The minister stood at the foot of the coffin and led Bet’s family and friends into the journey of letting go, a journey that never really has an end. After two of Bet’s brothers sang The Old Rugged Cross, the minister concluded the service by reading from the scriptures. His voice was joined by the sobs of Mrs. Bailey as he finished, “… My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” He closed the Bible and offered up a communal farewell, “Treasured daughter, sister and friend, Betsy Ann Bailey served her country bravely even into death. This dear child has returned to you, Father. Comfort all who love her and keep the flame of her spirit alive.”
The baymates hadn’t all been together since Avenger, but the pain was too raw for them to have joy in a reunion, so they parted after the funeral and went their separate ways. As time went on, though, they made a point of telling Bet stories to each other and anyone else who would listen. The distance that death had put between them and Bet grew to compare with the miles that kept them apart as they fulfilled their WASP duties. Eventually it was as if Bet was just a plane ride away.
Eleanor Roosevelt said, ‘Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints on your heart.’ When they were able to visit with one another, the women brought Bet along and laughed like they did back in their training days. Their hearts had been imprinted and they would be knit in this world and the next.
Liddy returned to New Castle and flew for her country. Sitting in the cockpit after Bet’s death, she ran through her check and stopped before she said it and thought about whether she would. But it had to be a good day to die, she knew that, otherwise she wouldn’t be free. And she had to be free. She had to live without fear. To live was to fly. So she said it and then rolled down the runway.
The months of flying filled her with purpose, but her heart had some room. She picked up her mail less and less often. When she did, part of her still hoped to see a letter from Reid, while the other part had let him rest with Bet.
Jenna had written to Ellis and asked if he had heard any news of Reid. When she received an answer back, she waited until a two day leave to tell Liddy what he’d said. Major Reid Trent had been shot down over the Nazi controlled countryside in France. What was left of his squadron confirmed that he hadn’t chuted out. The plane was behind the German line, so it couldn’t be recovered, but the crash site could be seen from the air and was burned to the frame.
When she received a bundle of letters in her handwriting to Reid, stamped deceased, both sides of Liddy let him rest. She quietly reconciled her spirit to the unbearable wreckage that life can offer up.
Liddy wished she knew Reid’s family and could tell them how sorry she was. She wanted them to know how much he meant to her and that she meant something to him and wanted them to be sorry for her too. Liddy wanted someone to know what they meant to each other, but no one really knew. It was all letters. Letters and talks with Louise. Only she and Reid knew. No one had seen it or felt it but them.
She hadn’t answered Louise’s last three letters, so she sat down to cement the reality of it all—the reality that something almost was, but now it wasn’t, and it was really over.
June 27, 1944
Dear Louie,
How are you? How are the Prince and Princess? Did they enjoy their trip to the Grand Canyon with your parents? Tell them I said hi and that I love them. Sorry I haven’t written in awhile. Louie, he’s gone. Reid was shot down in March and he’s dead. I kept hoping, but he’s gone. I can’t talk about it more than that right now, but I’ll write more later. I promise.
I’m okay, really. Please, please don’t worry. I’ll write soon.
It took over a half an hour to get out the few lines and Liddy’s tears had soaked the paper. She tore off another sheet from her writing tablet and rewrote it so that Louise might believe she was really okay.
It was a sunny October afternoon when Liddy returned from a Ferry mission and reported to the ready room where it seemed every WASP at New Castle was in the room and red-faced. In hushed tones, they shouted to one another and some of them just sat and cried.
Liddy spotted Jenna who was in a heated discussion with Teresa Hinton and some other WASPs. She didn’t want to ask, but forced herself and walked over and interrupted the group, “What now?”
“We’ve been deactivated,” said Jenna.
“What?”
“It’s over. They’ve sent us packing,” said Teresa.
“But the war’s still on,” said Liddy.
“Doesn’t matter, December twentieth, at midnight it’s over.” Jenna looked at Liddy with tear-filled eyes. “Pack your bags, Hall.”
“But why?” Liddy asked.
“Who knows, politics, public opinion that wants to put us back in our place. There’s been a line of people waiting for us to fail. Guess they got tired of waiting.” Jenna tore a flight map in two and let it fall to the floor.
Liddy couldn’t make the words fall into place in her head, and the disbelief mixed into an irrational concoction that rolled and bubbled inside her. A smile drew itself across her face as a muffled chuckle forced into the air and soon it was followed by an all out roar.
The room fell silent except for Liddy’s howl. The women watched her face cover with tears as she laughed and cried with her whole body. “They’re discharging us and we were never charged. All this time, I was waiting for militarization, to be the real deal. It never occurred to me they’d end it, altogether end it. Why’d they bother even training us?” Liddy’s voice vibrated with the laughter.
“She’s lost it,” said Teresa.
“We’ve all lost it,” said Jenna.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was December 19th and New Castle had offered up a full dress review to honor the WASPs. Other bases hadn’t been so gracious. Some even locked the women out as soon as they heard the program would be disbanded. New Castle had sent the women up till the last hour and was sad to see them go. The WASPs who hadn’t already left, including Jenna and Liddy, were preparing to leave. “What are you going to do?” Jenna asked Liddy as they sat in the officer’s club.
“Well, it doesn’t seem I’m going to have what I wanted, so I think I’ll try to want what I can have.”
“And what’s that?” Jenna asked.
“I’m not exactly sure, so I’m gonna spend some time figuring that out.” Liddy finished her last entry in her flight log and flipped it closed. “I’ve got me a cushy little instructing job all lined up back home, for now. What about you?”
“I don’t know yet. I wish Ellis…. When he gets back home, maybe I’ll have a baby. See how long I can tilt a rudder with one in the oven.” Jenna pressed her face in between her palms. “Liddy, I’m so disappointed I can hardly breathe.” Tears rolled down Jenna’s cheeks.
Teresa Hinton walked into the room. “Hey, ladies, there’s a couple of hush-hush planes that need to be picked up from the factory and delivered for shipment overseas by 2200 hours. Everyone’s gone or ready to go home and they can’t find anyone who’ll take them.”
“Good, they can go to Hell,” said Jenna.