"…the simplest pattern, that in which a man was born, worked, married, had children, and died, was likewise the most perfect."
- W. Somerset Maugham -

1942
Melbourne, Australia

There was a fight at a bar down the street. Andy Haldane heard the front window shatter. He glanced over as a shower of razor shards spit out like shrapnel. He blinked. The brief image of Jeff from North Carolina catching a piece of metal in his neck sprang into his mind's eyes. Jeff was buried on Guadalcanal along with so many other men who had once landed on a deceptively quiet shore.

Andy grit his teeth. He scuffed the toe of his boot on the pavement to remind himself that he was no longer on that damned island. Leaning up against the light post, he checked his wrist watch to the sound of sirens. The trolley should have been there already.

He peered down at the young woman on the bench next to him. A straw hat with a cluster of fake cherries on the rim shielded her face. All he could see were her white gloved hands turning the page of a book.

"Of Human Bondage." He said out loud, surprising them both.

The brim of her hat flipped up as she glanced at him.

"Excuse me?" She narrowed her heavy lidded, gun-metal blue eyes.

Andy shifted his weight forward, pointing to her lap, "Your novel."

"Oh yes." The girl flipped the cover over as though to remind herself what she was reading, "I'm sorry, I guess I was lost in thought."

A stilted silence followed as she closed the book. She laid her hands calmly on the dark green leather binding. Andy coughed into his fist. He wished he's never said anything. He wished the trolley would hurry up already.

"I borrowed it from a friend." She commented finally, "I like W. Somerset Maugham."

"You're an American?"

"Yes." She peeked up at him, "I'm with the Nurse Corps."

"Really?"

"Been in the Pacific since they took the Philippines."

"That's quite a long time."

"Yes. I'm rotating home soon." She replied wistfully, her gaze returning to her hands.

Andy dared sit down next to her. She inched slightly away from him and gave him a fleeting, polite smile. He wished he was a smoker just to offer her something to ease the tension. They both glanced down the street as the rabble-rousers shambled from the bar and were herded into the MP jeeps. They were Marines. Andy grimaced.

"So you like to read?" He asked before anything could be said about the incident.

The girl shrugged, "Occasionally. I preferred Maugham's other novel The Painted Veil. Kitty was a little more appealing as a female lead than Mildred. Mildred is perfectly horrid."

Nodding, Andy fought an inexplicable grin. He couldn't remember the last time he had a conversation about books. He met her eyes again and found he couldn't keep from smiling.

"It is difficult to relate to Mildred, that's for sure."

He held her eyes for a moment longer than necessary. An attractive tint of rose crept over her square jawline and into her fair cheeks. Her eyes flickered to the street as the corner of her red stained mouth lifted.

"I'm Andy." He held out a hand congenially.

"Miriam." She took his fingers and gave them a light shake, "And you like to read, Andy?"

"I do. Though I had more time for it a few years back."

"We all had more time for things we enjoyed a few years back." Miriam smirked.

"That is true."

"Who do you enjoy reading nowadays?"

"Hemmingway."

Miriam snorted, a smile erupting across her face, "Of course. You are a man."

Andy barked out a laugh at her response, "He's only the greatest author of his generation."

"Oh I beg to differ on that account." She arched a dark eyebrow playfully, "Mr. William Faulkner would as well, I suspect."

Andy shook his head, biting his lower lip. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Miriam was the first woman he had met in a long time that made him nervous.

"Did you attend University?" She ventured, crossing her ankles so that she was angled towards him.

"Bowdoin College up in Maine." He rubbed his hands together, "Graduated a little before joining the Marines."

"Really? Are you from New England?"

"Massachusetts."

Miriam laughed lightly, "That's ironic. I'm from Maine."

"Whereabouts?"

"York. But I received my nursing degree from Boston University."

"So you came down from Maine to go to school in Mass while I went-"

"Up to Maine to go to Bowdoin." She interjected, finishing his thought for him.

Andy made an acknowledging grunt in his throat. His green eyes crinkled at the corners as he peered over at her.

"What are the odds?" He murmured, their knees nudging as he sat up.

Her mouth parted as though she was going to speak. However, the clang of the trolley bell interrupted her thought.

"About time." She stated brightly as she rose to her feet.

"Listen, I don't know how long you are going to be in town-" Andy started while he had the gumption to ask her out.

"Ack Ack!"

Andy whipped around at the sound of his nickname echoing down the street. One of the men from his unit was striding towards him. The Private's walk was sloppy but not overly so as to draw attention. Clearly he had been at the bar.

"Ack Ack, its Hillbilly. Can you come help us get him home?" The young man named Gerald asked.

"What's wrong with him?"

Gerald's glassy eyed gaze trailed over towards Miriam tentatively, "He's in a bad way. Too much to drink and then during the fight, he caught a swing-"

"Yes, of course." Andy heaved a sigh, interrupting him as the trolley pulled up to the curb.

He glanced around as Miriam was swinging herself up onto the lip of the car. Hanging onto the bar beside the door, she shrugged.

"It was good to meet you, Andy." She smiled, bracing her hat on her russet head, "Whenever you get home, if you are in the area, its Miriam Holloway from York, Maine."

"I'll look you up," Andy called out fervently as the trolley rolled away with a clang, "I promise."