All of You (A Carrington Family Novel Book 2)

by Sarah Monzon

  The girl stuck out her hand. “I’m Rose Mayfield, which is a fitting name if you knew me at all. I was born in the middle of a field. Not a field of roses though.” A dreamy look came over her as she paused. “That would have been nice.” She blinked, and the look vanished. Her button nose scrunched up. “It was a wheat field. Mama had been out there working, and plop, out I came all rosy red.” A smile wreathed her cherub face.

  Alice shook Rose’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “The boys at the airfield are going to flip their wigs when they see you. Most of them, the ones not married anyway, are so doll dizzy it’s crazy. And you, looking just like Ingrid Bergman in that new Casablanca film.”

  Flip their wigs? Doll dizzy? Alice’s head spun. Daddy never allowed slang within the stately halls of the plantation. It wasn’t suitable language for a proper young lady, he’d say. Of course, a proper young lady didn’t don a uniform and take employment among the ranks of the working class either.

  Rose tugged on her arm. “The car is parked this way.”

  “I need to grab my things. I’ll just be a moment.” Alice snaked her way back through the mass of bodies until she located one of the ocean liner’s employees to help with her luggage. He hefted the steamer trunk and followed her to where Rose waited at the back of the Austin, the hatch already open.

  Alice thanked the man as the reverberation of metal slamming sounded behind her.

  Rose dusted her hands. “All set?”

  They climbed into the car, and Alice wondered how the little sprite could see over the wheel of the Austin she was currently putting into gear, much less fly multiton airplanes. The car merged into traffic, and Alice tried to wrap her mind around the fact the passenger seat and the lane the car motored through were opposite to what she was used to.

  Rose flicked Alice a quick glance. “So what’s your story?”

  “My story?” Alice gripped her seat as Rose swerved to avoid a pothole in the road…and came extremely close to oncoming traffic.

  “Yeah, your story.” The car barreling toward them honked, and Rose returned to her side of the road, unfazed.

  Maybe Alice should be more afraid of pint-sized female pilots instead of German U-boats and Luftwaffe bombs.

  “Take me, for instance. I’ve been here almost two years. Came over with Jacqueline Cochran and a couple dozen other girls when the ATA asked her to recruit some of us female Yankee pilots. A lot of the other girls left with her when she went back to the good ol’ US of A to start the WASPs—you know, the Women’s Airforce Service Pilots—but I stuck around.” The corners of Rose’s eyes crinkled. “Met myself a man. Thomas Attford. He’s no Clark Gable, but he has a heart of pure gold, that one.” She turned down another street. “That’s my story, or part of it anyway. What’s yours? How come you traveled all the way across the Atlantic instead of heading to Texas with the WASPs?”

  Alice pulled at her ear. How much should she say? Years of holding herself within the confines of Daddy’s expectations pushed her down the well-worn path of self-preservation through privacy. He held everyone in the Galloway household to strict standards, and if she even had a thought that didn’t follow those parameters…well…she certainly didn’t voice it. In fact, for a long time her thoughts were really the only thing that were her own.

  Thoughts of her father conjured up not-too-distant memories. The weeks leading up to her departure had been intermittent storms of rage in the form of overbearing declarations that she would not “under any circumstances be allowed to step foot off White Oak plantation,” his exact words. After the rage came the threats—he would speak to his pal Governor Prentice Cooper and have her flying license revoked, every evidence of her ever attaining such wiped clean from the records, and she would remain in her room “under lock and key until the blasted war ended.”

  Of course, there was a calm in every storm. That quiet moment charged with tension when the anticipation of what one knew was coming was almost worse than the blinding rain and howling winds. For her father, that eye of the storm came in the brooding silence he exacted with punishment.

  Rose touched her arm, and Alice flinched at being brought back to the present.

  “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Just tell me to stop flapping my lips, and I’ll shut them right up.”

