“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I want to freshen up a bit more. You know, the eyes.” I pointed to the puffiness I could feel underneath them.
“Okay, we’ll see you there,” Fiona said, and they kept walking.
I went back into the bathroom, stood in front of the mirror, and put a bit of cool water on my swollen eyes. I reached into my pocket and felt for the folded letter. The last letter I had ever received from Danny before he was shot out of the sky somewhere over the forests of Germany. It was dated September 8, 1943. Danny went missing sometime around October 20. His family and I found out a month after that. I took the letter out of my pocket and started to open it, to read it for the thousandth time. I opened it halfway and saw my name at the top of the page in his familiar, terrible handwriting, but then I stopped myself. I looked up at the mirror, my puffy eyes staring back at me. I folded up the letter and shoved it as far into my pocket as I could.
I had already memorized it; reading it again wasn’t going to help me now.
“You’re doing this, Fiona,” I said to my reflection. “Ready or not, you’re doing this.”
I applied the lipstick Dottie had given me, and the eyes looking back at me now had more resolve and strength than when I’d first walked into the bathroom. It was time to go to war. Hopefully to find answers. Maybe to find Danny.
Chapter Two
July 19, 1944
Sleeping on a narrow bunk bed in a tiny cabin with five other women meant falling asleep fitfully every night and waking up at odd hours, often from vivid, jarring dreams.
Danny and I were sitting on the large red-and-white-checked cotton blanket that I had spread on the lawn of the Bunker Hill Monument. It was a gorgeous but steamy day in late August, breezy with a faint scent of the ocean a few blocks away. He was leaving for Europe in three days. We had both been trying to ignore that fact, though it hung in the air between us, unspoken and heavy like the summer air.
He was lying on his side on the blanket, resting on his elbow as he bit into one of the apples I had bought off a pushcart earlier in the day. I shaded my eyes to get a better look at him; six foot one with long, athletic limbs, his dimpled cheek and almond-shaped blue eyes, his white-blond hair now cropped per military standards. I could still see a glimpse of the lanky, awkward nineteen-year-old I had fallen for sophomore year of college, but it was getting harder all the time. He looked up at me and smiled, running his finger down my bare arm, giving me goose bumps.
“How you doing there, Fi?” he said quietly, his dimple fading as his face became serious.
“I’m doing . . . I’m doing fine,” I said, lying. “This was one of the best Saturdays I’ve ever had. Betty Grable was as good as I hoped she would be in Coney Island. And I had such a great time walking around the St. Anthony’s Festival eating pizza and cannoli until we were stuffed, and now we’re sitting here in the sun on this gorgeous summer afternoon . . . What more could I ask for?”
Danny kept looking at me, still serious. “Honey, it was a great day, the best, but we can’t ignore the fact that I’m leaving.”
That pit in my stomach. I studied his face, and then sighed.
“I know,” I said. “I’m doing okay. I’ll be all right. I’ll miss you terribly; I’m already missing you if that’s possible. But I’m sure I’m doing better than you are. I’m not the one going half a world away to fight in the war. How are you doing?”
I lay on my side across from him, resting on one elbow while I smoothed my green-and-white gingham skirt and tucked it under me so it wouldn’t blow up in the breeze.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Danny said, putting his apple core on the grass and reaching over to grab my hand. “Training is all done. It’s what every guy our age has to do . . .” He squeezed my hand and looked into my eyes. “The hardest part is leaving you.” He leaned over and gave me a long kiss.
“I’ll keep really busy,” I said, reluctantly pulling away in case my mother or one of her friends happened to walk by. “As you know, there’s never a dull moment at the mayor’s office; the days fly by. Mayor Tobin keeps piling more responsibilities on me by the minute.
“Of course, I’ll help my mom and dad with my younger sisters. The twins are driving my mother crazy lately. Oh, and Dottie, Viv, and I are going to volunteer at the USO over at the Charlestown YMCA . . .”
“Uh-oh, don’t let any soldiers at the USO try to steal you away while I’m gone,” he said.
“It’ll never happen,” I said, giving him a playful shove. “I’ll make it very clear that I’m engaged. Besides, they’ll all be falling over themselves to get Viv’s attention. And Dottie’s too—they’ll just mistake her shyness for playing hard to get.”
“You three can be trouble when you’re together,” he said, smirking. “I might have to have a word with those two before I go.”
“I think you mean we can be really fun when we’re together,” I said.
He was looking at me, serious again.
“What?” I said, putting my hand on his cheek.
“I’m trying to memorize your beautiful face. Your freckles and your eyes that change shades with the weather. The patch of blonde in the front of your hair that you’re always pushing out of your eyes. I’m going to miss your face so much.”
“I’ll miss your face too,” I said, suddenly feeling my chest tighten and my eyes well up. “So much.” I leaned down to kiss him again, blinking fast so I wouldn’t start to cry.
“Fiona,” he said, whispering. We were nose to nose. “We need to talk about the possibility . . . if something happens to me over there—”
“No,” I said, sitting up, feeling physically ill at the words he was saying. “Nothing is going to happen to you over there. I know it in my heart. You’ll be back in . . . in a little over a year . . . and we’ll get married, and I’ll finally move out of my parents’ house, and we’ll really start our life together. You’ll finish law school, become a district attorney like you’ve always dreamed. We’ll eventually have kids, maybe buy a small house outside of Boston. We can finally get a couple of Boston terriers . . .”
He was quiet. Staring out past the monument at something I couldn’t see.
“I’m serious. You’re going to be fine. And if you’re not fine, I swear to God I’m going to come over and get you myself . . .” He was still quiet, so I kept talking. “This war has to . . . it’s got to end sometime soon, right? It can’t—” I was interrupted by the sound of a loud, deep horn. “What was that?”
“I’ll be seeing you,” Danny said, like he always did when we said good-bye. It was his favorite song. He looked up at me again and grabbed my hand like it was the last thing he’d ever hold.
“Why are you saying that?”
The horn sounded again.
I sat up, startled, and opened my eyes, nearly hitting my head on the bunk above me. I listened to the foghorn of the Queen Elizabeth and the quiet snoring of at least two of the six girls in our tiny cabin. I sighed and looked up at the bottom of the bunk above me where Viv was sleeping. Every time I woke from a dream about Danny, it was still a grim surprise.
I stayed in bed for another fifteen minutes before I realized I wasn’t going to be able to fall back to sleep. It had to be well past midnight, but I needed to get some air. I felt around under my bunk for my uniform, which was neatly folded next to my shiny new steel helmet and gas mask. I got dressed lying down on my bed, grabbed my shoes, and opened the door of the cabin, slipping into the hall as quietly as I could.
The hall was dimly lit. I decided to make my way up to the Bird Cage, where my friends and I had been spending a good amount of time. We’d gotten to know some of the other Red Cross girls and soldiers—playing card games and singing songs by the piano. A few of the soldiers were decent musicians. Viv and I still hadn’t been able to convince Dottie to contribute her talents.