"Did you hear from Joe?" her father asked her as she set down her suitcase in the front hall. He had sent a driver over to help her with her bags. He hadn't wanted to leave her mother. Elizabeth was looking pale and nervous. Her father was impressed by Kate's composure. She seemed surprisingly calm, and nodded when he asked about Joe.

"He's flying in to Washington tomorrow. He doesn't know yet where they're going to send him." Her father nodded in answer, and her mother glanced at her with concern, but didn't comment about Joe. Kate and Joe seemed to be in alarmingly frequent communication, but admittedly, these were unusual circ.u.mstances. Liz couldn't help wondering how often he had called her before.

They ate dinner in the kitchen that night, with the radio on, and none of them said a word. The food sat on their plates getting colder by the minute, and eventually Kate helped her mother clear the table, and sc.r.a.ped the still full plates into the garbage can. It was a long night that night, as Kate lay in her bed, thinking about Joe, and wondering how far east he had come so far, and if she would be able to see him before he was shipped off to war.

It was nearly noon the next day when he called her. He had just landed in Washington, D.C., at Boiling Field Airport.

"I just wanted you to know I got here safely." She was relieved to hear from him, but neither of them could explain why he felt a need to call her. This was definitely more than friendship, but neither of them wanted to talk about it. They didn't have to, or even admit it to each other. It was obvious that he felt linked to her in some silent, secret way that they weren't ready to acknowledge with words. "I'm going to the War Office now. I'll call you later, Kate."

"I'll be here." He was keeping her apprised of his every move. The phone rang again four hours later. He had been briefed all afternoon, and given his orders and commission. He had been made a captain in the Army Air Corps, and would be flying fighter missions with the RAF. He was leaving in two days for London, from New York. He would get his training, in military protocol, and formation flying in England. He had done a fair amount of it in air shows, and it was something he was exceptionally good at. That afternoon President Roosevelt announced to the nation that America had officially entered the war in Europe.

"That's it, kid. I'll be out of here in two days. But I'm going to a very decent place."

He was going to East Anglia and he had been there before to visit the RAF. Within two weeks, they expected him to be flying fighter missions. The thought of it terrified her, particularly when she realized that once the Germans knew he had joined the Allied war effort, they'd be gunning for him. With his reputation as a flying ace, he was just the kind of pilot they wanted to eliminate, and she knew they would do everything they could to shoot him down. He was in far greater danger than the others, and just knowing that turned her stomach. It was unbearable thinking of him going away for G.o.d only knew how long, and being in danger nearly every moment. She couldn't even begin to imagine how she was going to live knowing that, with no news of him. It was obviously going to be impossible for him to call her. But they still had two days, or as much of it as he could spend with her. They had already both a.s.sumed that he would spend as much time with her as possible before he flew to Europe. In a matter of hours, everything between them had changed. The pretense of friendship had already begun to slip away, and their relationship had already begun to evolve into something else.

As it turned out, he had to pick up uniforms and more papers, and it was the next day before he could leave Washington. He was flying out the following day at six o'clock in the morning. To be sure he didn't miss the plane, he had to be back in New York by midnight. It was ten in the morning when he took the plane from Washington to Boston, and nearly one o'clock when he landed. His plane to New York was at ten o'clock that night. They had exactly nine hours to spend together. Young couples all over the country were facing the same dilemma. Some got married in the little time they had left, others went to hotels to find what comfort they could with each other. Others just sat in train stations, or coffee shops, or on park benches in freezing weather. All they wanted was to share their last moments of freedom and peacetime, and cling to each other. And as she thought of them, Kate's mother felt even sorrier for the mothers who were saying goodbye to sons. She couldn't imagine anything worse.

Kate was waiting for Joe when he landed at East Boston Airport. He came off the plane looking serious and trim in a brand-new army uniform, which suited him to perfection. He looked even more handsome than he had at their home on Thanksgiving. And he smiled as he strode across the runway and approached her. He looked as though nothing was wrong, and this time when he got to her, he put an arm around her shoulders.

"It's okay, Kate. Relax. Everything will be okay." He could see instantly how terrified she was for him. "I'm one guy who'll know what he's doing over there. Flying is flying." It reminded her instantly of his extraordinary ease and expertise when she had flown with him only two weeks before.

But they both knew that normally, when he flew, no one was trying to shoot him down. Despite what he said to quell her fears, this was going to be very different. "What are we going to do today?" he asked, as though it was an ordinary day, and they didn't have to say goodbye to each other in less than nine hours. Couples all over the country were spending their last hours together, just as they were.