  “Oh, it’s not that.” The old Alice told her to keep quiet. Follow all the rules and go unnoticed. But the new Alice, the one she’d found that first time Jimmy had taken her up in the biplane, told her to be free. Uninhibited and true to herself. “I joined the ATA instead of the WASPs for a few reasons really.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, two main reasons. Besides wanting to help the war effort, that is. You see, my aunt lives in London, and we haven’t heard from her in a lifetime. We became quite close when I came to spend a summer with her after my thirteenth birthday. I’m afraid something has happened to her.” Alice pulled on the hem of her skirt. “I had to come and see that she’s all right.”

  “I’m sure she is right as rain, as these Englishmen like to say. Communication has been difficult.” The car bounded over a rock in the road, the springs in the seats bouncing them along for a few seconds. “If you need help finding her though, I’d be happy to lend a hand.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement. “We could be the female versions of Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce in those Sherlock Holmes films.”

  Alice tilted her head back and laughed. “You sure do like movies, don’t you?”

  “I used to go every week with my brother, Steven. Most days we’d come straight home from school and help Mom and Dad on the farm until the sun went down and then do our homework until Mom yelled lights out. Our dad’s an old softy though, so every Friday before we left for school, he’d press a couple of coins in our palms. Just enough for an ice cream soda and a ticket to whatever show played at the motion-picture theater.”

  “Sounds like a great father.”

  Rose smiled softly. “He really is.”

  “And he doesn’t mind that you’re here?”

  She shook her head. “He’s proud of both of us. Steven joined up with the navy right after the attack on Pearl Harbor. He’s out in the Pacific somewhere right now fighting the Japanese. Dad says with Steven in the Pacific and me in Europe, we’ll single handedly make the world right again.” She laughed. “Parental pride can lead to a bit of an exaggeration.”

  Alice swallowed past the lump in her throat. She knew nothing about that.

  The Austin rambled around a bend, a long wooden building emerging from the haze.

  “Here we are.” Rose killed the engine.

  This was it? Alice didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but the one-story, slightly run-down building with a mismatched tin roof bookended by a few half-circled hangars didn’t strike her as a major military hub.

  “Come on. Commander Gower wanted to see you as soon as you got in. She has a meeting in a few hours but wanted to give you your duty assignment before she had to leave Maidenhead.”

  Alice pressed a hand to her churning stomach as she opened the door and stepped out of the car. She tugged on her skirt and smoothed out the wrinkles of her blouse. She could do this. Skills. Qualifications. She had them both, as well as a drive to do her part to end this horrible war.

  She followed Rose into the building, noting the ATA motto Eager for the Air sign hanging from the wall, a piece of paper tacked just below it with the words Anything to Anywhere printed in large block letters. Her lips tugged at the corners. Eager for air—that was her. The days aboard the ocean liner had dragged on in their endlessness. She couldn’t wait to get behind the controls of an aircraft, feel the power of the engine and the thrill of the flight. The sooner the better. As for anything to anywhere—she’d only flown a handful of single-engine planes in Tennessee, but she’d drooled over the speed of the Hurricane and Spitfire and the sheer size of the heavy bombers like the Lancaster.

  A whistle echoed off the walls
of the long hall.

  “Who do we have here?”

  To their right, a man sat behind his desk. He leaned back in his chair, an appreciative gleam in his eye. “A nurse?” He clutched at his ribs. “Please tell me you’re a nurse, because my heart is beating out of my chest this very minute.”

  Rose leaned her hip on the cherry-stained desk, shaking her head. “This is Max, White Waltham’s biggest flirt. Don’t believe a word he says.”

  “You kill me, Rosie. Didn’t I say the other day how your skin looked as soft as a flower’s petal and you smelled just as sweet? And now you’re going to tell this lady not to believe it?”

  Rose rolled her eyes and grinned. “You better watch it, Max. You don’t want Thomas to hear you spouting off like that.”

  “Some men get all the luck.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for him, Alice. I’ve never seen him at a club without a date. Then again, maybe the girls overlook his loose tongue because he’s such a ducky shincracker.”

