On Wings of the Morning (27 page)

The war seemed to be distant, although there was news of the progress on both fronts, along with rumors and speculation. Otto was most interested in the progress of Allied troops through Europe. The bombers continued to pound strategic targets. Otto knew they were inflicting incredible damage on the German war machine.

They went into town on Saturdays. Otto kept a scarf around his face up to his eyes, which was easy enough in the winter. He thought idly what he would do in the spring and decided he would think more about that when the time came. Maybe people would just have to get used to it. They said he was a war hero, after all, so wasn’t he something special? Deformed and grotesque, but special.

Otto had noticed after a couple of days at home that there weren’t any aircraft going into the field next door. He supposed that limitations on fuel and pleasure flying made the difference, and so did not get by the field to see for himself for a couple of weeks. When he pulled up to the office building and hangar, he was in for a shock. Clearly no one had used them for quite a while. Some of the windows in the office were broken, and the door hung from one hinge. He got out and went into the office. A layer of dust covered everything. He went into the hangar. The Fleet stood in one corner. It was not damaged, but Otto could hear mice scurrying along the walls. What had happened to Wilson? To Sparky? He didn’t know who to ask since those two kept to themselves at the airport. Maybe Mata would know.

He found her in the kitchen, working on lunch. She smiled when she saw him come in. “Everything all right at the airport?” she asked brightly.

Otto shook his head. “It looks like it has been abandoned.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know what happened to Mr. Wilson and Mr. Duncan?”

“Wilson I haven’t heard anything about. I think I heard somewhere that Mr. Duncan died. Apparently he had quite a drinking problem and they found him in the hangar one day. I didn’t think to tell you.”

Well, that was too bad about Sparky. He was a good pilot. Wilson, he didn’t know about. What could have happened to him? Otto began to have an inkling of an idea, but there was work to be done so he turned to it.

***

Two weeks later, Otto was coming in from the barn when he saw a large black car making its way down the drive. He didn’t recognize the make or the occupants. The limo stopped outside the farmhouse and a liveried chauffeur jumped from the driver’s side and opened the back door. A distinguished looking man climbed out of the back seat. He spotted Otto and said, “Captain Kerchner?”

Otto stepped toward him. “I’m Otto Kerchner.”

The man plucked a business card from an inside pocket. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am James Potter of Potter and Jensen, attorneys-at-law in Minneapolis. Is there some place we can talk?”

Otto shook hands with the man. He had a firm grasp. Otto didn’t know what to think. Maybe they were being sued. But why come all the way from Milwaukee to do that? He motioned toward the door. “We can talk in the kitchen. Come on in.’

They filed into the kitchen where Mata was washing dishes. “Mr. Potter, this is my sister Mata.”

Potter tipped his hat and then removed it. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss…Kerchner?”

Mata quickly dried her hands and took Potter’s outstretched palm. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter.” She looked at Otto quizzically.

“Mr. Potter is an attorney from Minneapolis,” Otto explained.

“Our taxes are paid up, Mr. Potter,” Mata began.

Potter smiled. “Oh, I’m not here about taxes. May I have a seat?”

“Certainly,” Otto said, and indicated a seat at the table. Ross sat and opened his briefcase. Otto took one of the other seats and Mata the third. It was Potter’s turn to look quizzically at Otto.

“Mata and I are partners in the farm,” Otto indicated. “We make all the decisions together. She takes care of our finances.”

“This does not have anything to do with the farm, Captain,” said Potter, drawing a thick sheaf of papers from his briefcase. “It has to do with the airport.”

“The airport? It’s in ruins.”

“Well, it’s yours now, Captain.”

“It’s what?”

“It’s yours. Our client, Mr. Wilson, passed away suddenly last November. It took a while to straighten out his affairs. That’s why I’m only now getting to you. Mr. Wilson left you the airport property and everything on it in his will.”

Otto was speechless for a moment. Then he spoke. “What am I going to do with an airport?”

Potter chuckled. “Anything you wish, Captain. It’s all yours. Please sign at the X’s and that will take care of the paperwork.”

