Chapter 13
Rory absently added a flourish to the “W” in “Women” on the pro-suffrage signs she was painting with her aunt.
“My dear, you seem distracted,” said Aunt Alva.
“I’m sorry. It’s the party planning. I can hardly think of anything else,” she said, looking up.
“I applaud you for using your birthday to serve a good cause. Not many girls your age would think to do something like that.” Aunt Alva beamed at Rory, who blushed thinking of her ulterior motives. “That beastly Edward doesn’t deserve you, as I’ve told your father.”
“Has he relented at all?” she asked, rinsing a brush and opening a bottle of blue paint.
“Not yet. But don’t lose hope, dearest. We may not have won the day, but the campaign has hardly begun. I won’t have my favorite niece wedded to a philanderer.” She spread glue liberally on a stick and attached it to a sign. “Has Edward tried to contact you at all?”
No, which was surprising. “He’s been oddly silent. It worries me. I feel like he’s plotting against me, though of course that’s absurd.”
Aunt Alva shook her head. “It’s for the best, my dear. It’s always better to make a clean break and stay away from each other until tempers have cooled.”
Rory switched to the red paint to add flourishes to the word “vote.”
“Papa has threatened to disown me if I don’t give Edward a chance. He refuses to believe it’s over.”
Aunt Alva sighed. “Yes, he told me. Have no fear. If he disowns you, which I doubt he would actually do, you can always come and live with me.”
Something inside Rory unclenched at her aunt’s words. It was a relief to know she had options on the off chance that her father followed through on his threat.
“Thank you, Aunt Alva. That’s very generous of you.”
The thought of living with her aunt had a certain appeal.
While she suspected Aunt Alva would be less oblivious to her sneaking out than her father, it would be nice to live with someone who respected her as a person and didn’t view her merely as a means of advancing the family’s interests.
The tricky part would be figuring out how to see Hank.
Aunt Alva wasn’t any more likely than her father to approve of her involving herself with a pilot.
It didn’t matter anyway because her father hadn’t done anything yet.
“I should get going,” Rory said. “I have an appointment to meet with a pilot’s widow in twenty minutes.”
Rory headed out and got into the back of her chauffeured car, ready to cross town to meet another war widow.
This had all started as a way to see Hank again, but she couldn’t bring herself to raise funds for an organization that didn’t exist. With Evelyn’s help, and some strategic dropping of her father’s name, she had created the Pilot’s Benevolent Association from whole cloth in two weeks.
It was exhausting, but never in her life had she felt so filled with purpose.
The driver pulled to a stop in front of a neat brick townhouse on the Upper West Side with flowering window boxes. She got out and rang the doorbell for apartment number two.
The woman who opened the door didn’t look much older than Rory.
She had thick, shining auburn hair and soulful green eyes.
She was dressed in a cotton dress that had obviously been dyed black.
The tiny flowers of the original print peeked through in places.
In her arms, she held a sleeping infant. “Miss Belmont?” the woman said quietly.
“Yes, that’s me. And I assume you are Mrs. Prince?” Rory whispered.
“Call me Ann,” she said, opening the door and leading her up a narrow flight of stairs to the second floor.
“And you can call me Rory.”
Ann led her into a small and tidy parlor with a large bay window overlooking the street.
An elaborate, crocheted runner hung over the upright piano across the room from where they sat.
The piano bench cushion was covered in needlepoint roses.
A vase of silk flowers sat on top of the piano beside a large, framed picture of Mrs. Prince and her husband on their wedding day.
Rory sat in a tall green wingback chair, and Ann sat in a rocking chair.
“Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?” Ann asked in a quiet voice.
“Don’t bother yourself. I wouldn’t want to wake the baby.”
Ann’s face showed obvious relief. “That’s very considerate. He kept me up all night. I only just got him to sleep.”
“I’m sorry if I caught you at a bad time. Should I come back another day?” Rory started to stand, and Ann shook her head with a furrowed brow.
“No, please stay. I’ve had so few visitors since the baby arrived, and I understand you may be able to help me with my predicament. Please stay.”
The baby stirred, and they both held their breath. Then he settled back down, and they sighed in relief.
“I’d love to learn how the Pilots’ Benevolent Association could be of assistance,” Rory said, taking out a small notebook to record Ann’s request.
