Thank you to my betas who are made of awesomesauce: Beth, Sarah, and born2speakmirth, you girls make this story what it is.

Thank you to my readers for taking the time to read, leave comments, and share this story with others. I appreciate it.

Company Loves Misery by Angstgoddess currently has my attention. Go read that when you're done with this.

Smeyer owns the twilight universe and I own everyone else in this story. Enjoy.

May 1917

Much to Mary's dismay, blue wasn't Suzy's color and neither was puce. She held both paper dresses side by side in front of her doll and sighed. She had been playing with her doll for nearly half an hour, but most of that time was spent lamenting over the limited clothing choices. Finally, she tossed everything on her bed and frowned. "These dresses won't do." She ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, where her mother was kneading dough for dinner rolls.

"Momma, can you take me shopping for dresses?"

Marianne sniffed and shook her head. "You just got a new dress for Easter, Mary."

"But it's not for me. It's for Suzy."

"Who in the world is Suzy?"

"The paper doll William gave me." Mary looked down at her feet and sighed. "The two dresses he gave me don't look pretty on her. Boys don't know very much about these things, and, since he said his momma helped, I don't think Mrs. Reed knows much about dresses either."

"Mary," Marianne lightly admonished, and hid her smile behind her hand, "you're not being polite."

Mary blushed and mumbled an apology. "So can we buy Suzy some dresses?"

" I don't know about buying them." Marianne pursed her lips and stared off, deep in thought. "I think…" She trailed off, and turned to rinse her hands in the large basin sink. "Wait for me in the dining room, please."

When Marianne entered, her arms were overflowing with supplies. She began sorting out piles of ads from Penney's and Sears Roebuck along with tracing paper, colored kraft paper, and pencils. "Now watch."

Mary paid close attention to the way her mother copied the fashions from the ads and scaled them to the proper size so they would fit Suzy. She carefully cut the dresses out, complete with tabs, and held them out for Mary to see.

"Oh, momma! How did you know how to do that?"

Marianne grinned. "Before I was your mother-"

"That was a long time ago."

Marianne waited for her daughter to quiet before continuing. "Before I was your mother, I used to work at a tailor's shop. Oh, I used to work on some beautiful dresses, Mary. My favorite was powder blue with a silk bodice and lace trim." Marianne ran her hands over her ribcage to show where the trim ended. "It was stunning."

"Was that here in Biloxi?"

"No, that was back in California. I miss that shop sometimes."

"Oh." Mary nodded and began to rock slightly in her chair. "Can you teach me how to make the paper gowns for Suzy, then?"

Marianne smiled and pushed the tracing paper over to her daughter. "The first thing you do is trace…"

By the end of the week, Suzy had eighteen different outfits. She had dresses in mustard yellow, teal, and lilac. Mary grew courageous and began giving the dresses two and three colors, swirls of blue on pink backgrounds and polka dots so tiny they merged together to form large waves across the paper canvas.

"Look, momma. Isn't this pretty?"

Marianne reacted with the unabashed enthusiasm of any parent. "I've never seen anything quite like that before. How imaginative."

Jimmy, ever worrisome, frowned at the solitary new hobby. "Why don't you invite some friends over to make dresses with you? It's not nice to be cooped up in the house all alone, is it?"

I won't be alone once Francine gets here. Mary shuffled her feet on the floor and gently bit down on the inside of her cheek. "Momma's with me all the time."

"Sally's around your age, isn't she? I bet she would love to play with you. Go over to her house tomorrow and ask her to come over."

Mary nodded but couldn't hold back a frown. She didn't want to play with Sally. "Daddy? Do you think momma is ever going to have another baby?"

Jimmy let out a nervous chuckle and set down the newspaper in his hands. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, and crossed and uncrossed his legs. "I doubt it, Mary. We're blessed to have you and that's enough for us."

Mary's face crumbled. "Oh," she mouthed.

"What's the matter?"

She shook her head, turned on her heels, and ran up to her bedroom.

The following afternoon Mary walked to the LeMaine home. They lived just down the road in a big showpiece of a house. It was ornately decorated and stood apart from the rest of the homes on Tanglewood. Her mother had once said that Sis was a "real southern belle with the attitude to boot." Mary didn't know what that meant, but she felt strangely out of place as she knocked on the large wooden door. Sis opened the door and waved the girl inside.

