The Pilot of Billings' Landing

The Pilot of Billings' Landing

by Alyson-Louise Belle

To read more stories by Alyson, go to her website :

http://alyson-louisebelle.blogspot.com/

“The death of a loved one can be a strange and healing thing. Healing, because you know that even though you're hurting, your loved one is at peace. That can make your heart whole, as before the loved one died.” I met with an old schoolfriend of mine, by the name of Molly Pierson. I always believed Molly to be more beautiful than her blonde-headed, blue-eyed sisters. You see, they looked down upon Molly when she was a young woman, from the time that she was 8 years old, to when she was 19, when her remarkable story takes place. I say that, reader, but everyone has a remarkable story. Some simply are not aware of their story. Molly told me hers while we sat down for lunch the day I ran into her...

In 1941, many towns were small, and everyone knew everyone. This was the case in Shealeen, Michigan at the time. Socials were held regularly at the small diner downtown, and Molly Pierson's family went to all of them. Molly's three older sisters were always thrilled, but Molly always felt awkward. She knew everyone by name, but she did not make very many friends. Her closest friends were her mother, who was much like Molly, and her best friend, Nadalia Hartford, whom they called Naddie. So, she and her mother sat on the sofa in the parlor, waiting for Mr. Pierson and the three misses Pierson to get ready for the social at Billings' Landing, the diner downtown. They had been ready for forty-five minutes. The three misses Pierson, Ariel, Margaret, and Sarah, all powdered their already-rosy cheeks, and crowded around the mirror, fluffing their hair. Ever since the youngest Miss Pierson, Sarah, had turned fifteen, the rest of the Pierson girls had been in search of beaus. Molly was opposed to this. She didn't think going from beau to beau was proper, but to meet someone special and have him court her. If he was the right man, he would court her and they would fall in love and get married. Molly had had it planned since she was fourteen years old.

As Molly and Mrs. Pierson got out of the car at Billings' Landing, Molly glanced at her mother after seeing familiar faces in the window of the diner.

“I don't like the McCarthy boys,” she said softly. Mrs. Pierson glanced back at Molly.

“Well, darling, you've never even met the eldest. Peter, I believe his name is, Captain McCarthy.” she said. “He just arrived this day from an army camp in Holland.”

“He'll most likely be like the others,” Molly replied after a moment. “They're Irish, and hot-headed and ill-mannered.”

“Molly,”

“Can you deny it, Mother?” Molly looked at her mother. Mrs. Pierson sighed and they went inside. Molly found it awkward immediately. The McCarthy boys had already begun flirting with her sisters, and Molly headed straight for the counter, where she sat at the end of the counter and folded her hands in her lap and crossed her ankles.

“You must be Molly Pierson.” Molly looked up and saw a young man sitting in the bar stool beside her. His hair was dark and combed to the side, and he wore a pin-striped suit with the jacket unbuttoned.

“Yes,” she replied. “And you are...?”

“My name's Grady,” the boy said. He appeared to be about seventeen, but he was about a head taller than Molly, and when he stood up, he towered over her. “Would you like to dance with me, Molly Pierson?”

Molly looked at the other dancers and then back at Grady. She automatically didn't like him. He didn't tell her his last name.

“No, thank you,” she said. Grady leaned down to eye-level with her.

“Aw, c'mon, Miss Pierson,” he said in a whining voice. “Please?” Molly shook her head, but Grady persisted.

“Can I get you something, Miss?” Molly heard an Irish voice and turned to see a waiter leaning on the counter and eying Grady. Grady examined the waiter, then walked away.

“I'd like a chocolate milkshake, please,” she said, grateful. The waiter nodded and turned around, beginning to make the shake. Molly watched him as he did so. He wore a newsboy hat and a white button-down shirt, tucked into a pair of Levi's blue jeans. He was tall and looked strong. His curly, honey-colored hair stuck out from his hat, and his skin was slightly bronzed by the sun. When he turned and gave Molly her shake, he looked into her eyes with dark amber-colored eyes.

“Here you go,” he said. He leaned on the counter briefly as she took the shake, and looked toward Grady.

“That's Grady Johnson,” the waiter said. “He just moved here.” He chuckled. “Well, I know that, and I just got here, too.” Molly nearly choked on her milkshake.

“You're him?” she exclaimed. The young man gave her a napkin for the bit of milkshake she had accidentally spilled on the counter. She wiped it up.

“Ah, Peter McCarthy,” he said. He held out his hand and Molly shook it. “Am I him?”

“I'm sorry,” Molly said, laughing softly. “Yes. I just didn't expect you to be so different from your brothers.”

Peter chuckled.

“I was raised by my father,” he said. “That's the difference. You're Molly Pierson? Looks like you and I have a bit in common.” Molly frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we're both first-born, and we're both very different from our siblings,” he replied. Molly smiled and nodded, and it was silent for a moment.

“Pete!” Peter looked in the direction of the voice and then back at Molly.

“I gotta go,” he said. He held out his hand and Molly shook it again. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Pierson.”

Molly gave him a smile and watched him as he went to the customer who needed him. Molly sighed and already missed her company.



