Meant to Be

CHAPTER 1

By Spring of 1944, the US Eighth Air Force was ready. Ready to bring the full force of American power down upon the heads of Nazi Germany. Over 2000 bombers and fighters of all types were to be unleashed to their full fury. Over a half a million men would be sent into the skies over Occupied Europe.

1st Lt. Aaron Williams would be one of them.

Aaron was a 21 year old 1st Lieutenant and pilot of the B-17 'Tantalizing Take-off" and already he and his crew had 5 missions under their belt. He had wanted to fly ever since his father took him to see a barnstorming tour when he was 10. He worked extra chores to get enough money and stole away one Saturday to go up in one of those rickety flying machines. He was grounded by his parents for over a month but his love affair with flying started then. He read up on planes every chance he got and by the time he was 17, he had his license.

School and sports, like flying came easy to him. Captain of the Princeton ice hockey and a top student, Aaron's rugged good looks gave him no trouble with the ladies either. He stood just under six feet with blonde hair and blue eyes and there were very few weekends he spent alone. He left the college after three years, saying there was a war on and his education could wait. Aaron joined the Army Air Force with the belief he'd be a fighter pilot. He just knew it. There was just one hitch.

In a hockey game his freshman year, he was hit in the right eye with a puck. No bones were broken and he had a beautiful shiner from it. It didn't seem like much but the vision in that eye was damaged. It was still good but not good enough.

"Sorry, son," the flight officer said. "You are most probably the best flier here but you know the rules. Your eyesight must be perfect and yours isn't."

Aaron didn't answer him but his disappointment was etched on his face.

"I can give you a choice," the officer continued, "You can stay here as an instructor. God knows we could use you or I can send you over to 4 engine school, you know, bombers."

It took only seconds for Aaron to decide. "If it is all the same to you, sir, I enlisted to fight, not teach, sir."

"I thought you say that. Very well then, you start tomorrow. Good luck, son."

Aaron passed 4-engine school top in his class and soon he was on his way to England. When he arrived at airfield at Henley Heath, he met the other members of his crew. They were a cross section of America ranging from Sgt. Russ Rousseau, the top turret man and engineer from Suncook, NH to 2nd Lt. Gene Martini, the bombardier from Spokane, Washington. Ten men, all depending on each to do their jobs and return safely on every flight.

Aaron hustled down the sidewalk of Duckworth, the local village just south of the base. It was his first chance at leave in three weeks and now he had 24 hours to enjoy. God, how did he need it. The last eight days were pure hell with each day worse than the one before. Five missions in eight days, each one deeper into Germany. What he saw would be with him forever. How he survived baffled him.

On the fifth mission, they were jumped by what seemed to be hundreds of fighters. They were everywhere. The sky was filled with burning Forts, parachutes, bodies, and exploding fighters. All he could was fly straight and pray.

One bomber drifted over in front of his plane, not 10 yards off the nose. The one wing was fully engulfed in flames and the fire spread to the fuselage. Suddenly it exploded. The force threw it up and right back over the top of them. Aaron could feel the searing heat as it disappeared behind them. More disturbing was the sight of a man falling out of orange-colored ball of flame. As he fell through space without a parachute he reached up in a desperate attempt to grab onto anything.

The "Tantalizing Takeoff" was one of the 3 planes of the 18 that took off that morning from Hedley Heath and returned that evening. Seven others landed at various other bases scattered through England. Still eight planes failed to return, meaning the loss of eighty men. Some were the same men Aaron had trained with and he grew to know. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to erase the terrible memories.

Mrs. Victoria Scottsdale use to love this time of year. Spring meant color and warmth. The bright colors of the new flowers and fresh grass filled the scenery. The days were longer and brighter and filled with the songs of returning birds. It had made her feel alive. She stood in front of small flower shop, flower pot in hand, eyes closed, her face lifted to catch the last rays of the sun.

It wasn't always that way. Vicki was bright and full of life all year round. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders and shone in the light. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle all the time. She could light up a room with her mere present. Every man wanted her and every woman envied her but both found her warm and friendly, easy to talk to, easy to like. Her wedding to Robin Scottsdale was the event of the year, not only in Duckworth, but in London social circles too.

It was a whirlwind romance and fairy tale marriage. Robin was an officer in the RAF and this took him around the world because of the level of respect he commanded. He was targeted for high places so he got to be stationed everywhere. Vicki was the perfect wife, not only in looks but she seemed to naturally understand the politics involved. Robin in his uniform and Vicki in her evening gown were welcomed at all the right places. To Vicki, every day was spring and for 4 years it was so.

Then came that day in May 1940 when that world ended for her. Robin was shot down leading his flight over the fields of France. At first there was hope that he had bailed out and was a prisoner but that faded quickly. By the end of June, it was believed he was dead and he wasn't coming back. Vicki returned to Duckworth to live with her mother and run the flower shop there. Her blue eyes lost their sparkle and she wore her hair pulled back. She dressed plain and simple, like the rest of the women of Duckworth and she didn't light up a room because there wasn't a reason too.

Aaron never saw her standing there. The two of them collided violently. Only his quick reflexes kept them upright as he grabbed Vicki before she fell. The flowerpot she was holding fell to the sidewalk and shattered.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asked. "I'm so sorry."

"Yes, yes I think so," she said as she knelt to gather up the flower and the broken pottery. "Look what you done."

Aaron bent down to help. "I 'm so sorry. Was it expensive? I'll pay for it."

Vicki glanced over. From his accent and uniform, she knew he was an American. "You Yanks! Always in a hurry," she said. "And always ready to pay for everything!" There was an edge to her voice.

"Hey! I didn't mean anything by it." He put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to look at him. "I said I was sorry and I meant it. Let me help." He picked up most of the pieces and placed them on an old tray, "There."

