Cherished Wings

by Tracey L. Dragon

  “I hear . . .” Jack took a sip of his cola, then met Fran’s eyes while the toe of his boot pressed lightly against her foot. “Sledding is on the agenda for this afternoon.”

  “Yeah, it’s a blast,” Amy said, drawing Jack’s attention to her. “Our toboggan can hold up to four. Fran’s such a chicken she screams all the way down the hill.”

  “It’s amazing I have any hearing left after years of her shrieking in my ear,” Red added.

  Jack frowned and raised a brow at Fran. “That doesn’t sound like much fun for you. If you don’t enjoy it, why go?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy it. Well, kind of. I mean, it does scare me but it’s also thrilling in a way. Makes me feel alive.”

  Jack nodded. “Flying does that for me. I never feel more alive than when I’m soaring through the air.”

  “Well, let’s not do any of that today, okay,” Red said. “If someone’s flying through the air while sledding, it usually means they hit something—like a tree. But, I’ll tell you what I’ll let you do, Jack. The girls usually make me sit in front to steer. You know women can’t drive.”

  Amy reached across the table and swatted her brother’s arm. “I drive just fine, I’ll have you know.”

  “Anyway—” Red ignored his sister. “I’ll let you have the privilege of sitting in front of Fran then she can scream in your ear instead of mine for once.”

  Jack grinned. “Deal.”

  They finished their meals with a minimal amount of talking. Most of the conversation centered around Amy updating Red on their friends and what had been happening in town.

  Jack said little, concentrating mostly on his food and rubbing his foot alongside Fran’s.

  Fran could barely swallow.

  They couldn’t have asked for a better day to go sledding. It seemed half the town had the same idea. The snow-covered hill sparkled in the sunlight, causing Fran to squint and shade her eyes. The temperature remained below freezing, keeping the snow hard.

  “All right.” Red pointed to the front of the toboggan. “Jack, you steer. Fran, you’re next since Jack doesn’t mind if you screech in his ear all the way down, then Amy. I’ll bring up the rear so you girls don’t fall off and break your tail bones.”

  Jack took his seat and Fran sat down behind him. “Best put your arms around my waist and hang on tight,” he said to her. “Don’t want you to take a tumble.”

  Amy leaned forward and whispered in Fran’s ear. “Next time we change places.”

  “Everybody ready?” Red hopped on the toboggan and pushed off.

  Fran gasped and tightened her arms, not sure if the sledding or her proximity to Jack caused her trembling. She tried not to scream, but eventually gave up the ghost.

  Jack dropped one arm from the steering rope to clasp Fran’s wrist to comfort her. Unfortunately, his shift in weight caused the toboggan to tilt at an angle. The next thing she knew she was sprawled on her stomach eating snow.

  Jack and Red rushed to her side. “Fran, you all right?” they asked in unison. Jack squatted down beside her.

  She rolled over and wiped the snow from her face. “What happened?”

  “Good question.” Red turned to Jack. “Hell. You steer like an amateur? Amy could have done better than that.”

  “Speaking of which,” Amy piped up as she plodded through the snow to them. “I’m okay in case anyone’s concerned.”

  Red gave her a cursory glance. “You look fine to me.”

  She made a face at him.

  Jack stood and gave Fran a hand up.

  “Where’s the sled?” asked Fran.

  “At the bottom of the hill, where else?” Red said, glaring at Jack. “Nice going, McOmber. Anyone would think you’ve never done this before.”

  “Well—” Jack shrugged, wearing a sheepish expression. “In truth, it’s my first time.”

  Red rolled his eyes. “Ya think ya could’ve mentioned that beforehand.” Then fast as lightning, he bent and scooped up some snow and pelted Jack with it. “Idiot.”

  Amy followed with a snowball of her own.

  Then Fran.

