Lone eagle

But he's building something amazing. In a year or two, it'll settle down.” Kate was, in fact, sure it would.

“How do you know? In the old days, it was his planes. Now it's his business, and his planes. When does he get to you?” In hours and days between trips, Kate thought silently, when he was too tired to even talk to her, or too exhausted to sleep, so he'd go to the office at four A.M. By Thanksgiving, they hadn't made love in two months, he was just too tired to even think about it in the few days he was at home.

He wanted to, he wanted all of it, to be with her, to have sensual nights and lazy mornings, but there was no time anymore. He had a thousand forces pulling at him. “You'd better take a good look at what you've got, Kate. You've got a guy who's never going to be there for you, no matter what. He can't. And what do you think he's really doing on those trips, Kate? He's got to have a woman sometime, he's a man.” The very idea of it cut through Kate like a knife, and she always told herself it wasn't true. She had thought about it herself, but rejected the idea. Joe wasn't that kind of man, he never had been. He was driven by his passion for flying and obsessed by his work. He was building a fortune and an empire, which was as addictive for Joe as a drug. She was almost certain that in the year they'd been married, he had never cheated on her. And she would never have done it to him.

But the rest of what her mother said hit its mark. He was never around. Whatever the reasons, however good, he wasn't there.

And when he got home, there were papers and problems, and threats from the unions. He was on the phone to California and Europe and Tokyo and the White House, or Charles Lindbergh. It was always someone or something that ate his time and seemed more important than Kate. She had to stand in line with everyone else, and most of the time, she got last place. That was just the way it worked. And if she wanted a life with him, which she did without question, it was what she'd get. He couldn't slice off more pieces of himself than he already had, and he expected her to understand. And most of the time she did. She loved him, and admired his success. She was happy for him. It was exciting, and he was amazing. But sometimes it hurt anyway. She was lonelier for him than he understood. And although she tried to reason with herself, at times she felt abandoned when he was gone.

She tried to explain it to him calmly one afternoon when he was home.