Chapter Twelve

April 1919

Pendleton, Oregon

"A re you sure about this?" Friday asked with hesitancy as the train chugged down a grade and neared Pendleton.

Harley John leaned back in his seat next to him and nodded. "Positive. I already asked Sarge, and he said as long as we are on the train when it leaves the station, he doesn't care where we eat. I sent a telegram yesterday to let Aunt Cat know to expect us today."

"But her restaurant isn't even open for lunch, is it?" Friday had no objection to eating wherever Harley John wished. What was causing him to grasp at straws to avoid going was his fear of seeing Molly's family. He knew they'd all be there, and he wasn't one-hundred percent convinced he was ready to swap howdies with them, especially knowing her father and uncle were both deputy sheriffs. What if they took exception to his interest in pursuing Molly?

Maybe she hadn't mentioned their growing affection for each other in her letters home. If that were the case, he could stop worrying and enjoy the grub. When he and Harley John had been on their way to New York last June, Molly's parents and two of her aunts and uncles had come all the way to Spokane to bid them farewell and brought a feast that included ice cream. Friday's mouth started to water just thinking about it.

Perhaps he was worrying for nothing.

As though Harley John could sense his thoughts and turmoil, he elbowed him in the ribs and pointed out the window as the train rolled into the station. The platform was packed with people waving flags and cheering. Friday thought the whole town had to be waiting to greet them as the high school band played a lively tune he didn't recognize.

He studied the faces in the crowd. Two broad-shouldered men who towered over the others caught his eye as he recognized Kade and Lars. They looked as looming and formidable as he recalled from seeing them last year.

Before he could ponder a polite way to excuse himself, he was pushed off the train by the men behind them. The moment Harley John set foot on the platform, a cheer went up from the gathered crowd. He was hugged and kissed by females from the ages of four to ninety while men slapped his back and pumped his hand like it was attached to a bellows.

Harley John glanced back at Friday and tipped his head, indicating he should join him. Friday made his way through the crowd until he caught up to Harley John as he was being hugged, kissed, and cried over by Sophie Thorsen. In the year since Friday had seen her, she had grown into a lovely young woman. Other than noticing her fresh appeal, though, he had no interest in her. He had eyes only for Molly.

"Corporal Fitzpatrick! We're so happy you can join us," Molly's mother yelled above the roar of the crowd. "Let's go. I know you don't have much time."

Without waiting for him to answer, the group broke away from the throng and hurried down a few blocks, then up a couple of streets. Caterina Rawlings, Kade's wife, unlocked the door to her restaurant and led them inside. The smell of spices hung heavy in the air, making Friday's stomach growl in hunger.

"No time to waste. Let's feed these hungry men," Caterina said with a laugh as she walked through the restaurant and disappeared through a doorway.

"Go on and wash up if you like," Kade said, pointing toward the doorway. "There's a bathroom upstairs you can use."

"Don't you have the apartment rented out?" Harley John asked as he stepped behind Friday.

"Not at the moment. Our last tenant left a week ago. We haven't had time to find a new one," Kade answered. "If you find yourself in need of a place to stay for a while, it's yours."

"Thanks, but I'll probably stay with my father when I get back, at least for a little while," Harley John said with sadness in his voice.

His father was dying, and it wasn't a secret to anyone. In fact, Friday wasn't surprised the man was absent today. His precarious health likely prohibited a trip into town.

Friday just hoped Harley John made it back to Pendleton before it was too late for him to spend time with his father. It shouldn't take long for them to get to Camp Lewis, be discharged, and leave army life behind them.

"Come on. I'll show you where to wash up," Harley John said, leading the way up the stairs to the apartment where he'd lived for a few years.

The bathroom was a generous size with a tub that looked awfully inviting. While Friday used the facilities and washed up, Harley John looked around the place. Friday stood at the window that looked down over the street when Harley John took a turn in the bathroom. Pendleton appeared to be a busy town and a patriotic one if the buntings and flags hanging on storefronts were any indication.