"Do you want to go back to the house?" she asked, looking vague. It was hard not to be distracted, or imagine that you could hear a clock ticking. The minutes were drifting away from them, and almost before it had begun, their last day together would be over, and he would be gone. She could feel a shiver of fear run through her at the thought. She wasn't even aware of it, but she hadn't felt as frightened or bereft since her father died.

"Why don't we go out for lunch? We can go to the house afterward. I want to say goodbye to your parents." She thought it seemed very respectful of him. And even her mother had stopped overtly worrying about his intentions. Whatever she was feeling about him, she was keeping to herself, and Kate was grateful for that. They all felt sorry for him, and millions of other young men just like him.

He took her to Locke-Ober's for lunch, and despite the elegant room and the fine meal, Kate could hardly eat. All she could think of was not where they were now, but where he was going in a matter of hours. The effort to have a civilized meal was essentially wasted on her. They were back at her house at three o'clock. Her mother was sitting in the living room, listening to the radio, as she always did now, and her father was not yet back from the office.

They sat and talked to her mother for a little while, and listened to the news, and at four o'clock, her father came home, and shook hands with Joe while patting his shoulder in a fatherly way. His eyes seemed to say it all, and neither of them found words to express what they were feeling. And after a little while, Clarke took Elizabeth upstairs, to leave the young people alone. They had enough to think about, Clarke felt, without having to worry about entertaining her parents. And both Kate and Joe were grateful to have some time together. It would have been out of the question to take him to her bedroom, to just relax and talk. No matter how well they behaved, the impropriety of it would have offended her mother, so Kate didn't even try to suggest it. Instead, they sat quietly on the couch in the living room, talking to each other, and trying not to think of the minutes ticking by.

"I'll write to you, Kate. Every day, if I can," he promised. There were a myriad things in his eyes, and he looked troubled. But he didn't offer to explain what he was thinking, and she was afraid to ask. She still had no idea how he felt about her, if they had just become very dear friends, or if there was something more to it. She was far more clear about what she was feeling for him. She realized now that she had been in love with him for months, but she didn't dare say it to him. It had happened sometime during their exchange of letters since September, and seeing him over Thanksgiving had confirmed it to her. But she had been fighting it ever since. She had no idea if Joe reciprocated her feelings, and it would have been improper to ask. Even she, with all her brave ways, wouldn't have had the courage to do that. She just had to go on what she knew and what she felt, and appreciate that, for whatever reason, he had wanted to spend these last hours with her. But she also reminded herself that he had no one else to spend them with. Other than his cousins whom he hadn't seen in years, he had no other relatives, and no girlfriend. The only person who seemed to matter to him was Charles Lindbergh. Other than that, he was alone in the world. And he had wanted to be with her.

It occurred to her as they sat close to each other on the couch, talking softly, that he hadn't had to come to Boston. He had only done that because he wanted to see her, and had stayed in close contact with her, ever since they'd heard the news, when Pearl Harbor had been attacked.

Kate told him, as they sat there, that her parents had canceled the coming-out party they'd been planning for her. She hadn't told him about it yet, but had planned to. She hadn't wanted to seem too anxious, but it was irrelevant now. All three Jamisons had agreed that it would have been in terrible taste to give a big party, and there probably wouldn't be many young men there anyway. Her father had promised to give a party for her after the war.

"It really doesn't matter now," she told Joe, as he nodded.

"Was it going to be like the party where we met last year?" he asked with interest, it was a good topic to distract her. She looked so sad that it touched his heart. He realized more than ever that he'd been lucky to meet her when he did. He almost hadn't gone to the ball with Charles Lindbergh the year before. And the fact that he had had obviously been fate, for both of them.

Kate smiled at his question about her canceled party. "Nothing as fancy as that." It was going to be at the Copley, for about two hundred people. There had been seven hundred people at the ball where they had met, with enough caviar and champagne to supply an entire village for a year. "I'm glad my parents canceled," she said quietly. Thinking about Joe in England, risking his life every day, was all she cared about now. She had already volunteered for the Red Cross, for whatever war effort they organized in the next few weeks. And Elizabeth had volunteered with her.

"You'll go back to school though, won't you?" he asked, and she nodded.

They sat quietly and talked for hours, and after a while, her mother brought them two plates of food. She didn't ask the young people to join them in the kitchen. Clarke thought they should be alone, and in spite of herself, Elizabeth agreed with him. She wanted to make things as easy as possible for both of them. They had enough anguish in their lives right then, without adding social burdens to it. And Joe stood and thanked her for the meal she had brought them. But they could barely eat as they sat next to each other, and finally he turned to Kate, and put both their plates on the table, as he took her hand in his. Tears filled her eyes before he could say anything to her.