Otto took the huge black fountain pen from Potter and signed his name where he indicated. Potter gave him a copy of the deed to the airport made out in his name, collected his papers, put them in his briefcase. He stood up and offered his hand first to Mata and then to Otto.

“Thank you for your time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to be on my way back to Minneapolis.”

“Won’t you have some coffee,” Mata asked him. “I should have offered you some earlier. It’s just…”

Potter waved one hand, on which a huge diamond sparkled. “No thank you, Miss Kerchner. That’s a kind offer, but one which I feel I must refuse. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

Otto opened the door and Potter strode toward the limo where the chauffeur stood by the car. He opened the rear door and Potter slid in the back seat. The chauffeur got in, started the car and drove off. Potter gave them a brief wave and then they were gone down the driveway.

Otto and Mata were quiet for a moment. “Well,” Otto said after a while.

“Yes?” Mata asked.

“Well, I have work to do. We’ll talk about this over lunch.” He headed back to the barn.

“As you wish, dear brother. As you wish.”

***

A couple of hours later, at lunch, they sat in silence for a while. Finally Otto said, “So?”

“So what?” Mata answered.

“Is this a game?” Otto said.

“What kind of game?”

“A game where you answer my question with another question.”

“Well,” Mata said, “if it is such a game, you started it by asking a question.”

“And you continued it by answering with a question.”

They were both smiling by this time, and then broke into waves of loud laughter. After a while they laughed themselves to silence. Otto broke that silence.

“So, what do you want to do with the airport?”

“It’s your airport, Otto, what do you want to do with it?”

“Help me decide. We could turn it back into pastureland.”

“We have about all the acreage we can manage right now without getting bigger than I want to.”

“I could run it as an airport if you’ll help me with the finances.”

“I can do that easily, brother.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “I want to see you happy. You have seemed so down and quiet ever since you’ve come back. I think flying would be good for you, and meeting people who come to fly.”

“I’ll see,” Otto said. “When do we eat?”

Mata laughed and shook her head.

Otto came home for supper the week after Potter’s visit. Mata was in the kitchen, working on the meal. She smiled when she saw Otto and then assumed a serious expression. “A letter came for you today.”

“Oh?” Otto rarely got mail.

“Yes. It’s from England.” She handed the thin envelope to him.

Otto studied the return address. “A. Franklin, 43 W. Eads, Wembley.” He didn’t know any “A. Franklin.” He tore the envelope open and took the single sheet of thin paper out. Mata went into the living room to leave him alone. He read:

Dear Otto,

I am writing to you to say how truly sorry I am that I could not stand by you. It was simply too much to bear and I feel awful about running away. I pray that some day you will forgive me.

The second piece of news I have is that we have a son. He was born June 30, 1944. He looks like you and I hope that you may meet him some day.

I married a RAF leftenant to give our son a father. Roger is good to me and to young Otto (that’s his name).

Things are hard here, as they have been. I hope that you are recovering well and that you do not think too badly of me.

I am,

Your Alice

Otto held the letter in his hand for a moment. Mata came back into the room. “Is it from—” she started.

Otto handed her the letter and looked at the floor for a minute.

Mata read the letter. “Are you going to answer her?”

Otto took the piece of paper and crumpled it in his fist. “When do we eat?” he said.

Otto drove over to the airport to look at it with a closer eye. It wasn’t too far gone. He could have it repaired. They had money from his disability and Mata had accumulated a nice little nest egg with careful management of their finances. He nodded to himself. It was worth a try.

He drove into town, stopping first at the lumber yard, wearing his hat pulled low over his face. He knew by this time how people would react to his appearance. They had taken “field trips” at the hospital in Boston to public places to become accustomed to the reactions they would receive. These ranged all the way from people who gasped or looked away quickly to children who asked “Mommy, what’s wrong with that man?” There was one bright spot during these excursions. A well-dressed older man came up to him and studied his face for a long minute. He stuck out his hand. “Captain, I want to thank you for your service to our country. You’ve obviously sacrificed a great deal and I salute you for it.”

