The Flying Cavalier

by Gilbert, Morris

“Neither am I,” Jo said. “We’re a lot alike in that respect. I’ll tell you what! What’s the use of having a writer for a friend if you don’t use her? I brought my tablet and plenty of pens. Let’s write to your folks. You dictate what you want to say, and I’ll jot it down.”

  “Hey, that would be great! I wrote them a short letter, but I’m sure they’d like to hear the details.”

  Jo pulled a pad and pen out of her purse, crossed her legs, and smiled. “Let’s have it.”

  For the next hour Jo wrote letters steadily, and finally at the end of that time, Logan said, “That’s enough. I’ll wear you out.”

  “I’ll get them off today. Your folks will be glad to hear from you.” She got up and put the pad and pen back in her purse, then came to stand over him. Impulsively she bent over and kissed his cheek. “Get well, Logan. When will you be transferred?”

  “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “I’ll come out to see you. You know what I’m riding around in now?”

  “A limousine?”

  Jo laughed. “Not likely. I’ve rented a motorcycle with a sidecar.” Her laugh suddenly rang out, and her eyes twinkled. “You ought to see us riding around, me driving and Bedford sitting bolt upright in the sidecar. I got him some goggles, and he’s gotten to where he likes them.”

  “He must make quite a sight,” Logan grinned.

  “Oh, just another crazy American. I’m sure that’s what they say of me. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. I won’t be making any long trips for a while. I’ve got a lot of writing to catch up with. Good-bye, Logan.”

  “Good-bye, and thanks for coming.”

  ****

  “Is he here?”

  “No, Gabby, he’s not here yet.” Katherine Laurent shook her head and looked down at the girl, saying, “You’ve asked me that a dozen times already.”

  Gabby Winslow knew that her grandmother was put out with her. Moving over, she reached up and took Katherine’s hand and said, “I’m sorry, Grandmother. But I’m so anxious to see Papa. He hasn’t been here for a week.”

  “No. It hasn’t been that long. Only three days.”

  “Well, it seems like a week,” Gabby pouted. “I don’t see why he can’t stay here with us.”

  Katherine Laurent felt the same way. She had been more than happy to take Gabby. Since her daughter’s tragic death, there had been an emptiness in her life that the small girl had managed to fill. She and Pierre had been very disappointed that Lance had decided to live at the aerodrome. His reasoning had been that he needed to be with his men night and day to build up the relationship between them. Still, she had been greatly saddened that he had found so little time to come and spend with them. She knew that Gabby was very lonely at this time and needed her father. Now she suddenly leaned down and kissed Gabby on the cheek, saying, “He’ll be here soon. It’s almost suppertime. Would you like to come in and help me finish cooking?”

  “Oh yes! I’d like that very much!”

  As the two went into the kitchen, Katherine thought, She’s doing much better. When she first came here she was so quiet. I was really fearful for her. She glanced over now to where Gabby was cheerfully and enthusiastically mashing potatoes. It had become one of her favorite foods, so she demanded mashed potatoes with every meal. She had asked for them for breakfast, but Katherine had drawn the line at that.

  The door opened and Pierre said, “He’s here.”

  With a squeal, Gabby dropped the potato masher and scooted out the door.

  “She’s excited, isn’t she?” Pierre said. He was wearing a dark suit, as usual, with an immaculate white shirt and a wine-colored cravat. He came over to stand beside Katherine, his face thoughtful. “I’m glad Lance is coming tonight.”

  “Gabby’s missed him terribly. He’s very busy, I know, but he needs to spend more time with her.”

  Pierre leaned over and hugged Katherine. He kissed her on the cheek and said with approval, “You’ve done a fine job. She’s settled in very nicely. Does she ever mention Noelle to you?”

  “Hardly ever. I’m not sure whether to talk about her or not. It’s hard to know with children.”

  “It’s hard to know with anyone,” Pierre said quietly. “Such a loss.”

  The two stood there thinking of the daughter who had been so vibrant, so full of life, and finally Katherine said, “Gabby looks so much like her. It’s eerie.”