"Don't cry, Kate," he said gently. It was something he had never been able to deal with, but in this instance, he didn't blame her. There were tears being shed in living rooms everywhere. "It'll be okay. I have nine lives, as long as I'm in an airplane." He had walked away from some incredible crashes in the years that he'd been flying.

"What if you need ten?" she asked, as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She had wanted to be so brave, and suddenly found she couldn't. She couldn't bear the thought of something happening to him. Her mother had been right. Kate was in love with him.

"I'll have twenty lives if that's what I need. You can count on it," he rea.s.sured her, but they both knew it was a promise he might not be able to keep, which was why he hadn't done anything foolish with her before he left.

Joe had no intention of leaving her an eighteen-year-old widow. She deserved a lot better than that, and if he couldn't give it to her, someone else would. He wanted to leave her feeling free to pursue anything she wanted in his absence. But all Kate could think of was Joe. It was too late to save herself. She was already far more attached to him than either of them had planned. As they sat on the couch side by side, with his arm around her, she turned to him and told him that she loved him. And as he looked down at her, there was a long, painful silence. There was such vast sorrow in her eyes. And he had no idea of the loss she had suffered as a child. Kate had never spoken of her father's suicide to anyone, and as far as Joe knew, the only father Kate had ever had was Clarke. But suddenly, for Kate, this loss reawakened the sorrows of her past, and made his going off to war that much worse for her.

"I didn't want you to say that, Kate," Joe said unhappily. He had tried so hard to stem the tides not only of her love, but his own. "I didn't want to say that to you. I don't want you to feel bound to me if something happens. You mean a lot to me, you have ever since the day I met you. I've never known anyone like you. But it wouldn't be fair of me to extract a promise from you, or expect something from you, or ask you to wait for me. There's always a chance that I might not come back, and I never want you to feel that you owe me something you don't. You owe me nothing. I want you to feel free to do whatever you want while I'm gone. Whatever we've felt for each other, with or without words, has been more than enough for me since we've known each other, and I'm taking it with me." He pulled her closer to him, and held her so tightly she could feel his heart beating, but he didn't kiss her. For a fraction of an instant, she was disappointed. She wanted him to tell her he loved her. This might be their last chance, for a very long time at least, or worse yet, the only one they'd ever have.

"I do love you," she said clearly and simply. "I want you to know that so you can take it with you. I don't want you to wonder while you're sitting over there in the trenches." But he raised a dignified eyebrow at her suggestion.

"Trenches? That's the infantry. I'll be flying high in the sky, shooting down Germans. And I'll be sleeping in my warm bed at night. It won't be as bad as you think, Kate. It will be for some people, but not for me. Fighter pilots are a pretty elite group," he rea.s.sured her. And other than Lindbergh, Joe was about as elite as it got, which was at least a relief for him.

The time sped by unbearably, and before they knew it, it was time to leave for the airport. It was a cold, clear night, and Joe took her to the airport with him in a cab. Her father offered to drive them there, but Joe preferred to go in a taxi. And Kate wanted to be alone with Joe.

There were people milling around the airport everywhere, and boys in uniforms had sprung up overnight. Even to Kate, they all looked like such babies. They were eighteen- and nineteen-year-old boys, and they barely looked old enough to leave their mothers. Some of them had never left home before.

Their last minutes together were excruciatingly painful. Kate was trying to hold back tears unsuccessfully, and even Joe looked tense. It was all so intolerably emotional for both of them. Neither of them had any idea if they would see each other again, or when. They knew the war could go on for years, and all Kate could do was hope it wouldn't. It was finally a mercy when he had to get on the plane. They had nothing left to say to each other, and she was beginning to cling to him in desperation. She didn't want him to go, didn't want anything to happen to him, didn't want to lose the only man she had ever loved.

"I love you," she whispered to him again, and he looked pained. This wasn't what he'd had in mind when he came to spend the day with her. He had somehow felt that they had a silent pact not to say those kinds of things to each other, but she wasn't sticking to it. She just couldn't. She could not let him go without telling him she loved him. In her opinion, he had a right to know. What she didn't understand was how much harder it was for him once she said the words. Until then, whatever his feelings for her, or how powerful his attraction to her, he had been able to delude himself that they were just good friends. But now there was no hiding from the fact that they weren't. They were far more than that, no matter how strenuously he tried to pretend it wasn't so.

