Why she’d ever thought they’d understand or want to celebrate with her was a mystery. It wasn’t as though they’d encouraged her to seek higher education. That had been her high school science teacher, and later her college and graduate school physics professor, Enrico Fermi. Well, she’d show them. By golly, she’d show all of them.

“How is your father? Any word from the Front?”

Mary skipped over the sidewalk crack as she cradled her books against her chest. Phyllis’s dad also was in the Army, and that bond had brought them closer together. They lived around the corner from each other and often walked home from school together.

“Mother and I listen to the news every night for a mention of the 36th Infantry Division. Nothing so far. We did get a letter from him last week. He didn’t say where they were, just that the bugs were horrible, the ground was so muddy his boots sunk in all the way to his calves, and the food was awful.”

They reached Mary’s street—Larchwood Avenue—and came to a halt. “How about your father? How’s he doing?”

“Hard to say. Mom and I haven’t gotten a letter from him in three weeks.” Phyllis bit her lip and Mary feared she might cry.

“Don’t worry about it. There are dozens of reasons you might not have heard from him. He could be in some remote outpost, or maybe his company is on the move. I’m sure you’ll hear something soon.”

“I hope so.”

“I’m certain of it.” Mary nodded, as if the matter was settled. “I’ve got to get going. Mother is expecting me at home.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow?”

“You bet.” Mary waved as she headed down the sidewalk and through the gate into her front yard. She bounded up the steps and into the house. As she placed her books down on the foyer table, Sam’s unmistakable voice wafted from the sitting room. The sound made her irrationally angry.

“Thank you for the refreshments, Mrs. Trask. This was mighty nice of you.”

“You’re welcome, Samuel. Feel free to stop by anytime. I’m always happy for your company, and I expect to see a lot more of you going forward. I’m sorry Mary’s not here yet. I can’t imagine where she could be. She should’ve been home by now.”

“She is home.” Mary strode into the room. There was Sam, sitting comfortable-as-could-be on the sofa, drinking a soda. Her mother was in her customary rocking chair. Following First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt’s lead, she was knitting a sweater for the boys at the Front with yarn procured from the Red Cross.

“There you are. Samuel dropped by a little while ago and he and I were having a wonderful chat.”

“I can see that. He looks right at home.”