He smiled, and shoved his hands in his pockets again. He hoped she hadn’t heard him swear. “Hi, Grandma.”

Chapter 86

Superior, Wisconsin
Thursday, December 20, 1945

Late that night, after spending the afternoon and evening with Harry in bliss, planning the details of their upcoming wedding, Anne sat down at her desk to write a letter. Although she draped a blanket over her shoulders, still she shivered, unable to get warm.

Now that she was alone again, all the terror and dread that she’d been experiencing since her trip to Pine Rapids seemed to have flooded back. Her handwriting was shaky; words would scarcely come. After each sentence, she sat for several moments, just looking at the stationery glowing in the light of the desk lamp.

When she finally closed the letter and signed her name, it was past midnight. What she had written was:

Dear JJ,

I am writing to tell you that I am going to marry Harry after all.

I am so ashamed of what happened between us. I did not intend for it to happen. I have not told Harry and, for the sake of our future happiness, will not.

If you ever cared for me, as you professed to, please, you must never speak of it, to anyone. Your family must not find out, or I could never face them. If I ever see you again, remember only that I am your “aunt,” and let us just forget the rest, I beg you.

Anne

As she sealed the envelope, addressed to Marine Sergeant John J. Mickelson at the Great Lakes Naval Station Hospital, the tears started again, and she dropped the envelope. It settled on the desk, facedown. She covered her eyes with one hand, cupped the other over her stomach. She was shivering so hard that her teeth chattered.

That her period had not come last week when it should have had been a terrible shock. She had counted the days, to be certain she was not mistaken, and then prayed with all her might that it was just a little delayed, and that she would soon discover a spot of blood. After five days of fervent, unanswered prayers, she had given up hope.

Though she had known from the moment when JJ sighed atop her that the consequences of what she had done were undoubtedly horrific, she had somehow not even acknowledged the possibility of this, the worst consequence imaginable. But now, she couldn’t deny it. Her cycles had always been like clockwork. And the past few mornings, she had awakened feeling nauseous.

This afternoon, she and Harry had set their wedding for next Sunday, December 30. If there was a baby from JJ, it would come in August. She would just have to convince everyone—including herself—that it was five weeks early. It was the only way she would be able to live with what she had done.

It was the only way she and her child would ever have a home.