"If you want Sally, she's upstairs in her playroom."

"May she come over to my house?"

"I don't see why not. Go ask if she'd like to."

Sally immediately agreed to go over to the Brandon home, and she spent the entire walk back talking about how bored she was with her toys and her home.

After being served sugar cookies and glasses of lemonade, the girls went up to Mary's bedroom.

"Do you like dolls?" Mary asked.

"I love them. My favorite one is the one my father sent me from France. When you lay her down she closes her eyes. Do you have one like that?"

"No. Mine is made of paper." Mary grabbed Suzy from her place on her dresser and handed her over to Sally.

Sally turned the doll this way and that, grimacing the entire time, before finally rendering her judgment. "Her dress is ugly."

"I think Suzy likes it just fine."

"That doesn't make it normal."

The ensuing silence was awkward. Finally Mary clicked her tongue, shoved Suzy underneath her bed, and set out the makings of a tea party instead.

###

Sally and Mary grew into a friendship of convenience. Mary thought Sally too spoiled, and Sally thought Mary too odd but spending time together saved both from hanging out with Beth Liddell, who still wet the bed, or Savannah DeWitt, who bossed everyone around. Christopher Liddell was often invited to play with them, something which frustrated Mary to no end. She found him annoying and rude, but Sally had a crush on him and would never turn him away. To be fair, Sally didn't like William, but he often joined their games, too, just so he could be close to Mary.

Altogether the four played jacks and jump rope on their lawns while their mothers watched and doted on the two pairs, looking forward to the day they'd plan their weddings.

###

August 1917

"I wonder if we'll be in the same class."

The two girls were in Sally's bedroom, playing house. Mary was the daddy, so she hitched up her imaginary trousers while she talked, just like her father did.

"Well, Sally-"

"I'm the mommy! You're supposed to call me 'honey' or 'mother' or 'sweetheart'."

"Well, honey, my momma told me there's only one kindergarten classroom at Biloxi elementary, so I suppose we will be."

"Are you going to the train station tomorrow?"

"No. Should I?"

"Lots of people are going to say goodbye to the men leaving. Y'know, for the war," Sally said solemnly. "My uncle Peter is going, and mother says we need to show our support."

Mary thought of her father and pouted. "Are all the men leaving?"

Sally shook her head. "Just the ones who want to, I think. Some of them have to go, like Mr. Paul."

"Mr. Paul is leaving?" Mary sighed and sat down on Sally's bed. "But Miss Edith will be all alone."

"I know." Sally began untying her mother's apron from her waist; neither of the girls felt like playing house anymore.

###

Paul's name was on the list of those called to duty. Edith had found out first and she stood in the kitchen crying and raging until Paul came home. Once she saw him, she began beating her fists against his chest and arms. "You promised me." Her voice was hoarse from screaming and her syllables came out fragmented. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment and then he understood. He pulled her closer and bent his knees so he was staring right into her eyes.

"If I could stay, I would," he said, "but if I don't go, they're going to come for me anyway."

Edith nodded and rubbed her eyes with one hand. She tried to pull away, but Paul held her close. His lips brushed against hers and she pushed forward eagerly. "I'm terrified of what could happen."

"I'm coming back," he said sternly. There was no question in his mind.

All in all, fifty men were leaving the city of Biloxi to join the war effort. It was a scorching August day when Edith and Paul went down to the train station. They were joined by the rest of the DeWitts, those Biloxi men heading off to the forces, and what seemed to be half of the city. Even the Mayor was present, shaking hands and handing out ribbons to citizens.

"...stay safe..."

"...if Wilson had only..."

"...wish your father was here..."

The conversations ebbed and flowed. Edith sighed and stepped closer to Paul, wishing he would wrap his arms around her. "There's so many people." Edith murmured.

The conflict in the air was palpable, a bitter mix of fear, pride, and anger. How many wives and mothers wanted to cry and scream at that very moment? How many were at the brink of dropping to their knees and praying, right at the center of the station, for some sort of resolution? Edith knew she couldn't have been the only one.

"Honey?" Paul squeezed his wife's elbow.

Edith felt her heart race. "Is it time already? It can't be."

