“What would this season be without a new Bing Crosby hit? Last year, ‘White Christmas’ became an instant smash and sent children to their windows pleading with Santa Claus to bring snow along with their presents. It’s too soon to tell if New York will be blanketed in a winter wonderland, but one thing that we can all agree on is that we miss our boys and girls, whose absence will leave an empty chair or two around our family’s table. And with that sentiment, here is Bing with his new one, ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas.’”

Margaret adjusted herself on the sofa next to Gladys, basking in the glow of the candles they’d lit and the hot chocolate treat that Gladys had procured. She’d even gotten some milk, though Margaret suspected that was something Oliver had found for her.

Oh, making it with real milk was such a creamy comfort.

I’ll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me.

She closed her eyes and pictured a holiday meal where John had returned and he and Dottie were married and their son or daughter sat in a high chair tasting their mother’s homemade applesauce. Presents sat under the tree, bestowed with more meaning than in previous years because they’d all come to appreciate the preciousness and fragility of life.

It had been difficult to see his seat remain empty as their mother set the turkey on the table, his favorite sweet potato casserole still made even though he was the only one who liked it.

Margaret hoped this would be the only holiday season they’d have to be without him.

Please have snow and mistletoe and presents under the tree.

Perhaps another year in the future might have her standing beneath the doorframe of the house as winter’s flakes began to fall. A man—tall, dark hair, but a face in shadows—pointed to the mistletoe and swept her into his arms as they kissed.

I’ll be home for Christmas, where the love light gleams.

She looked at the faces of Gladys and Dottie, whose expressions mirrored her own dreamy one. Bathed in love light, not merely from the men who cherished them, but also from the friendship they shared with each other. This was the bliss that made the struggles worth it.

I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.

The last lyric jolted Margaret from her wistful state. John’s absence was felt with bitter intensity. He would not be home for Christmas. He would be in another country, across the Atlantic, away from all who loved him. The song had lulled her into the pleasantness of holiday spirit only to pull it from her so heartlessly. Delivered in the false security of Bing Crosby’s smooth voice.

The song repeated itself verse by verse, but by this time, she saw that Gladys and Dottie, too, had been similarly affected.