Her words were her final gift to him, the only thing she had to give him of any real value. And they brought reality to both of them. For just a fraction of an instant, he sensed his own vulnerability, and glimpsed the possibility that he might never come this way again. Suddenly, as he looked at her, he was grateful for every instant they had shared. He knew that he would never meet another woman like her, with as much fire and joy and excitement, and no matter where he went, or what happened to him, he would always remember her. All they had before they left each other were these last moments to share.

And as they called his flight for the last time, he bent and kissed her, standing in the airport with his arms around her. It was too late to stop the tides. He had been kidding himself, he knew, if he thought he could reverse them or even hold them back. Their feelings for each other were as inevitable as the pa.s.sing of time. Whatever it was that had happened between them, they both knew without promises or words, that it was very rare, and not something that either of them would have changed, or would ever find again.

"Take care of yourself," he said hoa.r.s.ely, in a whisper.

"I love you," she said again. She looked him right in the eye as she said it, and he nodded, unable to say the words, despite all that he felt for her. They were words to describe feelings that he had fled for thirty years.

He held her close and kissed her again, and then he knew he had to leave her. He had to get on the flight. With every ounce of strength he had, he walked away from her, and paused for a last instant at the gate. She was still looking at him, and there were tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. He started to turn away then, paused, and looked back at her for a last instant. And then, just before it was too late, he shouted back to her, "I love you, Kate." She heard him, and saw him wave, and as she laughed through her tears, he disappeared through the gate.

5.

CHRISTMAS WAS GRIM for everyone that year. Two and a half weeks after Pearl Harbor, the world was still reverberating from the shock. America's sons had begun to go off to war, and they were being shipped to Europe and the Pacific. The names of places no one had ever heard of before were suddenly on everyone's lips, and Kate took small comfort in knowing Joe was in England. From the only letter she had had from him so far, his life sounded fairly civilized. for everyone that year. Two and a half weeks after Pearl Harbor, the world was still reverberating from the shock. America's sons had begun to go off to war, and they were being shipped to Europe and the Pacific. The names of places no one had ever heard of before were suddenly on everyone's lips, and Kate took small comfort in knowing Joe was in England. From the only letter she had had from him so far, his life sounded fairly civilized.

He was stationed in Swinderby. He told her only as much about his doings as the censors would allow. Most of the letter had expressed his concern for her, and told her about the people he'd met there. He described the countryside, and how kind the English were being to them. But he didn't tell her he loved her. He had said it once, but he would have been uncomfortable writing it to her.

It was obvious to both her parents by then how in love with him she was, and the only consolation to them was the sense they had that he also loved her. But in their private moments, Elizabeth Jamison still expressed her deep concerns to Clarke. They were even more profound now because, if something happened to him, she was afraid that Kate would mourn him forever. He would have been a hard man to forget.

"G.o.d forgive me for saying it," Clarke said quietly, "but if something happens to him, she'd get over it, Liz. It's happened to other women before her. I just hope it doesn't."

It wasn't just the war that worried Elizabeth, it was something much deeper that she had sensed in Joe, from the moment she met him, and she could never quite find the words to express to Clarke. She had a sense that Joe was unable to let anyone in, and to love or give fully. He was always standing back somewhere around the edges. And his pa.s.sion for the planes he designed and flew, and the world that opened to him, was a way for him to escape life. She wasn't at all sure that, even if he survived the war, he would ever make Kate happy.

What she also felt was their unspoken bond, and the deep almost mesmeric fascination they had for each other. They were entirely opposite, each of them was like the dark or light side of the other. But what Kate's mother sensed but could never explain was that in some inexplicable way, they were dangerous for each other. She didn't even know why she was frightened by Kate loving him, but she was.

The date of Kate's canceled deb party came and went, and she wasn't really sorry it had been canceled. She hadn't had her heart set on it, it was more something she felt she had to do for her parents. And that night, as she sat at home reading a book she had to read for school, she was surprised when Andy Scott called. Almost every boy she knew was leaving for boot camp by then, had already left or was getting ready to ship out. But Andy had already explained to her several weeks before that he had had a heart murmur ever since his childhood. It didn't hamper him in any way, but even in wartime, it made him ineligible for the army. He was upset about it, and had tried to get them to take him anyway, but they had categorically refused him. He told Kate he wanted to wear a sign, explaining to people why he wasn't in uniform, and why he was still at home. He felt like a traitor being at home with the women. He was still very upset about it when he called her, and they talked for a while. He wanted to take her out to dinner, but she felt odd going now. It seemed unfair, given the way she felt about Joe, and the fact that he was in England. She told Andy why and said she couldn't. And he tried to negotiate her into a movie anyway. But she wasn't in the mood. They had never been more than pals, but she knew from mutual friends that he was crazy about her. And he'd been trying to start something with her since she'd arrived at Radcliffe in the fall.