  “Hey,” Jack cried. “No fair, it’s three against one.” A snowball smacked him in the face. “Ouch. That does it.” He took off at run, gathering and packing snow as he went. Then, in one fluid motion he turned, and with great accuracy, hit Red directly in the chest.

  “You’re in for it now, McOmber.” Red threw and clobbered Jack with more snow.

  Jack could have passed for Frosty the Snowman by the time he cried, “Uncle.”

  Red retrieved the toboggan and they continued sledding for another hour before calling it quits and heading back to the Lake’s house. Hot cider hit the spot as they sat in front of the fireplace drying off, so did the fresh Christmas cookies Mrs. Lake made while they were gone.

  “I need to go home and change into something dry.” Fran stood and slid her coat on. “I’m sure you guys have things to do before church tonight. So, I’ll see you later.” Her eyes met and held Jack’s before she slipped out the door.

  Chapter 13

  The hallway lamp cast a warm glow into the living room of Fran’s home where she and Jack sat snuggled together on the sofa. A decorated pine tree stood in the corner with a few wrapped gifts underneath.

  “Shh.” She raised her index finger to her lips. “We don’t want to wake my mom.”

  “I have no problem keeping my lips quiet,” he whispered in her ear then nuzzled her neck.

  “Behave yourself.” Her words belied her actions as she tilted her head to give him better access.

  “Can’t help myself. I’m storing up memories that are going to have to last for a long time.”

  “Shh. Let’s not think about that right now. Let’s just hold each other.”

  Jack scooted down and back against the arm of the sofa and pulled Fran on top of him. His hand moved up and down, caressing her back, soothing her.

  “I enjoyed the church service tonight. I didn’t know you sang in the choir. Your voice is terrific. I thought my heart would stop when you hit the high notes of “Oh Holy Night.” I think everyone in the room held their collective breaths.”

  She blushed at the compliment, remembering how she’d found Jack’s face in the crowded church and sang her heart out to him. “Thanks, it’s my favorite carol.” She pushed against his arm. “Here, let me up. I have a gift for you. It’s under the tree.”

  “I thought you were my gift.” Jack’s arm tightened around her. “I planned to stuff you in my sea bag and take you back to the ship with me.”

  Fran giggled. “You would need to leave all your clothes behind, and although I won’t mind if you go around in your undershorts, I doubt your commanding officer would find it quite as humorous.” She slid out of his arms to get the wrapped packages she’d placed under the tree after her mother went to bed.

  “Here.” She thrust the presents toward him. “I hope you like them. I really didn’t know what to get you. There’s a gift under the Lake’s tree for you in the morning, but I wanted to give you something personal tonight.”

  Jack sat up and took the packages. He unwrapped the sweater and held it up. “It’s great.” He put it on over his shirt. “Warm too. You have excellent taste. It’s just what I would have chosen for myself if I ever bothered to shop, that is.” He leaned over and kissed her. Then tore open the paper on the smaller gift and said nothing. He just stared at it.

  “Sorry, it’s only a photo of me.” Fran sensed his disquiet. “You don’t like it?”

  Jack pulled her close and kissed her almost desperately. “I love it. Did you have this taken just for me?”

  She nodded. “I used the photographer in town. I wanted you to have a nice picture of me to take with you.”<
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  “Wherever I go, I’ll carry it with me. I promise.” He slid the metal frame into the inside pocket of his peacoat. “That way you will always be near me. Maybe, I’ll have an extra copy made just in case anything should happen to it.”

  “Oh, Jack.” Struck by a sudden image of his plane being hit, tears flooded her eyes.

  “Here . . .” He reached into the coat’s side pocket and withdrew a shiny package. “I bought something for you. I hope you like it.”

  The gift was beautifully wrapped in red foil paper with a green velvet ribbon. Fran held it up to the light so she could see it better. “It’s almost too pretty to open. Did you wrap it yourself?”

  “Nah. I’m all thumbs when it comes to something like that. The store did it for me.”

