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Show just stew, huh? Thanks a lot." "It's really not at all important. I just didn't know you were a hotshot pilot and war hero is all. A flying ace." "Me? Flying ass, you mean. As in jackass." "Oh no, I'm the one that felt like an ass. Imagine me not knowing anything about it? Even doubting it?" "What? That I was an ace? Hey, I never got out of the States. You know that." "Does Ben?" "I don't know. I assume he does." "You don't know? Really? Really not know, pal? He told the Rubins that you'd shot down thirty Nazi planes and had some hot-shot medal." "Thirteen." "That makes a difference?" "It was a joke." "Oh was it? All of it?" I recognized the pajamas more than saw their color in the dim light, the pale blue ones, her face white above them, her dark hair mingling with the darkness. "Does he believe it or doesn't he?" "I don't know." "You don't know. I asked him about the medal. I said I'd never heard of you getting a medal and he said he'd just thrown that in to impress them but that you must have some kind of medal, if not that one. Because he believes in the planes." "He talks a lot but he--" "Oh yes, he believes." She nodded. "Amelia does too. And now everybody in Cleveland does. Because Ben told Mel. Lots of people believe it, I gather. It was the talk of the wedding dance." |