Chapter Three

"M olly, time for your lunch break," Marie said, stopping to stand behind Molly's chair as she disconnected a call that had finished.

"I'll hurry," Molly said, removing her headset and standing. It felt good to move from her seated position. She looked forward to the walk back to the house where Elodie would have sandwiches ready to be eaten quickly. The girls took turns for breaks, one at a time, and it worked well. It meant the switchboard wasn't horribly understaffed at any one time, and it gave all of them a chance to stretch their legs and get a little fresh air.

Molly had been in the marvelous little village for three weeks. In that time, she'd learned not only about French telephone systems and operators but also about the French people and military installations. As best as anyone could, she had adjusted to life as a member of the Signal Corps. When she'd signed on to be a telephone operator with the AEF, she'd expected to live in a tent or a rough barrack. The beautiful house where she and the other girls resided felt quite posh, even if the bathtub heater was a bit primitive. At least they had running water and indoor plumbing.

The work Molly was doing was important and purposeful and made her feel like she was doing her part to assist in the war effort. She didn't regret coming to France. Not at all.

Other than a few minutes of homesickness when she had time to miss her loved ones, she felt as though she was exactly where she was meant to be.

"Do you mind bringing back my lunch, Molly?" Marie asked as she slid onto an empty chair at the switchboard. "I won't take time off today. We seem to be busier than usual."

"Sure. I won't take long."

"Take as long as you need," Marie said, then answered an incoming call.

Molly left their building at a trot and ran back to the house. The day was sunny and hot. How she wished she could kick off her shoes, roll down her stockings, and wade in one of the streams in the cool shade of one of the big old trees that dotted the landscape.

Instead, she hastened her pace and dashed around the house, entering through the back door directly into the kitchen. Elodie wasn't in the kitchen, but Molly could hear her footsteps above her in one of the bedrooms. She was likely upstairs, cleaning.

After using the bathroom and washing up, Molly stood over the sink to eat a sandwich and drink a glass of lemonade that was more warm than cold but tasted refreshing. She gobbled up two of the oatmeal cookies her parents had sent in a care package that had arrived the previous day. The box contained much-welcomed letters, cookies, toothpaste, lotion, and some dainty underthings that Molly appreciated since her uniform was very tailored and plain. She felt almost decadent wearing the lacy undergarments, but there weren't any regulations against it that she'd read or heard.

She'd left the large tin of cookies in the kitchen for everyone to enjoy. The girls had all been generous about sharing treats, but the one who seemed to enjoy them most was Elodie, who found the American cookies so different than those she prepared. Molly had given her the recipe this morning for the oatmeal cookies.

Molly brushed the crumbs from her face, washed her hands, and was just wrapping a sandwich and cookies in a napkin for Marie when Elodie breezed into the kitchen, her arms full of clean towels.

"It's towel day," Molly said in French, smiling at the woman who had fast become a friend. There was far too much laundry for Elodie to see to it all in one day, so she washed different things on different days.

"Yes," Elodie answered in English. She seemed determined to learn to speak the language, even if she still struggled with many words. "Towel day."

"Lunch was delicious. Thank you for the sandwich and lemonade," Molly said, pulling on her cap but wishing she could leave it off.

"You are welcome." Elodie smiled as she put the dish towels away, then glanced at the napkin bundle Molly picked up. "Marie is not coming?"

"No. She's working straight through again."

Elodie threw up her hands in the air and muttered something in French. She handed Molly a fresh apricot. "Give this to her."

"I will, Elodie. Thank you."

Molly rushed outside and was humming a rousing rendition of "Over There" as she made her way back to the switchboard office when she heard a piercing, whining noise. An explosion kicked up dirt and made the earth beneath her feet quake.

At first, Molly froze in place, unable to comprehend their camp was under attack. Then she launched into a full-out run toward the switchboard office. She was nearly there when she heard men shouting. One moment she was closing the distance to the building. The next she was knocked off her feet and onto her side.

Ears ringing, she sat up, concluded her limbs were all still attached, and got to her feet.

