Stupid. Childish. Foolish. But maybe—maybe it really had all been a dream, this whole last week. Maybe she was the one who’d fallen ill, and it had all been a fever-induced delirium. Maybe—

Her door cracked open, and Mama stepped inside. Even in the dimness of her room, Lily could read her expression. Sorrow, unimaginable and deep. But something else too. Something Lily couldn’t name, perhaps because she couldn’t bear to look at it long enough.

Mama clicked the door shut behind her, moved to the window, and pulled open the curtains. Lily winced at the onslaught but didn’t object aloud. It would do no good.

A moment later, Mama sat in Ivy’s spot at her side. Rested her head in Ivy’s spot on Lily’s shoulder. Wrapped her arm around her in a way that Ivy never did. “You need to get up, Lily Love. Out of this room. I want you to go back to work tomorrow.”

The very thought made her want to scream. “No. I can’t.”

“They need you. The hospital needs your hands—and the OB needs your skills.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Nothing did. She couldn’t care right now about the war or the injured soldiers or the rolls of film piling up. All the responsibilities that had kept her busy, kept her away from home. Time she should have been spending with her family. Time she could never get back.

“It does.” Mama’s voice was fervent. Her hand stroked up and down Lily’s arm. “It matters. It matters enough that you lied to me for years about it. I certainly hope you wouldn’t have made those choices if your work wasn’t crucial to king and country.”

Lily could only squeeze her eyes shut. It had seemed important. Then. Before.

“Darling.” Mama kissed her temple, smoothed back her hair. “Blinker has come by every other day to ask after you. To ask us to encourage you to return. He’s explained to me a bit of what you do—how vital it is. The people whose lives you help preserve every day. The campaigns that couldn’t move forward without your work. This is bigger than us. Bigger than our grief. Bigger than my ideals about art. Look at me.”

It took more effort than it should have to lift her head, turn her face.

Mama’s gaze remained steady. “I’m sorry, Lily. So, so sorry that I judged you. That I let my anger at the deception cast a shadow on this house for so long. When I think of the atmosphere that I created during Ivy’s last days—” She broke off, pressed her lips together, blinked frantically. Only after a swallow and a few sniffs did she continue. “The important thing is that you do what the Lord asks of you. Not of me. I pray you can forgive me.”