"I think you should go out," her mother said firmly, when she asked Kate about the call from Andy. "You can't stay home forever. The war could go on for a long time." And nothing had been settled with Joe. He hadn't asked her to marry him, they weren't engaged, they had made no promises. They just loved each other. And her mother would have been far happier to see Kate out with Andy Scott.

"I don't feel right about it," Kate said, going back to her room with her book. She knew it was going to be a long war if she was going to stay home indefinitely with her parents, but she didn't care.

"She can't just sit here day after day and night after night," Liz complained later to her husband. "There's no commitment between them. They're not promised or engaged." Her mother wanted the real thing for her.

"It's a commitment of the heart, from what I understand," her father said calmly. He was concerned about Joe, and sympathetic to his daughter. He had none of the suspicions his wife did about Joe. He thought he was a great guy.

"I'm not sure Joe will ever make more of a commitment," Liz said, looking worried.

"I think he's being very responsible, he doesn't want to make her a young widow. I think he's doing the right thing."

"I don't think men like him ever make real commitments," she insisted. "He's too pa.s.sionate about his flying. Everything else in his life will always come after that. He'll never give Kate what she needs. His first love will always be flying," she predicted grimly, and Clarke smiled.

"That's not necessarily true. Look at Lindbergh. He's married, he has children."

"Who knows how happy his wife is?" she said skeptically.

But however they felt about it, Kate continued what she was doing. She stayed home with her parents during the entire vacation, and when she went back to school in January, the other girls looked as unhappy as she did. Five of them had gotten married before their boyfriends shipped out, at least a dozen had gotten engaged, and the others all seemed to be involved with boys who would be going overseas very soon. Their whole life already revolved around photographs and letters, which reminded Kate that she didn't have a single photograph of Joe. But she already had a growing stack of letters from him.

She applied herself to her studies diligently, and saw Andy from time to time. She still refused to go out with him on dates, but they were friends, and he came to visit her often at Radcliffe. They would take long walks across the campus, and go to the cafeteria afterward, and he teased her about the elegance of their dinners together. But as long as all they did was eat on campus, she didn't feel it counted as a date, and she wasn't being unfaithful to Joe. Andy just thought she was being silly, and tried to talk her into going out.

"Why won't you let me take you someplace decent?" he moaned as they sat at a back table eating dry meat loaf and nearly inedible chicken. The cafeteria was famous for how bad the food was.

"I don't think it would be right. And this is fine," she insisted.

"Fine? You call this fine?" He plunged a fork into his mashed potatoes, they were like wallpaper paste, and her chicken was so tough she couldn't eat it. "It takes me two days to get over the stomachache I get every time I eat dinner with you." But all Kate could think about were the rations that Joe was getting in England. It would have seemed shocking to her if she were going to expensive restaurants with Andy, and she just wouldn't do it. If he wanted to spend time with her, he had no choice but to eat in the cafeteria at school.

Other than Kate refusing to go out with him, Andy had an active social life. He was tall, dark, and handsome, and one of the few eligible men left on campus and not going off to war. Girls were practically lining up to go out with him, and he could have had just about anyone, except the one girl he wanted. He wanted Kate.

Andy was consistent about coming to visit her, and over the months, they established a strong bond of friendship. She liked him enormously, but she felt none of the things for him she did for Joe. What she felt for Andy was solid and quiet and comfortable, it had none of the fire and pa.s.sion and irresistible pull she felt toward Joe. Andy seemed more like a brother. They played tennis together several times a week, and finally around Easter time, she let him take her to a movie, but she felt guilty about it. They went to see Mrs. Miniver Mrs. Miniver with Greer Garson, and Kate cried all the way through. with Greer Garson, and Kate cried all the way through.

She was getting letters from Joe several times a week, and she could only guess that he was flying Spitfires on missions with the RAF. But as long as the letters kept coming, she knew he was alive and well. She lived in constant terror that she would read in the paper that his plane had been shot down, and her hands shook as she opened the newspaper every morning. She knew that, as well known as he was, and because of his a.s.sociation with Charles Lindbergh, she would read about it before anyone would have a chance to warn her. But so far, in his letters, he seemed to be in good spirits and well. He had complained bitterly about the cold and the bad food all winter in England. And in May, he wrote about how beautiful the spring was, he said there were flowers everywhere, and even the poorest people had lovely gardens. But he hadn't told her he loved her since he left.