"No, not yet. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'll be fine." Always a lie. "Where are your brothers?" In the midst of her reverie Eugene and Harry had wandered off.

"They went to take a better look at the engine. H-H-Harry's been a fan of trains since he was a five years old and-"

"Mary!"

Edith and Paul looked up just as a small black-haired girl ran past them.

"Was that Mary Alice?"

People on the platform laughed and shouted as Mary called out apologies to those she bumped into. "Wait!" she shouted. "Please wait!"

Edith stood on her tiptoes and followed the girl with her eyes."Paul, can you see who she's running after?"

"It looks like Eugene and Harry."

Edith excused herself and moved through the crowd until she was next to her. Mary was standing behind Eugene and Harry, her brows furrowed and lips pursed. Edith approached her and tapped her gently on the arm. "Is everything well?"

The girl didn't answer. She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes focused intently on the ground in front of her. Her fingers began to twitch rapidly as if they wanted to rake through the coarse stone and soil. Harry noticed and turned around. "Is she okay?"

Edith nodded quickly. "Don't mind us, you two." She waited until the brothers were engrossed in their conversation again before kneeling before her daughter.

"Darling," she whispered, "What's wrong?"

Finally the girl moved; she clenched her fists and let out a shaky breath. "I'm fine, Miss Edith." Her voice was flat. She gave a small kick and watched the pebbles roll away under the tracks. "I thought I saw something on the ground."

"Well, what did you see?"

Mary's eyes grew wide and she gave a laugh. "For just a moment, I thought I saw strings."

"Strings?"

"But it was just for a moment," she quickly amended.

"Perhaps it was someone's shoelaces."

Mary knew they weren't. The strings were connected to Harry and Eugene, blue and white ones, twisted and tangled, trailing limply behind the brothers. They had begun to fray, Eugene's more than Harry's, and Mary felt sick as she pondered what that meant."It probably was a shoelace," she conceded. She took a deep breath and threw her thin arms around Eugene's waist. He regained his footing quickly and looked over his shoulder in surprise. "Well, now…" Mary quickly pulled away then gave Harry a similar hug before she ran off into the arms of Marianne, who was standing several feet away.

"What was all that about?" Harry wiggled his eyebrows and punched his older brother in the arm playfully. "I think the little Brandon girl has a crush on you, Eugene."

Paul joined the trio and was caught up on what had happened. Edith didn't say anything about strings, or how nervous Mary looked.

"Do you think she fancies one of my brothers?" Paul whispered into her ear.

"Maybe," she said, and quickly changed the topic.

All too soon the train whistle blew. The mood on the platform instantly grew somber, and everyone moved toward their loved ones in unison. Edith gave a small cry and fisted Paul's shirt. "Stay safe," she pleaded.

"I will be back before you know it." He gave her a lingering kiss and wiped under her eyes. "I love you, Mrs. DeWitt." He grabbed his duffel bag and hurried onto the train before he could change his mind.

As the men began filing onto the train, those left behind began waving their American flags wildly and shouting words of love, encouragement, and hope. To the left of the platform, Mary was holding her flag tightly against her chest while squinting and leaning forward. She could make out Edith watching as Paul boarded the train, and, as Edith waved, a huge grin spread out across Mary's face. She gave a small shout and began waving her flag then, bouncing excitedly next to her mother. She waited patiently for the train to pull away and for bystanders to begin leaving before catching Edith's attention.

She had red-rimmed eyes and was sniffling. She had a handkerchief in one hand and was taking deep breaths to calm herself. "Oh, Edith." Marianne gave her a warm hug and some words of comfort. She motioned for Mary to follow suit. Instead of a hug, Mary crooked her finger and grinned.

"I have to tell you something."

Edith leaned over and tried to force a smile. "Yes?"

"He's coming back to you."

Edith's eyes darkened and her lips curled before she regained her composure.

"I sure hope so."

There was no hope about it. Paul had a string of his own, gold, unharmed, and anchored completely to Edith.

###

In the days following the deployment, Edith thought she would lose her mind. Twice, she could have sworn she had heard Paul return from a long day at work, smelled the stench of fish and chum wafting up to her bedroom. She threw the covers off of herself and raced down the steps, taking them two at a time. No one was ever there, and that hollow space in her chest ached.

