Wings

“I went up in my dad's Jenny with Chris today.” She filled him in, trying to sound casual. Getting too serious with Bobby always scared her. “It was fun. We did some lazy eights, and a loop.”

“Sounds like Chris is getting good,” Bobby said politely, but like Chris, airplanes didn't do much to excite him. “What else did you do?” He was always interested in her, and secretly he thought her beautiful, not like the other boys who thought she was too tall, or her hair was too red, or liked her because her figure was great, or thought she was weird because she knew a lot about airplanes. Bobby liked her because of who she was, even if at times he recognized the possibility that he might not understand her. But that was endearing about him too. A lot of things were, which was why her feelings about him confused her. Her mother told her that she had felt that way about Pat at first too. Commitment was always hard, Oona said. And that made it even harder for Cassie. She didn't know what to think of what she felt for Bobby.

“Oh, I don't know…” Cassie went on to answer his question, trying to remember all she'd done. All of it had to do with airplanes. “I gassed a bunch of planes, tinkered with the engine on the Jenny before Chris took it out. I think I might even have fixed it.” She touched her face self-consciously then with a grin. “I got a lot of grease on my face doing it. My dad had a fit when he saw me. I couldn't get it all off. You should have seen me before dinner!”

“I thought maybe you were getting liver spots,” he teased and she laughed. He was a good sport, and he knew how much her dreams meant to her, like college. He had no plans to go himself. He was going to stay home and help his father with their business, just as he did every day after school, and all through the summer.

“You know, Fred Astaire's new movie Follow the Fleet is coming to the movie theater this Saturday night. Want to go? They say it's a great movie.” Bobby looked at her hopefully, she nodded slowly, and smiled up at him.

“I'd like that.”

A few minutes later, the last of her sisters and their children left, and Cassie and Bobby were alone on the porch again. Her parents were in the living room. She knew they could see them from where they sat, but her parents were always discreet about Bobby's visits. They liked him, and Pat wouldn't have been unhappy if they'd decided to get married when she finished school next June. As long as they didn't get themselves into trouble first, they could spend all the time they wanted cooing on the front porch. It was fine with him. Better than having her hang around the airport.

Inside the house, Pat was telling Oona about Chris's loop that afternoon. He was so proud of him. “The boy's a natural, Oonie.” He grinned and she smiled at him, grateful that he had finally gotten the son he had so desperately wanted.

On the porch, Bobby was telling her about his day at the grocery store, and how the Depression was affecting food prices all over the country, not just in Illinois. He had a dream of opening a series of stores one day, in several towns, maybe as far reaching as Chicago. But they all had dreams. Cassie's were a lot wilder than his, and harder to talk about. His just sounded young and ambitious.

“Do you ever think of doing something totally different, and not what your father does at all?” she asked him, intrigued by the idea, even though all she wanted was to follow in her own father's footsteps. But those footsteps were totally forbidden to her, which made them all the more appealing.

“Not really,” Bobby answered quietly. “I like his business actually. People need food, and they need good food. We do something important for people, even if it doesn't seem very exciting. But maybe it could be.”

“Maybe it could,” she smiled at him, as she heard a sudden droning sound above, and looked up toward the familiar noise of the engines. “That's Nick… he's on his way to San Diego with some cargo. Then he's stopping in San Francisco on the way back, to bring back some mail on one of our contracts.” She knew he was flying the Handley Page, she could tell just from the sound of the engines.

“He probably gets tired of that too,” Bobby said wisely. “It sounds exciting to us, but to him it's probably only a job, just like my father's.”

“Maybe.” But Cassie knew different. Flying wasn't like that. “Pilots are a different breed. They love what they do. It's almost as though they can't bear the thought of doing anything else. It's in their bones. They live and breathe it. They love it more than anything.” Her eyes shone as she said it.

“I guess,” Bobby looked baffled by what she was saying, “I can't say I understand it.”

“I don't think most people can… it's like a mysterious fascination. A wonderful gift. To people who love flying, it means more than anything.”