  With shaky fingers, she untied the bow and set it aside to save, then careful not to tear the pretty paper, she eased the box out. The Corner Jeweler’s name was embossed on the cover. She held her breath as she snapped open the lid. “Oh my, Jack. It’s beautiful.”

  “Do you like it?”

  Fran stared down at the heart shaped locket with their initials entwined on it. “I love it.” She opened it. Then snapped it shut again. “I’ll snap a picture of you before you leave, that way I’ll have one to put in it. You’ll be right next to my heart all the time. Thank you.” She leaned forward and kissed him.

  “Here, turn around and I’ll put it on you.”

  Fran lifted her hair so Jack could latch the locket. When finished, he nuzzled the nape of her neck and pulled her against him. “I think I could stay here all night just like this.”

  “Me too, but it would be embarrassing to face my mom come morning.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s probably time I got going. You’ll be too tired to enjoy Christmas Day if I stay much longer.” He stood and slid into his coat.

  Fran walked Jack to the door and he gave her a tender kiss good night. “Mom and I will be over for Christmas dinner, so I’ll see you around noontime.”

  He hugged her again then stepped out into the cold night air.

  Fran stood in the doorway until she could no longer see him, then went to bed. She couldn’t remember looking so forward to Christmas. It would be another day with Jack.

  The morning woke with sunshine falling on fresh snow. The temperature hovered just below freezing making for a good day to ice skate. Fran and her mom opened their gifts to each other prior to leaving for the Lake’s house. Fran wore the new emerald- green sweater her mother gave her with Jack’s locket and wings underneath. Her mother wore the new scarf and gloves Fran had given her. They both carried their contributions for dinner.

  Fran had indeed given Red a pair of wool socks, but also a nice pair of gloves as well. He bought her a bottle of her favorite perfume. He’d obviously hit Amy up for some shopping advice. Jack thanked her for the book and said he couldn’t wait to read it. Fran unwrapped her gift from Jack. He’d given her the exact same novel she’d given him. Everyone thought it quite hilarious.

  Once dinner was over and after they’d been excused by their mothers from kitchen duty, Fran, Amy, Jack, and Red sat around and talked for about an hour to give their stomachs time to settle before they left for the canal with ice skates in hand. It turned out Jack knew a great deal more about skating than he did about steering a toboggan. They skated until their fingers and toes were ready to fall off then went back to the Lakes’ house to eat more cookies and pie. Fran’s mother had returned home, and Amy’s mom had retired to her room for a nap.

  As the day waned, Jack began to nudge Fran who sat next to him on the sofa. She tried to ignore him, not wanting to spoil the rest of the day, but he wouldn’t let up. Then he cleared his throat, his eyes going first to Red and then to Amy.

  “Hey guys, there something we need to discuss . . .”

  A loud knock on the door, followed by another, interrupted him.

  Red moved the curtain to peer out the window. His face turned an ashen shade of gray.

  Another knock, more insistent this time, followed by a deep voice. “Telegram!”

  Chapter 14

  Winter dragged on and was unusually cold. Fran dressed in several layers every day to stay warm in the drafty old shop. The highlight of her week was Jack’s letter followed by ice-skating on the canal on the weekends. When the first flock of geese arrived mid-March, she knew they’d turned the corner on the long winter. The first crocuses began to sprout through the thawing ground bringing with them a sense of hope. Spring was here and with it came a feeling of renewal. Life was good.

  Although the war raged on, Fran’s family members remained safe. The Lake family hadn’t been as lucky. Amy’s brother, Fred, took a bullet in the leg just before Christmas throwing the family into a tizzy and making the war more personal.

  Fran kept her fingers crossed for Jack, and surprisingly his ship remained in port for repairs. She continued to hope she might have a chance to see him again.

  And then the letter came.

  Dear Fran,

  The mail leaves in thirty minutes so I’ll be brief. I received a forty-eight-hour liberty pass for next weekend. My leave starts at seven A.M. sharp on Saturday. I expect it will be the last one I’ll get before being shipped out. I really want to see you, but if I come to Albion I will spend most of Saturday on the train.