  “I know. I was looking through the old pictures of Noelle the other day when she was Gabby’s age. It’s amazing how much alike they look.”

  “You know, I think that’s bothering Lance.”

  “What? That Gabby looks like her mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “How could that be?”

  “It brings back the memories, and he’s suffering pretty badly, Pierre.”

  “I know he is. I’ve never seen a man grieve more for a woman. But he ought to be glad that Gabby looks like Noelle.”

  “One would think so, but I’ve watched his eyes sometimes when he’s watching her. The pain there is almost unendurable, and he has to turn away.”

  They had no time to speak more of this, for the door swung open and Lance came in under tow by Gabby.

  “Look, Papa brought me a present! See?” She held up a package. Her eyes were aglow, and her face seemed to radiate excitement.

  “Well, it’s not even Christmas or your birthday,” Katherine said.

  “I asked her if she had been a good girl and deserved a present,” Lance said. He looked down at Gabby, who was struggling with the package. “She confessed that she had been very good.”

  “Well, she has. She deserves a present,” Katherine said as she and Pierre watched Gabby tear the paper away and then open the box that was inside.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful, Papa!”

  “What is it? Let me see,” Pierre said.

  “It’s a snowstorm,” Gabby cried. She held up a glass ball and turned it upside down. Tiny bits of white fluttered down over what seemed to be a white castle. “Look, isn’t it pretty?”

  “I had one like it when I was just your age,” Lance said. His hand touched the top of Gabby’s head, and he suddenly seemed to run out of words. He stared down at her, then cleared his throat and said quickly, “I hope I’m not late.”

  Both Pierre and Katherine had seen the break in Lance’s expression and knew he was thinking of Noelle.

  “No. You’re just on time. Dani’s upstairs getting dressed. Why don’t you take Gabby into the parlor, and she can entertain you while I’m putting the meal on the table.”

  “Yes. Come along, Papa. I know a new song.”

  “Help me set the table, Pierre. Or go call Dani.”

  Fifteen minutes later they were all seated at the table, and Gabby spoke with enthusiasm. She showed an excitement that looked good to all the family. Danielle leaned over and smiled. “It’s good to have you, Lance. We’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve been very busy at the base,” Lance said defensively. “Is that a new dress you have on?”

  “No. You’ve asked me that the last two times I’ve worn it.”

  Lance grinned. “I’m not much on women’s fashions.”

  It was, as a matter of fact, a very becoming outfit. It was a dark green side-slit hobble skirt with a short full tunic with three-quarter-length sleeves worn on top. It had a low neckline, and the bodice was decorated with white beads and embroidery. For some reason she looked so mature that it startled Lance.

  Dani looked quickly at him, searching his face, and then murmured, “We haven’t given up on your coming to live here.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Dani. I need every moment I can get with the men.”

  Dani did not answer, but later on when they were washing dishes, she brought the matter up again. “It would be good for Gabby if you could be here more often, Lance. I don’t mean to nag, but she misses you a great deal.”

  “I know. I’ll try to be more regular, but the flights are so irregular
. I come in too late sometimes to see her. She’d be in bed.”

  They spoke quietly for a time, and when the dishes were done, Lance said, “I guess I’d better get back to the base.”

  “Go up and say good night to Gabby.”

  “Why, she’ll be asleep.”

  “Wake her up then. She’ll go right back.”

  “If you say so, Dani.”

  Danielle watched as he left the kitchen and thought, He looks so hard. Isn’t he ever going to get over Noelle’s death? She waited until he came back downstairs, then went to the door with him. “Will you come tomorrow?”

  “I’ll try,” he said. He suddenly reached out and took her hand. “Thanks for everything,” he said. “I couldn’t have made it, nor could Gabby, without you and your parents.”

  She was conscious of his strong hand holding hers. For a moment she started to say something more personal, but then she kept her silence. “Good night. Try to come tomorrow.”

