The two roommates, United States Cadet Nurses in the largest and best program in the country, the University of Minnesota, had just finished a typical long Wednesday. Breakfast at six in the nurses’ dining room at the hospital in their freshly pressed uniforms, then work (they were presently assigned to the obstetric ward) from seven until eleven, a run to catch the streetcar over to the U, classes all afternoon, a run to catch the streetcar back to the hospital, a quick supper at the nurses’ dining room, and work again from seven until eleven. Given the schedule, Elissa had long ago been compelled to give up keeping her diary. On most Wednesdays, the cadets’ day wasn’t finished even after their evening shift: They would hit the books for a couple of hours after they got back to their dormitory. But not tonight—tonight Elissa was going home.

She opened the door to their room and entered. It was not an unpleasant room, but it was spartan: Each side had a desk, single bed, dresser, and closet, in that order, from window to door.

“I tell you, Cadet Mickelson,” Claire said, unpinning her cap from her hair as she followed Elissa inside. “I can’t say I don’t envy you, getting to go home for Thanksgiving. When I’ll be stuck here working a double shift.”

Elissa unpinned her white cap, too. Despite the war having ended three months ago, the cadet nurses would be allowed to finish their training—as long as they stayed single. Ty wanted her to drop out the minute he got home—any day, now—so they could have their wedding. When she’d first started, she had hated it so much that she would have quit in a heartbeat. But now that she had come so far, she wasn’t sure she wanted to give it up. She would graduate to senior status in four months. Her white cap would remain the same, as would her faded blue student nurse’s uniform, but no matter—everyone would know she was a senior. She had worked hard enough to deserve that, she thought. And after that, she would have only a six-month senior cadet assignment at a partner hospital before her training was complete.

She regarded herself in the mirror above her dresser. Her blue eyes looked tired, but she smiled at her reflection. “Yes, Cadet Nelson, but just remember who got to go home for Thanksgiving last year, when I was left here holding the bag. Besides,” she said, unknotting her necktie and unbuttoning the bodice of her uniform, “it isn’t every day my brother gets home from the war.”