“Well, I lost Roger six months ago. I was five months pregnant at the time.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears that she blinked away.
“I lost my teaching job when I got pregnant, so we were living on his salary alone. I got a lump sum from the military, but it only takes me so far. I was hoping to go back to work after the baby was born. My mother was going to care for him, but a fever took her last month.” She could no longer hold the tears back.
They trickled down her cheeks as she furiously wiped them away.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” Ann said.
“I’m so sorry for your losses. I can’t begin to imagine how hard things must be for you right now.”
This woman pulled on Rory’s heartstrings even more than the others she’d met. God. What must it be like to lose a husband while expecting a child?
Ann sniffed and nodded. “I can’t afford to stay here.
I have a small house on Long Island that I inherited when my mother passed, but it’s badly in need of repair.
It needs a new roof, and there’s water damage that needs fixing to make it fit for the baby and me.
I was hoping your organization might help me pay for the repairs.
I’ll pay you back as soon as I’m working again.
I’m not asking for a handout. I just need help to get settled. ”
Rory nodded. “You are under no obligation to pay back the money, but if you wish to contribute so that others like you can receive assistance, that would be most welcome. How much do you need?”
“Eight hundred dollars for the roof and repairs. I’ve spoken to half a dozen contractors, and that’s the lowest cost I could find.”
Smiling, Rory said, “I think we can manage that. We’re having a gala on the twenty-first to raise funds. Would you be willing to come and tell your story? I’ve arranged for childcare for the mothers that need it in order to attend, so you don’t need to worry about the baby.”
“Of course, I’ll go. But I don’t have anything suitable to wear.”
Rory smiled. “Don’t worry about that. No one is expecting war widows to be wearing finery. If the evening is successful, which I fully expect it will be, I should be able to get you your money at the beginning of October. Does that work for you?”
The tears started flowing again. “Thank you so much. You are a life saver. If Roger was here, he would have fixed it himself. He was always so handy. But then if Roger was here, there would be no need to move at all.”
“You must miss him terribly.”
“I do,” Ann said with a sniffle. “We were high school sweethearts. He was the love of my life. We’d only been married six months when his plane went down in France near the German border.
So foolish of me to fall for a pilot. There’s something about them, though.
They’re so bold and fearless. They make you feel like anything is possible.
Roger was always like that, even before he learned to fly.
I couldn’t resist him, even knowing the dangers. ”
Rory thought of Hank. That was exactly how she felt around him—as if anything was possible.
She understood the pull of a pilot all too well.
“Pilots are a special breed. It takes someone with a strong heart to love one.” She would have to guard her heart, or she was all too likely to find herself in the very same position as this widow.
Ann smiled through her tears. “I suppose it does.”
“I shouldn’t take up any more of your time,” Rory said, getting up to go. “Thank you for agreeing to come to the gala. Here’s an invitation,” she said, pulling it out of her purse.
“Thank you for the money. It truly is a life saver.”
“Of course. That’s why we’re here. Take care, and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
As she descended the stairs, Rory wondered what it would be like to be married to Hank and then lose him like that.
It made her stomach clench, and a lump formed in her throat at the thought of anything happening to Hank.
She shook herself and squared her shoulders as she got into the car for the drive home.
Hank would be fine. Hadn’t he demonstrated that he could get through even the direst emergencies?
She’d gotten herself worked up talking to Ann Prince. That was all.
And yet she couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to marry Hank with her family’s blessing.
He wouldn’t need to work as a pilot anymore.
Perhaps he could work in her father’s company or start his own.
Maybe he could start an airplane business and give Glenn Curtiss a run for his money.
They would buy a plane, of course, and he would let her get her pilot’s license.
Her father would insist they live on the Upper East Side, though perhaps they could keep his place in Mineola as a vacation bungalow.
Why was she spending time on daydreams? She couldn’t afford to get attached to Hank for so many reasons.
He wasn’t a man looking to be tied down, and given the dangers of his job, the chances that this would all end in grief and heartbreak were high.
Not to mention that her father would disown her.
And yet something within her warned that her heart was in more danger than she wanted to admit.
She could only hope that seeing him one last time, she would be able to get him out of her system once and for all.