Chapter Five

"N umber, please?" Molly asked as she answered a call, fingers poised to plug in the cable to make the connection.

"Oh, it's you," said a male voice on the other end of the line.

Molly rolled her eyes, trying not to lose the tenuous grasp she had on what remained of her patience. The sergeant on the field phone seemed to think there was some romantic interest on her part, which was not the case at all.

A few weeks ago, she'd been given the task of training a group of men who would operate switchboards on the front lines during battle. The first thing one of the men had asked was, "where's my skirt?" in an annoying falsetto voice. When Molly told them the safety of a whole division might depend on the switchboard they would be operating, they settled down and paid attention to what she needed to teach them except for the egotistical sergeant who continued to torment her. Because it was within her power to do so, she kicked him out of the class and onto kitchen patrol duty. After two days, he concluded Molly was the lesser of the two evils. Somehow, in his mind, he'd created a mutual infatuation between the two of them that simply did not exist.

She'd refused the six times he'd asked her to step out with him, but if he persisted in pursuing her, albeit over the telephone, she might be forced to report him.

If the odious man weren't trying her patience enough, she'd also had to decipher a dozen calls from doughboys ringing in on field phones who couldn't speak a lick of French. Their tragic butchering of French places and names did nothing to aid in a speedy connection. One of them had asked for Bezonvaux and pronounced it "Bees on the ox."

On top of that, she'd had to rack her brain to keep up with the day's code words. Key places and people were given code names that frequently changed. Earlier that morning, one of the generals had called in and asked her to patch him through to Jam. It took Molly a moment to recall whom or what belonged to the code name. Towns like Toul might be Waterfall one day and Podunk the next. Even some of the corps were given code names like Nemo.

After the AEF had sent the boys over the top last week, Molly had been promoted to a supervisor position and found rest nearly impossible even when she did have a few hours to sleep. Normally, men took over the telephones at night, but with the American troops engaged in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive, the women had unanimously voted to work round the clock, giving each other brief breaks to rest, eat, and sleep.

In spite of her exhaustion, Molly found the work thrilling. It was nearly impossible for her to step away, which was why she was there to field the call from her unwanted suitor.

"Number, please?" she asked again, a hint of irritation edging into her voice.

"I need …" The sergeant stated his request, and Molly made the connection.

Before she could even draw a breath, more calls came in. "Number, please?" she asked, then switched to " J'écoute " when she realized the caller was French.

Finally, the calls slowed. Molly had the girls take turns going to eat and rest. By the time they'd all returned, she was starving and hoped there would be something left to eat as she made her way to the mess hall.

"Miss Thorsen, you have mail," one of the soldiers called to her as she walked through the camp. She veered toward him and accepted a large box and two letters.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at the young man, then continued on to the mess hall.

She set her things at a table occupied by two Signal Corps lieutenants, then went to fill a plate with food. She accepted a cup of hot coffee and returned to the table, where she quickly ate the meal.

In need of a break, she sipped her coffee and opened the letters. The first was from Sadie, a brief note to let Molly know she was alive and well.

I was so pleased to hear you saw Harley John and he looked well. I am sure it was Divine Guidance that led us to find each other in that vineyard. I didn't realize until that moment how desperately I needed to see him. It quite bolstered my flagging spirits in a way nothing else ever could.

I'm thinking of you, Molly, and hoping one day your heart will once again open to love. I know Andrew trounced all over your tender heart, but when the right man comes along, give him a chance.

Molly wondered why a picture of Friday Fitzpatrick suddenly popped into her thoughts. His friendship with Harley John spoke more to her than any reference of character she might receive from anyone else. If Sadie's beloved thought highly of him, she had no doubt he was an upright and decent man. He was also quite handsome and seemed to smile easily.

Still, that didn't mean she was ready for anyone to turn her head. Molly had enough to think about with her work without thoughts of a smiling soldier befuddling her brain.

She finished reading Sadie's letter, which closed with wishes for Molly to be well and safe. Molly tucked it back into the envelope to answer later and opened the second letter.

As though thinking about him had somehow magically made the letter materialize, Molly gaped at the unfamiliar script, realizing the letter was from Friday.

Her heart sped up as she smoothed the sheet of paper. She took another sip of coffee and began to read his note.

Dear Miss Thorsen,

I hope you don't find me too forward in writing to you out of the blue.

In my defense, I asked Harley John for his stamp of approval, and he gladly gave it. He even hinted that you might not be entirely opposed to receiving a word or two from me, so here goes.

Meeting you has been one of the best things that's happened to me in a long while, and I don't write that because of where we are and what's going on around us. Truly, it was a happy day when our paths crossed, for however brief a time.

Likely you think I'm nearer to a wooden post or even a scarecrow for all the lively action I mustered on our first encounter. It's entirely possible you think me a dunce. If that's the case and you aren't keen to hear from me, just let Harley John know, and I'll take your preference to heart.