Otto returned the handshake. “Thank you, sir. That means a great deal to me.”

This episode was the only one like it in his time at the hospital.

People in the town were marginally better. They knew him, after all, or at least what he had been. Still, some of them looked at him a little too long. Otto came out of the lumber store with his order completed. They would deliver the next day.

He turned to go down the street to where he had parked the truck when he saw her—he saw Betty making her way across the street, clad in a yellow dress the same color as the one she wore when they practiced dancing for the prom. She saw him standing there on the sidewalk and smiled broadly, quickening her step to come over to him. Otto waited. Uh oh, he thought. Here it comes.

“Otto! How are you?” There was no sign of shock or aversion on her face. She embraced him and reached up and kissed him on his cheek, which was almost entirely covered by scar tissue. He realized that it was one of the few times a woman had kissed him since his accident.

“Well, I’m a little different from the time you last saw me, Betty. But you haven’t changed a bit!”

She cast her eyes down for a brief moment. “Maybe in ways that don’t show, I have. But no matter. I heard about your accident and your medal, and Mata kept me up about your treatment. I didn’t want to intrude on your time with your family, so I was waiting until I ran across you. It is truly good to see you.”

“It’s great to see you, Betty. Well, I have to be getting along…”

He turned to go, but she caught him by the wrist. “Otto Kerchner, do you mean to tell me you can’t spend a few minutes catching up with an old friend?”

Otto felt himself blushing, although he was sure it wasn’t visible. “Of course I can, Betty, it’s just that…”

“Just that what, Otto?” She was looking steadily at him with her fists on her hips.

“Nothing, Betty. Is Spencer’s still open?”

“You bet. I haven’t been there in years. Let’s go.”

She went over to the same Packard convertible she had driven to prom. With all vehicle production turned to wartime uses, the cars did not look that much different from those Otto was familiar with when he left. Betty looked at his “new” pickup. “You’ve moved up in the vehicle world, Otto.”

He smiled. “This was Mata’s doing.” Betty laughed at this, a laugh that sounded like silvery bells. Otto got into the pickup and followed Betty to Spencer’s. They parked and went inside. The waitress waved them to a table. There weren’t many other customers at that hour, so they sat down in the seats closest to the door. A few eyes turned their way and then quickly looked away.

Betty sat across from him. She hadn’t changed much in the time he was gone. Maybe a little more mature looking. He wondered how he looked to her.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Betty.” She blushed and looked down.

“Why, thank you.” There was a moment of silence.

“I’ll say it for you. I have changed a lot.”

She reached across the table and took his hand. “I was so sorry to hear about your accident and injury. But Otto…”

“Yes?”

“Your eyes are still the same. They are still as wise and kind as ever. It’s still the same you inside.”

“I’m glad you feel that way because I don’t feel the same.”

“But you are. I can tell.” She took her hand off his as the waitress came up.

“What’ll it be, folks? Ladies first.” They hadn’t noticed the waitress.

“I’d like water to drink,” Betty said, “and a tuna salad on whole wheat.”

“And you, sir?” Otto saw the familiar flicker in the waitress’s eyes.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger done medium well with mayonnaise, mustard, lettuce, tomato and pickle, and a soft drink. Thank you.”

The waitress took their menus and walked off rapidly.

“So, Betty,” Otto began as she got out of earshot. “How are you?”

“I’m all right,” she said, but Otto saw she dropped her eyes as she said this and knew she was not all right.

“Are you still working at the bank?”

“No, I stopped that when I got married. I stay at home most days and supervise the staff. I do sing in the choir at church and sit on the library board. I think music and books are so important.”

“I agree. Go on, please.”

“There’s not much left to tell.”

“What about the lucky fellow you married?”

“To be honest, and we always have been honest with each other, I don’t see much of Tom. He’s either working or at the club or on a business trip. I don’t want anyone to know how things are, so I don’t say much, but honestly, I’m starting to think this marriage business was a mistake.”