She nodded. It felt right that she should arrange to intentionally run into Nora just as she had on Christmas Day, although this time she would avoid a direct collision. Just two people who happened to be going and coming from church at the same time and pass each other on the lawn. Yes, that would be her best bet. Surely, Nora couldn’t ignore her then.

A knock on the door startled her. “Who is it?”

“It’s the housemother, dear. I know you’ve been waiting for word from your father. I thought you’d want to know right away that you have a letter postmarked from Italy.”

“I do?” Mary jumped up and flung open the door.

“Here you are, dear. I’m happy for your sake you’ve heard from him. So many others haven’t been as lucky, you know.”

“Thank you.” Mary didn’t want to be rude and slam the door in her face, but she was anxious to be alone to read what her father had said. She closed the door and flopped onto the bed.

January 3, 1944

My dearest Pumpkin,

I got word that you are somewhere in Tennessee, working for the war effort. That was a surprise!

Mary sounded out the letters, taking her time with each word.

Your mother tells me that you left without saying goodbye and without so much as a word to Sam. That’s my strong-willed, hard-headed girl! I’m not saying that I approve of what you did or how you did it, but I am proud that you followed your heart, that you’re doing something to help us boys over here, and that you’re happy. You are, aren’t you?

Mary lowered the letter and blinked away a tear. “I was happy, Daddy—deliriously so—but that seems so long ago. What would you make of me and Nora? Would you turn your back on me? Would you cast me out? I know Mother would.”

Thank you, by the way, for at least breaking down and giving your mother a telephone number and an address so that I could write you a proper letter. I know letters aren’t your strong suit, but I comfort myself that at least it’s a way we can keep in touch. I wish I could call you and hear your voice, but that’s not possible from here.

Please know how much I love you, Pumpkin. I long for the day when I can gaze upon your pretty face again. I’m sure you’re all grown up by now and I’ll hardly recognize you!

Love,

Dad

P.S. I know you’re like oil and vinegar, but please try to take pity on your mother. Being alone is hard on her.