Her friends took turns checking up on her, as she had done for them so many times before. Missy had taken the brunt of the depression, holding Edith's hand as she sobbed and whimpered.

"Why don't you stay with the DeWitts?" she suggested. "Elena's been asking for you. I'm sure she'd love to have you."

Edith didn't even think of it. How dare she? How could she sit and cry in a home that was missing three sons? She'd never be able to look Elena in the eyes.

"No," she stated firmly. "I can't do that to them."

"I'm sure-"

"Missy, please." Edith smoothed the pleats in her skirt while Missy let out a deep sigh.

"Then at least come down to the docks tomorrow."

"The docks?"

"Yes. Many of the women are going and-"

Edith interrupted again with a bitter laugh, and ran a hand across her weary face. "Isn't it too soon for memorials? They just left, for Christ's sake."

Missy felt a moment of sympathy for her friend, before clearing her throat and slapping her hand against her thigh. Strong tones got through to Edith and, by God, Missy was going to get through to her.

"It's not a memorial, and you're going to be there, Edith DeWitt, if I have to drag you myself."

Edith blinked several times.

I can't.

Can I?

"I'll go."

###

The next morning Edith woke up so early, it was still dark out. She looked around for a moment in confusion before realizing someone was throwing pebbles at her window. She threw on her robe and peered outside. Lila DeWitt, the oldest Dewitt girl, was standing on the lawn, wearing what appeared to be her father's clothes. They hung on her loosely, the long sleeves hanging practically down to her knees.

"Edith," she shouted, "put on a pair of trousers and get down here!"

"Trousers? What's going on? Where's your mother?"

"Nothing's the matter. Put on some of Paul's stinky clothes and his boots and come down."

Edith stuck her head back inside and grabbed some of Paul's clothing. They still smelled like him, and Edith found herself pausing to inhale the scent on the collar. Once outside, she realized several women were in the street. Some of them were hand in hand, and all of them were marching down to the docks. She spotted Missy exiting her house and waited for her on the corner, arms crossed.

"When you said to go down to the dock, I thought it would be at a respectable hour. What are we doing out this early?"

Missy just smiled and linked her arm through Edith' marched forward in silence through the early morning chill. When they reached the dock, Edith was braced to see candles and ribbons. Instead, what she saw took her breath away.

Mothers, sisters, wives and daughters were en masse, finishing the work their loved ones weren't there to do. Lila had grabbed a net and was mending the holes. Carolynn was talking animatedly with the Captain, while pointing to a map. Even Sis LeMaine was there, dressed as shabbily as the rest of them. She was already on a boat, raising the sails upward with a group of women Edith didn't recognize.

"They wanted to bring in immigrants and children from other towns to do this," Missy started. "But why? It should be us, dontcha think?"

"I s'pose." Edith smiled as the foreman approached them. He was shaking his head and muttering, looking just as surprised as Edith was. He harrumphed and shook his clipboard in Edith's face.

"You," he barked, "You workin' here today?"

"Paul, that's my husband, sorts the catch and helps deliver it to the canneries."

"Well, that's your job until he gets back. You okay with that?"

Edith felt a smile coming on. She didn't bother answering; she simply gave a wave to Missy and walked toward the large barrels that would soon be brimming with shrimp.

###

June 1918

"My mother told me there's a stork."

Christopher wrinkled his nose. "What's a stork?"

"It's some sort of big bird."

"Like a seagull?" Mary chimed in.

"No…Maybe. Let me finish!" Sally kicked her heels on the ground and let out a rush of air. "There's a stork that picks babies up from a baby garden and delivers the baby to mommy and daddies."

Mary glanced over at Christopher and cleared her throat. "Sally, that doesn't make a lick of sense."

The whole thing started when Henry Blythe, a boy from the high school, came down with a cough. From one day to the next it worsened, and before the doctor could even see him, Henry had died. It was the first sign that the Spanish influenza had made its way to Biloxi. All the schools were immediately closed down for the rest of the school year, and everyone flocked down to the white sands of the gulf, believing the ocean air could heal the epidemic that blazed a trail through the country.

That is why Mary, Christopher, and Sally found themselves on the dunes just up from the beach on a breezy Thursday they would have otherwise spent in the classroom. They had started with sandcastles, and the conversation flowed to Sally's aunt, Matilda, who was expecting a baby over in Gulfport.

