MIA

All we know is that he's in a hospital outside of London. I'd been in London dozens of times. I'd been to visit Elizabeth only three years ago at her coming out party. The thought of him there made my stomach feel squishy inside.

"Are you okay, dear?" Mrs. Moscovitz asked.

"Yes," I lied automatically. That came naturally now.

"A letter, from your mother," she said handing me a note. She knew what I'd written to my mother before.

Mia

I cannot express my severe disappointment enough. So I will instead feign cheerfulness. I am very happy that you are at least married when you became with child. That will make Papa happy. Promise me that you will act with the most graciousness toward your hostess. She has had her life change dramatically since you arrived.

How far along are you now, dear one? I cannot believe that next time I see you, you will be holding a wee little babe. The child must have a proper name, that is the only way Grandmama will accept it. Perhaps name the child after Grandmama or Grandpapa? There is time to think about this.

Are you very excited about having the baby? I wish I could be there to help you in this time, but we all know that is not possible. I put my faith in Mrs. Moscovitz to care for you. Be sure to mind her. She has been through this twice and knows the ropes.

Life here is going well. Papa has learned the ropes of farm life. He does not enjoy living with my family, but I remind him that I live with his for my entire life. He relented and said he'll do it for the war effort, but nothing else. I have not told him of your news. I wanted you to write to me to tell me if I should or not.

Love Always,

Mama

Mama-

I am terribly sorry that you are disappointed in me. But I have rather distressing news now. My Michael's ship has been attacked and he is in a hospital in England. I have to wait for his letter. How horrid is that?

I am terribly nervous for his safety, Mama. What if there is a bomb that hits the hospital? We do not even know of the severity of his injuries. Mama, I do not know what I should do if something were to happen to him. I just…I couldn't handle it. How did you handle Papa during the Great War?

I have not thought of names for the baby. But I will not be naming my daughter Clarisse or my son Artur. I like more American sounding names. Possibly Amanda for a girl, or George for a boy. What do you think of those names?

I would love to see a photograph of Papa on the farm! You must send that in your next bundle. I must go now. I'm starving.

-Love Always your Daughter

PS: I'm not saying they do not treat me well…The Moscovitz's feed me very well.

I hadn't heard from Randa since the accident, which was rather surprising to me. I tried visiting her to hear of Kevin's condition, but got not an answer at the Fitzsimmon's house hold, or her mother's home. In mid April I finally got the letter I had been waiting for.

Dearest Mia

My friend Hannah, my nurse, is writing this for me, so forgive the handwriting. I just peeked over and see that is in fact neaterthan my own. Remember how you used to tease me? I suppose we'll work on it when I get home. Hannah, my nurse, has been very kind to me since I woke from my coma. She visits with me daily and has lunch with me. She tells me about growing up in England and about her brothers. She's onlyeighteen, but has been working in the hospital since she was sixteen. How impressive is that I ask you? She's been the only true light while I have been here in the hospital. She makes me laugh and tells me jokes. SHe often updates me on the going onswith the war.For a girl as pretty as she is, she sure does have quite the mind. That is, she can discuss things with me that not even you can understand. Just the other day we were talking about this writer, Longfellow.His writings have always brought me joy.

I only have the energy to tell you the severity of my injuries. I lost the tops of my first three fingers on my right hand (the index, middle and ring). Apparently they got caught in a machine during the accident. I had some burns on my face, but Hannah tells me they are healing quite nicely. I'll look handsome when I get back to you sweetheart.

I also broke both my legs. Someone carried me from our burning ship to the life rafts we had waited in until the rescue ship arrived and took us to England, where I am right now. In a hospital bed writing to my best girl. My only girl.

I have to go now. They are removing the bandages from my face today and letting my skin feel air for the first time in over a month. I miss you darling and will hurry recovering so I can return to you.

Love,

Michael

"What is it?" Lilly asked, realizing I was upset. "Is he…Is he okay?"

"Huh? Oh, well, yes…he..." I thought of how to phrase my next sentence. How does one tell a girl that her brother has lost the tops of his fingers, yet, try to not sound foolish?

"What?" she said harshly. "What happened?"

"He lost the tips of his fingers," I replied, staring at the paper that some other girl had held for him.

"He what?" she said, almost with a laugh.

"Lost the tips of his fingers," I replied. "In the explosion. And broke his legs."

"What a dingbat!" she said howling with laughter. "I mean, his fingers? Good thing he doesn't have to impress anyone here with his battle wounds."

Her callous behavior amazed me. "He's your brother."

"I know, that's why I can tease him," she said with a smirk. "You are the one to fawn over him. I get to make fun of him. Duh."

I gave her a look. Somethign else was bothering me. How he spoke of this nurse woman. How close were they exactly?

"What's wrong?" Lilly asked, grabbing the letter. She quickly read it, "Wow, that is weird. Why is he talking about this other girl so much? And what kind of girl would allow a married man to speak of her like that? And even write to his wife like that?"

I scratched my head, "It's probably nothing. He wouldnt' say it if...if he thought anything truly of her. Why would he tell me? Right?"

She looked at the penmenship suspciously, "She was the one writing it though."

I shook my head, "He's just polite. He probably wanted her to know how much he appreciated her help."

"I'm sure," Lilly said handing the paper back to me, "Are you going to write back to him about the little-"

"No, she will not," her mother interrupted us. "He's not to be interrupted. I want him to recuperate at the proper speed. I don't want him acting foolish and rushing things along so he can return.."

I guess she either over heard us or had gotten a letter of her own.

"Moooom," Lilly said in a whiney voice. "Please. He has to know that he's going to be a father."

"No. Not yet."

Lilly rolled her eyes as her mother left my room. "I guess the longer you put off telling him the longer she can avoid accepting that she'll be a grandmother in August. Severe psychological problems, that one."

I stared at my best friend. "Are you crazy?" I would have never said such a thing about my own mother. Then again, she might be a prime candidate for Dr. Moscovitz's newest experiment on women in war torn countries. OR the one about women that give up everything they know for love. He's a love doctor, that man.

"Maybe a little. When are you supposed to start showing?" she asked, placing her hand on my belly. I would find that rude by most people, but not her. She was my sister now. She had every right to do that. It was her neice or nephew in there.

"Well, I guess I should be now…"

"You are still as little as ever. This could be all in your head-"

"Lilly, the doctor's confirmed it," I reminded her. She was constantly trying to convince me that I wasn't really pregnant.

"Mia!" You have a guest!" Dr. Moscovitz called.

"Who would be here for you?" Lilly asked.