By that time, one of the Signal Corps captains was racing toward her, but Molly's sole focus was on returning to the switchboard office. She placed one foot in front of the other, gaining speed with each step until she made it to the building. It wasn't until she reached out to open the door that she realized a piece of shrapnel was embedded in her hand in the soft webbing between her thumb and forefinger.

Ignoring it, Molly opened the door and stepped inside. The women were calmly answering a rising flurry of calls. Without a thought to her injuries, Molly dropped Marie's lunch, which was worse for wear, on the woman's desk by the door, then hurried to take her place at the switchboard. She pulled the shrapnel from her hand, wrapped the wound with her handkerchief, and got to work.

The captain grabbed one of the headsets and joined them in transferring the flurry of incoming calls.

As she worked, Molly bled through her handkerchief and those that Helen and Alice passed to her.

Two more blasts rocked the camp and their building, but Molly was proud everyone around her did their jobs as though it were a normal, peaceful afternoon.

More than an hour passed before the onslaught of incoming calls lessened. Ten more minutes had passed when Molly felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at the captain.

"You're a brave one, Miss Thorsen, but let's get that hand looked at. Are you injured elsewhere?"

Molly shook her head. Her head hurt from being thrown into the dirt, and her side ached with what was likely a cracked rib or two, but they would heal. "I'm fine, sir."

The captain smiled. "Not quite, but we'll get you there." He motioned for her to stand, and she did, feeling a bit woozy. He cupped her elbow and looked at Marie. "Are the rest of you well and unharmed?"

"Yes, sir. Molly was the only one on break."

The captain nodded, then walked Molly to the door. "I'll return shortly."

Molly had never been to the medical tent at camp, but the captain took her directly there and left her with a doctor. Thankfully, the wounds others had sustained were limited to a few people who'd been hit with shrapnel, but nothing too serious.

The doctor cleansed Molly's wound and stitched it closed, wrapped a bandage around her hand, and stood back studying her. "Were you hurt anywhere else, Miss Thorsen?"

"No, sir. I don't believe so. To tell you the truth, I'm still a little rattled."

The doctor grinned. "I imagine you are. If you feel pain anywhere, just come see me. Be sure to change that bandage daily and keep the wound clean. Are you right-handed?"

"Yes, sir, so it's a good thing it hit my left hand." Molly stood and waited a moment as a woozy feeling settled over her then quickly passed.

"It might be best if you rested awhile, Miss Thorsen," the doctor suggested.

Molly shook her head. "No. I need to get back to work. The calls are flying in, and they need all the help they can get. Thank you, doctor."

"Anytime, Miss Thorsen." The doctor walked her out of the tent. Molly pasted on a smile for the soldiers who gaped at her like she was an attraction at a circus. She was a mess, with her clothes dusty from being knocked to the street. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks and neck with sweat, and her shirtwaist, which had been crisp and white that morning, was now streaked with dirt and blood.

Even so, the men who politely greeted her made her feel like royalty, or at least a girl they found pretty, which struck Molly as amusing despite the circumstances. In fact, when she returned to the switchboard office, she had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing as she thought about her preposterous ideas of how the doughboys viewed her. Maybe when she'd hit her head on the ground, it had addled her mind.

That thought sobered her quickly, but rather than give it more concern, she resumed her position at the switchboard.

The captain stayed with them through the rest of their shift, keeping an eye on them all. Molly felt his gaze resting on her several times and wondered if she was about to get into trouble. Maybe the Signal Corps preferred members of the unit not bleed all over the switchboard. Molly had planned to clean up any blood she'd left behind, but all traces of it were gone when she returned to the switchboard from the medical tent.

When their shift finally concluded, and the men appeared to take over for the night shift, Molly felt like she'd been working for days without rest.

"Sorry about your lunch," she said to Marie as they trudged back to the house.

"The sandwich was smashed but edible. I'm mostly sorry about the cookies being crumbled beyond hope. Such a waste of a fine treat." Marie placed a hand on Molly's arm. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. The doctor stitched up my hand and told me to change the bandage daily. I can still work with it."