At the end of May, the RAF flew a thousand bombers in a night bombing raid over Cologne. Joe never mentioned it, but when Kate read about it, she was certain Joe had been there. In June, Andy graduated from Harvard in three years on an accelerated program, and would be going straight into law school in the fall. Kate finished her freshman year, went to Andy's graduation, and went to work full time for the Red Cross over the summer. She rolled bandages, and folded warm clothes to be sent overseas. They mailed packages, provided medicines, and spent a great deal of time doing small useful things. It wasn't an exciting job, but it seemed like the least she could do for the war effort. Even in her small circle of friends, there had already been tragedies. Two of the girls in her house had lost brothers on ships torpedoed by the Germans, and another one had lost two. One of her roommates had gone home to help her father run the family business. Several fiances had been killed, and of the five girls who had gotten married over Christmas, one had already lost her husband and gone home. It was hard not to think about it, as one looked constantly into saddened eyes and worried faces. The thought of getting a telegram from the War Department chilled everyone's heart.

Andy was doing volunteer work in a military hospital that summer. He wanted to do something to make up for the fact that he hadn't been able to go to war with the rest of the able-bodied young men. And when he called Kate, he told her horror stories of the wounded men he saw, and the experiences they shared with him. He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, except maybe Kate, but as he listened to them, there were moments when he was actually glad he hadn't been able to go to war. Most of the men they saw had been in Europe, the ones who were wounded in the Pacific went to hospitals on the West Coast to recuperate. Many of them had lost limbs and eyes and faces, they had stepped on mines or were filled with shrapnel. And Andy said there was an entire ward filled with men who had lost their minds over the trauma they'd been through. Just thinking about it horrified both of them. And they knew that in the coming months, it could only get worse.

After working for the Red Cross for two and a half months, Kate went to Cape Cod, for the last two weeks of the summer, with her parents. It was one of the few places where things seemed the same as they had always been. The community was small, and consisted mostly of older people, so most of the familiar faces she had grown up with were still there. But their grandsons wouldn't be visiting them this year, and most of the boys Kate had grown up with were absent. But many of the girls she knew were there, and on Labor Day, their neighbors gave the same barbecue they always did. Kate went next door with her parents. She hadn't heard from Joe for nearly a week by then. The letters she received had always been written weeks before and sometimes arrived in batches. He could have been dead for weeks and she would still be receiving letters. The thought of it always chilled her when it crossed her mind.

She hadn't seen Joe in nearly nine months, and it was beginning to seem endless. She had talked to Andy a couple of times since she'd gotten to the Cape. He was spending the last week of vacation with his grandparents in Maine, after working at the hospital for three months. She could tell from talking to him that he had grown up a lot over the summer. He was going to be starting Harvard law school when they went back. He had completed his undergraduate work in three years instead of four. Since he couldn't go to war, he was anxious to start working. It seemed like the right decision for him, particularly since his father was the head of New York's most prestigious law firm, and they were waiting for him with open arms.

It was hard not to think of Joe as Kate stood at the barbecue, toasting marshmallows, remembering when she'd seen him there the year before. It had been the beginning of their romance. They had started writing to each other shortly after that, and then she had invited him to Thanksgiving dinner. But she could remember almost every word he'd said that night when they walked along the beach. She was standing lost in thought, when someone standing behind her broke into her reverie. She had been a million miles away, thinking of Joe.

"Why do you always burn them?" the voice said, as she gave a start, and then turned quickly backward to see him. It was Joe, standing right behind her, looking tall and thin and pale, and a little older. He was smiling at her, and in a split second she had tossed the branch with the burning marshmallows into the sand, and he had his arms tightly around her. He was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

"Oh my G.o.d... oh my G.o.d..." It couldn't be, but it was. She couldn't even begin to imagine what he was doing there, and as she stepped back from him with a worried look, she saw that he was whole, so at least he wasn't wounded. "What are you doing here?"

"I have two weeks leave. I have to report to the War Office on Tuesday. I guess I must have hit my quota of Germans, so they sent me home to check on you. You look pretty good to me. How are you, baby?" Infinitely better now that she saw him. All she could do was think how lucky she was to see him. And he looked every bit as happy as she did. He couldn't keep his hands off her as they stood pressed closely together. He stroked her hair, and kept her close to him, and every few minutes, he kissed her, and held her tight. Neither of them cared who saw them. Kate was just happy he was alive.

