Broken Wings by Dianne Price
“Are you in pain?”
“No.”
“Aren’t you going to finish your coffee?”
“I’m full.” He looked out the window, eyes narrowed.
She took the tray out into the hall.
He didn’t look at her when she returned.
“What’s the matter with you? You’ve been quiet and distracted all day.”
He suddenly sat up straight in his wheelchair. “Put in a phone call to Operations at Edenoaks Airbase and ask to speak to Major Hank Hirsch. If they squawk about the long distance charges, tell them I’m good for it.”
“A phone call, is it? And who is Major Hirsch?”
“My aide. Tell him Colonel Savage wants to talk to him. Privately.”
“But there are no private phones at the infirmary.”
He exhaled noisily. “Wheel me down to one of those doctor’s offices where we can close the door. It’s imperative I talk to the major. I need some answers to a couple of questions.”
His voice was so impersonal, so cold, she almost saluted. “Verra well,” she said, her tone icy. “I’ll take you down to Father’s office. And don’t worry about the charges. He’s ‘guid for’ it, too.”
After the connection was made, his hand trembled as she handed him the receiver. He dismissed her from the room with a curt nod. “Hank? This is Rob Savage.”
She closed the door quietly and stood with her back to it.
The rumble of Rob’s deep voice and long silences as he listened to the major came through the door. His brusque order had taken her completely by surprise. Yes, he had been withdrawn and quiet all morning, yet since that momentous afternoon when he moved his toes, his smile had come easily and he even teased her when she used more Scots than he could understand. Granted, he still had occasional dark moods, but now that shadow of grief was back in his eyes.
She worried her lower lip. Was he in pain and hiding it for fear of being put back on morphine?
He reminded her of an eagle with broken wings, straining, striving to heed the innate call to flight, yet unable to soar into the heavens. But it wasn’t just Rob’s paralysed legs that grounded him. Why couldn’t he dare to hope that God would help him if he only asked?
The call lasted ten minutes.
When she heard nothing but silence, she tapped on the door.
“Come in.”
Rob slumped in the wheelchair, hand over his mouth, forehead bathed in sweat.
She knelt in front of him. “Rob?”
He reached for her hands, smiling. “They made it, Maggie. All eight men are okay and already back to duty.”
She knew immediately whom he was talking about. “Your crew.”
“Yes. Thank God, they all made it out okay. I’ve put in a verbal request for an Air Medal for my bombardier and a posthumous one for Rich Florey, my tail gunner. He was ... killed on the strike. Maybe it will help ease the pain for his sister, Ellie.”
So this is why he’d been so worried. “I’m so happy for you. At least one of your questions resulted in guid news.”
“Make that two. Reconnaissance photos showed the target we bombed was an empty warehouse. The Jerries were setting up a trap for the men in my group. We always flew that sector.” He threw back his head. “Well, it didn’t work. There was no reason for another strike.”
She retrieved a towel from the sink in the corner and blotted his forehead. “So your mission was a success.”
“It was. And Rich didn’t sacrifice his life for nothing. That’s what I’m going to say when I write his sister, Ellie. And I asked Hank about Den—Major Anderson,” he said, rubbing his face. “He’s fine, still acting as second-in-command to the new CO. I feel like a sack of bricks has been lifted from my back.”
“And you’re starving.”
He smiled. “You’re right. Think you can rustle up a little something from that magic pantry of yours?”
“Of course, Colonel.”
“Uh oh, there’s a burr under your saddle again.”
She straightened and threw down the towel. “Och, you men and your secrets. Did it never occur to you that twa backs could have lightened that load you were carrying on just one?”
“What are you trying to say? That I should have burdened you with my worries?”
“It might have eased some of your fears.”
He sighed. “Oh, Maggie, they tell you command is a lonely position and they’re right. I made decisions every day that involved the lives of hundreds of men. If I’d shared my concerns, I’d have been second-guessing myself until I was worthless.”
