“I seem to remember a particular hat you went on and on about and just had to have because you saw Greta Garbo wear one in a film.”
I laughed. “And I looked terrible in it.”
He chuckled and then reached for my hand.
“You have to remember, your friends haven’t seen what you have. They haven’t had the same kinds of experiences in their lives. Not in the war, and not before it either. And what they are dealing with now, their husbands away in some far-off land, fighting in ways they can’t even imagine, is terrifying for them. This isn’t how anyone expects their life to go. And so they talk about silly things. To distract. To keep their minds busy. It may seem like they don’t care or aren’t paying attention, but I imagine they’re doing exactly what you are behind closed doors. Reading every newspaper article they can find and listening to the radio late into the night. I can’t imagine you didn’t notice the dark smudges beneath their eyes?”
I sighed. I had noticed.
“You’re right,” I said.
“Let them have their distractions. Because there may come a time when they can’t think of one silly thing to bring a smile to their faces, and that will be a terrible, terrible day.”
“Why are you and Aunt Vic so smart?” I asked.
“Life has a way of doing that to you. If you’re paying attention.”
I stood then, landed a kiss on his head, and went up to bed. As I slid between the covers, I made sure to take in the feel of the soft cotton sheets, the quiet and calm around me, and the very breath that echoed in my ears as I drifted off to sleep. Despite my past...the moments weathered, the stories weaved, and the pain endured, I knew I was one of the lucky ones. And I couldn’t take one second of life for granted.
As usual though, life didn’t let me dwell in peace. When I woke, it seemed all hell had broken loose.
“Kate.”
I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dim light to see my uncle standing beside my bed as he leaned down to turn on the radio that sat on my bedside table.
“What’s going on?” I asked, panic racing through my body as I sat up, my leg giving a slight twinge as it always seemed to now when I woke.
I rubbed my eyes, watching him fiddle with the dial.
“Uncle Frank?” I said, and then quieted as a man’s voice came through the speaker.
“It’s just after four,” Uncle Frank said and pressed a finger to his lips. “Listen.”
I sat quietly for a moment, trying to register what the man on the radio was saying, my eyes widening as I slowly began to understand.
“We’ve invaded?” I asked.
“We have. Troops landed in Normandy, France. That’s all we know for now. Your aunt is in the sitting room with the radio on there if you’d like to join us.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, grabbed my robe, and hurried after him.
We spent the day inside, listening to the radio, scouring the newspaper when it finally arrived—though there was nothing yet of the invasion, and grazing on food put out by Angeline. I nearly missed my doctor’s appointment the following day as the three of us, like I assumed most of the world, sat glued to the radio, taking in every account we could find that was being broadcasted.
“It looks good, Lieutenant Campbell,” Dr. Armstrong said, watching me walk, crouch, and stand on tiptoe.
He checked my reflexes, asked me to touch my toes, shuffle back and forth, jump in place, and walk like a duck.
“I’m marking you as cleared for work,” he said, making a note in my chart. “I’ll have an official letter typed up and you can give it to whomever you need to. Sounds like your services are definitely going to be needed.” He pointed to the radio in the room, its volume on low.
“I don’t know if I’ll be seeing any of that action,” I said. “I was stationed in the Pacific.”
“You might not be anymore. Regardless, stay safe out there.”
I exited, letter in hand, a frown on my face.
“Did he not clear you?” Aunt Victoria asked.
“He did,” I said, handing her the letter.