Later that night, Molly lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her mother slept in her bed, because Mr. Pierson often awoke late at night, and he didn't want her to be awoken, also.

“What is it, darling?” Molly glanced at her mother, who was lying on her side, watching Molly.

“How can Peter McCarthy be related to the other McCarthys?” she asked, ready to speak. “He's so genteel, and polite, and – and chivalrous! He's so unlike his brothers.”

“So,” Mrs. Pierson said, propping her head up with her hand.

“So, what?”

“So you like him?”

Molly looked at her mother.

“I don't know,” she said. “I don't really know him well.” Mrs. Pierson nodded slowly.

“You're smitten by him, though,” she implied. Molly blinked and furrowed her brow.

“Smitten, as in captivated by,” she replied. Mrs. Pierson changed positions.

“Molly,” she said. “You're my eldest daughter. You'll soon be twenty years old. You need to start thinking about marriage. You mustn't -”

“Mother, I'll begin thinking about marriage when the man I will someday marry courts me,” Molly said sternly. “Good night.” Mrs. Pierson raised her eyebrows.

“Alright, dear,” she said. “Good night.”





Michigan had always captivated Peter McCarthy. He had grown up there, since he was four years old. He had only enlisted in the army three years ago, when he turned twenty. His father was a pilot, and he would take Peter for rides, giving him lessons as Peter grew older. It was in a plane crash that Mr. McCarthy had died. He was serving in World War I, when airplanes were just beginning to be used. Seamus McCarthy was born in Ireland and raised in Michigan, as Peter was, and he loved America. He swore to fight for the United States whenever a war was declared. When Mr. McCarthy died, Peter vowed to complete his father's vow, and he enlisted in the U.S. Army, as a pilot. So, he was shipped off to Holland, where he spent two years as a pilot, while acting as a sort of spy for the Allies. He would fraternize with the Nazis in secret, and learn information that no one would otherwise know. So, when a Nazi had begun to become suspicious of Peter, his captain requested that he spend the summer in the States.

Now Captain McCarthy sat in his old childhood hideout, a small grotto within a cave on the shore of Lake Michigan. He pondered Miss Molly Pierson. She was very different from her sisters; they were all flirtatious and coquettish, and she was very private and introverted. It was like Molly wasn't even related to the three mischievous girls who flirted with Peter's brothers. Peter could almost hear his father's voice in his head. Attachments and affections are not good for a soldier, Pete. You'll make one, and then you could be torn from it if something happens at war. Mr. McCarthy had told him this when he was sixteen, when Peter's dog had died in a run-in with a coyote. It had been how Peter had lived since his father told him that. Yes, he had had affections before, but they had all thought of him as nothing more than a passing fancy.

The sound of the waves running up the cave's entrance told Peter it was time to go. He had learned the hard way when he was seven to leave the cave before the tide comes in. So Captain McCarthy made his way out of the cave, the moonlight reflecting on the water.





“Mother! Mother!” Molly sat up in bed and saw Sarah run into the bedroom. Mrs. Pierson popped her head up over the blankets.

“What, Sarah?” she asked sleepily. Sarah hopped onto the bed and Molly frowned angrily, diving back under her covers.

“The McCarthys are coming today,” Sarah said. Both Molly and Mrs. Pierson sat up.

“All of them?” Molly asked. Sarah nodded.

“Even your Captain McCarthy,” she said, smiling wryly. Molly furrowed her brow disapprovingly.

“Oh, you,” she said as she got out of bed and went to her dresser, pulling out some clothes. “I only asked because I don't like them.” Molly headed to the powder room to get dressed. When she had her white blouse and floral skirt on, she looked in the mirror at herself. Her dark brown curls were still messy from bed, but she grabbed her brush and made them smooth again. She put a barrette in her hair, pulling it off her face, and put on her mother's red lipstick. She then went back into the bedroom and slipped her feet into a pair of pumps. When she went to the kitchen for breakfast, Margaret stared at Molly.

“Molly, you look beautiful,” she remarked. This was what Molly hoped would not happen. The other girls and Mr. Pierson began questioning Molly. Why are so prettied up? Who are you seeing today? Where did you get that blouse? Molly looked at her mother desperately, and Mrs. Pierson spoke over the questions.

“Breakfast is on the table, my darlings,” she said. Molly gave her mother a grateful smile, then sat at the table to eat.



Peter lie asleep in bed when there was loud knocking on his door. He sat up briefly, startled, then realizing that it was only his brothers, he flopped back down and covered his head with the blanket. Finally, Henry, the second eldest of the McCarthy boys, entered the room and opened the curtains, letting in light that Peter currently thought annoying, because he was still tired.

“What?” Peter asked, irritated.

“Top o' the morning to you!” Henry said, grinning at his brother. “We have some young ladies to call on.” Peter sat up.

“Who?” he asked, getting out of bed and grabbing a shirt from his dresser. He pulled his white t-shirt off and put on the button-down one as Henry spoke.

“The Piersones,” he said. “Ariel, and Margaret, and Sarah.”

“And Molly,” Peter added. “Right?” Henry's grin faded.

