Hope Takes Flight (16 page)

Passing through downtown Paris, they came at last to a less populous area where residential neighborhoods on the edge of the city gave way to greening fields studded with trees. The trees were blossoming, tinged pink and white, and Gavin relaxed as the pastoral scenery flowed by him.

Eventually the cab turned down a side road and Gavin straightened.
We're out in the country
, he thought.
She didn't seem like a country girl to me
.

The driver pulled alongside a stone fence and waved his hand toward a house that was set back some distance from the main road. “
Voila!
” he cried. “I take you now to front door.”

Gavin was shocked at the size of the house as they moved into a circular drive by way of an access road. It was not at all what he had expected. The imposing residence, flanked by massive oak trees, reminded him of some type of manor house he had seen in pictures. Built primarily of stone, the side walls were, nevertheless, timbered with heavy beams, and there were at least a dozen chimneys.

Gavin got out of the cab and paid the bill, adding ten francs for a tip. The cab driver looked at his uniform, then at the imposing house and said, “You want me to wait, perhaps?”

“Maybe you'd better,” Gavin said. “Gimme a minute.” He turned and walked up the steps, lifted the large door knocker, and let it fall.

Almost at once the door opened, and he found himself facing Heather Spencer.

“I…uh…guess you're surprised to see me,” he said lamely.

“I saw you from my bedroom window,” she confessed with a smile. “It's good to see you again, Lieutenant.” She looked over his shoulder and saw the cab and said, “Send the taxi away. We'll see that you get back to Paris.”

Gavin turned, waved at the cab driver, and shouted, “Thanks a lot!” Then he turned back to Heather and began apologetically, “I feel like a fool, Nurse Spencer.”

“Come in, Lieutenant,” she said warmly. “I want you to meet my parents.”

Gavin felt her hand on his arm as she pulled him inside, intimidated at once by the tall ceilings, the expensive furniture of gleaming walnut and rosewood, and the ornate antiques that filled the foyer.

“Come along,” she said. “They'll be in the study.”

Gavin followed her, wondering what in the world he would say to such people, and entered the study to find a couple who looked up curiously at him. The woman rose and came forward as Heather introduced him. “This is my mother, Mary Spencer,” she said, “and this is my father, Leo.”

Gavin shook the woman's hand, noting that Heather was a later edition of Mary Spencer. Mrs. Spencer was very much as he had imagined an English lady should look; that is, she looked like Heather with the same blond hair and blue eyes. He turned to Leo and saw with a slight shock that he was in a wheelchair. Stepping forward, he took the man's hand that was very hard, firm, and strong, saying, “Sorry to come busting in on you folks, but…”

“Not a bit of it,” Leo Spencer said. A well-tended mustache covered his upper lip and a pair of steady, very dark blue eyes smiled warmly into Gavin's. “Here, sit down. Mary, have Alice bring some tea and some of those good cakes she made yesterday. Sit down, sit down.”

Awkwardly Gavin sat on a fragile-looking chair, half expecting it to break beneath his weight. As he did so, he cast a look at Heather. She was smiling at him as she sat down near her mother in another impossibly fragile chair.

Leo Spencer stared at Gavin steadily. “You are in the Lafayette Escadrille?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir.”

“We are proud to have you. France needs all the men she can get these days, especially flyers.”

Gavin stared at the three, then blurted out, “Sorry, but I don't understand! I thought you were English! You live
here
…in France?”

Mary Spencer came to his aid. “This is a summer home. It really isn't ours; we exchange with a family who is presently living in our home in England. But we've been spending more time here, now that Heather's nursing in a Paris hospital.”

At that moment a servant came in. “Lady Spencer, shall we have crumpets with the tea?” she asked. “And Sir Leo, would you like some cucumber sandwiches?”

Gavin tried to rearrange his thoughts.
Sir
Leo?
Lady
Spencer?

He darted a desperate glance at Heather, who saw his dilemma, but said only, “Bring some of those for all of us, Alice. I think you would like some, wouldn't you, Lieutenant?”

“Oh…uh…oh yes,” Gavin stammered.

When the maid left, Leo Spencer began to question Gavin about his family and his home in America. Thirty minutes later, when the maid brought the refreshments in, Gavin had told them pretty much everything about himself, though he still knew very little about the Spencers.

Lady Spencer said, “Heather told us about you and your friend. Is he all right?”

“Oh, Bill Thaw? Yes, he is doing fine. Shot down his twenty-sixth last week. A real fine fellow and a great pilot.”

“And you, have you seen action since you joined the Escadrille?” Leo asked. He nibbled at a small sandwich, waved his hand to indicate Gavin should do the same, and continued before Gavin could answer his question. “There weren't many airplanes on the front.…” Catching an inquiring glance from Gavin, Leo Spencer explained, “I was a career officer in the British Fusiliers. I caught a bad one at Marne during the first big battle. It put me in this chair. But, of course, I still keep up with what's going on.”

Gavin never knew what to say to handicapped people. He didn't know whether to express sorrow over the disability or to ignore it. He finally chose the latter. Quickly he began explaining his own role. “Well, I've had a bit of luck. Had some good teachers, and so far I've managed to stay alive.”

“I understand you got your ninth kill last week,” Heather broke in. She smiled at his surprise. “It was in the French newspaper here. They keep up with the Escadrille very closely. I know quite a bit about it—more than you might think.”

Gavin showed his surprise, then shrugged. “Well, there aren't many of us. But we all try to do the best we can.”