  ****

  The trip from Paris to Belleville should have been simple, but Logan had had a bad night previous to leaving. He had not slept at all, and a new influx of badly wounded men had demanded the attention of the doctors and the orderlies. He had been shuffled out of his bed and placed in a larger ward to make room for a seriously wounded man. Then later on he had been shifted from there to a wing hardly ever used.

  He was glad to get in the ambulance, but there had been a breakdown, and he had lain helpless along with three other men wedged shoulder to shoulder in the ancient vehicle. The heat and the flies had driven him to distraction, and finally when they pulled up to a stop, he grunted, “I hope this is it. I’m sick of this.”

  Finally the door to the ambulance opened, and the attendants carried his stretcher inside and up the steps. One of them missed a step and jolted Logan, bringing a searing pain to his side. He gasped and said angrily, “Watch where you’re going!” Then he realized that neither man spoke English, so he lay there grimly until they reached the end of a hall. Turning inside, they managed to bump him against the doorframe, which brought the pain racking back, and then they dumped him unceremoniously on the bed. He was wearing dirty pajamas and a ratty-looking gray robe that was also unkempt. His hair had not been combed, and he had not had a shave for three days. He glared at the stretcher bearers, who ignored him and left the room.

  “Hello. Bon matin.”

  Logan looked across at the bed next to his and saw a tall, thin man sitting up reading a magazine, which he lowered. “Do you speak English? My French is rotten.”

  “Yes. Not very well. You just in from the front?”

  “No. I’ve been in the hospital in Paris.”

  “You look terrible.”

  “I feel that way.”

  “My name is Henri Nane. What outfit?”

  “The Legion.”

  Nane found this interesting. “When did you get hit?” He listened as Logan gave him a brief review, then nodded. “Not a bad place here. You’ll like it.”

  Logan was exhausted. He closed his eyes without answering. It was hot in the ward, but he was accustomed to that. He felt gritty, and his side was giving him a great deal of discomfort. He dropped off to sleep almost at once and then was aroused out of it by a hand on his shoulder and a woman’s voice.

  “Wake up.”

  “What? What is it?”

  “Wake up. You can’t lie there in those filthy clothes on those clean sheets.”

  Opening his eyes, Logan took in the woman’s face. She was wearing a white cap and uniform, so he assumed she was a nurse. “Sorry about that. Next time I’ll wear my tuxedo.”

  “Here. Sit up. We’ve got to get you clean.”

  “Come back later. I’ve just dropped off to sleep.”

  “No. Now. Sit up.”

  Logan felt strong hands pulling him upright, and he was irritated. She swung his legs out and jerked at the bandage around his waist. “Where do you come from?”

  “Paris. The hospital there.” He stared at the woman, who pulled his robe down off of his shoulders and then practically jerked it out from under him. The rough motion hurt him, and he snapped, “Be careful there! What kind of a nurse are you?”

  “I’m a clean one, at least. I never saw such filthy pajamas! How long have you had them on?”

  Actually Logan was ashamed of his appearance. Just before he was transferred, the orderly had spilled food on the front of his pajamas, and it had dried, though they had not been terribly clean to begin with. But all the new patients had been the priority, so he knew that he was rough looking. “Sorry about that. I’ll try to do it proper the next time.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Logan Smith.”

  “My name is Nurse Laurent. Now, you’ve got to have a bath, and then we’ll have a look at that bandage.”

  “Is the doctor here?”

  “He’ll be along later. Don’t give me any trouble.”

  Danielle was not in a good mood. She had had a long and tiring day and a restless night. For what seemed like hours, she had lain awake thinking about Lance and about herself and Gabby. When she finally drifted off to sleep, she had dreamed of Noelle, yet somehow she felt disloyal when she remembered it in the morning, although she could not tell why.

  She tore Logan’s pajama tops off and then started tugging at the bottoms. “Wait a minute! A man’s got a little modesty!”

  “There’s no time for modesty here.” Danielle ceased pulling at the pajamas, for she had seen the filthy bandage. “I never saw such a bandage! Is that the way they treat soldiers in Paris now? You must have gotten a bad doctor.”

