“When Clay comes home, he’ll be pleased to find a good cook waiting for him.”

Leah dipped chicken wings in the batter. “I hope so.” But he’d never come home, and she’d never cook for him. Clay’s premonition of his own death strained within her, but she’d promised not to tell anyone.

Where was he now? Had he arrived in Florida? That was so far away.

She could still feel his arms around her, engulfing her in security.

“I think those wings are ready.”

Leah almost dropped them. “Oh.”

Rita Sue patted her shoulder. “Don’t give in to fear, sugar.”

“I won’t.” She didn’t have to look far to find the good. “I’m proud of him. He told me how well the Rangers did in North Africa and Sicily, and now he’ll do his part.”

“Excuse me, Mama.” Joey held the biscuit pan.

Rita Sue opened the oven door. “Here you go, baby boy.”

“Mama . . .” Joey slid the pan into the oven.

“I won’t be able to call you that much longer.” She tousled his curly blond hair.

“You shouldn’t call me that now.” Joey laughed and wiggled free.

Rita Sue frowned toward the dining room. “Girls!”

Leah followed her gaze to where the two little girls bickered by the table.

“She’s bossing me!” Sally called.

Luella stamped her foot. “She isn’t doing it right.”

“Luella, let her be and bring me those peas.”

The girl stuck her tongue out at her sister and stomped into the kitchen. “She always gets her way ’cause she’s the baby.”

Rita Sue turned to Leah, rolled her eyes, and stuck out her tongue.

Leah smothered a laugh. She wanted to soak in every detail of family life. In only seven months, she’d create a home for baby Helen. How could she be a good mother when she barely remembered her own?

After Rita Sue put the peas on to boil, she pushed aside the white ruffled curtains over the sink. “Oh, that sweet husband of mine. I thought he was reading.”

Leah peeked through the window and the pouring rain. In the backyard, Mercer hammered in the doorway of a little house with tar paper on the walls.

Rita Sue opened the back door. Rain angled through, and she shut it a bit. “Mercer, put down that hammer and get out of the rain, you hear? It’s the Sabbath day.”

“Ah, it’s not work if I enjoy it,” he shouted back.

“Come wash up. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.” Rita Sue shut the door, wiped her hands on her apron, and grinned at Leah. “Fifteen minutes, but he doesn’t have to know that.”

Leah smiled and turned over the drumsticks. “What’s he fixing?”