Marie rolled her eyes. "Obviously. Gosh, Molly, I sure admire your dedication to the job, but you certainly didn't have to sit there and practically bleed to death. It would have been fine if you had gone to the medical tent sooner."

"I didn't want to leave you shorthanded."

"Thank you." Marie opened the door, and they walked inside. After everyone washed up for the meal, Molly excused herself from dinner and took a bath, wishing she had the energy to wash her uniform. She went upstairs to her room and found a tray there with slices of cold ham and cheese, a boiled egg, two fresh apricots, and a bowl of chocolate pudding. She ate every bite before climbing into bed and falling asleep.

The next morning, she awakened early, planning to see what could be done to clean her uniform, but it had been laundered, pressed, and left ready for her to wear.

Overcome with gratitude for the girls who took such good care of her and each other, she got teary-eyed as she sent up a prayer of thanks for them and for God's keeping during the bombardment the previous afternoon. A few nonfatal wounds that would heal were nothing compared to the carnage that would have taken place if the Germans had better aim when they were firing their big shells at the camp.

Molly hurried to dress, then went down to the bathroom where she removed the bandage on her hand, applied ointment that her mother had sent in case of a wound, then wound it with a clean bandage. Most of the girls who were experienced telephone operators could plug and unplug a cord with two fingers, making them capable of handling four at a time if necessary. Molly was glad she had that ability because it meant she could favor her thumb and forefinger while continuing to work with her left hand.

When she returned upstairs to put her roll of bandages and ointment away, Helen was up and dressed.

"Do you know anything about my clean uniform?" Molly asked as they made their way downstairs.

Helen grinned. "The fairies washed and pressed it for you."

"Sure they did," Molly said with a smile. "Thank you."

"We all felt so bad about what happened to you, Molly. It could have been any of us, but I don't think I could have sat there and worked like you did. I'm not particularly fond of the sight of blood."

Molly gave her a teasing bump with her elbow. "And here you are in the war, Helen. You might have to get used to it."

"Probably, but today isn't that day. Anyway, Alice and I were happy to help with your uniform. I wouldn't have wanted to wear it all dusty, and I'm sure you didn't either. Elodie scrubbed your shirt and the handkerchiefs. I don't know what kind of miracles she worked, but they came out sparkling clean."

"Oh, that's great news. It's bad enough to ruin my own handkerchief, but I hated to spoil yours and Alice's."

Helen shrugged as she got in line to use the bathroom, and Molly made her way to the kitchen.

Breakfast was a lively affair as the women discussed the previous afternoon's events. Molly felt they painted her in a light far too heroic. If she hadn't been dazed from what had happened, she might not have sat at the switchboard bleeding everywhere instead of going to get the wound stitched first. Molly poked fun at herself, making them all laugh. They were still chuckling as they headed out for their shift, but they all grew somber when the captain hurried in their direction.

"Miss Thorsen, I'd like a word with you, please," he said stiffly.

Molly had visions of being reprimanded and sent to Paris, or even shipped back home, but she hoped that wasn't the case.

She squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and met the man's gaze. "Yes, sir."

"Follow me," he said, leading the way to a building that housed several offices. He waited until she was seated in a chair across from his desk to step around it and take a seat. He opened a file, then studied her for a moment.

Under his scrutiny, Molly fought the urge to fidget, but held perfectly still with her back straight and posture erect.

"Miss Thorsen, I've noticed since you've joined us that you have been unwavering in your duties. You're loyal and responsible, and if I'm not mistaken, you are accustomed to taking charge. I see from your file that you've managed a telephone office for several years."

"Yes, sir." Molly knew she had a tendency to be bossy. After all, Sadie had dubbed her "bossy britches" years ago. However, Molly had done her best to curtail her take-charge tendencies since joining the Signal Corps. She wasn't a supervisor, and it wasn't her job to tell others what to do. However, she had been called upon a few times to help instruct some of the women who were new to the business of being telephone operators, recruited for their intelligence and flawless French.

The captain nodded his head as he glanced through her file. "I was most impressed with you yesterday, Miss Thorsen. From what I observed, your first and only thought was to serve at your post, regardless of your wound. The Army could use more men with your fortitude, but don't repeat that."