"That's why they call it expecting," Sally continued. "She's waiting for the stork!"

"Sally, don't you remember when Mrs. Pleasant's sister came to visit from Louisiana and she had that big ol' belly?" Mary folded her hands and held them out way in front of herself, mimicking a pregnant belly. "The baby was inside her stomach."

"Babies are inside the mommy?" Sally pondered this for a moment, while idly moving sand with her small toy shovel. "How do the babies get inside of the mommies, then?"

At this, Mary was stumped. Christopher laughed at the girls and thumbed his nose. "My older brother told me all about it. There's a boy part that goes inside the girl parts."

"And?"

"And babies get made."

"Boy parts?" Sally laughed. "What in the world are boy parts?"

Five minutes later, Christopher Liddell was standing in the dunes with his pants around his ankles. Sally blushed and looked away, but Mary was curious and turned her head this way and that.

"I don't understand," she finally said.

"Oh well," Christopher quickly pulled his pants back up. "Your turn."

"Oh, no," Sally shook her head so hard her pigtails flew and slapped her in the face. "I'm not showing you anything, Christopher."

Mary sighed and grasped the ends of her skirt. "I'll do it. But just a quick look." She didn't even have the skirts to her thigh when she heard Sally gasp.

Christopher let out a roaring laugh. "You have knock knees!" he cried.

"What?" Mary felt her face grow warm and the prickle of tears begin to sting the corner of her eyes. She let her skirt fall back down.

"Sally, did you see that? They looked like old lady bones."

"Be quiet, Christopher," Mary warned.

"What'll you do, run after me? You won't catch me." He turned around and began mimicking a slow hobble.

Mary growled and leapt at him, catching his shirt in her fist and dragging him down to the ground. She threw punches wildly, and could feel something wet beneath her fingertips. Over her own grunts and wails, she could make out the sound of Sally yelling in the background, the cries of seagulls circling the shoreline, and Christopher's own yells beneath her. Suddenly, she felt someone grab onto her shoulders and yank her away.

"What in heaven's name are you children doing?" It was Elizabeth, and she looked absolutely furious.

Christopher was still curled on the ground, his arm covering his face. Mary felt embarrassed as she took in the scratches on his arms and neck.

Elizabeth sucked in a shallow breath and bent down to inspect her son's injuries. "What happened?"

"It serves him right," Mary responded. She backed away quickly and then spun around, making her way past Beach Road and through the lots to Tanglewood. She burst through the front door of her home and slammed it shut behind her.

Marianne heard the commotion. "Mary, are you back already? What have I told you about slamming that door?"

There was no answer. Mary had gotten a look at herself in the mirror hanging in the hallway, and her words disappeared while she studied hair had snagged free of its braid, and it was pointing in every direction. Her cheeks were red, from the exertion or blows she wasn't sure, and her lips appeared swollen. The worst casualty was her dress. It had been a gift for her birthday, and now it was ripped at the bodice and the hips, while the skirt hung in tatters. The tears came slowly but surely, and it wasn't long before she was standing in the hallway, clutching her skirt in her fists and sobbing.

Marianne dropped the cake pan she was holding and ran towards the sound. "What in the world happened?"

After telling her mother what happened, omitting the part about the whole baby-making business, Mary wanted nothing more than to crawl into her arms and be comforted.

Instead, Marianne pointed up to the washroom. "You get yourself cleaned up. We're going to march right over to the Liddell's so you can apologize."

"But-"

"March!"

###

Cormack answered the door with an expression that hung between amused and angry. He glanced down at Mary and gave a snort.

Mary looked down at her shoes. She hadn't cleaned them up when she washed up, and they looked horrible against the shiny wood of the Liddell's porch. She began discreetly wiping them against the grain, delighting in the little mites of dirt that began to fall free.

"Mrs. Brandon," Cormack drawled, "it seems our two young'uns got into it today."

"I know, and Mary would like to apologize to Christopher."

There was a loud cough from above, and then the rat-tat-tap of feet pounding on the stairs. Christopher appeared behind his father, pouting, arms crossed angrily. He was more humiliated than in pain. Marianne pushed Mary forward and tapped her shoulder. "Go on."