  Alice’s forehead crinkle. A what?

  “You know, a good dancer,” Rose said.

  Ah.

  “Care to let me prove her point, Alice? There’s a great joint not far from here. We could jitterbug all night.”

  “Uh, thanks, but—”

  “She’s busy, Max. Go drool over someone else.” Rose tugged on Alice’s arm. “Commander Gower is waiting for us.”

  Alice followed Rose down the corridor. They stopped near the end, and Rose knocked on a door, turning the knob when a voice inside said to enter.

  “Ah, Mayfield. Came back with our new recruit, I see.” The uniformed woman stood, her face relaxed and open. She wore her hair cut short below the ears, but it fell in soft finger waves that added femininity even as the masculine navy-blue uniform, complete with necktie, detracted.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Alice’s eyebrows lifted. Rose had talked faster than a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby since they’d met, and now the girl only spoke two words? She wouldn’t have thought it possible.

  Commander Gower’s attention shifted to Alice. “It’s nice to have you with us, Galloway. We weren’t expecting any more pilots from the US now that Cochran is commanding the WASPs, but you’re a pleasant surprise.”

  Alice dipped her chin. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “All right then.” Commander Gower clapped her hands together once, then clasped them in front of her. “Tomorrow morning you will head to Thame, where you will begin your training.” She held up a finger. “I know you already know how to fly, but you have to complete the training anyway. Once the instructor signs off, you will be assigned to one of the fourteen ferry schools. There are one hundred and forty-seven different aircraft that ATA pilots ferry. You will only ferry the class of aircraft you have qualified for in training. Once you have gained experience in that class, you may return to training to qualify on the next class.” The commander paused and looked at her.

  Alice nodded.

  “There is a lot more I wish I had time to tell you, but you’ll learn it all as you go. However, there is one more thing.” She looked pointedly over Alice’s shoulder. “Mayfield, get the door please.”

  The latch clicked shut.

  Commander Gower pressed her palms on the desk in front of her. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I tell all my girls. Be careful. Watch your back. There are over a thousand men in this auxiliary and less than two hundred women. We may be doing our part in the war effort, but there are those who don’t see it that way. Who don’t think we belong here and will do anything to get us to leave. And I’m not talking about the Nazis. Fly straight and fly safe.” She straightened her posture. “That is all, ladies.”

  Chapter Three

  Present Day, Bethesda, Maryland

  A single knock rapped on Michael’s hospital door at Walter Reed before it opened. His brother Trent stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.

  “Where’s the rest of the family?” Ever since he’d woken from surgery, Michael’s mom and dad; older brother, Adam; and younger sister, Amber had crowded around him, concern in their expressions a bitter reminder of his condition. Double amputation. A death knell to all he’d worked for the last six years. An end to his plans, his dreams…might as well be the end of his life. If he didn’t have the navy and flying, what did he have?

  “They went to grab a bite in the cafeteria. I’ll go down in a minute, but I needed to talk to you.”

  “Oh, yeah? About what?”

  Trent leaned against the bed’s mattress, and Michael had to clench his teeth against the pain in his leg the slight jarring caused.

  “I wanted to see how you’re really doing.” Trent’s eyebrows rose. “Not all these assurances you’ve been spouting off to Mom and Dad.”

  Michael smoothed the bed sheet, then looked up and met his brother’s direct gaze. “A surgeon just sawed off one of my arms and legs because of a freak accident that never should have happened. How do you think I’m doing?”

  “I get it. I’d probably be pretty angry myself.” Trent leaned forward. “But remember that all things work together for good—”

  “Romans 8:28. I’d give you a round of applause, but”—Michael glared at his stump—“I’m a bit ill equipped for such things. Congratulations though. Only two months of church attendance and already you’re spewing platitude verses with the best of them.”

  Trent shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I was only trying to point out that good things can come out of bad situations.”