Molly tamped down an urge to grin and instead somberly nodded her head. "I wouldn't, sir."

"I know you wouldn't, Miss Thorsen, which is why I'm recommending you for a new assignment. All of you women seem to have nerves of steel under fire, but to see you work so unflinchingly and unflaggingly with a wound in your hand that had to hurt like the dickens assured me of what I'd already assumed. You'd do well closer to the front lines, Miss Thorsen. Would you be willing to move?"

"Of course, sir. Wherever I'm needed is where I'll serve." Molly felt excitement course through her at the prospect of helping closer to the front. She knew she would likely not have the lovely accommodations she'd been enjoying, but the opportunity to be of greater assistance made her almost giddy.

"That's what I'd hoped you would say. I'll make arrangements for your transfer and let you know the details. I should think I can have you on a train there the day after tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir." Molly felt challenged to keep her voice modulated and professional when she wanted to squeal with joy.

"Also, Miss Thorsen, for future reference, if you sustain a wound, please seek medical treatment immediately. I appreciate what you did yesterday more than you can know, but if you intend to be a help to others, you have to first make sure you are not incapacitated. I spoke with the doctor earlier. He said he stitched your wound, and it should be fine in a week or two."

"Yes, sir. I have orders to change the bandage daily." Surely, the captain didn't care about that, but she had no idea where the conversation was leading.

"I think it might be wise to assemble a box of medical supplies for each switchboard office, in case of emergency. I'll have one put together you can take with you to your new assignment."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

The captain stood, and Molly rose to her feet. He motioned for her to precede him out his door. "I'll be in touch, Miss Thorsen, when I have your travel information in hand."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate the opportunity."

"You're welcome, Miss Thorsen. Thank you for your dedicated service."

Molly nodded, then hurried to the switchboard. She so badly wanted to share her news with her friends but refrained. It wasn't until that evening when she and Helen had retired for the evening to their room, and Molly sat at the little desk by the window writing letters that she felt Helen watching her. She glanced over her shoulder as Helen sat on her bed reading a book she'd borrowed from one of the other girls.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Helen asked softly.

Molly nodded. "Yes. The captain is giving me a new assignment. He may have the travel arrangements in place as early as the day after tomorrow."

Helen set the book aside and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her upraised knees. "We'll sure miss you, Molly. I've so enjoyed having you as a roommate."

Molly stood and walked across the room, taking a seat beside Helen. "We'll keep in touch. If nothing else, I'll telephone one day out of the blue just to say hello."

Helen grinned. "Now, wouldn't that be fun. I hope you'll take care of yourself, Molly."

"I hope you'll do the same, Helen. I truly shall miss everyone here. I'm so grateful I had the chance to work with you, and share a room with you."

Helen nodded, then shrugged. "Who knows? The way they pass out new assignments around here, we could be back at the same switchboard before we know it."

"That's true. We'll hope for that." Molly gave Helen a hug, then returned to her letters, hurrying to finish one to her parents and sister. She'd learned Sadie's beau was now in France and prayed Harley John would be safe.

Molly was kept busy the following day with calls that didn't seem to end nor even ebb until just before the men came to take over for the evening shift. The captain arrived just as Molly was ready to walk home and handed her an envelope, letting her know she would need to board the morning train heading north.

"Thank you, sir."

The captain gave her one of his studying glances. "Be safe, Miss Thorsen, and best wishes." With that, he walked off.

Molly hurried back to the house and pulled Marie aside.

"I'm sure the captain has made you aware, but he's transferring me to a new assignment. I'll leave tomorrow."

Marie smiled and patted Molly on the back. "He mentioned that this afternoon when I took a break for lunch. He promised to find a good replacement for you, Molly, which will be difficult. You're one of the best operators I've ever worked with."

"I feel the same about you, Marie. Thank you." Molly gave the woman a hug. "I hope you aren't down an operator for too long."