Together they returned downstairs and took seats at one long table, made from shoving several together for the meal. Bowls heaped with steaming, aromatic pasta in sauces, platters full of meat, baskets of hot bread, and glasses filled with sweet tea poured over ice made Friday glad he'd followed Harley John instead of joining the other men for the potluck being served in the shady lot by the train depot.

Kade offered a blessing on the meal and a heartfelt thanks for the safe return of the soldiers on the train today, with a special word of gratitude for Harley John's keeping.

The meal was a lively affair. Those gathered asked questions not about the war but about the experiences Harley John and Friday had on the ship ride back, the shows they were able to see in New York while they waited for orders to board the train heading west, and what the weather was like along their journey.

If anyone had asked what it was like to fight in battle, Friday might have gotten up and walked out. It was the last thing he wanted to discuss. But they didn't. They talked to him and Harley John about common, everyday things, and, for that, the whole group of them became dear to Friday's heart.

Once he'd eaten his fill of Italian food he'd never heard of but found he greatly enjoyed, Caterina served slices of chocolate cake, Aundy brought out wedges of lemon meringue pie, and Marnie carried a big bowl full of ice cream.

"I didn't think I'd have room for another bite, but that ice cream sure looks good," Harley John said, eagerly digging into the serving Marnie set before him. She kissed the top of his head and patted his shoulder, then set a heaping bowl in front of Friday.

"Thank you, Mrs. Thorsen."

"Of course," she said, smiling at Friday, then glanced at the clock on the wall. "You boys eat fast. We have something we want to show you before you are due back at the train. We'll have to hurry."

"Yes, ma'am," Harley John said, alternating between shoveling in ice cream with bites of cake and pie.

Friday followed his example and felt like his seams might burst when he ate the last bite of cake, but everything had been delicious. Better than anything he'd eaten for a long while.

"I'll get the car," Lars said, rushing out the door.

"Come on, boys," Marnie said, placing a hand on Harley John's and Friday's backs, giving them both a pat. "Let's go. We'll meet everyone back at the train station."

Harley John and Friday stood.

"Thank you all for that wonderful meal and for making me feel so welcome," Friday said, holding his hat in his hands and nodding politely at people Harley John considered his aunts and uncles. Technically, Friday supposed they were, now that his friend had married Sadie.

"Anytime, Corporal Fitzpatrick," Caterina said, smiling at him as she stood near the door. "Now, off with you two." She made a shooing motion with her hands.

Harley John dug into a pocket and extracted several rolls of film. He had a small camera he'd carried with him in his pack. He dropped the film into the hands of his uncle Tony, who was a photographer, to see if he could develop them, then stepped outside.

Friday followed Harley John and Marnie out to a large automobile that could easily seat six if not eight people. Harley John helped Marnie into the front seat beside Lars, then got in the back with Friday.

Lars hit the gas, and they zoomed out of town. Friday took in the passing landscape, noting the farms and fields of winter wheat that were already green and growing. He grabbed onto the door to keep from tumbling into Harley John when Lars slid around a corner and turned onto a side road.

"Oh, wow!" Harley John said as Lars turned and stopped at the end of a long lane lined with dogwood trees in full bloom. Pink and white petals littered the ground beneath them, and a huge house in the distance looked like something from a fairy tale, surrounded by blossoming flowers and plants.

Friday leaned out the open window and gaped at the sight of the trees. The blue sky above made an incredible backdrop, as did the green pasture on either side of the dogwoods. It was a beautiful thing to behold and a sight he'd long remember. He understood now why Molly and Sadie talked about Dogwood Corners with a hint of awe in their voices. It was unlike any place he'd ever seen.

"The trees were a little late blooming this year," Marnie said, turning and looking over the seat at them. "I think they wanted to put on a show to welcome you home, Harley John."

"I'm glad they did," Harley John said, then glanced over at Friday. "Welcome to Dogwood Corners."