“This is the first time I’ve seen you wearing your ‘Colonel’s hat.’ You must be very formidable when you argue with Wing.”
“Can we have a truce, bonnie Maggie? I’ll try not to order you around again. Old habits die hard.”
What a complex man Rob Savage was. But one thing had just been proven to her; his loyalty to those under his command, which was legendary, was very true. “Truce.”
***
As time for their departure to Innisbraw drew near, Maggie looked forward more and more to showing Rob her home. “Of course you’ll be seeing it coming into its best,” she said while they waited for her father’s final instructions. “’Tis almost summer.”
“Good.”
Doctor McGrath entered the room. “If it’s the weather you’re talking about, I’ll have to agree.” He turned to Rob. “Already in your chair, I see, Colonel.”
The two men stared at one another for a long moment.
“I’m ready for a change of scenery.”
Her father turned to Maggie. “Have everything packed, lass?” He handed her an envelope. “I’ve written down all the exercises the colonel will need until I get to Innisbraw. Just remember to keep a detailed account of his progress.”
She took the envelope and tucked it into her bag. She felt the same tension she always did between Rob and her father.
Not hostility, just wariness, like two male dogs circling and eyeing one another when meeting unexpectedly.
“The ambulance will be here any moment,” she said brightly. “Then it’s off to Oban for the night, and tomorrow morning the beginning of a long, long boat ride.”
“I’ve contracted with Malcolm MacNeill to use his fishing trawler. He’s the skipper I trust the most.”
“’Twill be grand to see Malcolm again.”
Rob wheeled his chair closer to the doctor and extended his hand. “I want to thank you again for all you’ve done for me.”
Her father clasped Rob’s hand tightly. “I’m delighted with the outcome so far. I’m especially happy your appetite has returned. You’ll find the food more to your liking on Innisbraw. Almost everyone has a pig or chickens for eggs and meat and a vegetable garden. Our fishermen will keep the infirmary kitchen stocked with all kinds of fish and shellfish. There’s even beef available occasionally if one of the crofters butchers a cow, and mutton is plentiful. That’s one advantage of island living during rationing.”
“You’ll radio us with the time of your return?” Maggie threw her arms around her father.
“Of course.” He hugged her close and kissed her cheek. “Remember, if you have any problems, you can reach me through my office, though with all the good folk on Innisbraw, you should get along fine.”
“I’m sure we will. Guid-bye, Faither, and Godspeed.”
“The same to you, lass, and to you, Colonel,” he said, voice thick with emotion. He closed the door softly behind him.
Rob interrupted the silence. “What’s this about a radio? Aren’t there phones on Innisbraw?”
“We’re only a wee spot of land far out in the Atlantic. There were plans for laying the cable to Innisbraw, but the war intervened before it could be installed. Also, the only places on the island with electricity are those on the south side by the harbour, the infirmary, the kirk properties, and primary school. A few of those with larger crofts have generators, but petrol is too dear to
His eyes narrowed, as if he wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t press her further. “I know I promised not to complain, so I’ll phrase this as a question. ‘Why an ambulance? Can’t we travel by automobile?’”
“You can’t mean it. The ride to Oban is so long you’d be in agony by the time we got there. No, ’tis a stretcher for you, even on the boat, though we will take the wheelchair so you can sit when you feel like it.”
***
Maggie watched over Rob as he slept a great deal of the ride. He always seemed to sleep deeply when there was motion involved—first in the train and now the ambulance. It was she who paid the price once they reached Oban where they were spending the night in a small, two-bedroom, rented cottage.
He fidgeted in bed and talked in spurts as she tried to smile and carry on a conversation while fighting to keep her eyes open.
When she brought her hand to her mouth to cover another yawn, he frowned. “You’re out on your feet, but before you go to bed, please take down that blackout curtain and open the window so I can look out at the garden and smell the fresh air.”
She turned out the lamp, pushed back the heavy black curtain, and slid the window open.
Moonlight flooded the room.