"We shouldn't be. I heard the fifth unit should be arriving in a few weeks. We'll make do," Marie said, offering Molly an encouraging look. "Just be safe. If you get hit with a hail of shrapnel from another Big Bertha belch, go directly to a doctor."

Molly grinned. "That's basically what the captain and the doctor told me. I have my marching orders on the subject and intend to follow them to the letter."

"Good girl. Now, let's go eat!"

Dinner was a lively affair. Marie must have mentioned to Elodie as well as the other girls about Molly's impending departure. Elodie had made roasted chicken, which was one of Molly's favorite things, as well as a custard cake loaded with dates and raisins for dessert.

Molly smiled at Elodie as the woman gave her a second helping of the cake. "I shall greatly miss your wonderful cooking, Elodie. Thank you for feeding us so well."

"My pleasure, Molly," the woman said in English. "You shall be missed."

"Yes, we'll all miss you, Molly!" Alice said, then held up her nearly empty glass of lemonade. "To mighty Molly, may she conquer every foe and answer many calls!"

Molly laughed along with the rest of them, her heart full of cheer and kinship.

After dinner, she took a bath, washed her hair, then washed her dirty clothes. Heaven only knew what the conditions of her new assignment might be like, and she didn't intend to take for granted she'd have similar accommodations closer to the front. While her clothes dried, she joined the other women in the sitting room and listened as Alice played the piano. They sang along on a few songs before Molly heated up irons in the kitchen and pressed the wrinkles from her uniform and blouses. Thankfully, with the summer heat, it hadn't taken long for the damp clothes to dry.

Up in her room, she packed everything she wouldn't need in the morning and stowed the piece of shrapnel she'd pulled from her hand in an envelope so she wouldn't lose it.

Helen had been asleep for more than an hour when Molly finally allowed herself to sleep.

The next morning, she thought she heard whispers and opened her eyes to see a bouquet of flowers held in front of her face. She blinked, then scooted back as Alice, Helen, and Marie smiled at her.

"We picked these for you. We know you can't take them with you, but you can enjoy them until you leave." Helen set the bouquet, which was arranged in a canning jar, on Molly's bedside table.

"That's so kind of you. I don't think there would be any harm in taking one blossom with me." Molly smiled at the flowers, then her friends. "Daisies are my absolute favorite flowers."

"How lovely," Marie said, then clapped her hands. "Elodie made a special breakfast. Hurry down and join us."

At first, Molly thought she'd overslept, but a glance at her watch assured her everyone had risen earlier than usual.

She rushed to dress, pulling on a blue shirtwaist instead of a white one, hoping it wouldn't wilt as quickly in the heat and show the dirt she was sure to encounter throughout the day. After rolling back the sides of her hair and pinning it in a low bun near the nape of her neck, she scurried downstairs and joined her friends for breakfast.

They dined on savory sausages, fried potatoes, and slices of bread Elodie had dipped in a sweetened egg batter and fried until they were crisp. She served the toasted bread with apricot jam.

"This is delicious, Elodie. What a wonderful meal," Molly said, grateful for the grand sendoff and for the women who had become so dear to her. After they ate, Molly hugged each one of them and wished them well. Alice and Helen were the last to bid her farewell before they left for their shift.

Molly dashed upstairs and gathered her things, read the assignment instructions again to make sure she hadn't missed anything, and started to leave the room. She stopped and pulled a single daisy stem from the bouquet, carefully set it in her bag wrapped in a handkerchief, then returned downstairs. Nerves skittered through her stomach, making her wish she'd skipped breakfast despite how good it had tasted.

After Molly made one last visit to the bathroom, she walked into the kitchen. Elodie gave her a tight hug and kissed both of her cheeks. "Be safe, Molly. Write when you have time. And if you happen upon my husband, tell him I miss him more than the stars miss the moon."

"I will do that, Elodie. You be well and safe, my friend." They hugged one last time, then Elodie handed Molly a tin.

"What's this?" Molly asked, lifting the lid.

"You don't know what awaits you," Elodie spoke in French.

Molly glanced at the sandwiches, cookies, and fresh apricots. It was more than enough to carry her through today and even tomorrow if she needed to make the food stretch.