"It's incredible," Friday said, his gaze once again focused on the trees.

"We'll drive up to the house and turn around," Lars said as he put the car in motion. He kept the speed to a sedate pace, then turned in front of the magnificent home that looked like someone had picked it up from a place in the deep South and set it down in Pendleton. From the outside, it appeared welcoming, even though it was as fancy as some of the chateaux they'd seen in France.

Friday gave the house and the well-tended grounds around it another glance, then took in the trees as they made their way down the lane and again turned onto the road.

"Thank you so much for bringing us out to see that. It would almost be worth missing the train," Harley John said with a grin.

"You won't miss the train, but we just had to show you the blossoms. You always enjoyed seeing them when you were younger." Marnie smiled over her shoulder at them.

"That's one of the prettiest things I've seen," Friday said, speaking the truth. His mother and sisters would be thrilled to listen to his description of the trees and the beauty of the place. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

"Of course, Corporal Fitzpatrick," Lars said as they neared Pendleton, once again traveling at a rapid speed.

"Please, call me Friday."

"We'll do that, Friday." As Lars looked back at him, Friday felt like squirming under his observant gaze.

In that moment, Friday realized Marnie and Lars knew about his feelings for Molly. He had a sudden appreciation for what his brothers-in-law had gone through with his parents when they'd expressed an interest in courting his sisters.

When Lars stopped the car near the train depot, Harley John leaned forward toward the front seat. "Don't be too hard on him," he said, then hopped out of the car. With a smirk at Friday, he walked off to where the aunties and uncles waited.

Friday swallowed hard and tried not to panic, uncertain of what Lars and Marnie wanted to say to him as they both turned and stared at him.

"Molly has mentioned the two of you have become close," Marnie said, her gaze holding his as she spoke. "We wanted to thank you, because your letters brought our girl so much happiness when she needed it most." She reached over the seat and held out a hand to Friday. He took it, and Marnie gave his fingers a warm squeeze.

"That was my pleasure, Mrs. Thorsen. Molly is an exceptional girl whom I greatly admire. Her letters were all that got me through some dark days. She has been an unexpected gift and a real blessing to me."

"Do you love her?" Lars asked. The man was intimidating enough without the deep scowl he currently sported.

"I do, sir. I told her that when we went to visit the girls right before we left." Friday thought this had to be the most awkward conversation of his life. He cleared his throat and looked Lars in the eye, though. "I didn't make any promises to her that day, other than to keep on loving her and looking forward to the day we can be together again. I do love Molly with all my heart, but I need to settle some things before I can ask Molly if she'll consider spending her future with me. I love your daughter, and I always will, but I think we'll both need some time to adjust to civilian life again without throwing marriage into the mix. When the time is right, though, I would very much like your permission to ask for Molly's hand in marriage."

Lars glared at him until Friday was sure the man might bore holes into his hide, then he slowly nodded his head.

"You have our permission," he finally said, glancing at Marnie, who eagerly nodded in agreement. "But I'll warn you just once, don't break her heart. Our Molly is one of the finest gals on this green old earth, and if you hurt her, I will hunt you down like a rabid dog. Understood?"

"Don't scare him half to death, sugar." Marnie slapped Lars on the arm, then turned to Friday. "What we mean to say is that we are so pleased you'd like to court Molly and will welcome you to the family when the time is right. Harley John and Molly both speak so highly of you, and from what we've seen and heard, you're a good man, Friday. We can't begin to imagine what the past year has been like for you and hope you'll take the time you need to get your mind and heart set in a place that allows you to step into a happy future."

"Thank you, Mrs. Thorsen and Mr. Thorsen. I would never, ever intentionally hurt Molly. I'm crazy about her and can't envision my future without her in it. I want to do everything right by her, even if it means spending a little time on my own to get things lined out straight."

"I think that is admirable, Friday, and easy to understand." Marnie patted him on the arm. "One more thing before we let you go. We plan to host a welcome home party for Molly and would love for you to attend."

