Chapter 2: Separation- 1941 to 1945

We had survived the Great Depression, we had managed to feed and clothe our four children, and we had brought over his brother and his family from England just before the Axis forces turned their hungry eyes of the British Isles. I knew deep in my bones that we could survive this, but everything else screamed that he would not be coming back.

Both he and his brother had signed up to go to war, knowing that their extensive scientific and mechanical skills would be put to good use. It was a bleak, cold day of December when they left, and I clung to my husband sobbing while my heart broke. He held me quietly, but I saw the glistening of tears as he turned to walk to the waiting truck. I stayed in the open doorway, my arms protectively around Abigail's shoulders as she was wracked with silent sobs. I watched their car till it disappeared into the gray weather before pulling Abigail inside and closing the door.

My mother was there, to help see to the children, and to help us with the pseudo-loss of our husbands. My house was large enough to house the eight of us, as Abigail's three children were staying with us as well. Still, the house seemed empty without the large presence of my husband.

That night, I curled myself on the couch with my knitting sitting still in my lap. Trisha, only a year old, lay asleep in her cradle by my hand and Sara, at twelve, leaned heavily against me as she stared at the radio, softly playing some music. Evan and Livy, both fourteen, were reading demurely at my feet, and uncommon occurrence. Maes and Elisa trailed their mother as she paced the living room with eighteen-month-old Nina in her arms. Our children became even more precious to us, being a link to our husbands. Both men had insisted on naming their progeny while never revealing the importance of their names. Now I was happy to have that bond, to know that there was another emotional tie that would make Edward and Alphonse come home unscathed.

We all had silly thoughts during the war.

Edward and I reverted to our courtship days, conversing solely through letters. I once again only received one photo, Edward standing in his Army uniform. On the back was written in his elegant handwriting: Edward Elric, Pfc. 1942. I refused to think that this was going to be the last I would see of my husband.

Edward and I had married on April 4, 1925. We had known each other for two years after meeting in England. I was on a school trip and he had been wandering around, as I later found he was prone to do. He told me that what caught his attention was not my youthful figure in the school girl attire, but the fact that I was carelessly draped over the railing above the Thames, bombarding a poor ferryman with questions about his vehicle. It was difficult to meet with him while in London, and I had to enlist the help of some classmates of mine, all of whom were enamored of the romantic nature of our meetings, and I would slip away from the group on our free days.

From there, Edward would show me the quainter backside of London and introduced me to his younger brother, Alphonse. I didn't see much of Al then, as he was spending his own time courting a London native, Abigail.

My time in London was short and I hesitantly gave Edward my home address when he profusely promised that he would write to me every week. I naturally didn't believe him, as he was older and working professionally, while I was still in school and merely assisted my father in his small shop.

But he did write me, and I soon found my soul mate among those letters.

While Abigail would play to Al's gentle nature, I would flame Edward's more, combustible one. Even through letters, we wrote each other with a fervor and found a strong common ground. We were both mechanics with a strong desire to learn engineering. While Edward also had a scientific edge that baffled me, I could work around any piece of machinery with a grace and deftness that he could not. He would often ask me my opinion when it came time for his repairs on his false limbs. I scathingly told him that he wouldn't get a good job done till he came to a place in America, or better yet, to me.

But we didn't always talk shop. Most of his letters overflowed with emotion and I could hear his accented voice in my head as I read them. He loved me passionately from the beginning and while I was uneasy with his feelings, I soon began to feel my love for him blossoming.

When I finally wrote to tell him that I loved him and my only wish was to marry him one day, I couldn't sleep till I got his response. And no matter how many years go between readings, that letter would always make me blush.

When we finally married, I was the happiest I had ever been in my life. I moved into his house that was indeed down the way from my parents and I was still able to work in my father's shop. The very next year, Edward and I travelled to London to see Al and Abigail marry. Edward stood at his brother's side as Al had done for him the previous year. The sight of the two of them standing next to each other took my breath away. They were both handsome men, both having the same blonde hair and amber eyes, but Edward looked more, feline. I greatly preferred my husband's lithe shape to Alphonse's sturdier one, and it correlated to their personalities.

Only a few months went by before I found myself pregnant, and with twin boys. Evan and Livy were born in August during an unbearable heat wave. We had two years to recuperate before our whole world turned over. Our third child, Sara, was born in the beginning of 1929, Alphonse and Abigail's first child, a son they named Maes, following a few months later. But then came the crash.

Money was still good for us for another year and Alphonse and Abigail welcomed their daughter Elisa in 1930.

When the Great Depression finally started to go into full swing, we banded together. Money held for a while from the shop, and Edward's work for the government supplemented the rest of our need. We kept our houses, kept our children fed, clothed, and educated, and kept ourselves sane.

In 1938, when the Depression seemed to be letting up and rumblings started to come out of Germany, we pooled our resources and moved Alphonse and his family over to our home in West Virginia. They got settled in their own home just as Europe went to war. In January of 1940, I received the news that my father had passed away. I took ownership of the shop and moved my mother into my house. I renovated our old one story home into a more sophisticated automotive shop, hired more people, and changed the shack into my small office. During that year, Abigail and I both became pregnant with our last children. Nina was born in June and my Trisha was born at the tail end of November.

Our lives were full, and while we were wary of Europe's War, we were confident of the stability we had.

And then the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.

Then the men couldn't ignore the call of war any longer.

During the War, there were many times that Abigail and I both felt that we had been worked past the point of exhaustion. I needed a distraction before I went out of my mind with worry for Edward. Since most of the children were older, and my mother no where near old age, I was confident enough to leave the house during the day to work in my shop, helping repair Army issue trucks and even picking up gun assembly and repair on the side. Most of my hires were replaced by their wives or sisters, as they had gone off to fight. It was rumored that any gun or truck coming out of West Virginia was coveted, as it was most likely last touched by a woman. Evan and Livy often volunteered their services whenever they weren't helping take care of the younger ones.

As the months went by, the letters coming in became sporadic and there would be weeks with no word. Finally, in May, Abigail and I received notice that since the European theatre was done, our husbands would be returning home.

On May 28th, 1945, my husband came home to me. A few days prior, Abigail had left to prepare her home for Al's arrival and my mother had absconded with the children to her sister's farm a few miles away. For a week, Edward and I tried to make up for the three and a half years that he was gone.