Lone Eagle

by Danielle Steel

  “Is that how you like things, Joe?” she asked gently. “Quiet and simple?” He nodded in answer. He hated complications. And he knew that was what most people thrived on, but not he.

  “I like things simple too,” she said, pondering what he had just explained to her. “But I'm not so sure about quiet. I like talking and people, and music… and noise sometimes. I hated my parents' house at times when I was a kid, because it was so quiet. They were older and pretty sedate, and I had no one to talk to. And it was as though they always expected me to be a grown-up, just shorter. I wanted to be a kid, and get dirty and make noise and break things and mess up my hair. Nothing was ever messy at our house. It was always so perfect. That's a lot to live up to.” He couldn't even imagine it. He had lived in utter chaos in his cousins' house, where everything was constantly a mess, the house was always dirty, and their kids were never cared for. When they were little they cried constantly, and when they were older, they argued, and were always loud. He hadn't been happy till he left. They were always telling him what was wrong with him, how much trouble he was, and threatening to send him to other cousins. He hadn't gotten attached to anyone, he had always been too afraid that they'd send him away anyway, so there was no point caring too much about them. And he had been that way ever since, with other men, and even with women, especially with women. He was happiest when he kept to himself.

  “You have the life that everyone thinks they want, Kate. The trouble is they don't really know what it would be like if they had it. In some ways, I imagine it could be oppressive.” She had painted a picture of rigidity and perfection. But it was also a safe environment provided for her by people who loved her, and she knew that. But she was looking forward to going to college and getting away from them. She was ready. “What would you do if you had kids? What would be different?” It was an interesting question, and made her think for a minute.

  “I think I'd love them a lot, and let them be who they are, not who I wanted them to be. I wouldn't want them to be me, just themselves. And I'd let them do more of what they wanted. Like you. If they wanted to fly, I'd let them. I wouldn't worry about how dangerous it is, or how crazy, or tell them it's inappropriate, and they had to do what I expected. I don't think parents should have the right to do that, to force people into molds just because it's what they did.” Clearly, she was longing for freedom. It was what he had wanted all his life too. There were no fetters strong enough to bind him. He would have broken any chain, any bond, anything that held him. He not only wanted, but needed his freedom, for his survival. It was something he knew he would never give up, for anyone, or anything.

  “Maybe it was easier for me, not having parents.” He told her then about his parents dying in a car wreck when he was six months old, and going to live with his cousins.

  “Were they nice to you?” she asked, looking sad for him. It didn't sound like a happy story, and it hadn't been.

  “Not really. They used me to do the chores, and baby-sit for their kids. I was just another mouth to feed. And when the Depression hit, they were glad to see me leave. It made things easier for them. They never had any money.” And she had never known anything but luxury and security and comfort. The Depression hadn't touched her family financially, or her mother at least. Kate had never known anything but a safe, entirely protected existence. She couldn't even begin to imagine what Joe's life had been like. For him, flying meant freedom. She had never had that, or even longed for it. All she wanted was just a little more leeway than they gave her. She didn't have the same need for freedom he did.

  “Do you want to have kids one day?” she asked him, wondering how that fit into the scheme of things for him, or if it was unimportant. He was old enough to have at least thought about it.

  “I don't know. I never give it much thought, if any. Maybe not. I don't think I'd be much of a father. I'd never be there, I'm too busy flying. And kids need a father. I'd probably be happier if I didn't have kids. If I did, I'd always be thinking about what I didn't do for them, and feel bad about it.”

  “Do you want to be married?” She was fascinated by him, she had never known anyone even remotely like him, or as honest. They had that in common. They spoke their minds and their hearts, with no fear of what other people would think of them. It was rare for him to open up, as he did with her, but he had nothing to hide and nothing to apologize for to her. He had left no debris in his wake, and had never hurt anyone, that he knew of. Even the one girl he had cared about, who had left him, hadn't done so in anger. She had left when she realized that he simply could not be there for her. There were other things that were more important to him, but he had never hidden that from her.

  “I've never known a woman who could fit into what I was doing, without being unhappy about it. I think flying is kind of a solitary life, for most people. I'm not sure how Charles manages being married, but he's not home much. I guess Anne keeps busy with her children. She's a great woman,” and had suffered so unbelievably. Kate's heart still went out to her. “Maybe if I found someone like her,” Joe smiled at Kate, they were friends now, “but that's not likely. She's one in a million. I don't know, I don't think I've ever thought I was cut out for marriage. You have to do what you want in life, and be who you are. You can't force yourself to be someone you're not. It doesn't work. That's when people get hurt. Badly. I won't do that to anyone, or to myself. I need to do what I'm doing and be who I am.” Listening to him made her think she should go to law school. But she knew how upset her parents would be. He was on his own in the world, and always had been. He had no one to answer to, or to please, but himself. Her life was entirely different. She carried the burdens of all her parents' hopes and dreams on her shoulders, and she would never have done anything to hurt or disappoint them. She couldn't do that to them. Particularly not after what her father had done to them.