Her father spotted them a few minutes later. At first, he couldn't imagine who the tall blond man was standing with Kate, and then he saw him kiss her, and realized it was Joe, as he hurried toward them across the sand.

He gave Joe an enormous hug, and then stood beaming at him as he patted his shoulder. "It's good to see you, Joe. We've all been worried about you."

"I'm fine. You should be worrying about the Germans. We've been shooting the h.e.l.l out of them."

"They deserve it," Kate's father said firmly with a smile. He felt toward Joe almost like a son.

"I'm just doing it so I can get home," Joe beamed. He was a happy man, and Kate looked like an ecstatically happy woman. She couldn't believe what had just happened to her. It was a reprieve from the long agonizing months of waiting for him and praying for his safety. Two weeks seemed like a miracle to both of them. All she wanted to do was look at him and hold him. And he hadn't moved an inch from her since he'd first surprised her. He wanted to stand as close to her as he could and breathe her in.

"How's it going over there, son?" Clarke asked him in a serious voice, as Kate tore herself away just long enough to go and find her mother and tell her that Joe was home.

"The Brits are having a tough time," Joe said honestly. "The Germans are just plowing right through them, and bombing all the cities. It's pretty tough when you're living through it. I think we'll get them eventually, but it's not going to be easy." The war news had been discouraging for the past two months. Germany had captured Sevastopol, and then launched a ferocious and relentless attack on Stalingrad. Rommel was pummeling the British in North Africa. And the Australians in New Guinea were engaged in fierce combat against the j.a.panese.

"I'm glad you're all right, son," Clarke said to Joe. He already felt as though he were part of the family, although no promises had been made yet on either side. And even Elizabeth seemed to have softened as she walked over to see him with Kate. She gave him a kiss and a hug and told him how happy she was that he was all right. And she was, for her daughter's sake.

"You've lost weight, Joe," Elizabeth commented, looking worried. He'd gotten very thin, but he was flying hard, working long hours, and eating very little. The rations they were getting were pretty awful, as Kate knew from his letters. "Are you all right?" Elizabeth asked Joe. She was searching his eyes, as he nodded.

"I am now that I'm here for two weeks. I have to go to Washington tomorrow, for two days, but I'll be back on Thursday. I have another ten days after that. I was hoping to come to Boston." For obvious reasons. And Kate beamed.

"We'd love that," Clarke said quickly with a glance at his wife, and even she couldn't resist the look of sheer joy on her daughter's face.

"Would you like to stay with us?" Elizabeth offered, and Kate looked near tears she was so happy as she thanked her mother. But even Elizabeth knew you couldn't fight the tides forever, at some point, you had to go with them. And if anything ever happened to him, she didn't want Kate to feel that they had done whatever they could to keep her and Joe apart. It seemed better for all concerned to be magnanimous about it, as long as Kate didn't do anything foolish. Her mother was planning to talk to her about it, now that she saw them together. Joe was, after all, a thirty-one-year-old man, with needs and desires that far exceeded what was good for Kate to be doing at this point. But as long as they behaved, Elizabeth was willing to have him stay with them. The burden of how they behaved was going to rest on Kate.

The rest of the night seemed to speed by in a blur, and Joe left her long after midnight, to get to Washington by the next morning. He had to drive to Boston, and then take a train to Washington. There were no planes available to him. And when he left her, he kissed her long and hard, and promised to see her in Boston in three days. She hated the fact that she had to go back to school while he was there, but her parents insisted that she couldn't start late. She would just have to make the best of the time they had. The only concession they made was that she could stay at the house with Joe and them, as long as she went to cla.s.ses every day.

"I'll take her to school myself, and make sure she stays there," Joe promised them, and she suddenly felt as though she had two fathers, not just one. There had always been something very paternal and protective about Joe, which was part of why she felt so comfortable with him. There were a million reasons why she did, and when he left her to drive back late that night, he held her for a long moment and told her how much he had missed her and how much he loved her. Kate looked at him and savored the words. She hadn't heard them in a long time.

"I love you too, Joe. I've been so worried about you." Far more than she could ever tell him.

"We'll get through this, baby. I promise. And when it's all over, we'll have a great time together." It was not the kind of promise that her mother was hoping for, but she didn't care. Just being with him was enough.

Joe came back from Washington, sooner than expected, in two days, and moved into the house with them. He was courteous, considerate, polite, well behaved, and extremely respectful of Kate, which pleased her parents. Even her mother was impressed by how he behaved. The only thing he hadn't done, which would have pleased them more, was ask for her hand in marriage.

