And Still My Heart Has Wings...
My dear friend, Cathy, has lived a truly remarkable yet bittersweet life. What other woman could have gone through what she did…the perfect childhood giving way to a most unfortunate marriage to an abusive man, a terrific career as a photographer, and discovering an incredible man of mystery…who would manage to change Cathy’s life forever.
Cathy has granted me full permission to share her story with others. It will be run in three segments on this blog.
PART ONE... The last time I saw Cathy was at her ex-husband’s funeral in New Jersey in 2004. Kenny Terzak had been the typical football hero in the northern New Jersey town along the Hudson where he and Cathy had been raised. Her dad had been the high school football coach at that time and it was he who encouraged…I really should say pushed…Cathy’s and Kenny’s relationship. I never could understand that part of it.
Cathy was adorned in a bright red Scottish tweed cape with matching cap (typically Cath) that misty afternoon. I noticed her nervously twisting about a very large and extravagant ring on her left hand when I slipped into the pew beside her in the very back of the church. Her head was bowed and she didn’t acknowledge my presence when I reached for her hand. That rock was incredible…three large diamonds surrounded by four enormous sapphires. I had never seen anything like it in my entire life!
Kenny had never been my favorite person in the world. To me, he had always been a raucous, rather offensive bully and plain old loudmouth who used Cathy to further his own agenda. I remember staring incredulously at the enormous blown up framed picture of him atop his mahogany casket. He had that usual obnoxious grin wearing his old football jersey. His widow was seated upfront, along with their grown son and a screaming baby whom I presumed was a grandchild. The church was full, and before I could say much to Cathy, she was squeezing my hand and then slipping out the door hailing a taxi in the miserable February freezing rain.
Let me go further, at this point, back in time to another country in a time of war… A young woman in her early twenties from Putney, an area of London, England, was engaged to be married to a young man serving in The RAF (The Royal Air Force of Britain). The year was 1941 and the Blitz was in full and horrendous rampage along the Thames and surrounding counties.
Elizabeth Grace Roberts worked in a small London bookshop and often met Ian Davies whenever they could get together, which wasn’t very often due to intense bombing all about them. Ian had proposed to her before he left for North Africa on a mission; and “Gracie,” as she was lovingly known, was over-the-moon, telling just about everyone in and around the area how supportive a wife she would be to this handsome boy whom she loved so dearly.
Little did she know that there was much more to Ian, who, as heir to a wealthy family estate in Devon, worshipped this petite strawberry blonde more than anything else on earth, and had planned on telling her his true identity once they were married. As far as Gracie understood, Ian was the son of a working class family living in Kingston upon Thames.
It had been at a local canteen where Ian and Gracie first locked eyes and then hearts…dancing the night away to songs such as Bunny Berigan’s I Can’t Get Started and These Foolish Things (their song), soon rounding up the evening with a patriotic song fest amongst patrons belting out There’ll Always Be an England and The White Cliffs of Dover.
The romance was ill-fated. I was told that Gracie had just closed the little book shop late one March afternoon and was helping a frail elderly gentleman out the side door into the cobblestone alley, when the air raid sirens began wailing. Trying to get the poor soul, as well as herself, down to the underground tube, proved fatal as the incendiary bombs powerfully exploded directly above them.
Specialist PFC John Mahoney was an American medic in the Army at that time who hailed from New Jersey. He worked vigorously with London doctors in the severe burn unit. The young woman brought into the ward was in very critical condition with severe burns and trauma to almost half of her body.
Mahoney, who was in his early thirties at the time, helped save the lifeless girl after she was pronounced dead…twice. Gracie spent well over a month in the ward while it was being viciously ripped apart by further shelling. Full fledge amnesia set in and she was in and out of consciousness. John Mahoney knew that the only way this woman was going to survive was to get out of England and over to the States, where she could receive quality care in a safe and stable environment. With some pull from his father, a high-ranking official under General Eisenhower, and through a quickie marriage (Gracie could then be “war bride status”), John Mahoney was able to get his young bride, still unidentified, on a plane back to the states for further medical treatment.
Cathy explains to me that London had been in such distress during that time that nobody could find relatives yet alone claim them for quite some time….if ever. It was found out many years later that Gracie had been an only child, as had been her mother who had died from massive stroke just months before the war had begun. Her father had walked out on the family the very day she was born. Gracie was truly nothing more than a ‘Jane Doe’ when Mahoney quickly married her. Neither of them would ever fully grasp the irony that lay ahead.
Meanwhile, Ian Davies’ squadron, equipped with Hurricanes (those planes preceding the Spitfires), was ordered to make an early morning attack on an Axis landing field. Unfortunately, the Luftwaffe’s Messerschmitt had major success over the Hurricane. Ian, whose flight had been shot down, had managed to escape harm by parachuting to safety. Stranded with three other pilots on the desert, the men anxiously had to await rations being airdropped to them. Their wait was quite awhile. Ian managed to escape any serious injury.
By the time he got back to London, the only thing he knew was that his beloved Gracie had perished. She could not be accounted for whatsoever. Ian’s heart and spirit were broken forever for many years to come. After the war, he buried himself in his work as an executive for a large advertising firm near Chelsea.
Gracie recuperated stateside and gradually recovered, although she still bore the scars of war both physically and mentally. The only thing she knew was that her name was Gracie and that she was English. John Mahoney had grown much attached to Gracie, and his family embraced and supported her as a daughter. Within a couple of years, their only child was born. They named her Catherine.
TO BE CONTINUED…
'And Still My Heart Has Wings copyrighted 2008, Pam Munson Steadman
Until next time,
Pam