It had been three months since Kate had left Victory Munitions and no one seemed to notice. Well, almost no one.

Even though she knew it was pointless, at least once a day, Betty would find herself lost in thought about Kate as she watched the girls work the line. Lorna had been moved to the office for the remainder of her pregnancy and, as she had adamantly stated, Betty was the only one she could trust to keep all the girls in check. It was a big responsibility for sure, and filled her with both anxiety and pride. The bump in pay didn't hurt…even if it was only temporary. She was "the boss" now, and any whispers about why Kate left so suddenly were squashed instantly.

Betty smiled softly. She had learned a lot from Lorna on that account. It was frustrating though. Regardless of the controls she put into place, there were still murmurs behind her back as she walked by. The floor of women couldn't help it. It was always so instinctual to judge what was different, like packs of animals sticking together in their conformity, their silence and undisclosed looks unforgiving. She sighed at the thought. The showers were always difficult—the unease that poured off them, reminded her again of the dull ache inside.

This exiled state. This desire. Despite Betty's will, every now and then, one of the girls would laugh and tuck back a stray strand of hair from their face and it was enough to make her think of her.

Kate.

Marion.

God…whatever the hell she wanted her name to be.

I have to stop this! Betty beratingly told herself, closing her eyes as her hands clenched the clipboard. It wasn't getting her anywhere. These moments had become less frequent, but she still needed to keep her head in the game before someone got hurt.

Focus on the task at hand. Make this the best production shift possible. Get the job done.

Her internal pep talks would work for a time. Her eyes scanned the work floor as mechanical sounds washed over her. Just enough. This was just enough. It didn't take long before she was pulled back to the present moment, into directing the women forward, and into her very best.

X

Marion had been the ideal daughter since returning to her family. As her father returned to preaching on the street, she would stand strong and sing with such enthusiasm, such exuberance, that the people couldn't help but stop and listen. Words always held power, but the voice raised in song? Marion knew what it did. Open wide the heart of any man…. or woman, to suggestion, to judgment, to hope. She clamped down painfully on thoughts of a strong chin and rich light brown eyes….hair so soft. Those wandering visions lead to destruction, to her condemnation. To splinters in her chest.

As for her father, Marion had fully expected the beatings to continue. If she was honest with herself, she longed for them. To drum out of her these things that kept sliding back into her consciousness.

The feel of smooth inlaid wood from the bar on her fingertips….

Of slippery resonance sliding off her tongue…

Of music and laughter…

Of sitting at the piano….

Of hands on her wrist… of sweet soft lips searing her skin, this moment of…..

No! Marion pulled away again from her emotions. To touch this moment at all was to burn.

Father hadn't said so much as a harsh word to her since her return. Perhaps he knew that her self-loathing and inner turmoil was punishment enough. Why had she let herself be so utterly seduced by Betty and her world of sin? Why did the thought of Betty simply embracing her give her comfort?

Confusion reigned at times. She had lusted after Leon hadn't she? Leon with his deep soulful voice and strong hands. His kindness. Was that longing? Love? Could she divide the two? Did she even know what the words meant? Her mind never stopped asking questions despite her desperately wanting it to. Doing the dishes, ironing, it didn't matter. Nothing could shut them out. Still, Marion refused to answer the question her heart asked her every night. She wouldn't allow herself to speculate on one.

The only thing that gave her peace was her mother's smile. It would brighten a room when Marion walked in, when she held her hand, so fragile and still on the bed sheets. Her mother's health problems were getting worse, and those smiles were becoming scarce when the struggle to breathe filled the space between them. She had been so strong always. To see her reduced to this was painful and filled Marion's heart with regret. Her father had finally conceded that they needed to settle down and get steady jobs to pay the mounting doctor bills and put food on the table. With these words, she felt purpose reenter her soul. It was something to focus on, to put fuel into her hands as her heart raged. Through some stroke of providence, he had managed to get himself, Marion, and his oldest son Joshua jobs at a cannery in Trenton.

"God will provide!" he stated solemnly. "He always provides for those that follow the straight and narrow path. Those that renounce the perversions of the mind and flesh," his eyes flashed with hard unwavering intensity towards his daughter. Marion looked down at her shoes, unable to bring herself to acknowledge his words or his disdain.

When the first day of the cannery job began, Marion found she enjoyed working once more. The downside to this arrangement came in the form of Joshua. He was stationed on the same floor and took great pleasure in making sure that she didn't fraternize with any of her co-workers despite their friendly attempts. It was a just action on Joshua's part, she told herself. This way she was sure to be guarded from temptation and certain that she'd be chastised for returning any interest in making new friends.