"Thank you for inviting me, but I have a feeling Molly should spend some time with you all, with her family. She won't need me there in her way or as a distraction."

"That's wise of you, young man," Lars said, offering the barest hint of a smile. "But if you change your mind, I know Molly would want you to be there, and we do too. We'll let you know when the party is being held."

Friday nodded and opened the car door. "Thank you. And thank you for today. The sight of those dogwoods is something I'll never forget." He got out and opened the door for Marnie, offering her his hand.

"You're so welcome, sugar," she said, gracefully taking his hand.

Friday knew from Harley John's stories that Marnie only called people she was fond of suga r, and he felt he had been elevated to a whole new status with Molly's mother.

He shook hands with Lars, then made his way over to where Harley John stood with Molly's extended family. The aunts all gave Harley John, and even Friday, kisses on the cheek, and the men shook hands with them.

They were wrapping up their goodbyes when a young woman approached them, a baby in her arms, and whispered something to Harley John. He shook his head and whispered something back to her, tickled the baby beneath the chin, then gave Marnie one more hug.

Marnie kissed Harley John's cheek, then Lars pulled him into a big hug before they turned him loose. Caterina shoved a basket of food into his hands.

"Thank you, again, for your kindness and hospitality," Friday said, waving to the group.

Marnie gave him a hug and whispered in his ear, "Take care of yourself, Friday, and know you are always welcome here."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, tipping his hat to her, shaking Lars' hand one last time, then hurrying onto the train with Harley John.

They settled into their seats and looked out the window, waving to the people who had showered them with love and good food. The train pulled out of the station and had only traveled a few yards down the track when the aromas from their basket of food filled the car.

"How did you two rate the special attention?" Toby asked, looking over the seat from his position in front of them. "We had sandwiches, potato salad, pickles, bananas, cookies, and lemonade."

Harley John set the basket on the seat between him and Friday. "We had ravioli and lasagna, tender pork cutlets in a cream sauce with potato dumplings, sauteed vegetables, salad greens, fresh bread hot from the oven dipped in seasoned oil, chocolate cake, lemon meringue pie, ice cream, and sweet tea with ice."

Toby looked like he might start drooling at any moment.

Harley John took pity on him and fished one of Caterina's spice cookies from the basket and handed it to him.

"That's a pity cookie if I've ever seen one," Friday murmured when Toby turned back around in his seat to eat it.

"Better than no cookie," Harley John said with a grin. "Did Lars put the fear of his wrath in you over Molly?"

Friday wanted to deny that anything could scare him after surviving the Germans, but he wasn't a liar. "As a matter of fact, he did."

Harley John's grin broadened. "He mentioned he wanted a word with you. I told him to take it easy on you, since you're a good egg, but between being an overprotective father and a lawman, his idea of easy is closer to a ten-point interrogation." Harley John made a show of looking him over. "I don't see any bleeding wounds, though."

Friday smiled and relaxed in the seat. "No. No new wounds. Marnie is sure nice, though, just like you and Molly have said. She seems to really care about people."

"She does." Harley John studied him a moment. "You gonna tell me what you talked about?"

A shrug rode Friday's shoulders as the train gained speed. "They asked me what my intentions were. I gave them my answer. Lars threatened to shoot me like a rabid dog if I hurt Molly, and Marnie invited me to come to her welcome home party, whenever that turns out to be."

"And?" Harley John prompted. "What are your intentions? Molly is a sweet girl and deserves every happiness in the world. She's already had one rotten skunk break her heart. I'd sure hate if I had to hold you while Lars works you over for stepping in line as number two."