  Would you be willing to travel to the city? I’ll pay for your ticket. If you could come on Friday evening’s train, I’d arrange to meet you at the station. A married buddy of mine, who has weekend duty, said you could stay in his apartment with his wife. They live in Brooklyn.

  I know how you feel about new places and strangers, and if you think that it would be too much, I’ll understand. I’ll come your way and be thankful for whatever time I have with you. Please think about it and let me know one way or the other as soon as possible. Got to run.

  Love,

  Jack

  Excitement and panic hit Fran at the same time. She longed to see Jack again, but if she went to New York what expectations might he have and could she live up to them? The idea scared her. Was she ready to be with him in that way? Her mind shied away from the thought having never been in such a position before, and yet to spend time with Jack unfettered by restrictions would be wonderful.

  What should she do? She paced the confines of her room, Jack’s letter in hand. Frustrated, she plopped down on the bed, leaned back against the headboard, and stretched her legs out in front of her to reread the letter. She couldn’t let Jack leave for the front without seeing him again. She must see him. She needed to see him. But how would she explain her absence to everyone? What excuse could she give for the trip? She’d never been to New York City. The thought of going alone frightened her. She’d only ridden the train once a couple of years ago when she and her mother went to visit Aunt Mattie in Elmira.

  Fran hopped off the bed and began pacing again, her mind worked feverishly to come up with a solution. What could she tell her mother? What would she tell Amy?

  She reached into the middle drawer of her dresser and withdrew the photos of Red and Jack she’d taken. She carried her favorite one over to the window and ran her index finger across the image that never failed to make her heart beat faster. She gnawed her lip and stared out into the street below. She’d go. She had to. She’d explain to her mom and tell her what she wanted to do. Her mother probably wouldn’t like it, but Fran hoped she could gain her mom’s approval. She was twenty-one after all. Amy was another story.

  After reading Jack’s letter on her lunch hour, she found it difficult to return to work. Her mind worked endlessly, formulating different scenarios to tell Amy about her upcoming trip. What would she tell her boss? She’d need to take a half day on Friday. When she wasn’t devising excuses or planning what to wear, she was fighting down the panic of the trip itself
.

  “Drats,” she mumbled under her breath as she yanked another botched invoice from her typewriter. Wadding it up, she tossed it into the waste can between her co-worker’s desk and hers.

  “Having a bad day?” Evelyn’s eyes strayed from her typewriter to the discarded invoices piled high in the trash can. “Anything I can help you with?”

  Fran started to shake her head. Then paused. Evelyn was the soul of discretion. She never spoke an unkind word against anyone, nor listened to or passed on gossip. Maybe she would be able to offer some advice.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  “What if you loved someone who was being sent overseas . . .?” Fran swallowed. Then bit her tongue. She flushed at the thoughtless remark, forgetting for a moment that Evelyn had lost a son in the war. “Oh gosh,” she stuttered, “I didn’t mean to insinuate . . .”

  Evelyn held up her hand to halt Fran’s words. “It’s all right. You don’t have to tiptoe around the subject. In some ways it would be a relief to talk about it. Everyone avoids mentioning my son afraid to upset me, but grief buried only leaves you bitter and sad.” She stopped abruptly.

  The office manager stepped into the room, effectively halting their conversation.

  Fran turned back to her typewriter and reached for another blank invoice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Evelyn edge the waste can toward herself with the side of her foot.

  The manager frowned at the full can. “Need I remind you, ladies, we are at war. Waste not want not is the company’s motto.”

  “Yes, sir,” Evelyn responded with a downcast expression on her face. “Sorry. It’s been a bad day. My Jimmy’s birthday.”

  The manager’s face reddened and he slid a finger inside his collar as if to loosen it. He cleared his throat. “Maybe you should take the rest of the afternoon off, then?”