I miss you. The nights are quiet, but the mornings are worsethis town seems cleared out, like everyone snuck off without saying goodbye. I know what youre thinking and I am trying to keep myself busy. Promise. I have a war wife pen pal (surprise, surprise) and Mrs. Kleinschmidt has me down at the American Legion rolling bandages. I hate the look of them. Bandages have only one use, you know?
I guess you do know. But Im not supposed to write about things like that so I wont. The thought of you getting a letter with the words blacked out is just too depressing.
Anyway, Toby wrote last week. He said the air in Maryland smells like fish soup and his bunkmates name is Howard. He neglected to mention anything about the girl who came looking for him a few days ago, some scrawny thing named Roylene. Ring a bell for you? Didnt for me. I suppose shes harmless enough.
Now Ive done it. Only one line to say I love you. And I do. Be safe. XO Rita
March 1, 1943
ROCKPORT, MASSACHUSETTS
Dear Rita,
Im so glad you are good at telling stories. I havent curled up with a good book in a long time, since before Robbie was born. When I was a girl, Id spend the day at the beach with only a blanket and the latest Nancy Drew mystery. I loved her outspokenness. She was never afraid. I admired that so.
And what a mysterious situation you find yourself in. I wonder what your boy is up to. Do you like her, this girl? I couldnt tell from your letter. I guess it doesnt matter. At least you have something to take your mind off Sal.
My Roberts mother, Claire Whitehall, doesnt like me. Never did. She thinks Im new money because my mother wasnt technically part of the New England aristocracy. Imagine. I was brought up summering right here on these rocks in this town. Id barely even kissed a boy until Robert. And even though Ive known her my whole life, I cant seem to get her to accept me. Ive almost stopped trying. Almost.
An herb garden sounds lovely. Ive ordered seeds from the Sears Roebuck catalog and my dear friend Levi Miller is going to fix up a big square like you said with all that good soil. Then Ill put in all kinds of things. And some big sunflowers just for you.
Levi cant fight. Hes got a bad heart or something. Youd never know it from looking at him. As children, we played on the beaches together every summer right here in Rockport. He never seemed to have any difficulty keeping up with Robert when we were small. Or me, for that matterhave I told you I was considered a tomboy? Still am, in some ways, though youd never suspect it if you saw me. Its Levi who plays with Robbie now that I cant run around anymore. Im almost due. Any day now, actually. Im not even a bit scared of the pain. Does that convince you? It doesnt convince me.
As I write this letter Im watching Robbie, my little love, play in the snow. My heart aches for Robert. Rita, will it ever stop? The missing? I just dont know. Everything is the same, and then new, and then the same again (only not really the same). The best thing for me is to keep on going about my day as if my sweet husband were to walk in the door any moment, picking up Robbie with one strong arm, and folding me close to him with the other.
I still cook for him. I know it sounds crazy. Ive been making this recipe every week. Its so easy, and doesnt touch the sugar ration. Enjoy.
Beer Bread! (So simple and good.)
Mix one bottle of beer, three cups of self-rising flour and 1/2 cup corn syrup. Bake at 375°F for 45 minutes.
Let me know if you like it.
Warm wishes,
Glory
March 9, 1943
IOWA CITY, IOWA
Dear Glory,
You would think Iowa would be oozing with corn syrupcorn grows everywhere here. Would you believe I once saw a stalk shooting up through a crack in the sidewalk? Our grocery was all out, though, so I borrowed some from Mrs. Kleinschmidt. Shell probably lord it over me, but the bread
was worth it. Completely delicious.
My heart goes out to Levi. The men left here walk around town like they forgot where they parked their cars. Do you know that look? Somethings missing, and probably will be for their entire lives. Are they the lucky ones? I dont know. I am glad youre giving Levi something to do. Have him get that soil in fast so you can let it set a bit before you plant. Treat new soil like a newborn babelots of rest, lots of food, lots of love.
Roylene came back, scratching at the door again like a stray. She wanted to add something to the note I was writing to Toby. Well? I said as we sat down at the kitchen table. She jammed one dirty fingernail in her mouth and bit down. Her eyes looked everywhere but at me.
Patience is indeed a virtue, but I had dishes to wash and wasnt feeling particularly virtuous. Spit it out, I said.
She flinched. Tell him I finally got the potato soup right?
So I used one of my precious lines of V-mail for an update on Roylenes cooking skills. I didnt ask her to stay for dinner. Heck, I didnt even pour her some tea. Maybe this war is making me mean. I havent heard from Sal. Not a word, Glory, and its driving me nuts. To answer your question, the missing never stops. For me, the wondering is even worse. Weve been married for twenty-one years. Id like to think Id know if he died. Id feel it, right?