“Yeah,” he said. “And Molly.” Peter blinked and realized it was Friday, and he had to work.

“I can't go,” he said, putting his hat on. “I'm one of two working at the diner today.” Henry followed him down the stairs to the front door, trying to convince him to come, but to no avail.



“Why couldn't Captain McCarthy come?” Molly piped in the conversation softly. Her sisters greeted the McCarthy boys and Molly stood a bit back.

“Who, Pete?” Bill, the youngest asked. Molly nodded and Bill said, “Oh, he had to work. We tried to get him to come, but he said there were only two people working at the diner today, and he was one. He mentioned you, you know.”

“Charming,” Molly said, slightly sardonically. She was about to go upstairs, when Naddie burst in the front door.

“Molly, come quick,” she said. “I have something to tell you.” Mrs. Pierson looked at Naddie.

“Is anything wrong, dear?” she asked. Naddie looked at Mrs. Pierson.

“Molly and I can handle it, thank you, Miss Tilly,” Naddie replied. Molly grabbed her sunhat and followed Naddie out the front door. Molly laughed.

“Thank goodness you came!” she exclaimed. “You saved me from a morning of boredom.” They began walking down the street and Naddie didn't reply to Molly.

“Naddie, what is it?” Molly asked, knowing something was wrong. Naddie looked at Molly and her eyes filled with tears.

“Molly, I don't know why I did it,” Naddie started. “I wanted to be like you, but I - ”

“What, Naddie?” Molly asked, taking her friend's hand. Naddie's voice was choked with tears.

“I'm gonna have a baby,” she said finally. “In October.” Molly's heart melted for Naddie, and she took her in her arms, holding her close.

“Oh, Naddie,” she said. Naddie sobbed into Molly's shirt, and after a moment, she pulled away.

“I have to go,” she said. “I have to help my mother with the store. Please don't tell anyone.” Molly chuckled and stroked Naddie's ash blonde hair.

“Someone will find out, eventually, darling,” she said. Naddie nodded and wiped her eyes.

“Still,” she said. Molly nodded and Naddie hurried off. Molly had nowhere to go, now. If she went home, she would have to endure the McCarthy boys. The diner was only a few blocks away. She decided to go there.

When Molly entered the diner, it didn't occur to her that Captain McCarthy would be working there, at the counter. She looked around for somewhere to sit, and her eyes met Peter's, and she blinked in surprise. She looked away quickly and went to sit at a table by the wall. A waitress came out and asked for Molly's order, and she ordered a cup of tea. As she sat, waiting, she knew Captain McCarthy was watching her. She swallowed and forced herself not to turn around. The bell above the door chimed, and in walked Grady Johnson, and two other young men his age. Molly closed her eyes and sighed, hoping they wouldn't notice her.

“Well, well, well,” Grady's voice rang out, drawing attention to himself. “If it isn't Miss Molly Pierson.” This brought attention to Molly. She gave Grady a small smile.

“How are you, Mr. Johnson?” she asked softly when he went to her table and leaned his hands on it.

“I'm just fine, and you are too,” he said in a sing-song voice. His companions laughed and Molly bit her lip. The waitress came out with Molly's tea and Grady and his friends moved out of the way briefly. When the waitress was gone, Grady sat in the chair beside Molly and put his arm on the back of her chair. She stood up abruptly, and to her surprise, Captain McCarthy was standing near her table with a towel, drying his hands.

“Grady Johnson,” Peter said, looking Grady in the eye when he stood. “I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you keep causing trouble.”

“What trouble am I causing?” Grady asked defensively. “I'm just over here talking to a young lady.”

“You're a nuisance to Miss Pierson,” replied Peter. Grady glanced at Molly, then looked back at Peter.

“You better watch your back, army boy,” Grady said as he left the diner. Molly swallowed and sat back down, looking at Peter. He gave her a slight nod and then walked away. She blinked, then turned around

“Captain,” she said. Peter turned to look at her. “Would you like to sit with me for a moment?” Peter looked at his wristwatch.

“I'll be off in fifteen minutes,” he said. “I'll take you somewhere.” Molly hesitated for a moment, then nodded.



Molly drank her tea slowly, so she would be finished when Captain McCarthy finished work. Soon, he came over to her and she stood up. Peter opened the door for Molly, which was something that stood out to her. They walked down the street, speaking to one another about this and that, and then they came to the lake. Molly laughed as Peter made his way over the rocks, helping her as he went. Finally, they came to a cave, and Peter went inside. Molly looked around and followed Peter into the grotto.

“I used to come here when I was upset,” Peter said. “Besides yesterday, I hadn't been here in years.”

“Were you upset often, Captain McCarthy?” Molly asked. Peter shrugged.

“Call me Peter. And, mostly about something small,” he said. “Last time I came, I was seventeen, and my da had just spoken to me about being a soldier and leaving your heart at home. I thought I didn't agree, but now I do.”

“You think you shouldn't become attached to someone just because you're a soldier?” Molly asked, slightly shocked. Peter looked at her.

“Well, I certainly wouldn't want to break a lass's heart because I died overseas,” he said. “She couldn't live without wondering if our last goodbye would be the next day.”