This is my life now.

It was the right decision.

This was where she belonged.

This was God's plan.

Marion whispered the litany over and over and over again. So much so that she would chant it in time to her footsteps, her cadence unaltered, her thoughts blinded by repetition. It became familiar… but it was no friend. The words hollow and empty, the melody crushed from her heart.

X

Gladys had kept her promise alright. She refused to give up looking for Kate even when at times Betty had. She loved the idea of searching for a missing person. It made her feel like the lead in a spy thriller, the excitement bubbling up. A female Humphrey Bogart if you will. Sure Betty went along with some of her hair-brained ideas, but even Gladys had to admit that she had gone a little overboard trying to hire the Royal Mounted Police.

"Give it up Princess! Sometimes people get lost because they just don't want to be found." This was Betty's common response lately. She'd shrug her shoulders after the pronouncement and light a cigarette, flashing a cool icy stare towards the faraway line of horizon.

Gladys knew better. Betty could try to hide it all she wanted, but Gladys was intuitive enough to see when she was thinking about Kate. The blonde would get this dreamy look on her face for a moment, and then just as suddenly, shake her head as if to scramble her thoughts back to the present. Gladys found it bittersweet. She and Betty had grown a lot closer since Kate left. Maybe it was because they were both in love with people who were so far away and inaccessible. Or maybe because they both had found the strength to say what was in their hearts and were willing to fight for what they wanted. Whatever the reason, they depended on one another for moral support. James hadn't sent so much as a telegram since leaving for England. The last news she had was from one of her father's friends. He had heard that James was somewhere outside of London. But she didn't hold much stock in that. Her father on the other hand couldn't have been prouder to boast that his future son-in-law was soon to be taking on Hitler with the strength provided to him by Witham Foods. She would roll her eyes every time he made the statement, but in the last few months their tenuous relationship had begun to mend. He still loathed the idea that she worked at VicMu and would, at least twice a week; try to convince her to go back to working in the office. She'd just shake her head and smile at him, her confidence firm. That's why his latest proposal had knocked her for a loop.

"We need some positive press at our canneries. We've been losing more and more men to the war effort! We need to bring in the women. You told me about the promotional film they did for VicMu. It'll be the same thing except this time, you'll be the star!" His voice rumbled through the dining room.

Gladys replied with steeled conviction. "Dad that's preposterous! I can't just leave for three days to go shoot some silly news reel in Trenton." Her hands clasped the napkin on her lap with a tight grip. Any move towards his advice and his agenda would work towards pulling her from her job. Gladys knew that he was trying to bait and lure her any way he could. Her eyes strayed to her mother when the body next to her tightened at her daughters rebuff.

"You've always wanted to be in the movies." Her mother added with a sharp tone of sarcasm, turning towards her.

Gladys rolled her eyes. "Not like this!

"Look," her father continued, "I think we've been more than fair in putting up with your recent shenanigans. You're still a part of this family and a part of my business, whether you like it or not."

"But…" the rest of the sentence died on Gladys' lips as her father interrupted.

"And don't worry about work. I've already cleared it with your boss."

Eyes widening, she pushed back on the chair and stood up from the table sharply. The chair legs bit into the hardwood and the jarring sound drew eyes to her figure. Her stiff posture in standing paralleled her sense of violation. "What? When did you do that?"

Eyes hard, her father met outrage with condescending explanation. "I phoned him yesterday. He seemed more than happy to be rid of you for a few days." Gladys flinched. The last was another purposeful barb, intent on putting her back in his ordered societal life. She hardened her jaw. The smirk on his face was very clear. Her work could never equal a man's work. She should be dissuaded from such notions. It burned. Gladys flexed the left hand gripping the cloth; her face betrayed none of the inner seething. They would never see anything but purposeful calm collection.

It was no big secret that once Harold Akins found out who Gladys really was; he was constantly walking on eggshells around her and going out of his way to keep her out of harm's way. Lorna and Betty constantly had to talk him about his treatment of her. Getting Gladys out from the munitions floor, even just for a few days, was doing Harold the biggest favor in the world. It was a win/win… for her father, and her supervisor. There would be very little she could say or do to change this course of action.

Slowly sitting back down in her chair, she gently placed her hands forward on the tablecloth. Intently looking towards her father, letting the battle go, Gladys uttered softly. "Fine. When do we leave?"