to New York. I had to fly out of Lisbon, I got in last night, and I chartered this crate in New York this morning. I never thought I'd make it. The damn thing barely got off the ground in New Jersey.”

“I'm so glad you're here.” She hugged him again, so relieved to see him. And he looked incredibly handsome in his RAF uniform. But also very worried.

“How's your dad?”

“Not great,” she said honestly. “He'll be glad to see you. I'll drive you over now. You can stay with us.” And then she almost choked on the words, “You can have Chris's room… or mine… I'll sleep on the couch.” Billy was living in Nick's old shack, and it would have been close quarters with both of them there.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he grinned. “It's not a problem. The British aren't known for their comfortable barracks. I haven't had a decent night's sleep since last September.”

“When are you coming home?” she asked, as she drove him to her parents’ house.

“When it's over.” But it wouldn't be over soon. Now that France had fallen three weeks before, Hitler had control of an even larger chunk of Europe. And the British had their hands full keeping him from trying to take what was left of the French fleet in North Africa. Their problems were far from over.

Nick inquired about her arm, and she admitted it hurt, but was getting better.

They had arrived at the house by then, and her father was sitting in a chair on the porch looking doleful.

“Cot a cot for a soldier, Ace?” Nick said quietly as he stepped onto the porch and walked swiftly to his old friend and embraced him. The two men cried, sharing each other's pain, and Cassie left them alone to talk and fix them some dinner. Her mother had gone to bed with a terrible headache. She was still taking it very hard, understandably, he had been her baby, and so young. He was only twenty.

Cassie made them both sandwiches and poured them beer, and her mother had made a big salad in case they wanted it. It was enough. None of them were very hungry. And as they ate, Nick told them about what was happening in Europe. He had heard tales of the fall of France three weeks before, and the heartbreaking fall of Paris. The Germans were everywhere, and the British were afraid Hitler would try to take them next, and there was some fear that he might succeed, although no one said it.

“Are they letting you fly missions yet?” Pat asked, smiling at the memories of their days together at the end of the last war.

“They're too smart for that, Ace. They know I'm over the hill.”

“Not at your age. Give 'em time. When things get hot for them, they're going to throw your behind into a fighter and kiss you good-bye in a hot minute.”

“I hope not.” It made Cassie angry listening to them. They all loved war so much, and as far as they were concerned, it was all right to take chances, as long as they were the ones who did it.

She left them talking on the porch late that night. She would have liked to talk to Nick too, but she knew her father needed him more. And she had time. Nick was there for three days. She would see him in the morning.

Her father finally went to his office the next day, and he was pleased to find everything in good order. Billy had taken good care of the planes. Cassie had taken good care of his desk, and his pilots were all standing by waiting for directions. It did him good to come back, and halfway through the morning, Cassie was surprised when Desmond called her. He asked if it was okay to talk, and she stepped in and closed the door to her father's office.

“It's fine. You're nice to call.”

“I've been worried about you, Cass. But I didn't want to intrude at a time like this. How's the arm?”

“I'll be fine.” She didn't want to worry him by telling him how bad it really was, but so far it was healing nicely. “Is everything all right there?” she asked, feeling guilty for staying away for so long. She had been gone almost a week now, but he had told her not to rush back. She apologized again, and he told her to stay as long as she wanted.

“How are your parents?”

“Not great. But my dad came to work today. I think it'll do him good, especially once someone makes him mad about something. It'll take his mind off his troubles.” He laughed at what she said, and asked if she'd given the world tour any more thought, and she smiled and said she had. “I talked to my father about it.”

“I imagine he was thrilled to hear about it right now. Your timing wasn't exactly the best, Miss O'Malley.” He almost groaned at the thought of her telling him now. He could just imagine what he must have said. But she surprised him.

“Actually, he wasn't all that opposed to it, after we talked about it for a while. I think he's worried about a lot of things, but he was surprisingly reasonable. I think he sees it as a great opportunity for me. He told me I had to make up my own mind.”

“And have you?” he asked, holding his breath. He had been frantic about her since she left. And he was surprised at how much he missed her. And he was even more worried she might not come back to LA or renew her contract after her brother's death. She was an important part of his life now.

“Almost,” she told him tantalizingly. “I just want to think it out while I'm here. Ill tell you the minute I get back, Desmond, I promise.”

“I can't stand the suspense.” And he meant it. It was driving him crazy.

“I think you'll find the answer worth waiting for,” she teased and he grinned. He liked the way she sounded. And he couldn't help thinking of how she looked, as he talked to her. She had even looked beautiful at the funeral with her ravaged face and heavily bandaged arm, but it seemed wrong to think so.

“Promises, promises. Hurry up and come home, I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” She said it as she would have to a friend, as she would have to Chris, or to Billy. She missed talking to him at the crazy hours when they were both awake, and about the things they both cared about, his airplanes.

“I'll see you soon, Cass.”

“Take care. Thanks for calling.” She hung up and went back outside to her father and Nick. Her father asked her who had called and she told him Desmond Williams.

“What did he want?” Nick asked, looking annoyed.

‘To talk to me,” she said coolly. She didn't like the way Nick had asked the question. He was acting as though he owned her. And for a man who hadn't even bothered to write in three months, that was pushing his luck, or so she thought.

“What about?” Nick persisted.

“Business,” she said bluntly and changed the subject.

Fat smiled then and walked away. He could see a storm gathering, and he could only smile. She was definitely an O'Malley.

“How's the arm?” Nick asked when they were alone again.

“So-so,” she said honestly. “It's starting to hurt like hell, which they claim is a good sign.” She shrugged and looked up at him then, and invited him to take a walk with her. He agreed and they strolled to the far edges of the airport.

“What are you doing these days, Cass?” He sounded gentler than he had a few minutes before, and her heart melted again the minute he came near her, and put an arm around her.

“The same stuff. Flying planes, pushing limits. My contract is up this week. They've offered me a new one.”

“Same terms?” he asked bluntly.

“Better.” So was she.

“Are you going to do it?”

“I think so.”

And then Nick asked a question she hadn't expected. “Are you in love with him, Cass?” He looked worried as he asked, and she smiled at the bluntness of the question.

“Desmond? Of course not. We're friends, but that's all. He's a very lonely person.”

“So am I, in England.” But he didn't sound sorry for himself as he said it. He sounded angry about Desmond, and jealous.

“Apparently not lonely enough to be bothered writing to me,” she said tartly. She hated not hearing from him, especially since he wrote to her father sometimes, and to Billy.

“You know how I feel about that. There's no point stringing you along, or our getting tied up with each other,

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