“It is bonnie, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is.”
“I’ll just take a wee nap.”
“No nap. You’ll take a nice hot bath, climb between the sheets, and sleep until morning.”
“Och, you’re giving orders again.”
“Only because they’re necessary. But don’t go before I thank you for that stroll through the garden after supper. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many flowers all in one place at one time.”
“Then you’ll have to see my garden on Innisbraw. It might have suffered from neglect with me being gone so long, but my mither planted that garden and I’m hoping most of the flowers have survived.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing it.”
She sighed. “So am I.”
“You’ve missed your home.”
“Of course. ’Tis only a wee croft, but my faither built the cottage and infirmary when he and my mither were first married.” She looked out the window for a moment. “Is there something I can get you before I go? There’s water on the table, but I can bring you a scone if you’re hungry.”
“I’m fine. Good-night, bonnie Maggie.”
“Guid-night, Rob.”
***
He stared out the window for a long time after she had gone, mind leaping from one conflicting thought to another. What was he going to do about Maggie? She stirred something in his heart he hadn’t even known was there. She gave him courage and the will to ignore the pain when he wanted to give up—and the hope that he might walk again.
The promises he had made the doctor were harder to keep than he had ever imagined. The scent of heather still hung in the air and he closed his eyes, trying to ignore a vision of her smiling face.
Though he knew it was a waste of energy and there couldn’t be a worse time for it, he found himself fantasizing about what it would be like to fall in love with Maggie and spend the rest of his life with her. He had always dreamed about marrying and having children, but what if the doctor was wrong and he was never able to walk again? He could never burden her with a cripple, with someone who was less than a whole man.
And he couldn’t imagine giving up his Air Forces career after the war and spending the rest of his life on some God-forsaken island far out in the Atlantic. The thought of civilian life itself was so foreign it made his stomach cramp. He didn’t have the slightest idea how to go about doing what the average Joe on the street tackled every day. He’d never owned a single piece of furniture, never bought a house or an automobile or paid a utility bill, never planted a tree or mowed a lawn. The Army Air Forces fed him, clothed him, provided him with medical and dental care, and even cut his hair and did his laundry. When he made full-bird colonel, he had a driver, jeep, and staff car at his disposal.
All those obstacles paled when he thought about having to give up flying. He couldn’t do it. It had been the focus of his life for over twenty years and the joy it brought was irreplaceable.
He wanted to pray as he had as a child—pour out all of his fears and longings and hopes—and still believe with youthful innocence his prayers would be heard and answered. But he was a man now. Life had taught him that though he could still pray for others and trust he would go to Heaven someday, God was much too busy to hear every personal petition, especially with the world torn apart by war.
Regardless of how much a part of him wanted to, he couldn’t get too close to Maggie. He had meant what he told the doctor about his life being filled with losing those dear to him. He wouldn’t survive going through it again.
By tomorrow evening, they would be on Innisbraw. Would it be the beginning of a new life or the beginning of the end?
CHAPTER 10
The ambulance pulled up at the commercial dock in Oban at 0600. “I’ll see our bags and your chair aboard, and then we’ll come for you,” Maggie told Rob as the two attendants unloaded the storage area behind the front seat.
One of the attendants threw open the two back doors as Maggie climbed out of the ambulance. She crossed the gangplank, looking smart in her RAF Nurse’s grey-blue tunic and skirt with its matching short cape and dark stockings and cap. Oh, for the day she allowed him to see her with her shiny black hair released from its bun and spilling down her back.
He waited impatiently, looking out the open back doors. A dense mist hovered over the harbor, transforming masts and hulls into macabre shapes of ghostly white. The surface of the water was so still, it reflected those shapes as effectively as a piece of polished pewter. The muted clang of bells aboard British naval ships riding at anchor and the muffled shouts of fishermen readying their trawlers at the commercial dock competed with the shrill cries of a few gulls foolish enough to be looking for a handout this early in the morning.
