Dottie leapt from her chair and wrapped her arms around Gladys’s shoulders, dropping the skeins on her lap to the floor. Margaret knelt to pick them up and picked off the leather shavings that had embedded themselves into the yarn. She smiled at the large figure that her friends made, huddled as they were together in an unlikely embrace. Gladys was not known for her affection and Dottie couldn’t pass a dog on the street without petting it. So Margaret was pleased to witness the soft side of Gladys that cared more than she usually let on.

It was Dottie who pulled away first, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her coat, which she had not yet removed.

“You are both the best. Just the best. Gosh, this is the first time I’ve felt some hope. I’m going to get through this. I’m going to do this for John, and our future. Which is why we’re here tonight.”

*  *  *

Margaret was surprised to find a stash of powdered milk in her father’s cabinet next to his ground coffee tin. It wasn’t as tasty as the fresh stuff but was more preferable than water. And she knew he wouldn’t mind if they used it. After she’d warmed it for their hot chocolate, she cleaned the residue out of the little pot so that there wouldn’t be any dried flakes in it when her father came down in the morning. For all the good things she could say about her brother, he was not proficient with the small details of life. It was always a particular gripe of her father’s when John was not thorough about wiping down the hot plate or making sure that the milk pot was fully cleaned.

In the meantime, Dottie was telling Gladys about Margaret’s idea to knit socks for John’s unit. A decidedly un-Gladys thing to do. But these were different times that called upon them all to stretch the boundaries of what they’d done in the past.

“I know it doesn’t sound like much. But John wrote both of us and said they’re going to need good footwear heading into the winter. They’re expecting to march so much that their socks will thin out within days. Sure, we could go to Woolworth’s and buy some, but it’s about the morale. Just think about what it will mean to them if we take the time to create these by hand. Something that reminds them that they are worth our time. Something that reminds them what they are fighting for in the first place.”