Her father skirted the subject delicately one afternoon when he came home early from the office, and found Joe in the kitchen sketching designs for a new airplane. There was no way to get it built now, but when the war was over, it was going to be his dream plane. He had already filled several notebooks with intricate details.

Seeing that led to a brief discussion about Charles Lindbergh, who was helping Henry Ford organize bomber plane production. Lindbergh had wanted to enlist in the military, but FDR had refused. And what he was doing with Ford was valuable and important to the war effort. But nonetheless the public and the press remained critical of him, due to the political positions he'd taken before the war. Like the rest of the country, Clarke had been disappointed by his statements on behalf of America First. They had made him appear to be sympathetic to the Germans. And like many others, Clarke had lost some of his earlier respect for him. He had always thought of Lindbergh as a patriot, and it seemed so out of character and naive of him to have been impressed by the Germans before the war. But he had redeemed himself in Clarke's eyes recently by putting his shoulder to the war effort in whatever ways he could.

The conversation drifted slowly back from Lindbergh to Kate, and Clarke didn't ask him directly, but he made it obvious to Joe that he was curious, if not concerned, about his intentions toward his daughter. Joe didn't hesitate for an instant telling him he loved her. He was honest and up front, and although he looked uncomfortable as he spoke of it, he didn't dally around or beat around the bush. He looked down at his hands for a long moment and then back up at her father. And Clarke liked what he saw there, he always had. Joe had never let him down so far. He was just a little slow moving, slower than Kate's mother would have liked, but Kate didn't seem to mind, and Clarke had to respect that. Whatever their feelings for each other, they seemed to be moving toward what they wanted, and had a keen sense of each other. They were inseparable while he was at home, and obviously deeply in love.

"I'm not going to marry her now," Joe said bluntly, squirming slightly in the narrow kitchen chair, like a giant bird sitting on a perch with his wings folded. "It wouldn't be right. If something happens to me over there, she'll be a widow." Clarke didn't want to say that married or not, she would be devastated either way, they both knew that. She was a very young girl. And at nineteen, he was the first man she had ever been in love with, and hopefully the last, if her mother got what she wanted from him. She had told Clarke the night before that she thought they should get engaged. It would at least clarify his intentions and show some respect for Kate. "We don't need to be married. We love each other. There's no one else over there. I'm not seeing anyone, and I won't," Joe explained to her father. He hadn't spelled that out to Kate, but she instinctively knew it. She trusted him completely, and had laid her heart bare to him. She had no defenses or protective wall around her, she had held back nothing from him, which was precisely what was worrying her mother. She wasn't sure if Joe had done the same, and she suspected he hadn't. He was old enough and cautious enough to keep something for himself. Just how much was, in reality, the question. Kate was much younger, and more naive, and far more vulnerable and trusting, although she could have also hurt him very badly, but she wouldn't do that. Of that there was no doubt.

"Do you see yourself settling down eventually?" Clarke asked quietly. These were the first deep insights he'd had into what Joe wanted out of life. They'd never had a chance to talk about it before the war.

"I suppose so, whatever that means. As long as I can keep flying around and building airplanes. I know I have to do that. As long as everything else fits into that, I guess I could settle in. I've never thought much about it." It was hardly a proposal, or a firm declaration of intention. It was more of a maybe. He had taken a long time to grow up, and obviously had no deep emotional need to be settled with anyone or anything. As he had told Kate, he had never even really cared if he had children. Just airplanes. "It's pretty hard thinking about the future, when you put your life on the line every day, several times a day. When you're doing that, nothing else really matters." He was flying as many as three missions a day, and every time he took off, he knew he might never come back. It was hard to think beyond that. In fact, he didn't want to. All he could do was concentrate on what he was doing, and the importance of shooting down the enemy. The rest was unimportant to him. Even Kate, at those particular moments. She was a luxury he could allow himself after the important things were accomplished. It was how he thought about his life actually. He had things he had to do, and after he did them, he could allow himself to be with her. But she had to wait until he had taken care of business. And right now, the war was business for him.

"I love Kate, Mr. Jamison," Joe said to Clarke, as he handed him a gla.s.s of bourbon, and Joe took it and sipped it. "Do you think she'd be happy with a guy like me? Would anyone? Flying comes first with me. It always will. She has to know that." In his own way, he was a genius, he had brilliant ideas about aeronautical engineering, and he knew every tiny piece of his engines intimately. He could fly in any condition imaginable, and had. He knew all there was to know about aerodynamics. He understood a lot less about women, and he knew that, and Clarke was just beginning to understand. Kate's mother had sensed all that about him from the first.