Lone eagle

My mother was afraid I'd be an old maid.”

“I figured you'd have married that kid Andy by now, the one you always said was just a friend. Guys like that always wind up with the girl when the hero dies.”

“Guess not,” she said cryptically, “the hero didn't die.”

“No,” Joe said, rolling on his back with a sigh. His legs were encased in heavy plaster casts. “I never thought I'd get out of that prison again. I was sure they were going to kill me every day. I guess they were having too much fun to let me die.” They had tortured him mercilessly. She couldn't even imagine eighteen months in the hell he had known, or how he had survived, but thank God he had.

She stayed with him until after ten o'clock, and then finally went home, more because she could see how tired he was than because she wanted to leave. And they were going to give him medication for the pain in his legs. He was dozing off again when she left, and she stood for a minute, looking at the strong, distinct face that she had dreamed of a million times.

And when she got home, her father was waiting up for her.

“How is he, Kate?” he asked, looking concerned. He'd still been at the office when she came to pick up the car.

“He's alive,” she beamed, “and in surprisingly good shape. His legs are in casts, and his face is a mess.” He'd had hair to his waist when they fished him out, but they had cut it at the hospital in Germany. Joe said he had looked a lot worse then. “It's really a miracle he's with us, Dad.” He smiled at the look on his daughter's face. It had been years since he'd seen her smile like that. It warmed his heart to see her happy again.

“He'll be flying again in no time, if I know him.” Clarke smiled.

“I'm afraid you may be right.” They still had to see about his legs, and maybe operate again, and there was a chance he would have a limp. But there were far worse fates. He had come back from the dead, and whatever was left of him would be enough for her.

Her father looked serious for a moment then. “Andy called when you were out. What are you going to say to him, Kate?”

“Nothing till he gets back.” She had been thinking about it on the way home, and felt badly for him. It was just blind luck, and she hoped he would understand. “I'll tell him the truth,” she said honestly. “As soon as I tell him Joe is back, he'll know. I'm not sure I could ever have married him, Dad. He knew I was still in love with Joe.

“So did your mother and I. We hoped you'd get over it, for your sake, if he was gone. We didn't want you to pine for him for the rest of your life. Will you two be getting married now?” he asked. It seemed pretty obvious to him that they would, after all they'd been through. It was clear to him at least that they were bound together for life.

“We didn't talk about it. He's still pretty sick, Dad. I don't think it's a big issue at the moment.”"

"When Clarke Jamison went to visit Joe the next day, he could see why not. He was shocked at how terrible he looked, it was worse than he'd imagined. Kate had seen so many wounded men by then that it hadn't startled her as much as it might have otherwise. She had actually expected him to look worse than he did.

Joe was thrilled to see him, and they talked for a long time. Clarke didn't ask him about his experience in Germany, he thought it was best not to talk about it, but eventually Joe told him what it had been like, and about getting shot down. It was an incredible story, but Joe was in amazingly good spirits in spite of it. And his eyes lit up when he saw Kate. She had come to visit him while her father was still there. He left them to each other a few minutes after that, and Kate inquired about his legs. The doctors had examined him, and thought that things looked hopeful. They'd done a good job in Germany of setting his legs.

For the next month, Kate visited him every evening after work, she sat with him every weekend, and rolled him into the garden in his wheelchair. He called her the angel of mercy. And when no one was looking, they kissed and held hands. By the time he'd been home for two weeks, he was threatening to leave the hospital and take her to a hotel, and she laughed at him.

“You wouldn't get very far with those on,” she pointed at his casts. But she was as anxious to get her hands on him as he was on her. They had to content themselves with clandestine kisses for the time being. He wasn't well enough to go anywhere, but with each day he was better able to move his legs, in spite of the casts. And when they took them off four weeks after he arrived, much to everyone's amazement, he started walking. He could only take a few steps at first, and he was on crutches, but the prognosis was very good.

Both her parents had come to see him by then, and her mother had brought him books and flowers.