“I think,” Molly started carefully, “having an attachment would make you fight all the more willingly, because you would be ready to come home to your love. You don't agree with that?” Peter blinked.

“I think the opinion of one is less convincing than the opinion of many,” he said. Molly spoke quickly.

“So, your family agrees.”

“Yes.”

“I think they're holding you back, Captain.” Molly spoke without thinking and it was silent for a moment. Molly felt her cheeks grow warm. “Am I turning red?”

Peter laughed and looked away briefly, fingering the sand.

“No, you're fine,” he said. “How can you know so much about such things? I thought you were against it.”

“My sisters have had plenty of heart-breaks,” Molly said. “And I'm not against true love, by any means. I simply believe that if you have found the one you will someday marry, God will bring your paths together . . . and you'll fall in love, and live happily ever after.” Peter blinked again.

“I don't believe in happily ever after,” he said.

“Why not?” Molly asked.

“Because I'm a soldier,” Peter snapped back. “One of my best friends formed a strong attachment to some girl he barely knew, and now he's sick in London and she's pregnant here.” Molly swallowed and picked up her hat from the ground, ready to leave. Peter stood as Molly did. “Miss Pierson, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bark at you like that.” Molly looked at him for a moment, put her hat on her head, and made her way to the cave's entrance. Her pumps were not made for walking in the sand, and she struggled, so, finally, she removed her shoes and walked barefoot the rest of the way home. The wind and ocean spray had made Molly look a bit disheveled, so when she walked into her house, her sisters and parents looked at her in shock.

“Where have you been, Molly?” asked Mrs. Pierson, standing from the sofa.

“I'd rather not talk about it,” Molly replied, not looking back as she went up the stairs. She hoped no one would follow. She went to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, throwing her shoes in a corner and wiping her lipstick on her blanket as she threw herself onto the bed. After a moment of pouting, the door opened and Mrs. Pierson walked in.

“Darling, what happened?” she asked, sitting on the bed beside Molly. Molly didn't look at her mother, and she kept her face nearly buried in her pillow.

“Captain McCarthy is not as agreeable as I thought him to be,” she muttered. “In fact, he's very un-agreeable.”

“Un-agreeable, Molly?”

Molly sat up and looked out the window, her bangs falling into her eyes.

“But see?” she said. “He makes it to where I can't speak intelligently.”

“What happened?” Mrs. Pierson asked softly, patting her daughter's shoulder. Molly told her mother about the diner, and the grotto, and her conversation with Peter.

“And, to top off my worries,” Molly said, “I think the girl he talked about is Naddie.” Mrs. Pierson closed her eyes and brought a hand to her breast.

“Oh my,” she said. “The poor girl. How long has she been pregnant?”

“She's due in October,” Molly said. “Her parents will find out and likely disinherit her or worse.” Mrs. Pierson shook her head slowly.

“What a situation to be in,” she said. “And at her age? Why, she's only a year younger than you are.”

“Let's not talk about it any longer, Mother,” Molly pleaded. “I need a nap.” Mrs. Pierson nodded and stood to leave. Just as she was about to close the door behind her, Mrs. Pierson glanced over her shoulder at Molly.

“Darling, you're in love,” she said. Molly flopped her head into her pillow and called, her voice muffled, “No, I'm not!”



The wind whistled by Peter's ears. For a summer evening, it was slightly chilly. The whistling grew louder, and suddenly, a plane swooped down from above. Peter had to duck so it wouldn't hit him. In the distance, he saw another plane, sitting on the beach with no pilot. So he hurried over and climbed inside, starting the plane and taking off. He looked up from the controls and saw the other plane coming toward him. Peter tried to turn his plane, but the controls were jammed. He looked up again and saw the pilot's bloodthirsty face just before the collision.

Peter bolted awake in bed, beads of sweat on his forehead and chest. He had had a nightmare. A very real nightmare. He took a deep breath and stood, walking to the dresser and turning a lamp on. He looked at his bedraggled hair and ran his fingers through it. He looked out the window and saw the entrance to the cave, now filling with water, and he couldn't help pondering what Molly Pierson had said. “...having an attachment would make you fight all the more willingly, because you would be ready to come home to your love.” Peter shook his head slightly. He was willing enough to fight for his country. A family would be too much to worry about. Still, he thought, he was nearly twenty four years old, and many young men his age were already married with a young child or two. Peter swallowed and got back into bed, closing his eyes, but not sleeping.



Molly awoke late the next morning. Her family had gone to town for breakfast, said a note left by her mother. Molly was at home alone, and it was relieving to be in a quiet house. She made a cup of tea and went to sit on the back porch, where she could see the lake. Breathing in, she closed her eyes, and she opened them as she exhaled. Captain McCarthy was very firm in his opinions. Her thoughts drifted to the captain, but she tried not to think about him. She was trying to keep herself peaceful, and she knew that she would only fret over unnecessary things if she thought about the captain. She thought about what her mother had said the previous night. You're nearly twenty years old. You should start thinking about marriage. It pained Molly to think about it. What if she wasn't a good wife? Or, if she had children, what if she wasn't a good mother? And what if the man she married wasn't a good husband or father? These thoughts had never occurred to Molly, and they frightened her. She tried to be calmed by the sound of the waves against the rocks, but she had a sudden headache. The sky was cloudy, and it looked as if it were going to rain. Molly thought a walk would do her good, and she went directly to the beach, without changing from her pajamas. The beach had always made Molly feel better, and it worked now. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as a breeze blew past her. She stood still for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Do you always come out here in your nightclothes?” Molly opened her eyes and turned around. Peter stood there, with his hands in his pockets, and he wasn't wearing his hat, so his curly honey-colored hair blew in the wind.

