Mrs. Campbell held open the screen door, and Mary stepped into the foyer. “I brought you both some goodies. Mother and I made the casseroles and the pies, and the veggies are from our garden.”

“That’s mighty neighborly of you, Mary. Make sure to thank your mother for me.”

“I will.”

Mrs. Campbell disappeared down the hall. When she returned, Phyllis was with her.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” Mary wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Want to come to my room? We can talk there.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll take the basket and put it in the kitchen,” Mrs. Campbell said.

Mary followed Phyllis down the hall. Her wall was plastered with magazine pictures of movie stars, including Jimmy Stewart, Cary Grant, Humphrey Bogart, and Gary Cooper. As always, Mary wondered why she didn’t have any pictures of some of her female idols. If Mary’s mother would’ve allowed her to hang magazine pictures in her room, she would’ve put up pictures of Gene Tierney, Vivian Leigh, Ingrid Bergman, and Katharine Hepburn. They were exquisite.

They settled on the bed—Phyllis with her back against the wall, Mary sitting near the foot of the bed.

“How are you?” Mary shook her head. “Never mind, that’s a stupid question.”

“No. It’s okay. It’s hard, you know? I worried from the second we said goodbye to him that he wouldn’t come back. I always anticipated the worst, and then it happened. Now I feel so…hollow, I guess. Like there’s never been a before and there won’t be any after.” She paused. “That probably doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“No. It does. It’s like being suspended in time.”

“Yeah. It’s hard to know what’s real and what’s in my mind. Mom cries herself to sleep every night. She hardly touches her food and I can barely get her to get out of bed in the morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I can’t go to school. I can’t leave her. I don’t know what she’ll do.”

“You don’t think she’d try to hurt herself, do you?”

Phyllis shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know what to think. Dad was her entire world. Without him…” She stared out the window.

“What are you going to do? You can’t watch her every second for the rest of your life. And what about school? You have to finish.”

“I know. I haven’t figured it out yet. I have to earn some money. Otherwise, how will we live? Mom could be a seamstress; she’s good enough. But I’m not sure she’ll recover from this enough to work.”

“That’s tough.”

“Truman is determined to marry me, but I wonder how he’d feel if I told him my mother would have to come live with us?”

Mary’s ears perked up. “Did he propose?”

Phyllis nodded. “I was about to tell you when…”