Vicki smiled at him. "I'm sorry I was so cross but you did surprise me."

"That's alright. As long as I didn't hurt you." Aaron smiled too. "Look, I have to go." With that he headed off.

Vicki went back into the store to get a broom. As she did, she thought to herself, "What a nice young man. He had a very nice smile." She shook her head. She hadn't thought that about any man in such a very long time.

Aaron strode into the pub. It was crowded with officers from the base and a few locals. The locals gave him a look over as he walked past. He could feel it. They liked what the Americans were doing over here and very grateful but still they didn't have to accept it. Oversexed, over paid, and over here, he had heard that before. And tonight he was all three.

"It's about time, Williams," Bill Archer yelled to him. Lt. Archer was the co-pilot of the "Tantalizing Takeoff" and Aaron's best friend. "I thought I might have these two for myself."

Seated with him were two girls, both about twenty, one brunette, one auburn haired.

"Ladies, may I introduce to you the best pilot in the 395th Bomb Group, Lt. Aaron Williams. Lieutenant, this one is Charlotte and this one, Bridget."

"Pleased to meet you." Aaron slid into the booth next to Bridget.

Bridget, the redhead, wore a tight dress that clung to her ample figure. She could have stood to lose a few pounds but Aaron didn't mind. She wore just enough makeup to accent her face and eyes while her lipstick added just enough to moisten her lips. Archer had picked a good one tonight.

"I was just telling the ladies about how you managed to get us back to the base in one piece," Archer said. Turning to the girls, he added, "Over 150 holes in the plane and not one scratch on anyone. Takes a great pilot to fly one like that back."

Aaron shook his head. "Luck was more like it. But let's not talk about that. What are we drinking to?"

Archer said loudly, "To amour, amour doux!" Everyone laughed.

The conversation and drinks flowed easily at the table. Aaron was surprised how well he got along with Bridget. She was from Duckworth but had moved away when she was a teenager. She returned when she got a job as a teacher in a nearby village. She was easy to look at and when she laughed, her eyes lit up. As they continued to talk, he found out that she had real interest in English literature. So while Archer and Charlotte played a little slap and tickle under the table, Aaron and Bridget talked.

The evening was going well when Bridget leaned over and whispered into his ear. "Let's leave here. Can we go for a walk?"

"Bill, Bridget and I are going for a walk. Pleased to meet you, Charlotte."

"So soon?" Archer slurred his words, and then he gave an exaggerated wink. "Don't do anything I wouldn't."

Aaron and Bridget walked along the moonlit street with his arm around her. The war seemed far away as they talked. Their conversation flowed easily. He had put today into a back corner of his mind. He could feel her softness beneath her dress. He wanted more.

The streets of Duckworth seemed deserted and quiet. The only person they met was a lady walking her dog.

"Hello, Mrs. Scottsdale," Bridget greeted the dog walker.

"Good evening, Bridget," Vicki replied, "Lieutenant." She continued on.

"Do you know her?" Bridget asked.

"Let's just say I ran into her once," he laughed.

As they reached Bridget's flat, Aaron hesitated but her look said it all. She reached for his hand and he took it. She led him inside and to the small kitchen. "Would you like a drink? Coffee?"

"Yes, coffee would be fine," he answered.

As she prepared the water he looked around the flat. It was small but nicely kept. It seemed to consist of 3 rooms plus a bath. He took off his coat and loosened his tie. He suddenly wanted something stronger.

Bridget handed him the cup. As she did, their eyes met. She lowered her head. "Aaron, I don't usually do this but ...I understand if you don't want to."

He stepped forward and kissed her. It was deep, passionate kiss. Their hands moved freely across each other's back. Bridget broke the kiss and moved back. "Give me a minute." She walked to the bedroom.

Bridget removed her dress and began to undo her bra. She nervously fumbled at the clasp. She had done this before, well, at least twice. Why did this one feel different? Was it because they actually talked about something that interested her? That Aaron actually listened to her and made her feel she was important? Suddenly she felt that this might be something special. But right now she wanted him to fill her need, a need not to be alone. Now naked, she crawled beneath the bedcovers. "Aaron?" she called.

He opened the door and stood in the doorway. He had already removed his shirt in anticipation.

She raised the blanket and invited him to her.

Aaron removed the rest of his clothing and climbed in the bed. Bridget moved closer and he wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her suppleness against him. The warmth of her body radiated from her. Aaron kissed her and he began to lose himself in her body. Their kisses grew more passionate, more urgent. He pushed her onto her back.

He positioned himself between her legs. Looking into her face, he saw a look of trust, one that stated she was allowing him to take her. It was a look he had very seldom seen in a woman's face. Slowly he entered her and she softly moaned. Aaron began to thrust into Bridget and she matched his motion.

Bridget had never felt this way while making love. Her previous lovers had been clumsy and selfish, mere boys. They had left her wanting and unfulfilled. This was different. When she came, it was like no other she ever had. When she came a second time, she wanted this moment to never end.

Aaron rolled on to his back completely spent. His body needing air, his mind a blank. Bridget moved, throwing her leg across his, her hand on his chest. Her skin felt good on his body. He pulled her closer and kissed her sweaty brow. Not a word was spoken between them.

He awoke around 4AM and for a moment, panicked. Just as quickly he realized where he was and relaxed. He could feel her body pressed against his and her warm breath on his neck. He began to react to the feeling. As he did, he thought that for the first time since he arrived in England, he could relax. That here, in this bed, with Bridget, he could block those awful memories. Yes, she could do that for him.

Aaron moved to face her. "Morning," he whispered.

Bridget didn't open her eyes but smiled as she snuggled closer.