me for marriage to a man like Charles Lindbergh; a man so unlike any other man I had ever known, those bankers, lawyers, academics. Here was a man who was good, brave, driven; these were the qualities I knew about him. That there were many more qualities, as yet hidden, occurred to me as well. But they could not be as important as what I did know.
That he was a quietman, a disciplined man. A man who did not take responsibility lightly. A man who needed a partner, so that he would never have to fly solo across an ocean again.
The most famous man in the world, who saw me standing in the shadows and somehow knew that I was braver than I supposed. Already, I had flown an airplane because he believed that I could. What else might I do?
“I would like to thinkabout it,” I said gravely, understanding he would not approve of me answering impulsively. Suddenly, all those months apart made sense. He had been planning, preparing for this moment as rigorously as he had for his flight to Paris. I would never take an unnecessary risk , he had told me. I knew that meant with his heart, as well.
Charles nodded, his face inscrutable. He then got out of the car,walked around and opened my door, and escorted me, his good arm through mine, up the stairs and to my parents’ front door.
And it was this—this touchingly gallant gesture, this nod to courtship—that ensured the successful outcome of his latest mission, although I did not tell him. Not then; not for a long time after.
He kissed me good night, as chastely as possible; his lips brushed mine butdid not linger, although I felt, as his lean body surged briefly toward mine, that he would have liked them to. But it was enough for me. I knew with a certainty this was the beginning of everything . Everything I had been waiting for my entire life.
Charles refused my invitation to come inside, citing his injury. I told him, in the gently nagging manner of one who had a right to, that he shouldsee a doctor. He grinned—in the gently mocking manner of one being nagged—and promised that he would.
I watched as he walked down the porch steps and got into his car. I waited until he had driven away before turning to go inside the house of my childhood, feeling as if I were entering it for the very first time. And in a way I was; for the first time I crossed that threshold as an adult.
Itwas only later—much later, after letters and telegrams and a hurried visit to my parents, and then a carefully worded press release followed by an explosion of astonishment and joy from every newspaper in the land, and learning to disguise myself whenever I left my house, trying to go to sleep at night still seeing the blinding pops of light from flash powder even through tightly shut eyes…
After I had to dismiss a servant who sold some of my letters to a reporter, and then realizing that I could never say a word or write down a thought that I did not want the entire world to know, and having to sneak into the city late at night to be fitted for my wedding dress, and even then, seeing my entire trousseau, including garters and negligees, detailed excruciatingly in the front pages of The New York Times as well as the Smith alumni newsletter, and then, finally, that tremulous day in the living room of my parents’ new house, christened Next Day Hill! After the minister declared us man and wife and I leaned up, my heartswelling so that I was sure everyone could see its outline through my silk bodice, to be kissed by my new husband, only to have my cheek chastely pecked, whileall our friends and family applauded…
It was only then that I looked back on that wondrous evening. And I saw myself at that threshold watching Lucky Lindy, the Lone Eagle—no, no, my fiancé —drive away and marveling that of all the women on earth, he had chosen me.…
It was only then. After my life had altered so irrevocably that I would never again be able to recognize it without help—photographs,maps, battered
That he was a quietman, a disciplined man. A man who did not take responsibility lightly. A man who needed a partner, so that he would never have to fly solo across an ocean again.
The most famous man in the world, who saw me standing in the shadows and somehow knew that I was braver than I supposed. Already, I had flown an airplane because he believed that I could. What else might I do?
“I would like to thinkabout it,” I said gravely, understanding he would not approve of me answering impulsively. Suddenly, all those months apart made sense. He had been planning, preparing for this moment as rigorously as he had for his flight to Paris. I would never take an unnecessary risk , he had told me. I knew that meant with his heart, as well.
Charles nodded, his face inscrutable. He then got out of the car,walked around and opened my door, and escorted me, his good arm through mine, up the stairs and to my parents’ front door.
And it was this—this touchingly gallant gesture, this nod to courtship—that ensured the successful outcome of his latest mission, although I did not tell him. Not then; not for a long time after.
He kissed me good night, as chastely as possible; his lips brushed mine butdid not linger, although I felt, as his lean body surged briefly toward mine, that he would have liked them to. But it was enough for me. I knew with a certainty this was the beginning of everything . Everything I had been waiting for my entire life.
Charles refused my invitation to come inside, citing his injury. I told him, in the gently nagging manner of one who had a right to, that he shouldsee a doctor. He grinned—in the gently mocking manner of one being nagged—and promised that he would.
I watched as he walked down the porch steps and got into his car. I waited until he had driven away before turning to go inside the house of my childhood, feeling as if I were entering it for the very first time. And in a way I was; for the first time I crossed that threshold as an adult.
Itwas only later—much later, after letters and telegrams and a hurried visit to my parents, and then a carefully worded press release followed by an explosion of astonishment and joy from every newspaper in the land, and learning to disguise myself whenever I left my house, trying to go to sleep at night still seeing the blinding pops of light from flash powder even through tightly shut eyes…
After I had to dismiss a servant who sold some of my letters to a reporter, and then realizing that I could never say a word or write down a thought that I did not want the entire world to know, and having to sneak into the city late at night to be fitted for my wedding dress, and even then, seeing my entire trousseau, including garters and negligees, detailed excruciatingly in the front pages of The New York Times as well as the Smith alumni newsletter, and then, finally, that tremulous day in the living room of my parents’ new house, christened Next Day Hill! After the minister declared us man and wife and I leaned up, my heartswelling so that I was sure everyone could see its outline through my silk bodice, to be kissed by my new husband, only to have my cheek chastely pecked, whileall our friends and family applauded…
It was only then that I looked back on that wondrous evening. And I saw myself at that threshold watching Lucky Lindy, the Lone Eagle—no, no, my fiancé —drive away and marveling that of all the women on earth, he had chosen me.…
It was only then. After my life had altered so irrevocably that I would never again be able to recognize it without help—photographs,maps, battered
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