Lone eagle

There were women she knew who hadn't laid eyes on their brothers and fiancés since Pearl Harbor. And she had seen Joe twice in the last four months.

If nothing else, because of the size of the rooms, they were warmer than the lobby. There was a bed and a chair in each room, a dresser and a sink, and there was a shower and a toilet in what must have once been a closet. The only place to hang clothes was on the back of the door, but Kate was grateful to have her own bathroom.

Once they got to his room, Joe sat on the bed and she took the chair.

He opened a small bottle of champagne he had bought for them when he got to Washington. It was to celebrate his decoration, which dangled from the breast of his uniform.

Kate still couldn't get over the fact that they'd been to the White House. Mrs. Roosevelt had been so kind to her, and looked exactly as Kate had expected. For some reason, she had noticed that the First Lady had lovely hands, and she'd been mesmerized by them. Kate knew she'd remember every detail of the afternoon forever.

Joe seemed a lot more blasé about it, but he'd been to some pretty interesting places with Charles over the years, and other things impressed him more. Like extraordinary flying feats, or important pilots. But he was pleased with the decoration anyway, although he was sorry for the men he knew who had died in the course of the missions he'd flown. He would have vastly preferred not to get the medal and to have them come home with him. It made it hard for him to celebrate the event, or be genuinely excited about the medal. He had already lost so many friends. They were talking about it as he handed her the champagne.

The chair Kate was perched on was so uncomfortable that he invited her to sit on the bed with him. She knew they were tempting fate, but she also knew that they could trust each other. They weren't going to do anything foolish just because they were sitting on a bed in a hotel room. And without hesitation, she came to sit beside him, and they went on talking.

She only had half a glass of champagne, and Joe had two. Neither of them was a big drinker, and after a while she said she should go back to her room.

Before she got up, he kissed her. It was a long, slow kiss filled with all the sadness and longing they had both felt for so long, and the joy they both felt to be together. When he stopped kissing her, she was breathless, and so was he. They both suddenly felt as though they were starving.