  They sat together in silence for a while longer, just relaxing and enjoying each other's company, and thinking of what they had said to each other. It was all so honest, and open. There was no artifice and no pretense, and as different as they were, and their lives had been, they were powerfully attracted to each other. They were like the opposite sides of the same coin.

  Joe was the first to speak, as he turned to look at her again, lying peacefully on the sand, staring up at the moon. He hadn't dared to lie down beside her, for fear of what it would make him feel for her. It was better to keep a little distance between them. It was the first time he had ever felt that, but her pull was as strong as the tides, and he knew it, as he sat close to her.

  “I guess we should go back. I don't want your parents to get worried, or send the police after me. They probably think you've been kidnapped.” She nodded, and sat up slowly. She hadn't told anyone where she was going, or with whom, but she knew that several people had seen her leave. She wasn't sure if they'd recognized Joe leaving with her, but she had offered no explanations, and hadn't bothered to go and find her parents to tell them. She'd been afraid that her father would want to come with them, not out of any distrust of Joe, but because he liked him so much.

  Joe gave her a hand and helped her to her feet, and they walked back quietly toward the bonfire they could still see far, far down the beach. She was surprised at how far they had walked, but it had been easy beside him. And halfway there, she slipped a hand into his arm, and he pressed his arm closer to his side, and smiled down at her. She would have made a great friend, except that, much to his chagrin, he wanted more than that from her. But he wasn't going to let that happen and give in to his feelings. He was in no position to do that. And in his eyes, she deserved better than he had to give. With all her ease and beauty, she seemed far out of his reach.

  It took them half an hour to get back to the party, and they were both surprised to find that no one had missed them, or even noticed they were gone.

  “I guess we could have stayed longer,” Kate said, smiling at him, as he handed her a mug of coffee, and helped himself to a glass of wi
ne. He very rarely drank, because he was always flying. But he knew he wouldn't be that night.

  Joe knew he couldn't have kept her away from the party any longer. He was not sure he trusted himself with her. What he felt for her was too powerful and too confusing, and he was almost relieved when her parents came to find her, because they were leaving. Clarke Jamison was delighted to see Joe.

  “What a pleasant surprise, Mr. Allbright. When did you come back from California?”

  “Yesterday,” Joe smiled, after shaking hands with Kate's parents. “I'm just here for a few days. I was going to call you.”

  “I wish you would. I'm still hoping to catch a ride with you one of these days. Maybe next time you're here.”

  “That's a promise,” Joe assured him. He thought they were very nice people. They left Kate alone with him for a few minutes, to say goodbye, and went to thank their hosts, who were old friends. And then Joe turned to her, with an odd expression. There was something he wanted to ask her, he'd been thinking about it all evening. He wasn't sure if it was appropriate, or if she'd have time once she started Radcliffe. But he had decided to ask her anyway, he had already told himself that it would be safe for both of them, which was something of a delusion. But above all things, he didn't want to mislead her, or tempt himself more than he could tolerate. He was grateful now for the distance between them, physically at least. “Kate,” he suddenly looked shy again, and she saw it. “What would you think about writing to me from time to time? I'd love to hear from you.”

  “Would you?” she asked, looking surprised. After all he'd said about not getting married and not having kids, she knew he wasn't pursuing her. She was almost sure now that all he wanted from her was friendship. In some ways, that felt safe to her, in others, she was disappointed. She was very attracted to him. And he had said nothing to indicate that he reciprocated those feelings. Just from talking to him, Kate had guessed that Joe was a master at concealing what he felt.

  “I'd like to hear about what you're doing,” he said benignly, which was a cover for the unrest she caused in him. But he knew enough not to show it, at least not to her. “I'll tell you all about my test flights in California, if that's not too boring.”

  “I'd love it.” And from the sound of it, she could pass the letters on to her father. He'd enjoy them too.

  Joe scribbled his address on a piece of paper, and handed it to her. “I'm not much of a writer, but I'll do my best. I'd like to keep in touch, and hear how school is going.” Joe hoped he sounded, if anything, more like an old friend, or an uncle, anything but a suitor or a potential husband. He had been extremely honest with her, or so she thought. But there were some things he had failed to mention to her, like how drawn he felt to her, and how much he feared that. If he let himself, he might lose himself to her, and the one thing he knew was that he would never let that happen. If he could channel their feelings into friendship, there would be no risk and no danger for either of them. But whatever happened, he knew he didn't want to lose her. This time, he wanted to stay in touch with her.

  “You have my father's card with our address at home. And as soon as I know it, I'll send you my address at Radcliffe.”

  “Write to me as soon as you have it.” That meant he would be hearing from her as soon as he got back to California, which was exactly what he wanted. He hadn't even left her yet, and he was already hungry for more of her. It was a terrifying situation, but one he couldn't seem to keep away from. He was pulled toward her like a light in the darkness, a warm place he wanted to be near.

  “Have a safe trip back,” she said, hesitating for the merest instant, as their eyes met and held and volumes were said without words, which was all Joe had wanted. He could never find the right words anyway.

  A few minutes later, she walked over the dunes to meet her parents, and disappeared from sight as he watched her go. She stopped at the top, and waved at him, as he waved back. Her last sight of him was standing tall, his eyes fixed on hers, with a serious expression. And after she was gone, he walked slowly down the beach again alone.