However, on the slight chance you weren't entirely put off by my lack of fascinating conversation and wit, I'd sure like to try to make a better impression next time.

At any rate, I hope this finds you well and safe, and things going just dandy there. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate the work that you do. All of us do. We'd be paddling without oars if you girls hadn't stepped up to take on the tough task of running the switchboards. It makes my poor little head ache to think of the way you handle all the calls coming in from everywhere and do it in both French and English. Impressive!

Harley John has told me a little about you, but I'd like to learn from you, Miss Thorsen. What did you enjoy most about growing up at Dogwood Corners? What was the hardest thing for you? What is your favorite flower? Or color? Or song?

If you want to know about me, Harley John can fill both of your ears with the story of my life. After spending the past year listening to me talk about the nut farm my family owns, my gaggle of sisters, and growing up there, he knows pert near as much about me as I do!

I won't take up more of your time, Miss Thorsen.

Be safe and be well, and know if you choose to reply, it would make this soldier's day.

Respectfully and sincerely,

Private Friday Fitzpatrick

Molly couldn't help smiling as she read the letter through a second time. She could find bits of Friday's sense of humor in the words and appreciated the polite way he asked to correspond with her.

The female members of the Signal Corps had been given direct orders not to associate with privates nor civilians, but Molly couldn't ignore Friday's letter. Not when she was so eager to know more about him, to connect with him, even if it was just through pen and paper.

She took another sip of her rapidly cooling coffee, set aside Friday's letter, then opened the box from her parents. A thick envelope on top was the first thing she grabbed and slid out several pages.

Each child at the orphanage had penned a brief note, and there were letters from both her mother and father. She read the letters from all the children first, amused by the stories, hand-drawn pictures, and thoughts they'd shared.

She unfolded the sheet of paper written in her dad's distinctive hand and wondered how Lars managed to write to her, Sadie, and Harley John, do his job as a sheriff's deputy, keep up on the happenings at the orphanage, keep an eye on Harley John's ailing father, and continue helping Kade as they searched for the Rawlings twins.

Dear Mollsy Doll,

How are you, daughter? Tell your ol' dad the truth. If you are struggling, let us know. There isn't any shame in that, but it sometimes helps to share it with those who love you. If you really are doing great, I'll be glad to hear it!

I hope you are somewhere warm and safe with plenty of good food to eat. Your accommodations at your current post don't sound quite as posh as you had before, but your letter conveyed how content you are with this assignment. It's grand you feel like you are making a difference and are part of something vital because you are.

You are incredibly brave, and we're so proud of you, Molls. So proud.

Kade and Caterina haven't made any headway in finding the boys. It's like the two of them just disappeared into thin air. You would think identical twins would stick out even in all those doughboy uniforms, but so far, no luck. If you happen upon those two rascals, take them by the ears, march them to the nearest commander, and demand they be sent home where they belong.

Molly fully intended to follow her father's advice if she should come upon the twins. She sent up a quick prayer for their safekeeping, as she did each time thoughts of them came to mind. They were too young to be at war, and they had no military training except for what they'd learned from watching Kade and Lars work as deputies. She still couldn't begin to fathom what had possessed the boys to run off like that. She supposed they thought they had something to prove or some equally preposterous notion that had led them to hide away on a ship and come to France.

She returned to her father's letter, which was filled with happenings in town, news of the wheat harvest, and a few humorous stories that lightened her heart.

Kade and I tracked down some regular hardened criminals the other day. The State Food Administrator had sent out word that people were traveling from town to town, buying up sugar and reselling it at a considerable profit. A proclamation put a limit on all grocery stores to sell no more than two pounds per person, and the grocers have to record their names and addresses. Anyway, we got a call from Mr. Johnson that he had two questionable shoppers trying to buy more than their limit of sugar. When we investigated, we found the back of their car loaded with sugar and hauled them to the jail. It was a "sweet" ending to that problem.

There's a Fordson tractor demonstration set to take place this Saturday behind the hospital in that empty field. I can guarantee Aundy and Garrett will be front and center to watch the performance. I'm not sure if my sister or Garrett is the daffiest over new farm equipment.

Molly thought of her aunt and uncle and their affinity for farm equipment that made tasks easier and accomplished more work. She wondered if they'd purchased the tractor. They'd likely mention it in their next letter if they did.

She returned to reading the letter from her dad with more news from town. The end of his letter brought a lump to her throat.

Just remember, no matter what tomorrow might bring, how much we love you, Mollsy Doll. You are a wonderful, intelligent woman, and we are so proud and honored you chose us to be your parents. We love you so much, Molls. Stay safe, our beautiful, beloved daughter.

Love always,

Dad

Molly had to blink a few times to clear the tears from her eyes before she folded the letter and opened the one from her mother.

