The Wrong Kind of Money by Stephen; Birmingham Read Free Book Online Page B

duffel to his shoulder and walked on. But after a few steps he stopped and turned back. He removed his cap and hung it on one of the iron finials of her front gate posts. Then he walked away, whistling.
    Later she read about his great adventure. At least, when she saw his picture in the newspapers, Hannah was sure that this was a photograph of the same young man with the same, slightly off-center smile. His name was Radioman First Class George Noville, and he had just completed a historic mission—the first radio-equipped transatlantic flight, in a trimotored Fokker monoplane, under the famous U.S. Navy Commander Richard E. Byrd. The year was 1926. A few years earlier Commander Byrd had circled the North Pole.
    Two years later, her doorbell rang, and Hannah, who happened to be alone in the house at the time, went to the door. “I’ve come for my cap,” he said. She let him in.
    He brought with him a diary he had kept of his many travels since they had last seen each other. Pressed between its pages was her flower. “It brought me luck,” he said. “And it brought me back.”
    All we know of what happened next is contained in a slender packet of letters, tied with a faded pink hair ribbon, which Hannah keeps in a shoebox at the bottom of one of her dresser drawers. The stamps are mostly foreign—from Tunis, Gibraltar, Malta, Tripoli, and other mostly Mediterranean ports—and the postmarks are faded, and the letters are undated, so it is impossible to tell how long the relationship lasted, and Hannah seldom looks at the letters anymore.
    My darling —
    It is midnight, and all my other shipmates are asleep, and I am writing this to you by flashlight so as not to disturb the others. And because it is hard to write with a flashlight in one hand and a pen in the other in this cramped bunk (the bunks in this #%$&## old tub are particularly narrow), this will just be to tell you that you are in my thoughts all day long, and in my dreams at night. Even an ocean and a half away, you are with me always. Nothing can ever separate us, my darling, but meanwhile I am working hard to get a stateside assignment so we can truly be together again.
    The fellow in the bunk below me is snoring softly, making sounds that sound like manush, manush, so I guess I should try to get some sleep now, too, which will be easy because I plan to see you in my dreams. Good night, my love.
    George
    My darling Hannie —
    Something you say in your last letter worries me a little. You say you hope your father will like me. Well, I can promise you, my love, that I will do my #%&## best to make him like me! And your mother too! And your married sister, and her husband, and all the rest of your family, once I have a chance to meet them ! Why would they not like me, my darling? I happen to think I’m a pretty nice guy, and so — thank God — do you, as the rest of your letter seems to indicate! You even use the word “love” — thank God !
    Genoa is a dirty city, with very little to offer, it seems to me, so I am not going ashore with the others tonight. I would rather stay on board and write to you and think of you. Meanwhile, I expect to hear about my request for stateside duty very soon .
    All my love ,
    G.
    Darling Hannie —
    Good news — I think! There’s a rumor about that Cmdr. Byrd is planning another expedition — don’t know where as yet. But he’ll need a good radioman, and I know he was pleased with my work on that last flight of his, so I’m putting in a request for that assignment That would bring me back to Washington, at least for the planning stages, and Washington is not far from New York, and that means perhaps it won’t be long before you’re in my arms again.
    Don’t worry that the expedition will be dangerous. Old Byrd knows what he’s doing, and every detail is planned perfectly ahead of time.
    I love and miss you so, my darling