  3

  THE FIRST WEEKS AT SCHOOL were frantic for Kate. She had books to buy, and classes to attend, professors to meet, an advisor to work out her schedule with, and a house full of girls to get acquainted with. It was a huge adjustment for her, but within days, she knew she loved it. She didn't even bother to go home on the weekends, much to her mother's dismay. But at least, she tried to make an effort to call them from time to time.

  She'd been at school for three weeks before she finally wrote to Joe. It wasn't that she hadn't had time before that, but she had wanted to wait until she had some interesting tales to tell him. And by the time she sat down at her desk, on a Sunday afternoon, she had plenty of stories about school. She told him about the other girls, her professors, her classes, the food. She had never been as happy in her life as she was at Radcliffe. It was her first taste of freedom, and she was loving it.

  She didn't tell him about the Harvard boys she'd met the week before, it seemed inappropriate, and was not something she wanted to share with him. There was one, a junior, Andy Scott, whom she liked very much, but he paled in comparison to Joe, who had become her standard of perfection for all men. No one else was as tall or as handsome, or as strong, or as interesting, or as accomplished, or as exciting. He was a tough act to compare anyone to, and Andy looked like water to wine, when she compared him to Joe Allbright. But he was fun to be with, and he was captain of the Harvard swimming team, which impressed the other freshman girls.

  Instead, she told Joe everything she was doing, and how happy she was there. Her letter, when he received it, was excited and exuberant and ebullient, all the things he loved most about her. And he sat down immediately when he got the letter, and answered her, telling her about his latest designs, and his latest victory over a previously insoluble problem. He told her of his most recent test flights. But he avoided telling her of a boy who had died the day before, in a test flight over Nevada. He had been scheduled to do the flight himself, but had reassigned it so he could attend a meeting. It was Joe who had had to call the boy's wife, and he was still feeling depressed about it. But he kept his letter to her light and filled with as much news and excitement as he could muster. And when he finished it, he was frustrated with himself. His letter seemed so dull in comparison to hers, his gift with words so much less facile. But he sent the letter to her anyway, and wondered how long it would take her to answer.

  She got his letter exactly ten days after she had sent hers, and sat down to write to him over the weekend. She turned down a date with Andy Scott, so she could stay in her room and write Joe a long, newsy letter, and all of her roommates told her she was crazy. But her heart was already engaged by the flyer in California. She didn't tell them who he was, or even much about him. She just said he was a friend, and told Andy that she had a headache. And nothing in her letter indicated that she had anything but feelings of friendship for him. She said nothing to give herself away, and she painted a number of amusing portraits for him, with clever words. He sat at his desk laughing out loud when he read her letter. Her description of college life was hilarious. She had a knack for seeing, and describing, the most outrageous elements of almost every situation. And he loved hearing from her.

  Their letters went back and forth through the fall, and grew more serious as the war continued to worsen in Europe. They exchanged opinions and concerns, and she respected his views on the situation. He continued to believe that America would enter the war at any moment, and he was thinking of going to England again, to consult with the RAF. He said Charles had gone to Washington, and to meet with Henry Ford, who shared his point of view about the war. And then he attempted, at least, to amuse her as she did him. He was beginning to spend his days anticipating her letters, and anxious for them to come.

  It was two months later, the Tuesday before the Thanksgiving weekend, when she got a phone call in the house she lived in on campus, and assumed it was
her parents. She was going home the next day, and her mother probably wanted to know what time to expect her. They were having guests for Thanksgiving, and it was going to be a busy weekend. She had seen Andy for a quick cup of coffee the day before, and he had told her he was going home to New York over Thanksgiving but would call her from there. She had had dinner with him once or twice over the past two months, but it hadn't gone anywhere. She was far too intrigued with her exchange of letters with Joe, to be interested in a college junior. Joe was far more exciting than any man she'd ever met.

  “Hello?” she said, expecting to hear her mother's voice, and was startled to hear Joe on a remarkably clear connection from California. The girl who had taken the call had spoken to the operator, but she hadn't bothered to tell Kate that the call was long distance and not from her mother. It was the first time he had ever called. “What a surprise!” she said, blushing intensely, but fortunately he couldn't see it. “Happy Thanksgiving, Joe.”

  “The same to you, Kate. How's everything at school?” He made reference to some outrageous story she had told him, and they both laughed. But she was surprised by how nervous she felt speaking to him. Something about their letters had made them both more vulnerable, and unwittingly more open to each other, and it was odd now talking to him.

  “Everything's fine. I'm going home tomorrow. Actually, I thought you were my mother. I'm going to be home all weekend.” She had already written that to him, but it was something to say in the silence on the line.

  “I know.” At his end, he was as nervous as she was. He felt like a kid again, in spite of all his efforts to appear confident with her. “I was calling to see if you'd like to have dinner.” He held his breath while he waited for her answer.

  “Dinner?” She sounded suddenly off balance,“… Where?… when?… are you coming in from California?” She felt breathless as she asked.