“Car accident.” He stepped into the blackened hallway. The floor creaked under his feet. “With no siblings or relatives, I guess being alone made it easier for me to join the fight.”

She swallowed and took a step. Her foot scraped the baseboard. “When was the accident?”

He hesitated. “Last month.”

She gasped.

The hallway went silent. Then a siren sounded.

Ollie found her shoulder with his hand. “Looks like you were right about another wave.” He gave a soft squeeze. “Good night, Susan.”

Susan felt his hand slip away, then heard the door close. She stood alone in the hallway, until the thunder of artillery guns forced her to the sanctuary of her room.

* * *

Susan, shaken by the news of Ollie’s parents, as well as the rumble of bombs, was unable to sleep. Shortly after midnight, the all-clear signal was sounded by a siren at North Weald Airfield. She slipped on a robe and slippers, then crept down the stairs, hoping a warm cup of tea would calm her mind. But as she made her way to the kitchen, she saw the front door cracked open. A sliver of moonlight illuminated the hardwood floor. She peeked outside and saw Ollie sitting on the porch steps.

“Can’t sleep?” Susan whispered, stepping outside.

“No,” Ollie said.

“Me neither.”

“I think they’re gone for the night.” He patted the space beside him. “Saved you a spot.”

Susan tightened her robe and sat. “I’m so sorry about your parents.”

“Thanks,” Ollie said. “I’m sorry about your mom and dad, too. You were far too young to lose them.”

Susan nodded. “Fortunately, I had my grandparents.”

He looked at her. “I bet Bertie and Agnes did a swell job filling in for your parents.”

She smiled, pleased by his compliment, as well as the fact that he included her grandmother’s name, a woman whom he’d never met.

Ollie adjusted the zipper on his jacket. “Did you ever miss having siblings?”

“Goodness, yes.” She stretched her arms. “Someday, I’d like to have a big family.”

“Same,” Ollie said. “Lots of kids.”

“Boys or girls?”

“Both. How about you?”

“Two girls and two boys.”

“Very specific,” Ollie said, nudging her leg with his knee. “What would you name them?”

Susan pondered. “For the boys, something like Peter or Ian. And for the girls, names of a flower.”

“Like Iris or Rose?”

“Perhaps. Or maybe something less common, so they’d always feel unique.” She blew on her hands, beginning to turn cold. “Have I said too much?”

“Not at all.” Ollie removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

“You’ll catch a chill.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She pulled the jacket around her body, taking in his warmth.

Ollie tucked his hands under his legs. “What does your boyfriend think about naming children after flowers?”