They proceeded with tea, and by the time it was over, a strange sense of belonging had crept over Gavin. He liked Leo Spencer very much, but was careful, however, to call him by his title. Afterwards he accompanied his host to a side of the room where maps were laid out, showing the battlefields, and for the next hour, the two men spoke of the war and military strategy.

Finally Heather came over, interrupting with a light laugh. “You've had him long enough, Father. I'm going to show him around the estate.”

“Oh, all right.” Leo smiled. “Take him then, but bring him back. You're staying overnight, I take it?”

“Why…why…I didn't—”

“We'd like very much to have you,” Heather said. “There's plenty of room in this house.” Then, not giving him time to argue, she said, “I'll tell Alice to make up the big room in the East Wing.”

Taking possession of Gavin's arm, she walked with him out of the house and soon the two were strolling around the grounds, enjoying the aroma of the flowers and the sound of birds chattering in the trees. There was a duck pond in the back, and they stood for a long time, watching a family of ducklings paddling after their mother.

“Reminds me of home,” Gavin said with a raw pang of nostalgia. “We always liked to keep ducks…well, my mother did, anyway. Made featherbeds out of them, and pillows—and we ate them.” He laughed at his own remark. “Guess we used up those ducks pretty good. But I suppose that's what ducks are for.”

Heather's hair captured the glints of the April sun and gave off a reddish tint. Her skin looked as fresh and rich as new cream, the smoothest Gavin had ever seen. She laughed and said, “I suppose so. Every time I eat a steak, I have to remind myself that a cow had to die in order for me to have that meal.”

Gavin laughed and the two of them walked over the estate, looking at the cows, talking to two of the gardeners who were glad to stop and meet the American visitor. Finally, as they walked back, Gavin said, “You didn't have to ask me to stay. I can find a place in Paris.”

“No,” she said, “I want you to stay here.” There was a determination about her that Gavin recognized. Something about her told him that here was a woman who knew her own mind and usually got her own way.

“You sound like my top sergeant when I first joined the Legion,” he said with a grin.

Heather laughed, making that delightful sound he liked so much. “I suppose nurses get that way. We get to boss everyone, even generals. It's delightful—but I suppose when I marry, I'll have to be retrained.”

Gavin grinned again. “Unless you marry a milksop. But on the other hand, most of us who've been in the army are used to high command, so maybe you can find someone to boss who won't mind it.”

They walked back into the house, and Heather showed Gavin to his room on the second floor. A pair of large windows gave him a view of the grounds. The bed was enormous and he thought with a smile on his face,
This bed's about the size of our whole house back home.

She had turned to the door but stopped and smiled back at him. “You can refresh yourself, Lieutenant, and we'll have dinner later. Lie down and rest if you wish.”

“Not a chance,” he said. “I might wash up a little, but I'm not wasting any of this leave. I'll be down pretty soon.”

“How long can you stay?”

“Just through tomorrow, I'm afraid. By the way, do you think you could call me something besides ‘Lieutenant'? My name's Gavin.”

“Of course. It's a lovely name. English, I think.”

“I thought it was Arkansan,” he quipped. “And what do I call you? Nursie? Or are you Lady Heather? Or Lady Spencer?”

“That's much too formal. Why don't you just call me Heather.” With that, she pulled the door to behind her, and he walked to the window to look out on the expansive grounds. This serene estate was far from the war, but he scanned the sky as if expecting to see fighter planes that could so quickly become cockpits of death. But here there were only blue skies and fleecy white clouds like sheep on a huge blue pasture. He breathed deeply, inhaling the sweetness of the first flowers, the smell of loamy earth where it was being broken in a field, and he said to himself,
Gavin, old boy, don't you wish you never had to leave this place!

Heather stood watching the tall young flyer as they waited in the train station. She had enjoyed her time with him immensely, and now, as they waited for the train that would take him back, she was sorry to see it end. “It's been delightful, Gavin,” she said. “I don't know when I have had more fun.” A mischievous light sparkled in her eyes. “Americans are fun, I think. We English are so stodgy and so confounded
rigid
.” A thought came to her. “You've been good for my father. He needs someone to talk to. He feels so useless and left out of things. I think sometimes that if he didn't know God, he would kill himself.”

Gavin was startled, but he knew she was speaking truth. He had come to know Leo Spencer very well. The Englishman had taught him to play chess, for which Gavin had shown an almost spectacular flair. Spencer could not believe it when Gavin had beaten him after only four games, and he had laughed and said, “If you can fly an airplane the way you can play chess, my boy, I pity the poor German flyers!”

Heather had encouraged Gavin to spend time with her father and now, as they stood on the train platform, she thanked him for it. “It was good of you to spend so much time with my father. He needed it.”

“Why, it was fun,” he said, then shyly, “I like your parents, both of them. They're not what I thought nobility would be.”

“Oh, we're
poor
nobility,” she said lightly. “A good name and no money. Our home in England isn't like this at all. It's really a very small place.”

“I'd like to see it sometime,” he said. “Maybe I…” He broke off, fearing that she might consider him forward.

“Come to see us anytime, Gavin,” she said.

As they talked, Gavin was thinking how strange that he, an Arkansas plowboy, should be carrying on a conversation with an English lady, daughter of a titled nobleman. But he had learned that although there was some rigid pride in the Spencers, there was also a very warm streak. They were, he knew, very religious. He had known this about Heather before; she had told him the last time they had met, and now he brought it up himself. “I wish I had more time. Maybe I could go to church with you.”

Heather regarded him with surprise. He had been rather adamant about that the last time. “I thought you'd given up on church and God.”

Gavin was embarrassed. “No, I hope not…or at least I hope he doesn't give up on me.”