“What are you doing here?” Molly asked. Peter looked at her as if she had asked if the sky was blue.

“Same thing you're doing,” he said. “I live just down the street, you know.” Molly furrowed her brow.

“No. I didn't know,” she said. “If you don't mind, I came out here to be away from the chaos of the world.” Peter reached out and touched Molly's shoulder as she turned to keep walking.

“Miss Pierson, I'm sorry if I upset you yesterday,” he said. “I don't want you to dislike me.” Molly sighed and told him the truth.

“Captain, it's not that I dislike you,” she said. “We just don't have the same opinions on some things. I do suppose I shouldn't have walked away like I did. It was rude. I'm the one who should be sorry.”

Peter held out his hand to shake. “Truce, then?”

Molly laughed and shook his hand. “Truce,” she said, smiling. It seemed that both Peter and Molly were reluctant to let go of their hands. Molly felt her heart beat quicker, and her legs grew weak. She put her hand by her side and smiled at Peter.

“So,” she said. “Regarding your first question, no, I do not often come here in my nightclothes.” They both laughed and began walking down the beach.

“Were you very upset with me?” Peter asked after a moment's silence. “After you left, I mean.” Molly sighed and shrugged.

“I admit, I was pretty upset,” she said. “To put it simply, I stomped up the stairs when I got home, which is something I haven't done since my temper tantrums when I was young.” She laughed and looked at Peter. He wasn't smiling.

“It does grieve me to know you were upset because of me,” he said. Molly blinked and he continued. “You're a very sweet woman. I am sorry, and I hope you'll forgive me.”

Molly felt for Peter, and she touched his hand briefly, before pulling hers away from nervousness.

“I forgave you when I walked out of the cave, Captain,” she said, looking into his eyes respectfully. “And I do like you, very much. You're very enjoyable to be around.” Peter smiled, to Molly's relief.

“Thank you,” he said. Molly nodded, smiling. It was silent for a moment as they walked and then, simultaneously, they said, “I've been thinking about what you – ”

They laughed and Molly let Peter speak.

“I've been thinking about what you said yesterday,” he said. “And, much to my dismay, I'm beginning to agree with you.” Molly began to cut in, but he kept speaking. “My father was killed fighting for not only his country, but his family also. He and his brother, both, side by side. I'm nearly twenty-four years old. My father was married when he was twenty-one.”

“Oh, Captain McCarthy,” Molly said, chuckling. “I've been thinking about what you said. If I were married to a soldier, or in love with one, for that matter, I would rather not be married or in love with him while he's away, because I wouldn't want anything to happen to him.” Without realizing it, they stopped, and looked at one another. “And,” Molly continued, “like you said, I couldn't live without knowing if tonight would be the last time I was with him. I couldn't live like that.”

“Don't you think,” Peter said, “that to be in love is to live like every moment is your last goodbye?” Molly swallowed and looked away briefly before looking back at Peter and nodding.

“I suppose so,” she said. They looked into the eyes of one another for what seemed like forever. Peter started to lean down, and Molly lifted her face slightly, but just as their noses touched, Molly backed away abruptly. Peter sighed softly and a few raindrops began to fall. Peter and Molly didn't look at each other for a minute, and suddenly yelling came from behind.

“Molly!” The shrieks of Margaret could be heard easily as the rain poured out of the sky. It wasn't long before they were soaked. Molly glanced at Peter as she turned to look at her sister. Molly ran to meet her. Margaret was sobbing, and her screams were heart-breaking.

“Molly, something happened to Mother,” Margaret managed. Molly grabbed her sister's shoulders.

“What? What happened to her? Where's Father?” she said, speaking firmly.

“I don't know!” Margaret shrieked. “She just collapsed on the stairs, and Father left early this morning for some business trip. He didn't tell us where he was going, just that he would be back next Saturday.” Despite the weakness of Molly's legs and the sinking in her heart, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her, back to the house and inside, where Ariel and Sarah had moved their mother to the sofa. Molly rushed over to her mother and grabbed her wrist, checking her pulse. A very slight throbbing came from Mrs. Pierson's wrist, but it was slowing.

“Ariel, call the doctor and tell him to come right away,” Molly said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“But – ” Ariel started through choked sobs.

“Now!” Molly shouted. Molly kept a hold of her mother's hand and rubbed it. Suddenly, Peter was by Molly's side, with his hand on her shoulder. They were both praying at the same time, but in their heads, not knowing they were both pleading for Mrs. Pierson's health.











































Tilly Pierson's funeral was the following Sunday. Molly wore a black dress with a veil on her hat, and Peter was by her side as she knelt by her mother's casket when the ceremony was over. She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to hold in her sobs, and with the other, she put it on Peter's hand, which was comfortingly on her shoulder.