"Thank you so much, Elodie." She smiled and settled her straw hat on her head, pinning it in place, picked up her bag and the tin of food, then waved to Elodie as she opened the door. "Goodbye."

" Au revoir, mon amie."

Molly closed the door before Elodie saw the tears in her eyes that threatened to spill down her cheeks. Despite her eagerness to get closer to the front and serve in what she felt would be a more vital capacity, Molly would miss this beautiful village and the sweet friends she'd made here.

She walked to the train depot and only had to wait a quarter of an hour before the train arrived. Without delay, she boarded and was soon on her way to her next assignment.

When she arrived at a camp near the front lines, she could feel the danger and despair in the air. The sound of fighting in the distance made her want to cringe, but she lifted her chin, straightened her spine, and reported for duty.

The captain had sent along a box of medical supplies Molly gave to the supervisor in charge of the switchboard. The nervous woman appeared to be on the verge of flying apart.

Rather than urge Louise, her supervisor, to take a moment to compose herself, Molly took her place at the switchboard and worked until men came to relieve them for the evening.

"Louise asked me to show you our grand accommodations," a cheeky girl named Elizabeth said as she and Molly walked across the camp. She stopped outside a barrack that looked like a strong wind might topple it. The walls weren't quite square, and Molly concluded the shack had been hastily constructed by someone who had no skill as a carpenter.

Inside, though, she was surprised to find the women had made it as comfortable as possible.

"The Y.W.C.A. gave us bedding, the rug, the oilcloth for the table, and the material for the window curtains," Elizabeth said.

"A piano? You have a piano all the way out here?" Molly asked, surprised to see an upright in one corner of the common area.

"We do. It came from one of the German dugouts. A bunch of the doughboys rescued it and brought it to us. Although they aren't allowed inside our barracks, sometimes they sit outside and listen to Annie play. She can tickle the ivories with the best of them." Elizabeth led the way down a hall with doors on both sides. "You'll be rooming with me. I've got the bed by the door, but we can switch if you'd rather."

"No, the window is fine, Elizabeth. Thank you."

"Of course. Do you need time to settle, or are you ready for supper?"

"Food would be good," Molly said, although she really just wanted to sleep. She'd had a long train ride, then had bounced around in a truck the last hour of the trip with a load of supplies that was delivered to the camp. At least she hadn't been forced to walk. The thought of doing that made a chill of dread slide along her spine. She may have felt safe enough to go for walks in the quaint little village where she'd spent the last few weeks, but that was not the case here. Not when she could see the red and gold glare from the shelling in the distance.

Elizabeth acquainted her with the procedure for washing up and the outhouses that were designated solely for the women to use. They made their way to the mess tent, where they shared their meal with a few Signal Corps officers. Gone was the lovely flower-bedecked china Molly had eaten her meals from the past several weeks. They had tin plates and cups, no napkins nor tablecloths, and the food was edible, but only barely.

"You're lucky you arrived when you did. When we first got here, they didn't even have beds for us. No mattresses or pillows. It was tragic," Elizabeth said as they ate and got to know one another. "The fellas are helpful, though, and eager to do what they can to make things better for us. The engineers even built most of the furniture in the barracks. If you find you need a table or chair, they'll be on the job in a jiffy."

"That's good to know," Molly said, feeling out of her element as she quietly ate her food and observed those around her. The officers seemed weary but polite. The other girls were friendly. One of them was likely the life of every party with her outgoing, teasing personality.

After the meal, Elizabeth walked with Molly back to the barracks, explaining the landmarks she'd used to find her way when she first arrived.

Too tired to do more than wash up and turn in, Molly took a moment to press the daisy she'd brought along in her journal. It would become a reminder of a special time and sweet friends like the dogwood blossom reminded her of home. She fell into bed after saying her prayers, hoping her loved ones, wherever the night found them, were safe.

Molly settled into life at the camp, getting used to the inconveniences because it was thrilling to sit at the switchboard and feel the importance of her duty. She'd spoken to several generals, connecting their calls. She'd also spent time in the evenings when the lines were quiet, listening to some of the officers who needed a friendly ear from home to talk to.