  “Is that what you think this is?” Michael waved an arm down his right side. “A bad situation?” A frustrated sigh left his lungs. “Look. I know you mean well, but all those verses you’re wanting to remind me of right now? I already know them. And yeah, before you get worried, I still believe them. But right now?” His shoulder lifted weakly. “I don’t know. My conversations with heaven are more of me asking God why.” He bit down on his lip when it started to tremble, and he looked away. “Why did this have to happen? Why didn’t God keep the arresting wire from snapping? Why didn’t He save my arm and leg?”

  The weight and warmth from Trent’s hand on his shoulder offered Michael a measure of comfort.

  “I don’t know, man. I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know. I have to believe, through everything, something good will come out of it. You’ve got to believe it too.” He squeezed. “Even if it does sound like a lame Christian platitude.”

  “Yeah, well, right now I can’t see any good in this, so you’ll forgive me if I’m not all unicorns and rainbows.” Michael squeezed his eyes. Five. Four. Three… He was a mess. Pain from his recent surgery, mind dulled from the medication seeping into his bloodstream from the IV, the pressure in his chest whenever he thought about all he’d lost.

  He didn’t need his brother there to tell him to be joyful in his trial. He wasn’t angry with God, didn’t blame Him, although he did wish God would have prevented the cable from severing his leg. He knew God was still with him. Remembered the promises in the Bible he’d held to his whole life. But those promises didn’t remove his questions. Why? What now?

  “Look. I haven’t lost my faith, okay?”

  “Good. Because I know what it’s like to live separate from Christ, and it isn’t pretty.”

  Michael smirked. “What’s this? My Casanova brother admitting something about himself is less than attractive?”

  Trent smoothed his hair away from his face. “If asked, I’d deny it with my last breath.”

  The door opened, and Lieutenant Commander Orville walked in. “Time for physical therapy, Lieutenant Carrington.”

  “’That’s my cue to leave.” Trent stood. “See ya around, little brother.”

  ***

  Jack Rogers shook her head, anticipating her brother’s question.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come in with me?” Brett turned to her, his palm on the car door handle.

  She made a shooing motion with
her fingers. “Like I already told you three times on the drive over here, take all the time you want. I’ll be fine waiting in the car.”

  “You don’t have to come into his room or anything. You can sit in the lobby.”

  “Hospitals weird me out. I’d rather be out here with the radio. Maybe even scour the Internet for a part I need for that Cub I’m fixing up.”

  Brett pulled the handle, and the door opened a fraction. “You sure?”

  “Yes. Go.” She smiled reassuringly. Big brothers worried too much. “This is your last chance to see him before you ship back out.”

  “Okay.” He stepped out of the car. “I won’t take too long.”

  She leaned over the center console to see him through the window. “Take all the time you want. After this it’s you, me, a large pizza, and a rematch at the air hockey table.”

  He grinned. “You’re on, little sis.”

  The car door shut, and she watched him walk through the Walter Reed hospital’s automatic doors. Throwing the car into gear, she pulled around and found an empty parking spot fairly close to the entrance where Brett could spot her when he came back out.

  She killed the engine but left the key in the ignition. Depending on how long her brother took, she may need to turn the car back on and crank up the heat sporadically. March in the Chesapeake area still held a decided chill, but the day was clear. The sun’s rays and Brett’s oversized NAVY hoodie should be plenty to keep her warm.

  She tugged on the sleeves until they covered half her hand. Hoped he didn’t think he was getting this back. She pulled the neck up over her nose and took a whiff. Yep. Definitely not getting it back. It would be her daily wardrobe until the scent of Brett’s ocean-breeze body spray no longer clung to the fleece fibers. Both her brothers knew they’d be missing at least one piece of clothing, usually a shirt of some kind, any time they came home on leave. She had a whole drawer full of NAVY outerwear.

  The voices of Rend Collective filtered through her speakers. “I love this song.” She cranked up the volume, her body moving to the beat. The steering wheel became a drum as she belted out the lyrics. When the final note ended, she sighed and turned the stereo back down. A commercial advertising a special at the car wash didn’t need to be heard at ear-deafening volumes.