Later that day, Molly couldn't contain herself, and she ran all the way from her house to Peter's grotto a few blocks down the beach. There, she wept heavily, until she was lying on the sand, and nearly screaming. Finally, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She sat up and leaned on the wall of the grotto. When she opened her eyes, Peter was standing at the entrance of the grotto.

“I'm fine,” Molly said, turning away from him and trying to hide that she had been crying. Peter took that as a “welcome, come in,” and he sat beside Molly.

“I thought you would be here,” he said. Molly wiped her eyes and looked at him.

“You don't mind, do you?” she asked. Peter chuckled.

“It's not my cave,” he said. It was silent for a moment, and then Molly broke down again. She leaned on Peter's shoulder, and he stroked her hair softly.

“I'm not fine,” Molly said as she cried. “My mother was my best friend. We talked about anything together. We talked about you, once. How can I live without her? She was my comfort, and my support. We were like one soul in two bodies.” She paused and sat up, wiping her eyes. “And now I'm being a baby and sobbing like a child.” Peter frowned.

“Crying doesn't make you weak,” he said. “I've found that some of my weakest points were when I didn't cry. Crying doesn't make you a child.” Molly sighed and leaned her head on Peter's shoulder again.

“How can you know me so well?” she asked. “You seem to know all the right things to say to me to make me feel a certain way.” Peter laughed.

“And what do you mean by that?” he asked. Molly chuckled, and Peter was proud that he had made her smile.

“Well, I mean, you know what makes me happy, and what makes me sad, and what makes me angry,” she said. Peter looked at her as she spoke. “You know what to say to make me feel . . . treasured.”

“I'm glad I do,” he said. Molly gave him a small smile and he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the tears from Molly's cheeks. She rested her head on his tear-stained shoulder, closing her eyes and taking in the smell of his shirt. Before she could help it, she fell asleep, and it was a peaceful sleep.



Peter sat on the sofa in his house, reading a novel. He was the only one home, but Molly was asleep in his bed. However, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and he watched Molly come to the living room.

“What will the neighbors think of us?” Peter said teasingly. “The tide was coming in, and you stayed asleep the entire time I carried you here.” Molly laughed and got her shawl from the coat rack by the door.

“Thank you,” she said softly. Peter looked at her and gave her a smile, and she left. It was almost dark, and the streetlights came on. Molly walked down the street and just as she was about to turn into her driveway, she heard a loud talking. She turned and across the street, she saw a young woman, surrounded by men. In the dim light of the streetlights, Molly could see Naddie's little bump of a stomach, and her light blonde hair. Molly could also see that Grady Johnson was one of the men. Molly started across the street.

“Hey!” she yelled. Naddie looked at her, and so did the men. There were four in all. Molly found herself face-to-face with Grady.

“What do you want?” he said, pushing Molly by the shoulder. Molly looked Grady in the eye.

“What do you think you're doing with her?” Molly asked sternly.

“Girls like her don't deserve to live,” Grady replied. “I can only assume you know about her situation.” Molly looked at Naddie.

“Yes, I do,” she said. “What, do you plan to beat her to death? That would be murder, and that's just as corrupt as immorality. Both sins deserve death, Mr. Johnson, but you are not the one to deal out the fates of others.” Grady lifted his fist and was about to bring it down onto Molly, but Naddie pushed past the other men and jumped onto Grady's back, grabbing his fist. Naddie screamed as Grady threw her into the street, and she lie still there on the concrete. Molly looked at Grady.

“You monster!” she shouted. “How could you?” Grady was about to hit Molly, but suddenly a gunshot rung out from behind. Grady looked, and Molly ran to Naddie. An old man stood on his porch, holding a gun.

“This gun is loaded,” the man said to Grady. A bird fell from the sky, having been shot by the man, and he continued. “If I can shoot one bird in the dark without looking, I can shoot all four of you, young men. So, I suggest you run along. My wife just called the police.” Grady glared at the old man for a moment, then began walking down the street, his companions following. When they were gone, the old man hurried down to Molly and Naddie. He lifted Naddie from the ground as if she were a feather, and Molly followed him inside.

“She's only unconscious, but the baby could be hurt,” the old man said. He lay her gently on the sofa, and the man's wife came in.

“I called the doctor, and he's coming to get her, to take her to the hospital. She and the baby can be monitored there,” the woman said. Molly closed her eyes and sat by Naddie's side.

“Oh, God, keep the baby safe,” Molly whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose. She took Naddie's hand in her own and prayed for the forgiveness of Grady Johnson. He was still a creation of God, after all. Molly brought Naddie's hand to her mouth and kissed it gently. The old man and woman knelt beside Molly and prayed with her for Naddie. Molly couldn't bear losing her best friend and her mother in the same week.



