The worry over what Dottie’s family would do when they found out.

And the fear that John might never make it home.

That part, she couldn’t share with Dottie. Not in her condition. But every day, the local newspaper posted the names of the dead and missing from Brooklyn. How could they presume that their family would be spared the great tragedy that had befallen so many others? At least for now, John was safe, training in England, parachuting from the airplanes he loved so much. Out of danger as far as they could tell. But how long would it be before his unit was called up to the front and the real peril began?

War draped every breath in a cloak of uncertainty, and Margaret ached to tether herself to something dependable. The need to keep quiet about Dottie’s pregnancy only added to the many shadows that had been cast upon their lives.

She pulled herself away from the row house door, one beleaguered step at a time until she made it to the bus stop and the short journey passed by in a haze.

Twenty minutes later, they rolled up to the entrance of the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and Margaret’s spirits were raised by the pride that arose every time she saw the masts of the three unfinished ships through the dusty glass panes. The handiwork of tens of thousands of men. And more recently, a handful of women like herself. A flag stood outside the entrance, billowing in the morning breeze. Forty-eight stars reminding her that her troubles were mere droplets in the vast sea of sacrifices being made here and around the world.

Just two weeks ago, she’d stood in this spot along with thousands of civilians watching thousands of troops board the Samaria, bound for Liverpool. Once a grand passenger ship in the Cunard Line, it had been requisitioned by the Royal Navy for troop transport. Including her brother. He’d gone to basic training in Georgia and then jump school in North Carolina, and by some unexpected twist, his company in the 101st Airborne was departing from right here in Brooklyn. Right here in the Navy Yard, just a few miles from where he’d been born. She’d hoped to see him, but the soldiers had been given no leave time for visiting families since few of them were from this area. Instead, she and Dottie and her parents had stood in the bleachers hoping to catch a glimpse of that one face they loved so much.

It was to no avail, but John knew they’d be there in that crowd and she hoped that was enough to bolster him as the shores of his homeland disappeared from view. They’d watched with handkerchiefs pressed against their faces as the uniformed young men sailed off, about to learn that war was more than the playacting they’d done in their youth.