She received letters from her family. Sadie told her of her struggles and shared some of the moments that had brought her joy.

Lars and Marnie wrote about everyone at home, including the rascally Rawlings twins who'd run off and joined the war. Molly knew Kade and Caterina, parents of the boys, had to be beside themselves with worry, and she prayed for all of them. Her parents had included cookies, candy that wouldn't melt in the heat, packages of gum, lotion, and a few books in their care package. Marnie had sent a dozen beautifully embroidered handkerchiefs that Molly thought were too pretty to use but was grateful to have just the same.

Immediately, Molly wrote back, describing life close to the front, although she was careful to leave out any details a censor might take exception to, and even sent the piece of shrapnel, asking her father to give it to Alek to keep for her until she returned home. She was sure her little brother would take it to school and show every child there the little hunk of metal that had pierced her hand. Thankfully, Molly's wound had healed well, and the only reminder of it was the scar on her skin and an occasional tightness in her thumb.

She rarely thought about it or the persistent pain in her side when life was so busy and full.

The day General Pershing stopped by for a visit, she'd had to draw on every bit of restraint and decorum she possessed to refrain from acting like a giddy schoolgirl.

A few days later, she'd gone for a walk before she was due to report for her shift when she saw a couple of doughboys wandering around the camp, looking lost as the new arrivals tended to do. One in particular stood out to her. He was extremely tall, broad-shouldered, good-looking, and had a stoic air about him.

The soldier beside him wasn't quite as tall, nor were his shoulders as broad, but he was incredibly handsome and had a charming smile. The taller soldier looked past her, and she realized who he was. Immediately, Molly began smiling and waving at Harley John, Sadie's beloved.

The shorter soldier elbowed Harley John and said something, pointing directly at her.

Harley John broke into a run, his long legs eating up the distance between them in a few strides.

"Molly! What a surprise!" Harley John swung Molly off her feet into a wide circle, then kissed her cheek before he set her down.

Hoping none of her superiors had witnessed the display, Molly frowned at Harley John but playfully swatted his shoulder before straightening her cap he'd knocked askew with his exuberant greeting. She gave him another hug, unable to keep from sharing her pleasure in seeing him. "Oh, Harley John! I'd hoped to see you, but had no idea where you'd be. Have you been here long?"

"No. We just arrived this morning. How long have you been here?" he asked.

"A few weeks. It's so good to see you." Molly gave him a studying glance, then grinned, concluding Harley John had changed since he'd been drafted. "You look wonderful. I take it being a soldier agrees with you."

Harley John shrugged. "No more than anyone else here, but I get along well enough."

"Bosh and nonsense. You look quite handsome, and so grown up. If Sadie saw you, she'd likely swoon."

He grinned at her and squeezed her hand. "I can tell you for a fact she nearly did when I saw her recently. She was taking a few days of rest at the home of a patient's sister. Other than divine intervention, there is no way to understand how we happened upon one another. We'd both gone to pick some grapes and found each other in the vineyard. Can you believe it?"

Stunned by his story, Molly could only imagine what seeing Harley John had been like for Sadie. Her sister would have treasured every precious moment with him. "How is she? Is she well? Was she thrilled to see you? Tell me everything."

"I will. Right after you meet my friend." Harley John directed her over to where the good-looking soldier who'd elbowed him stood near the mess hall. "Molly, I'd like you to meet my good friend, Friday Fitzpatrick. Friday, this is Sadie's sister Molly."

Friday politely tipped his head to Molly and offered her a look she wasn't certain how to interpret. It left her unsettled and anxious but interested at the same time. She gave the man a half-smile before she pointed to a bench constructed by one of their engineers from a fallen tree. "Let's sit there and visit, Harley John. I have a few minutes before I report for duty."

Harley John guided Molly to the bench. Despite her intentions to ignore him, she twice glanced over her shoulder at Friday. The silly man remained exactly where they'd left him, as though his boots had been set in cement. The look on his face could only be described as dumbfounded.

