating breakfast, or doing much of anything. When Rhianyn came home later, Lorewyn was in the kitchen, sitting at the dining table with the obituary open in front of her, just looking meditative.
Rhianyn approached, sitting at the table next to her, and held her hand. “I called Scribner’s,” she said softly. “The funeral service is in two days, on Saturday, in New Canaan, Connecticut. I got us tickets to New York… the flight is tomorrow evening. I also called Zanuck on your behalf to check your filming schedule. He said the shooting for the picture you’re doing doesn’t start until next week. We can get a cab Saturday morning from LaGuardia to the funeral. I made a reservation at the Biltmore for us on Saturday night. We fly home on Sunday.”
Lorewyn didn’t say anything right away, but continued to hold onto Rhianyn’s hand. When she finally lifted her head and looked into her eyes, there were tears… but not tears of sadness for Max’s passing. They were tears of love for her wife.
There were no more words that needed to be said. A moment later, they were holding each other in gentle and symbiotic silence.
Neither Lorewyn nor Rhianyn had attended a funeral since their arrival in America over 25 years earlier. The service for Max was held at Lakeview Cemetery. It had been quite a number of years since they had lived in New York, but they weren’t taking chances, especially with an old photo of Lorewyn freshly printed and circulated. Both women had dressed in black with veils and hats. They stood some distance from the ceremony, listening to the words of the priest with their keen Elven hearing. Max’s five daughters and their families were present, along with his now widowed wife Louise. Lorewyn had met her years ago, along with their two oldest girls. There were many others in attendance, people who Lorewyn recognized. Authors who had worked with Max. Fellow editors and publishing assistants. People in the business. She couldn’t speak to any of them. She couldn’t offer the family her condolences. For all intents and purposes, she couldn’t exist… Ariel Archer was no more.
“This is how it’s always going to be, isn’t it, Blackbird?” she whispered as the priest was delivering the benediction. “It was like this in Europe with Humans we knew and with whom we developed bonds and friendships. It was like this with Humans and Dwarves we knew in Cordysia too, the difference being that we could say goodbye properly. But here…” She paused, her voice trembling a bit. “For as long as we endure in this realm, we will be in it, but never truly a part of it… not the way we were in our home realm. We will always be different… living as Humans, magically concealing our ears, moving on when the years begin to grow too long… but it will always be a lie, won’t it? We’ll always be just sojourners… never citizens in a community.”
Rhianyn stood next to her, silent for a time. The service ended. Some left quickly, others lingered. Rhianyn finally spoke, still watching with Lorewyn.
“Yellowfeather, when you worked at Scribner’s all those years ago, helping to inspire writers like Fitzgerald, and confront other writers like Hemingway, that wasn’t a lie. When you helped Edie at the Mission, gave that Babe Ruth baseball to the girl with polio, and ultimately saved a life before we left New York, that wasn’t a lie. When you rescued a city councilman’s wife and son, plus several others, in a flood, that wasn’t a lie. What you do as a stuntwoman in Hollywood isn’t a lie. When you went to check on the family that sold us our home when you found out about the Presidential Order, that wasn’t a lie. You have lived, breathed, and pursued your truth the way you always have… with heart and conviction… right here in this realm, among these people, these Humans, these short-lived, xenophobic, impulsive, bizarre, and sometimes self-destructive Humans. My love, we are all sojourners in the worlds in which we dwell, each one of us, however long we might live, whatever degrees of concealment or transparency we possess, and whoever we might meet and impact along the way. You and I both have passed through multiple realms, moving like actors on a stage, playing our roles, entering and exiting with various curtains and scenes. ‘All the world’s a stage’ as Shakespeare once said… you remember him, right? We met him once, saw some of his plays at the Globe in London. Smart guy for a Human! My dearest most beloved S’trysthyl, you perhaps more than anyone I’ve ever known are a real genuine actress, but nothing you say or do is pretend or farce. Your lines on this stage are true… they are you! And with each act, each scene, each line of dialogue, each bit of plot sequence, each character interaction you reach the audience, breaking the fourth wall and telling the story… inspiring others and inviting them to participate with you in the most adventurous, the most stunt-filled, the most dramatic performance ever written in the cosmos… the performance of life. And I have so loved sharing this stage with you, for so long… and I hope we can keep this play going for many acts to come.”
Lorewyn turned and lifted her veil for a moment as to look at her fellow actress, standing on the stage with her at that moment in the spotlight.
“I think that’s the best monologue I’ve ever heard,” she whispered, taking Rhianyn’s hand subtly and holding it at her side. “I always knew, somewhere, somehow, you had inherited your mother’s gift for poetic verse.”
Rhianyn smiled and lifted her veil as well, returning Lorewyn’s gaze. “And you your mother’s wings,” she offered. “I checked for them the day we met, you know. I didn’t see them. For a long time, I thought they weren’t there… but I was wrong. They’ve always been there… just invisible. But they’re there… lifting you higher and farther than any winged mount in the militia, or any airplane here could ever do.”
Lorewyn squeezed her hand gently. The mourners had departed. The graveside was now empty. They both lowered their veils again and walked slowly toward where Max had just been laid to rest. Lorewyn stepped closer and withdrew a manuscript. It had been typed years ago, the pages now a bit yellowed, the text slightly faded. But it was still legible. The cover page read “Beneath the Surface, by Ariel Archer.”
She set it down next to Max’s grave and stepped back, placing her hand to her lips, kissing it, then touching the surface of the stone that would soon be moved into place by the cemetery staff.
“Goodbye, Max,” Lorewyn whispered, looking at the grave. “Thank you for seeing me, the true me, or at least as much as was possible, even though you weren’t able to see the whole play. Thank you for helping me find my start in this new world, for giving me the chance to get on this stage called America. You reminded me so much of another man, a Human, a very good man, whom I once knew, who helped me in wa
ys too. Perhaps you two will meet in the hereafter and swap stories about that crazy blonde woman. I’ll be honest, I make a lot of this up as I go along… each line of the script. I don’t edit my own story very well. But I think that’s okay… I think I’ll just remember what you used to tell the authors, and what you also told me. I’ll just get it down on paper… and then see what I can do with it.”
She nodded to Rhianyn, indicating that she was ready to leave. They turned and walked away, Lorewyn pausing only once to look back and offer her own benediction.
“May Mother Air carry you swiftly on her breath.”
***
It was the first time Lorewyn had traveled out of state to do shooting for a film. Call Northside 777, set and filmed on location in Chicago. She had been slated to double for the lead actress, Helen Walker, in some scenes on account of an automobile accident the previous year that had caused some severe injuries to Walker, injuries from which she had not fully recovered. It was the first and only picture that Lorewyn ever got to appear in with James Stewart.
The film called for numerous outdoor shots, and production was delayed on account of a harsh winter in the Midwest. However, come Spring of 1948, Lorewyn found herself on a plane with the studio crew, flying to Chicago’s Midway Airport to shoot the picture in record time for its upcoming release.
It was not a particularly eventful visit, mostly work on set and rest in between. Lorewyn did get a chance to see some of the Windy City, however, her first time since driving through with Rhianyn on their way from New York in 1930. But a rather significant moment occurred one evening in the hotel while Lorewyn was listening to the radio. She was initially trying to listen for any news updates regarding the Hollywood Blacklisting that was happening as a result of the House Committee on Un-American Activities’ contempt citations on certain directors and screenwriters who were being labeled as Communists. The Red Scare all over again, she had thought. Only this time, as someone employed in the motion picture business, she knew these people.
Two Birds, One Feather: The Lives and Times of Lorewyn & Rhianyn in America Page 15