Maggie suddenly appeared at the open door. “That didn’t take long, did it?”
The attendants unloaded the stretcher and Rob finally had his first look at the trawler, the Sea Rouk.
“Where do you want him, Nurse?” asked one of the attendants as they carried him on board, “On deck or in the wheelhouse?”
“On deck,” Rob said quickly.
She eyed the dense overcast. “You’ll get wet out here and the diesel fumes are a wee bit smelly.”
“Beats that hospital smell anytime. Besides, a little damp is better than being cooped up all day.”
They positioned his stretcher against the wheelhouse wall for stability before taking their leave.
A large, older man with a weathered face, vivid blue eyes, and wearing a heavy sweater, rugged tweeds tucked into rubber boots, and a well-worn seaman’s cap came aboard, smile wide. “Maggie, lass!” He held out his arms.
“Malcolm!” She ran into his arms. “’Tis so guid to see you.”
He hugged her before holding her at arm’s length. “You’re looking bonnie, but all grown up. It seems like only yesterday I was taking you to Oban to start your nurse’s training.”
“On you come.” She laughed. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” She pulled him over to Rob’s side. “Rob, I’d like you to meet a dear friend, and the owner and skipper of the Sea Rouk, Malcolm MacNeill. Malcolm, this is Colonel Robert Savage.”
MacNeill leaned down and shook Rob’s hand. “’Tis guid to make your acquaintance, Colonel.”
“Same here. Appreciate you giving us a ride. And please call me Rob.”
“Och, ’tis my pleasure, Rob, and I answer to ‘Malcolm.’”
“Malcolm it is.”
“Then we’ll be under way as soon as my wayward hand gets here. As always, I’ve had to receive clearance from the Royal Navy to make our journey. They’ve taken over the harbour as a naval base so we’ll have to dodge their ships and flying boats, but it sho
“What’s the name of your boat mean in English? I don’t speak Scots.” Rob squirmed, the deck hard beneath his shoulders.
“Sea Mist.”
“Name seems appropriate this morning.”
“I take guid care of the auld lady. Took me weeks filling out all the government permits, but I had a diesel engine installed just last winter. She’s provided me a living all these years, though since the war, nobody fishes the Atlantic because of the U-boats—only the Minch.”
“Minch?”
“’Tis what we call the sea between the Outer Hebrides Islands and Scotland.”
“How do you make a living, then?”
“I get by with delivering the mail from Oban to Innisbraw every other day and picking up supplies for our island folk. Also, the government has used me quite a few times for rescue work since even the Minch isn’t all that safe now.”
“They don’t have a Coastal Rescue Service?”
Malcolm snorted. “Every boat and ship around these parts has been put into service. Those Germans and their U-Boats have caused many a muddle.” He got to his feet. “Well, I’ve things to do. I’ve a nice low box you can sit on, lass.” He wiped a crate off with a rag from his back pocket, pushed it over, and prodded the wheelchair with his foot. “When you want help getting Rob into this, just call out. Sim MacPhee should be here any minute. You remember Sim. He’s young, but strong.”
Maggie smiled at his retreating back. “The last time I saw Sim he was only a young lad,” she said, sitting on the crate. “His family are crofters on Innisbraw.”
“Crofters? Like in the Selkie story?”
“I thought you’d forgotten all about that. But yes, they raise sheep for the wool and mutton, and Angus adds to his income by breeding and selling fine herding dogs.”
“Mutton. That’s one meat I’ve never liked.”
“Unless you’re raised on it, it can be a wee bit strong.”
A lanky young boy with fiery red hair and blue eyes hurried aboard. He tipped his flat cap to Maggie and Rob and mumbled a shy “guid-mornin” before pulling in the lines he had untied from the pilings. He stuck his head in the wheelhouse doorway. “Clear, Skipper.”
When the diesel engine sputtered to life, the boards beneath Rob vibrated. “Whoa,” he said, “looks like this trip comes with a massage.”