Molly did not sleep well that night. Naddie was fine, and so far, the baby was, as well. They had been taken to the hospital in Detroit, and they were to stay there until the doctors were sure the baby was all right. Molly had told the doctor Naddie was widowed, not wishing to ruin any chance of them helping her. She lay in bed, wondering why God had blessed her with Peter. He had been there in her trouble, every time. He drove her to the doctor's office where Naddie was taken, and he sat with her while they waited. It was now nearly one in the morning, and Molly couldn't sleep. She decided it then. Peter was the one. He was so perfectly imperfect in every way. He understood Molly better than she understood herself. He felt her sorrow and her joy, and her anger. They were like one soul in two bodies, Molly told herself.



The next morning, Molly immediately got dressed and went to Peter's home. She knocked on the door, and Mrs. McCarthy answered.

“Why, Peter left just a half an hour ago,” the woman said when Molly asked for Peter. Molly furrowed her brow.

“Where could he have gone?” she asked. Mrs. McCarthy frowned.

“He didn't tell you? He got a call yesterday morning. He has to go back to the Netherlands this very morning,” she said. “He should still be waiting for the bus at the diner. He's not scheduled to leave till...” Mrs. McCarthy checked her watch “...well, ten minutes.” That was all Molly needed to hear. She turned and climbed into her car, driving in the direction of Billings' Landing. When she got there, she parked and got out, walking briskly inside. She went to the counter and looked at the man at the register.

“I'm looking for Captain Peter McCarthy,” she said, speaking quickly. The man pointed out the window. Molly turned and saw Peter about to get on the bus. She put her handbag on the counter and ran out the front door.

“Captain!” she called. Peter turned and looked just as he put his foot up to get in the bus. He looked at Molly.

“Miss Pierson, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner,” he said. “It wasn't certain that I had to go till this morning. They need me back in the air sooner than they thought.” Molly was breathing heavily from running.

“Peter, I don't care. I have something to tell you,” she said. Peter looked at her and the bus driver yelled down at them, “You two have three minutes.”

“Speak quickly, Miss Pierson,” Peter said. Molly swallowed.

“Captain, I don't know how to say it,” she said. She laughed in ridicule at herself. Peter looked into her eyes and put his hands on her shoulders.

“What, Molly?” he said. Molly swallowed again and laughed.

“Peter, I love you,” she said, spitting it out. “I've loved you since the day you arrived here, and I hope you love me back.” Peter laughed.

“Yes,” he said calmly. Molly blinked in surprise.

“What?”

“I love you, Molly,” he said. “I want to marry you. But right now isn't the time for that. I'll be back soon, and then we can discuss it further.” Molly couldn't help laughing, and Peter took her hands and kissed her on the mouth.

“Good bye, Molly,” he said. Then he turned and boarded the bus, and it drove away. Molly stood there, her mouth open slightly, her hands still in the air where Peter had held them. She brought her hand to her mouth and touched where Peter had kissed her. Had she really just told him she loved him? Just like that? She had, and she was surprised, and relieved. It felt like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She knew she wouldn't be able to convince anyone but Naddie that all this had happened, so she decided to keep it a secret.



Molly and Peter sent letters back and forth to one another for the next few months. The last one received said this:

Dear Molly,

I'm doing fine. However, I have a job in which I won't be able to write for a while. I will write letters, but they won't be able to be sent until I'm back on Ally territory.

The letter went on to tell what Peter had been doing, and it was signed, “Love, Peter”.

Molly moved out and got her own house, and Naddie moved in with her after her father kicked her out. Naddie was fine, but the baby was said to likely be deformed in some way. The days began growing chilly, and Naddie's time grew closer and closer. Molly noticed Naddie had frequent pains, and one night, Molly awoke to her friend's screaming. She hurried to Naddie's room and prepared for the delivery. She called Mrs. McCarthy and Ariel, who had already agreed to assist the birth.

The birth of a child is a miracle. That has already been said. But the birth of a healthy child who was not expected to be healthy is an even greater miracle. Naddie named the boy David, and he kept Naddie's surname. Naddie was weakened by the birth, as the doctor said she would probably be. She couldn't nurse the child, and Molly stayed up feeding him from a bottle while Naddie slept. She had begun to have fevers frequently, and Mrs. McCarthy stayed at Molly's house and treated Naddie as a daughter.

One night, while the baby was sleeping, Molly went into Naddie's room and found her friend wheezing. Molly was about to turn to call the doctor, but Naddie called after her.

“Molly, dear,” she said. “There's nothing more anyone can do for me.” Molly frowned and her eyes were blurred with tears.

“No, don't say things like that,” she said, blinking. “I'll call the doctor and he'll come and take care of you.” Naddie shook her head, and Molly accepted it. She sat by her friend's side and held her hand. Nadalia Hartford's last breath was peaceful.



Molly Pierson lay on the sofa, wearing her house robe, just having got out of the bath. Baby David was asleep, and it was the first time Molly had had peace in a long time. There was a knock at the door. Molly stood and went to open it. A woman stood there, holding a parcel and a letter.

“Are you Molly McCarthy?” the woman asked. Molly chuckled and knew it was from Peter.