She and Harley John sat and visited about family, France, and the war. She cast a glimpse over to where Friday continued to stand as stiff as a statue. "Tell me about your friend Friday."

Harley John smirked at her, and she blushed.

"Normally, he doesn't look like such a dunce, but I think you left him awestruck," Harley John said as he looked at his friend. "He's from Oregon. His folks have a nut orchard south of Portland. He has four sisters, and he's a fine fellow and a good friend. He intends to return to the orchard when the war ends, but you know it's only a few hours by train between there and Pendleton."

Molly didn't answer but stole a few more glimpses of Friday.

Although she hated to end their time together, she glanced at her watch and stood. "I have to get to work, but if you're still here later, I'd love to visit with you longer. I'm so glad you are well, and I'm thrilled you got to see Sadie. I know she and I used to get along like sparring dogs, but I love her and only want her to be happy."

Harley John fell in step beside Molly as she headed toward the building that housed the switchboard. "She said something similar about you when I saw her. Funny, isn't it? What a big old world it is, and here I've seen both of you girls recently. I don't think we'll head out until dark, so I'll look for you later, Molly. Have a grand day. It sure made mine getting to see you."

"Get some rest, Harley John. I'll look for you after my shift." Molly kissed his cheek, waved at Friday, and disappeared inside the switchboard building.

The day passed swiftly, but after lunch and an important phone call from a general, she spoke with her supervisor and requested an hour off to spend with Harley John. Since Molly had eagerly filled in for others and often worked longer than her shift required, Louise agreed she could end her shift a few hours early.

Molly had just stepped outside the building when she spied Harley John and Friday strolling by. She hurried over to them. "I was hoping to catch you. I have permission to take a few hours off so I can spend time with you before you leave. I assume you boys will be marching out tonight."

"I think that's the plan, although no one has said."

Molly did her best to keep her expression neutral. She knew the plans for Harley John's regiment, but she wasn't at liberty to discuss any of it. Confidentiality was a key component to the success of her work.

"Let's have some supper before you leave." Under normal circumstances, the telephone operators were not supposed to associate with privates or civilians, but after she'd explained to Louise about Harley John practically being a brother, the woman had granted permission for Molly to eat with him, as long as they didn't sit in the mess hall. Instead, they sat outside on a bench and ate. Friday gained the ability to converse and spoke to Molly about his family's nut farm and life there.

Molly walked with them around the camp, showing them different buildings and mentioning some of the people she'd met since her arrival in France in early July.

Suddenly, a stern-faced sergeant appeared and motioned to Harley John and Friday to join him.

"It sure was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Molly. I hope to see you again sometime," Friday said. He bowed to Molly, offering her a smile that left her somewhat dazzled.

In return, she offered him a genuine smile. "I hope to see you again, Private Fitzpatrick. Please take good care of Harley John. Sadie would never be the same if something happened to him."

"I'll do my best, Miss Molly. You stay safe and be well." Friday turned to Harley John. "I'll grab your things. Meet me over by Sarge."

Harley John nodded, then took Molly's hands between his. She could feel the callouses on his palms and wondered if he missed the automobiles he so enjoyed working on back in Pendleton.

Her throat clogged just thinking about something happening to him. Harley John was a good, kind person who deserved so much more than to die alone on a foreign battlefield.

"I'm so, so glad I got to see you, Molly. This hug is from Sadie." He hugged her once. "This one is from your folks." He hugged her a second time, patting her gently on the back. "And this one is from me." His third hug was warm, brotherly, and full of affection.

Molly's eyes filled with tears, but she somehow kept them in check. She forced herself to smile as she stepped back from him and placed her hands on his cheeks. "Please be careful, Harley John. You are loved by so many, and I can't bear to think of a world without you in it. All these years of you hanging around the orphanage have made me think of you as another brother."

"I love you too, Sister Molly. Take good care of yourself and be careful." He kissed her cheeks, then left without looking back.

As Harley John and Friday walked away, Molly had the feeling something momentous had just taken place. That night, when she climbed into her bed, she said extra prayers for Harley John and Friday as well as the Rawlings twins, wherever they were, to be safe.