"I would never hurt her," Friday said quietly, but with enough anger in his tone that Harley John's eyes widened. "I love Molly. You know that. However, we're fresh back from the war, and I figure it's gonna take a little time to get used to civilian life again. Besides, I always thought I'd work with my father on our farm, but now I'm not so sure. Hank and Jack, and even Adam, when he takes a break from his attorney's office, have certainly enjoyed working with him, but I'm not sure they really need me. Until I get all that arranged in my head, I don't think it's fair to Molly to ask her to step right into the middle of it."

Harley John stared at him for a long moment, then held out a hand which Friday shook.

"What are we shaking on?" he asked when he released Harley John's hand.

"The fact that you really do love Molly and are using the sense the good Lord gave you instead of traipsing blindly down the path of love. If I didn't already have some plans in the works for when Sadie can finally return to Pendleton, I'd be tying myself in knots about making a home and a life for her. I understand it, Friday. I do. You're right in that we've got some things to work through before we're fit company on a daily basis for the Thorsen sisters. If you ever need my help or just someone to listen, you can talk to me anytime."

"Thanks, Johnny boy. I appreciate it." Friday fished a cookie from the basket and bit into it. He chewed a moment, then looked over at his friend. "Who was the girl with the baby?"

"That would be Sarah, one of the many things the Rawlings twins fought over. It appears one of them left more than a word of goodbye when they ran off to the war." Harley John sighed. "She was just asking if I'd seen or heard anything about them, which I haven't. I'd sure like to knock their heads together. As long as I've known them, Brett and Ben have been as wild as the wind in a March storm. I always thought Ben was the one who dove headfirst into trouble, and Brett followed along to make sure he didn't end up dead, but I'm starting to have my doubts. Neither of the boys have been in touch beyond a postcard their parents received last summer, but it was mailed in Paris and impossible for them to track. Kade and Caterina have all but given up hope of finding those two. Kade and Lars have both been writing letters to see if anyone can help locate the boys, but you saw how many were killed and left behind. Trying to find them could be next to impossible."

"Especially when they snuck into France. They weren't on any ship manifests, were they? Or assigned to a division?"

"Not that is known." Harley John glanced out the window, then at Friday. "For the sake of Kade and Caterina, though, I hope they hear something. Even if the news is the worst, at least they would know and could move on. It's the not knowing that eats a body alive from the inside out."

Friday nodded his head in agreement, then sent up a prayer for the Rawlings family. He hoped both boys were alive and well and would return home as soon as possible.

As they traveled toward Camp Lewis, Harley John and Friday discussed ideas for their futures and shared opinions. Friday valued his friend's insight and felt much better about his options by the time they finally arrived at the camp. They were greeted with coffee and hot doughnuts, fed a good meal, and given passes to the local theaters. The Wild West veterans had returned, and all were anxious to proceed home.

Although the process of being discharged wasn't quite as expedient as Friday and Harley John would have liked, they were soon on their way back to Oregon.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend the night at the farm with me?" Friday asked as he gathered his things and prepared to depart at the next stop to catch a train heading south to Dundee.

"I'd love to meet your folks and see the nut orchard, but I'm worried about my father. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't get back to him as soon as possible. Marnie said he wanted to join us for lunch the day the train stopped in Pendleton, but he's too weak to make it into town, and we didn't have enough time to go out to see him."

"I understand. Another time."

"Another time," Harley John echoed, then shook Friday's hand. "Think about coming for Molly's party. She'll want you to be there."

"I'll think about it. Tell everyone hello from me, and keep in touch." Friday squeezed Harley John's shoulder, then stood and hurried off the train.

He waved to Harley John as the train creaked into motion and continued heading east toward Pendleton. Friday bought a box of Cracker Jack and sat on a bench munching them while he waited for his train to arrive. He had just enough time to finish the treat and wash his hands before his train began boarding.

When he stepped onto the platform in Dundee, the town didn't look any different to him than it had when he'd left a year and a half earlier. He took a minute to gaze up and down the street, then strode down the steps. Walnut trees filled the hills on one side of the town, while Italian prune trees and hops covered the slopes of the other. Dryers that processed plums into sweet prunes and prepared hop cones for baking, medicines, and beer-making dotted the landscape.

