She’d managed only to clench her fingers together and say, “Please. Please.” Would God count that as a prayer? One of the mutterings of the soul that the Spirit made sense of before the Father?

Instead of a clock, she became aware of a different type of face. One pinched, shadowed, and pale. Dot’s hands were clenched too. And still shaking. “Morning.”

Margot shoved her hair out of her face, wincing at the snarls in it. It felt strange, like it wasn’t at the right angles. She tried to force it flat with her fingers. “Morning. What time is it? Are they there yet? Do you know?”

“They made it to the airfield an hour ago.” Dot swallowed and moved her hands just a bit, enough to reveal the rosary beads clutched within them. “I’m handing in my resignation today.”

“What?” Margot swung her legs, tangled in a blanket, off the couch. “Dot, no.”

“I can’t do it anymore, Margot. I had to stop twice on the way here—I couldn’t breathe, my vision was spotty. . . . I can’t be here now. I need to go home. It’s time to go home.”

“Dot.” She scooted forward, toward the chair where her friend sat. “You’re shaken. Last night was horrible. But the fear will pass. Just stick it out—”

“I don’t want to stick it out!” Dot sprang to her feet, chest heaving. Breath rasping. “And I don’t have to. Red and I are going to get married. Soon. I don’t have to work here anymore. I don’t have to go out every day and—”

“You can’t just resign your position and marry him!” Margot tried to stand, too, though the blanket sent her back to the cushions. She pulled it off, tossed it to the end of the couch, and tried again. “Yesterday you were wondering if he even meant to propose and saying how quickly it had all happened—and resigning? You’ve worked hard to learn the job, and you’re good at it.”

Dot backed up a step. “I’m not like you, Margot. I don’t want to work. I just want to get married, have a family. Maybe that makes me stupid in your mind, but—”

“I have never thought that of you. Never.” She held out a hand, wondering why it seemed to repulse her friend like the wrong side of a magnet and send her another step toward the door. “I know you want to get married. I’m not saying you shouldn’t—”