Epilogue

September 2024

Pendleton, Oregon

"W hat's that one, Grandpa?" Little fingers stretched upward, pointing to a shadow box holding remnants of memories from more than a century ago.

"A Purple Heart." Fagin Fitzpatrick lifted his granddaughter and held her so she could study each item on display.

"Tell me again, Grandpa. Please?"

"Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, a girl named Molly …"

The child giggled. "That's my name!"

"Yes, it is. You look so much like her, from the color of your hair, to that cute little dimple in your cheek." Fagin studied the large shadow box mounted in the center of the living room wall of the house Molly and Friday had built back in 1920. The house that was now Fagin's. It was a home filled with laughter, love, and so many memories of the couple who started a legacy that had been passed into Fagin's keeping.

"Molly was a brave girl. She was, as Friday often told her, impressive, intelligent, inspiring, courageous, beautiful, and brave. Molly took an oath to serve her country with loyalty and honor, and she did. She was one of the women who operated the switchboards, which is how you made a phone call during the first World War. Molly got shrapnel in her hand from an explosion, but she kept right on working during her shift."

"Is that the sharpsnell there, Grandpa?" the child asked, pointing to a ragged shard of metal in the shadow box.

"Shrapnel. It sure is, baby girl." Fagin pointed to the medals on display. "Those belonged to Molly and Friday. They both had Victory medals because the good guys won over the bad guys. Friday got that medal for bravery, and Molly got that one for her distinguished, that means excellent, service."

"What about that one, Grandpa?" The little fingers pointed to a photo next to the shadow box of a slender woman in uniform leading a parade, with two men and a woman in uniform directly behind her.

"That's Molly leading the parade in 1919. Friday is behind her on the right, and Harley John and Sadie are with them."

"And they were their friends."

"That's right." Fagin hoisted his granddaughter up a little higher. "Sadie and Harley John were good friends with Molly and Friday their whole lives."

"Friends are nice, aren't they, Grandpa?"

"They sure are, baby girl."

"Are those flowers?" The fingers pointed to dried flowers in the shadow box that had faded over a century.

Fagin nodded. "Molly kept those in her journal for a long time. The dogwood blossom is from the trees that bloom at Dogwood Corners."

"Where Mallory lives!"

"Yep. Mallory and the Thorsen family live there."

"What's the other flowers?"

Fagin smiled. "The white one is a daisy, given to Molly by her friends. The other one is a poppy that Friday gave her in France."

"Then Molly came home, and she wrote a book."

"That's exactly right. She wrote about her experiences and inspired many young women to follow their dreams. Molly also wrote about the Army refusing to acknowledge that she and the other girls had served in the military. Several of the Hello Girls spent sixty years trying to get the recognition they deserved before they were finally told that they had served in the Army and got their discharge papers."

"That's a long time," the little one said with the wisdom of a five-year-old. "How did you know Molly and Friday, Grandpa?"

"Because they were my great-grandparents. I used to come here, to this very house, after school, and they would tell me stories and teach me about the past. Friday always said if we don't learn the past, we're going to be stuck repeating it. He didn't want anyone to have to go through what he did in the war."

"Was Molly famous?" the child asked, pointing to a framed newspaper clipping with a photograph of Molly in her uniform, taken right before she'd left for France.

"Not like celebrities of today. But she was known by many people for being a champion of those who needed a voice. She was a wonderful person. Both of them were. I'll always be so grateful I got to spend time with them when I was your age."

"I wish I could meet them, Grandpa. I'd bring Molly a flower. A blue one. That was her favorite color. I'd give Friday cookies, with nuts!"

Fagin nodded as they looked at the dozens of photos and memorabilia on the walls. Photos of Molly and Friday with their blue Hudson. Photos of them standing on the porch of their new house. Photos of them with their son and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Photos of a long, rich life lived with love and humility, honor and hope.

"That's you, Grandpa!" The tiny fingers pointed to a photo of Fagin as he sat between Molly and Friday at a museum exhibit dedicated to the Hello Girls. It had been a long trip, but his father had taken them. It was an evening Fagin would never forget when he got to meet half a dozen of his great-grandmother's friends who had served with her in France. Molly had worn the necklace her aunt Delphine had given her, along with the bracelet she'd found in her mum's things. Fagin had the jewelry in a safe deposit box, waiting for the day when the child in his arms was grown up. He'd give her the jewels, the French poetry book from the 1700s, and all the treasures that he'd spent his lifetime preserving because they kept Molly and Friday close to his heart.

"That is me, Molly girl. That was a long time ago. There are so many things I wished I'd said to them before they were gone."

"Like what?"

Fagin observed the girl in his arms who looked so much like her namesake but had Friday's easy smile. "I'd thank them for being brave and good and true. For giving us a wonderful example to follow. For believing in love and living in faith every day. They were amazing people, Molly, and I'm happy I get to share them with you through the stories and photographs and cherished memories and treasures they left behind."

"Like my dollhouse from Molly!" Little arms wrapped around his neck, and a sweet, sticky kiss pressed against his cheek. "I'm glad you share Molly and Friday with me, Grandpa. Can we have ice cream now? I like chocolate best."

"Yes, you do. Just like Molly." Fagin chuckled and headed for the kitchen.

"Can we have Friday's cookies too?"

"We can. Your grandma baked a batch of them this morning," Fagin said, setting Molly at the table as he prepared two small bowls with ice cream and added a chocolate chip cookie loaded with walnuts grown right there on their Century Farm from the trees Friday had planted years ago.

Fagin settled in the chair next to Molly, and they both held up a spoon of ice cream, toasting each other before taking a bite.

"Grandpa, will you tell me the story again? From the start?"

Fagin nodded. "It started when Molly saw an advertisement asking for women to apply to become the first female telephone operators in the Signal Corps. She knew she had to apply and was soon accepted."

"Then what happened?" the little one asked, eyes wide with interest.

Fagin smiled, remembering when he'd sat at that very table and listened to Molly and Friday share their story. "Molly went to war …"