Home. Friday was finally home. There had been moments when he was in the trenches or deep in fighting the Germans when he was sure he'd never see it again. But here he was, in the town where he was raised, so grateful to set foot on familiar soil he could have raised his hands and shouted hallelujah to the heavens.

Instead, he shifted the pack he carried and decided to head for the farm. He hadn't told his parents exactly when he'd arrive, wanting to surprise them. They knew he'd be home sometime this week, just not the exact day. It was only a mile to the farm, and Friday wouldn't mind the walk in the fresh spring air.

In truth, he was so anxious to see his family again, he could have eagerly run the whole way out to the farm, but he wanted to savor being back in Dundee, breathing in the aromas of this place he'd left when he was a starry-eyed lad and was returning as a man fully matured and grown. Besides, he had a shrapnel wound on his side that still bothered him from time to time, and he didn't see any point in aggravating it needlessly.

Harley John had nearly insisted he show the angry red sore to Sadie when they saw her, but three doctors had already poked around in it without any success toward healing. Whatever had pierced his skin had been beyond filthy, and it would just take a while for that poison to work out of his system.

Friday crossed the street and walked past the post office but only made it as far as the Dundee Womans Club building before an old woman everyone called Granny Swank stepped outside and waved to him.

"Is that you, Friday Fitzpatrick?" she called, holding a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun.

"It's me, Granny Swank. How are you doing?" he asked, smiling at her as he moved so he blocked the sun from her face. Behind her, he looked at the building that had been constructed a few years earlier and was ruled by the women who belonged to the club. The membership roster included his mother and three of his sisters. The club building had become the center of their community, hosting dances and events. There was even talk of holding the high school graduation there, or so his mother's last letter had stated.

"I'm dandy, Friday. I sure hate to bother you, honey, but could you come in and get something off a shelf? My daughter has threatened to glue my shoes to the floor if I climb up on another chair." Granny Swank latched on to his arm and tugged him toward the door.

"I'm happy to help, Granny Swank." Friday smiled down at the white bun bobbing on top of her head. As strong as her grip was on his arm, he had a feeling she could jump on a chair and dance a jig if she so chose.

She pushed him inside, and the room that had been quiet and still abruptly burst into a cacophony of sound. Horns were tooted, hands clapped, voices cheered, and streamers unfurled, covering him in paper curls of red, white, and blue.

If the familiar scent of the wax they used on the hardwood floor and the sight of familiar faces hadn't penetrated his head, he might have gone into fighting mode. As it was, before he could do more than blink and pluck a paper curl from his lip, his mother had wrapped him in a hug so tight he thought she might crack a rib. He was passed from her to his father, then his sisters and his brothers-in-law. His nieces and nephews crowded around, each one wanting attention, then people he'd known his whole life shook his hands, kissed his cheeks, patted his back, and welcomed him home.

"How did you know I was coming today?" he asked his father when the volume in the building decreased to a tolerable level as everyone settled down to partake of a potluck supper.

"Harley John sent a telegram yesterday. I think he knew you'd try and sneak in without being seen."

"He wouldn't have been wrong," Friday said with a grin, then helped himself to another serving of baked ham and cheesy potatoes.

"Everyone is so proud of you, son. So proud of your bravery and so happy you came home." His father patted him on the back, his eyes misty before he glanced down at his plate. "I'm proud of you for going when I know how much you didn't want to."

"Thanks, Pa. It wasn't an easy thing to do, and I wouldn't wish my experiences on anyone, but I feel like I'm one of the lucky ones. I made it home. Alive. In one piece. There's an awful lot of fellas who have more than a few scars to deal with."

"I reckon you all have scars on your hearts and souls that need time to heal," his father said quietly, with wisdom.

Friday nodded and took a big bite of his food. As he sat surrounded by people who'd known him since he was born, instead of relaxing, he experienced an antsy feeling, like he was waiting on something, missing something, or someone.