“Not yet,” she said, taking the things. “Thank you.” She gave the woman a dollar and went to the table. She opened the parcel first, and found several letters, seemingly worn, all addressed to her. She set them aside to read later, and then she looked in the bottom of the package and found Peter's newsboy hat. She furrowed her brow and held it for a moment, then set it down and hesitated to read the letter, which was not Peter's handwriting. But she ripped open the envelope and took the letter out.

Dear Miss Pierson, it read, I was told that this letter should be sent to you, as you were soon to be married to Captain Peter McCarthy. I'm sorry to be the one to write this, and it hurts me to know there's a young lady waiting for her soldier to come home. But, Captain McCarthy went missing two weeks prior to this letter, on November 12. We were co-pilots, and our plane lost control. I escaped and jumped out, using my parachute. We were flying above the ocean, you see, the English Channel. The water was freezing, and one of our naval ships soon found me. But no one found Captain McCarthy. We don't know whether he's alive or not, but don't count on it. Peter was my best friend, and he stayed with me till the end. I'm sorry.

Sincerely,

Lieutenant Jacob Finch

Molly's hands were shaking, and she closed her eyes, her heart sinking. She reached out and touched Peter's hat, squeezing it. She was about to break down, but there was a knock on the door again. Molly took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, then went to open it. Mrs. McCarthy stood there, holding a letter and staring at Molly. They both felt the same loss. They embraced one another and sobbed, right there on the porch.

Molly hired a nanny to take care of David, because she was going to try to find work, but the morning of her first day at Billings' Landing, she couldn't get out of bed. How could she work where she had met Peter? She lay there, staring out the window at the gray sky, not crying or speaking.



Those were several hard weeks for Molly, and she never got over the pain. But she lived on, taking care of David as her own son, and she began to wear her bangs to the side, which was something she had never done. She grew into a beautiful woman, more mature and wise than ever. She made new friends among the people of Shealeen, Michigan, and soon she attended the socials as her family did. David learned to walk quickly, and to speak even quicker. You think our story is through? You think, “What?! How could Peter be dead? Molly can't live without Peter!” And you're right, Readers. Every day was torture for Molly, because she had to hide the pain of remembering her and Peter's last goodbye at Billings' Landing. She remembered the day her mother died, and she went to Peter's grotto, where he comforted her, and she realized that she loved him. She spent her nights crying herself to sleep, wishing Peter were by her side when she awoke the next morning. She was tormented by the loss. But our story is not finished. Molly's story is not yet finished.

1945

World War II is over.

Molly Pierson was now twenty five years of age. David was four years old, and he went to a daycare center each day where he made new friends. Molly had not forgotten Captain Peter McCarthy. Every morning, she would look out the front window, just to be disappointed that no car pulled into the driveway. She kept Peter's hat by her pillow each night as she slept.

One morning, the sun came up and it was a warm day. David went to daycare, and Molly sat on the sofa, knitting. She heard a car engine and went to look out the window. Mrs. McCarthy, who had stayed a faithful friend to Molly, got out of her car, and Molly met her on the porch. They hugged one another, and Molly smiled.

“Why are you so happy?” she asked, noticing Mrs. McCarthy's grin. Mrs. McCarthy's eyes filled with tears and Molly took her hand.

“Oh, Molly, you won't believe it,” the woman said. She glanced at the car, and as she did, a foot stepped out. Then a body. Then a head of curly, honey-colored hair. Molly met his eyes, and she let go of Mrs. McCarthy's hands, moving past her and going down the front porch steps. She couldn't feel her legs, and she felt like she was gliding. She and Peter looked at one another for a moment, then Molly slowly wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes and breathing him in. Peter returned Molly's hug, and he kissed the top of her head. Mrs. McCarthy went inside the house.
       “They told me you were dead,” Molly said softly into Peter's shirt.
       “I was a prisoner for four years,” he replied. “An old woman came to my cell and told me you were here waiting for me. She was strange, with long white hair and a silver gown. She told me you have been waiting for me, and then she opened the door to my cell and I escaped. I'm sorry you had to go through so much.” And those were the only words spoken.


Molly and Peter were married the following Sunday. Molly nearly gushed every time someone called her “Mrs. McCarthy.” They adopted David, and after he was seven years old, Molly and Peter had three children of their own, Nadalia – Naddie, Tilly, and Seamus. You see, Reader, Molly Pierson – excuse me, Molly McCarthy – told me her story, not because she thought it was significant, but because she loved to tell it. She knew it made others feel good. There are a few lessons in this story. The first, I mentioned earlier. “The death of a loved one can be a strange and healing thing. Healing, because you know that even though you're hurting, your loved one is at peace. That can make your heart whole, as before the loved one died.” Molly McCarthy herself said that. Another was said by Captain Peter McCarthy: To be in love is to live like every moment is your last goodbye. Captain McCarthy worked at Billings' Landing until they made him retire. Molly was a housekeeper after the children grew up and moved away. Among their four children, the McCarthys had six grandchildren. Naddie moved to Key West, Florida, where she met a young man who believed in non-violence and peace, and her remarkable story took place. But, that's a different story altogether. Thus, the story of the pilot of Billings' Landing is ended.

http://alyson-louisebelle.blogspot.com/