The other soldier made her breathing stop. He was several inches taller than the other two and seemed to be wearing his dark hair as long as the army would allow. The picture was clearly taken just before evening, and the boy’s face wore the telltale sign of the long day with the shadow of a beard that would surely be shaved the next morning when they again reported for duty. But until then, it gave him a rugged, earthy look. Like the others, he was smiling at whatever had delighted them.

His eyes, however, had an enigmatic look to them. If the stage of joviality had not been set by everything around him, his eyes might equally suggest that he was deep in thought. If this was William, perhaps he was thinking of his next letter to her.

Something about this one stirred her in a way that was entirely new.

Is this what John and Dottie had felt for each other?

It couldn’t be. He was not Cyrano and she was not Roxane and it was not love through the proxy of ink and words because those things just happened in fiction. And yet…and yet, she had never known a man to whom she could pour out her heart, worry over, and await his return home.

She was working on a project for him. Something she’d give him at the end of the war. She’d raided her mother’s box of embroidery floss and stitched out the beginnings of a bouquet on a canvas. Eighteen holes per square inch for maximum detail. For every flower Tom drew for her, she created it with a needle and thread, carefully placing each one so that their individual beauty was displayed while arranging them so that their particular colors looked complementary next to its neighboring one.

It would be a piece of both of his friends that William could have forever.

*  *  *

March 1944

My dearest William,

I awoke hoping that the newest bespoke piece I am knitting does not provoke you to drastic despair, as I had to revoke my use of the red yarn since I am quickly running out of it, but I instead will create the next one in yellow so as to evoke the sunshine that I know you love.

Oh, my friends, your challenge was hardly one at all. And to prove it, I added a rhyme of my own. The two of you will have to try much harder next time.

But I do thank you both for the brief diversion.