A vision of Molly filled his mind. She had bravely waved to him as he and Harley John had boarded the train and returned to camp just before they'd boarded the ship to sail home. She'd had tears in her eyes but a big smile on her face as she and Sadie stood with their arms linked, supporting each other. He thought those two women were among the bravest he'd ever met.

He wondered if Molly was safe. He tried to calculate the time difference and concluded it was likely the middle of the night there. How he longed to see her again. To hold her close. To tell her he loved her and hear her whisper those sweet words in his ear.

Someday.

Friday drew in a deep breath, smiled at the man who had been his father's closest friend as long as he could remember, and rejoined the conversation.

Later that evening, he asked his parents to let him out of the wagon at the end of their lane. He needed the quiet after the boisterous party in town, and he wanted to meander toward the house, taking in the sight of it a little at a time. His father seemed to understand and gave his mother a quieting look when she began to protest.

Friday's sister January had stayed in town and would catch a ride home later.

With his hands tucked into his pockets, Friday meandered up the lane, drawing in deep lungfuls of the air and feasting on the sight of the land of his birth. The land where he'd run and played then labored and toiled. It was a pretty little farm, with their farmhouse painted a soft shade of green that blended into the surrounding hills. The trim on the house had been painted recently, the white standing out in contrast, giving the house a fresh appearance.

Already, flowers bloomed in the beds around the porch and along the front fence.

A dog barked, and Friday grinned, realizing he had all but forgotten about their old pooch, Zeb. Friday whistled for the dog, and the barking changed. He saw the furry mutt racing toward him and dropped down to one knee.

Zeb woofed and wagged his backside, licking Friday's face in welcome. Friday scratched the dog behind his ears and along his back, then gave him a hug, grateful all over again to have survived the trauma of war and returned home.

With the dog nearly glued to his side, Friday jogged the rest of the way to the house and stood on the front walk, staring at the screen door. How many times had he closed his eyes and pictured the home of his childhood, recalling all the best memories from his youth. A spicy fragrance hung in the air from the cinnamon pink flowers blooming near the porch and also from something his mother had baked that day.

At the potluck, there had been walnut pie, walnut and date loaf, walnut coffee cake, toffee walnuts, walnut bars, and even Granny Swank's walnut fudge. The thing Friday had most been looking forward to was his mother's buttery cookies with a walnut filling. They were too delicate to ship, so it had been more than a year and a half since he'd tasted them. The absence of them at the potluck had disappointed him.

He could smell them now, though. Since the war, he felt as though his senses had heightened, his nose in particular. Some aromas were now incredibly overpowering that had never bothered him before. Others he'd never noticed previously had become quite intriguing.

Thoughts of scents again brought Molly to mind. The fragrance of her was so feminine and soft, but fresh and flowery. He had no idea if it were a perfume or just Molly, but that particular scent was ingrained in his mind and would be forever connected to her.

Friday walked up the porch steps and into the house, making his way down the hall to the kitchen, where he could hear his parents' voices blending in conversation.

"Hello, sweetheart. Would you like some milk and cookies?" his mother asked, already reaching for a glass from the cabinet near the sink.

"Would I ever, Ma. You can't begin to know how much I missed fresh milk. Did I tell you about cutting hay for a toothless old woman in trade for some milk?" he asked as he washed his hands, then took a seat at the big kitchen table.

"I don't think you did share that with us, Friday," his father said, rising from his seat at the table to refill his coffee cup. "When did that take place?"

Friday shared the story with them of cutting the hay with Toby, Aaron, and Blake, and then milking the cow before they headed off to Belgium to fight.

His parents asked questions about the landscape and farms he'd seen in France and Belgium, and he happily shared those details with them as he ate his fill of walnut cookies.

The back door slammed shut, and Friday jumped to his feet, startled by the sound.

His father put a hand on his arm. "It's just January. You know she can't quietly go anywhere."