  “He was a very good doctor,” Logan said angrily. “But there were men coming in with legs and arms blown off! I guess this little scratch didn’t look very important to them.”

  Danielle began stripping off the bandage, and then she pulled out a pair of surgical scissors and snipped away at it. The pad was stuck to the wound, for it had bled and then dried. “I’ll have to soak that off,” she said, then left at once to obtain water.

  Nane grinned at Logan and said, “She’s worse than a sergeant.”

  “Is she always this rough?”

  “No. Not usually. She seems to be in a bad mood today. Make the most of her. She’s the best-looking nurse around here.”

  Logan lay there until Nurse Laurent came back with a pan of water. She carefully put a wet towel over the bandage and let it soak. In the meanwhile she washed his face and upper body. It actually felt very good. The water was tepid, and he grunted with pleasure, but then when she pulled the bandage off, some of it still stuck.

  “What are you flinching about? Don’t be such a baby.”

  “Are all of the nurses here as mean as you are?”

  “Mean!” Something about his accent caught at Danielle. “What are you, an American?”

  “Yes.”

  “That explains it!”

  “Explains what?”

  “You’re rude! All Americans are rude and selfish!” She was staring at the wound and shook her head. “That’s a bad wound you have. I’m going to leave a light bandage on it until the doctor gets here to examine you.”

  She finished his bath, put a clean sheet over him, and then jammed a thermometer between his teeth. He studied her carefully while she took his pulse and was impressed at the beautiful complexion and the clarity of her eyes. She’s a beauty, he thought. Too bad she’s so tough.

  “You have a fever. You lie there while I go and get you something for it.”

  She came back soon and gave him two small pills. He spilled the water down the front of his chest, and she mopped it up with a towel. “Where are you from in the United States?”

  “The West.”

  Her eyes opened. “Are you a cowboy?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am—or used to be.”

  Danielle was interested. He was a fine-looking man, and though she suspected he was below the weight he usually carried, there was strength in his b
ody. His muscles seemed smooth and strong. She guessed his age to be about twenty, close to her own. “Your hair is filthy.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “I wasn’t being critical. I was just thinking that it’ll have to be washed.”

  “Can’t handle that yet.”

  “Well, I can.” She was brusque and nodded emphatically. “I’ll do it this afternoon after the doctor sees to your wound.” She hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry I said you were rude.”

  “That’s all right. I am rude. Right now, at least.”

  Danielle glanced over at Nane, who was taking all this in. “What are you staring at, Henri?”

  “I always like to look at rude Americans. They’re quite a sight, aren’t they?”

  Suddenly Danielle smiled, and Logan saw that it changed her completely. She had one of the prettiest smiles he had ever seen. It went away quickly, but he thought, Well, she’s got some humor beneath that rough exterior. And if she can get my hair washed, I’ll put up with her. When she left he lay there savoring the feel of the clean sheets and the bath. Maybe this place will be all right after all.

  ****

  As Jo entered the waiting room of the hospital, she was met at once by a nurse dressed in white. “You can’t bring that animal in here.”

  “Well, I can’t let him run loose.”

  “You shouldn’t have brought him in the first place.”

  “But I hated to leave him outside. Wouldn’t it be all right if I took him in?”

  Danielle stared at the woman but shook her head firmly. “We can’t have animals in the hospital.”

  A soldier leaning on a cane had been standing with his back against the wall. He straightened up and said, “I’ll take care of the dog, ma’am, if you’d trust me.” He had some sort of odd accent, and Jo thought she recognized it.

  “Are you Australian?”

  “Yes, mum. Ringer Jones is the name.”

  “I’m glad to know you, Sergeant.” Jo went over and shook his hand with a smile. “If you wouldn’t mind taking care of Bedford, I’d appreciate it.”

  The sergeant leaned over and held his hand out, allowing Bedford to sniff it suspiciously. Bedford seemed to find the soldier agreeable enough, for he lowered his head and let the man pet him.