Hana joined me in the kitchen while I wiped down the counter tops. She sipped her coffee, using lots of sugar to sweeten it. "Are you married?" Hana asked after swallowing a mouthful of the hot beverage.

"Engaged," I corrected. "Joe and I are gonna get married in May."

Hana narrowed her eyes, as if counting the months up in her head. "That sounds soon. My marriage to Bobby was small, and fast."

"Fast?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"The reverend wanted it over with." Hana said. "We had it at night when Bob was off duty-for the weekend, I believe." I blinked, not knowing entirely what to say to that. Technically, Bob and Hana didn't do anything wrong by getting married while he was over there. Other men did it. But once again, it went back to Hana being Japanese.

"How old are you, Hana?" I asked, curious.

Hana blinked before saying, "I am nineteen years old."

The same age I was when I volunteered for the paratroopers. I remembered being nineteen years old and approaching that booth in front of the only Catholic church in Wetumpka. I had worn a yellow dress and I imagined that I looked like the least qualified person to go off to war with the men. But the man in charge of that took a chance on me and sent me through. And here I was, four years later.

"That's pretty young," I said. "That's how old I was when I joined the Army."

Hana stared at me, narrowing her black eyes at me. "You fight with the boys?"

I nodded and let out a huff of amusement. "Yeah, it's a long story. But I was over in Europe with my boys; we fought Germans instead of Japanese." Hana's eyes looked down and her colored skin turned a faint red.

"We were shocked too, you know." Hana said quietly. I stopped cleaning and looked at her. Hana kept her eyes downcast. "My family did not know about the attack until America said we were at war. Before that, many of our soldiers were in China."

"I didn't know that," I said truthfully. "It must've been surprising for you too." Hana didn't reply, just started picking at her gloves. I shifted on my feet. Never in my imagination would I picture a Japanese girl sitting in my kitchen. I changed the subject. "C'mon, Hana. You should meet June."

"Who?" Hana asked, looking back up at me.

We walked next door to June's house. My other neighbor was a housewife, so she was always home. I rang the doorbell once before June answered, wearing a flowery apron and her platinum blond hair pinned and wrapped with a bandanna like Rosie the Riveter's. June's eyes looked over me and Hana briefly before inviting the pair of us in.

"June, this is Hana Doyle; Hana this is June Calvert." I introduced them. June's eyes got really wide and she squealed briefly before bouncing on the balls of her feet. Hana stared at June with wide eyes before cracking into a smile. June took Hana's hand and shook it with excitement.

"Oh my goodness! It is so nice to finally meet you!" June said in a high-pitched voice. "Bob talks about you all of the time!"

"He does?" Hana asked, her skin darkening with a blush. I smiled between Hana and June before taking a seat on the sofa in the living room. June quickly escorted Hana into the living room and started firing questions at the poor girl.

"How did you and Bob meet? Did you both fall in love right away, or did it take time?"

"Slow down the questions, June!" I exclaimed with a laugh. June rolled her eyes at me, causing Hana to giggle slightly, as if she was afraid of being too loud. June smiled broadly at Hana and bounced on her feet some more.

"I'm just so excited to meet you!" June said. Hana was fully smiling now. She looked happier than she had been since she got here, for which I was happy. I suddenly couldn't wait for Bob to get home so that he and Hana could be together again.

Hana and I stayed at June's for the rest of the day, talking and snacking on whatever food June brought out. After five, June's phone rang and it was Joe, asking her if she knew where I was. Three minutes later, Joe knocked on June's door. I answered it this time, standing out on the front porch for a minute before letting him in. I gave him a heads up about Hana's race. Joe blinked when I told him and we entered the living room together.

Joe stared at Hana for a long moment, taking her in. Hana, recognizing a military personnel when she saw one, seemed to shrink underneath his hazel eyes. June swooped in and started asking about Hana's favorite foods while Joe sat down.

"When'd you get in town, Hana?" Joe asked. Hana looked at him briefly and he gave her a small smirk, making an attempt to get her comfortable.

"Just this morning," Hana replied quietly. "Your Diana is very kind." Joe looked away from Hana to me and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. I sat down beside him and rested my head on his shoulder.

An hour later, Bob arrived. June and I decided that it was important that Bob knew right away that his wife was home, so we waited with Hana on Bob's front porch. Joe had gone back inside our own house, going off to see what we had for dinner. Usually I cooked dinner, occasionally with Joe helping. But he had said he wanted to do something on his own. So June, Hana, and I sat on Bob's front porch, waiting for him to take the trolley home.

Finally, around six thirty, I heard the trolley's bells ringing from the neighborhood entrance. June heard it too and smiled happily, waiting impatiently for Bob. It took about five minutes for Bob to walk up the sidewalk to the three houses. And it took him even less time to notice the three women sitting outside. Almost automatically, Bob's eyes zoomed in on Hana.

Bob dropped the shoulder bag he was carrying and started running.

Hana stepped off of the porch but couldn't seem to go any further. She waited for Bob and he crashed into her, pulling her tightly into his arms and lifting her feet off of the ground. Hana hugged him too, after a slight pause. The two of them clung together for a long time. June was clutching one of my hands and had a slight glisten in her eyes.

We finally left the married couple alone and they went inside. Hana was getting to see her new home for the first time. June and I strolled slowly back to our houses and stopped outside of mine.

"I gotta hand it to you, June," I said. "You're probably the most accepting person I've ever known."

June blinked at me and smiled; not the big and white one like I was used to, a small and subtle one that seemed uncharacteristically of her. "I grew up in San Francisco all of my life. There's always been people of other races, religions, almost anything different. My mommy died during the Depression and my daddy didn't stick around long after that. Through the years, I had to live off a Chinese family, a homosexual, a man who had fought in the first world war and had been blinded by mustard gas. You learn not to judge people when you rely on them for so much."

"I never would've guessed," I mumbled.

"What about you?" June asked. I frowned at her, confused by the question. "Most of anyone would turn away a Japanese or German face, especially after what you've gone through. Why didn't you?"

I didn't answer for a moment, gaining my thoughts. "I think it was the war that changed me. It hardened me, like war is supposed to do. But I think it also made me understand people better. It took me a long time during the war to realize that the Krauts were doing their jobs, just like we were." I paused. "But if a Kraut who fought directly underneath Hitler, who wore a Swastika on their sleeve, if they ever showed up to my doorstep needing help, I'd shut the door in their face."

June listened attentively. She was very good at that. "Makes me wonder about how those two ever got together." She said with a glance back at the Doyle residence. I smirked and shrugged.

"Perhaps that's a story for another day." I said. June nodded at that and continued to her house while I climbed the steps of my own. I entered the house and was instantly greeted by the warmth. I walked into the kitchen, finding Joe leaning against the counters and staring down at a cookbook (another item from one of his mother's many boxes). I watched him frown at it for a while, his dog-tags dangling in the empty air. "What're you plannin'?" I asked. Joe looked up at me and smirked.

"Ma sent me this and I can't figure it out." Joe said. I looked around him, seeing that the book was handwritten in German and was organized differently from the two other cookbooks I owned. The instructions looked to be all bunched together in untidy writing.

"Well, if you can't figure it out, we're gonna end up starvin'," I said, resting my chin on his shoulder. Joe looked down at me and pressed his forehead shortly against mine. I got up on my tip toes and kissed him, and he didn't waste any time before kissing me back, hard.

We ended up not having dinner that night.