"Nope. She was always full steam ahead," Friday said, unsettled as he set the chair upright that he'd knocked over and resumed his seat.

January was talking at full speed as she entered the kitchen. She hugged Friday around the neck without taking a breath and only stopped chattering like a magpie when she took a bite of cookie. The noise grated on Friday's ears until he wanted to clamp a hand over his sister's mouth.

"I think I'll get ready to turn in. Should I sleep in my old room?" he asked, rising from the table and catching his parents giving each other concerned glances.

"Yes, Friday. Your room is just how you left it, except clean," his mother said, reaching up to pat his cheek with a warm smile. "Before you go to bed, you might like to open the door across the hall there." She pointed to the doorway into the hall.

Friday had noticed a new door in the hallway by the back door. He walked over to it, turned the knob, and pushed it open. Inside was a bathroom, complete with a bathtub. His jaw dropped, and he turned to gape at his parents. "When did you do this?"

"Last fall. We wanted to surprise you when you came home. Surprise!" January threw her hands in the air and laughed as though she had waved a magic wand and fairies had installed the bathroom.

For the first time in his life, Friday saw his younger sister as she was. Spoiled. Indulged. Frivolous. Absorbed with herself. Annoyance flared, but he tamped it down. It wasn't entirely January's fault she was the way she was. All of them, Friday included, had contributed to the end product that stood before him in a dress that was far too fancy for a girl from the farm and likely cost more than anything his mother had ever owned.

"It is a surprise, a grand one at that," Friday said, smiling at his mother, then his father. "What a wonderful thing to come home to."

"Go on, son. Take a bath before you turn in for bed. It will make you sleep better," his mother said, then proceeded to step into the bathroom that shone with glistening white tile. There was a pedestal sink with an oval mirror above it, and a medicine cabinet on the wall by it that hung above a long towel rack. The bathtub, one that was both long and deep, was on the opposite wall, and at the end of that was the toilet. A white ladderback chair stood in the corner, and shelves on the far wall held fluffy white towels.

"It's wonderful, Ma," Friday said, then kissed her cheek. She showed him how to turn on the water to fill the tub and use the shower nozzle mounted high on the wall above it. There was a pale-yellow shower curtain on rings that slid around an oval bar mounted to the ceiling to keep water from splashing everywhere.

While a long soak in the tub sounded good to Friday, he decided a shower would suffice for tonight. He was weary, and despite how happy he was to be at home, he needed time to himself.

"Thanks, Ma and Pa. I'm sure glad to be here." He hugged them both, then went up to his room. His father had set Friday's pack on the floor just inside the door. There was nothing in it he needed. He went to the chest of drawers beneath the window, pulled out a pair of pajamas, then wondered if they'd still fit. In the time he'd been gone, his body had been honed into a machine of war. He didn't have an ounce of fat on him. His shoulders and chest had broadened, while his waist had narrowed. His thighs were heavily muscled, as were his calves, thanks to miles and miles of marching.

He took the pajamas downstairs to the bathroom, removed his uniform, and enjoyed the warm water coming from the showerhead above him. Using a bar of pure Ivory soap, he lathered himself twice before he felt really clean, then stood beneath the spray of water until it shifted from comfortably hot to lukewarm. He dried off with one of the soft towels that smelled of sunshine, brushed his teeth and combed his hair, then pulled on his pajama bottoms. The legs were a little tight, but he could make do. He couldn't begin to get his arms in the sleeves of the top, though. He didn't need it anyway.

There was a hamper near the chair in the corner, so he stuffed his dirty clothes inside it, then hurried upstairs to his room.

He pushed open the window to let in the fresh evening air, turned out his light, and settled in the bed, hands behind his head. As he gazed out at the stars, he whispered a prayer of thanks for a safe journey home and a prayer for those still abroad, hoping they made it safely back to their loved ones.

"Be well and safe, Molly girl, wherever you are," he whispered, then fell into an exhausted sleep.