Dearest Molly,

As I write this, Sophie and Alek are arguing about who is supposed to help with the dishes, and the other children are busy writing to you, or, in Beth's case, coloring a picture to send to you.

I know we've mentioned it before, but the piece of shrapnel you sent has become Alek's prized possession. He has shown it to everyone, and I do mean everyone. He thinks you're a regular hero who could take down the German army all by yourself by lunchtime if someone would give you a rifle and point you in the right direction.

Is your thumb healing well? I hope it doesn't pain you. I'm glad you told us about the injury, just so we can add your healing to our daily prayers for you.

I know you'll think me a sentimental ninny, but I sure miss having you here, sweet Molly. You've always been so willing to help and so eager to do your part. I've admired your can-do spirit since the first day you moved into Dogwood Corners. I know life has sometimes been so unbearably hard for you, but I'm so, so grateful you came to live with us and became our daughter.

Per your request, I found the box you inquired about. Rather than mail the original letters and face the risk of them getting lost on their way to you, I copied the pertinent details I could find in the correspondence your mother had from her French relatives. I believe Aimée Dubois was her grandmother, and Delphine Laurent was an aunt. Enclosed are their names and addresses. I have no idea how far they might live from your current location, but I hope you have a chance to search for them, dear girl. How lovely it would be to find some of your mother's family.

In regard to any information on your father's relatives, there was nothing I could find. If you like, Lars could check with someone he knows who might be able to access your father's files from when he worked for the railroad.

I know you have to wear your uniform all the time, but I included a few little things you might enjoy. A girl should feel lovely no matter what she is wearing.

Sophie helped Gertie make the brownies. She's getting quite good at baking them, and we're all so good at eating them! I hope the carefully packed tin survives the journey there.

I will wrap up this note for now and promise to write a longer letter next time.

Close your eyes and pretend I'm giving you a big hug while Beth tugs on my skirts, and Alek whistles in our ears, and Sophie dramatically declares she hasn't got a thing suitable to wear to church.

Bet that made you smile.

I love you so dearly and pray you are well and safe and enjoying your work.

Be careful, sugar, and know you are always in my heart and thoughts.

All my love,

Mama

Molly closed her eyes for a moment, held the stationery perfumed with her mother's fragrance to her nose, and envisioned herself back at Dogwood Corners with the cacophony of the busy household buzzing around her. She could hear Gertie in the kitchen singing a hymn and the boys laughing as they chased one of the girls with a frog or bug.

She could even hear her father's booming voice call, "Sweet thing, I'm home," as he arrived, wrapping Marnie in a hug and kissing her soundly before giving attention to each and every child at the orphanage.

Molly knew if she'd had to lose her birth parents and be left an orphan, there was no better place she could have landed than with Lars and Marnie.

She opened her eyes to see the two lieutenants watching her. Lest they think she was about to melt into a pool of tears, she lifted out the tin, removed the lid, and held it out to them.

"Thank you, Miss Thorsen," they both said, each eagerly accepting one of the brownies.

"Take another," she said, wiggling the tin when they'd only helped themselves to one each. They did with a grin and tipped their heads to her.

"It's kind of you to share," the older of the two said, biting into the brownie and then closing his eyes in sugar-induced bliss. "That might be one of the best things I've ever eaten."

"My little sister helped bake them. They are my favorite," Molly said, helping herself to one of the brownies studded with walnuts. The brownies hadn't dried out, packed in layers of waxed paper in the tin, and they tasted heavenly. When she bit into a nut, it made her think of Friday. She wondered if he liked brownies or had tried them since the recipe was a fairly new one. Bertie Walsh had been the one to share the recipe with their family. Molly loved anything chocolate, and the rich bars certainly tantalized her sweet tooth.

"Thank you for sharing, Miss Thorsen," the other lieutenant said, slowly savoring each bite of the treat.

"You're welcome," Molly said, tucking her letters and the brownies into the box. She hurried to her room and quickly went through the rest of the things her mother had sent. There were expensive woolen stockings that felt more like silk, a few more handkerchiefs, and a new nightgown dripping with exquisite lace. They'd included more stationery and envelopes, already stamped, as well as a new pencil and pen. She found toothpaste and lotion, two packages of Fig Newtons, one of Oreos, as well as gum and candy in the bottom of the box.

Molly set everything back in the box except for a package of gum. She took it with her and returned to work.

That night, when the phone lines were quiet, she quickly penned letters to Sadie and her family. With the letter she penned to Friday, she took her time, pondering each phrase. Before she could change her mind about writing to him, she folded the pages and slid them into an envelope. She sealed the envelope, addressed it, and dropped all three letters in the mail slot when it was her turn to get a few hours of sleep.

As she closed her eyes, a smile touched her lips, while she wondered what Friday would think when he received the reply to his letter.