"I am very sorry for what I did, Christopher." Mary recited without emotion.

Cormack shook his head and let out a laugh. "It does a boy good to get a little roughed up. Of course, I never thought it'd be from a girl." He directed his attention to Marianne. "I think your daughter could use some lessons on acting like a respectable lady."

Marianne tensed, and blushed in embarrassment. "Yes, well…"

Cormack's eyes lit up suddenly and he crossed his arms. "Say, is Jimmy entering the regatta?"

Marianne stumbled over an answer. "We're not the sailing type, Mr. Liddell."

"Good, because I am going to win this year." He let out a booming laugh, hands clasped over his expanding stomach.

"Actually, you're going to lose." Mary spoke so quietly the adults had barely heard her.

"What did she say?" Cormack asked.

"I-I'm not sure." Marianne answered.

Mary was standing on the Liddell's doorstep and yet, behind her eyelids, she was running alongside the shoreline, watching the boats race toward an invisible finish line. She saw the outcome already, months before they would hit the water. "You're going to lose," Mary repeated, staring into Mr. Liddell's eyes with such a ferocity it made him shudder.

"Mary Alice!" Marianne grabbed her daughter's wrist and pulled her away. She gave a nervous laugh. "I don't know what's gotten into her, Cormack."

Cormack's eyes narrowed and he held up his hand. "I'm not sure what is wrong with her, but it would do her well to be seen and not heard." He pushed Christopher back inside the house and, with an icy farewell, shut the door on them.

###

September 1918

When Terrance won the regatta, most of the city rejoiced. They stood on the pier waving flags and banners, many of them hurrying over to congratulate Missy on her husband's win. Everyone knew he had been working on his boat for years, using mostly scrap wood and supplies from his carpentry jobs. The newspapers heralded the win as exciting and a sign of progress in the south, proof the underdog always had a chance.

Cormack Liddell thought it was bullshit.

"A negro. A goddamn negro." He slammed down his shot and let out a belch. He had unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt and sweat was dripping down his forehead. "Can you believe that?" he shouted. Several of the other patrons looked up from their drinks and shook their heads. Thomas Kent chuckled and sidled up to the man.

"C'mon, Cormack. He had a good boat, fair and square. I'm almost proud of Terry."

Cormack gave a grunt. "It had nothing to do with his goddamn boat. It was that damn Brandon girl."

"Marianne?"

"The little one. She stood right in my doorway and told me I was going to lose. It's like she put a spell on me, brainwashed me, or something."

Les, the bartender, raised an eyebrow and moved to the end of the bar. He put a hand over Cormack's glass and said, "I think you've had enough."

"Fuck off. You trying to tell me none of you have ever noticed anything peculiar about Mary Brandon?" Cormack jabbed a fat finger in Thomas' face, and turned in his seat to look at everyone in the room. "You keep an eye on her, gentlemen, and I promise you, you'll notice. She's a fucking freak," he declared. Then he pushed away Les' hand, threw his shot back, and asked for another.

###

Eugene DeWitt died in October; a German tank sent shells into the trench he was in and his body was flown in from Brest. A general visited the DeWitt home to notify the family and, when the door opened, he was greeted by ten wary pairs of eyes. Elena made her way forward. "Which one of my boys?" she asked, her trembling hands clutching the rosary around her neck. She didn't get an answer before her legs caved and she fell into the arms of her family.

Harry came back that following January along with forty other Biloxi boys. They were all alive and the happy cries from their families could be heard up and down the streets. Eventually the families dealt with the same heartbreak; their boys were back but not whole. Harry was now grim, sullen, withdrawn, and forever jumping at every snap, crackle, and pop that might be death coming to get him.

###

Paul didn't come back with the others. A week passed, then two, with no word. When Edith's most recent letter was returned to her as undeliverable, the space beneath her ribs began to throb and expand. Standing next to her mailbox on a chilly January day, she started to grieve.

Edith started seeing Paul from the corner of her eye wherever she went, as if his silhouette was burned onto her eyes. She imagined his arm was draped around her waist as she prepared dinner for one. She heard his laughter in the backyard while she trimmed the rose bushes. At random moments she would hear him say her name but it was always just the wind rushing in and out of the shutters.

On February 23, 1919, she always remembered the date, she saw him standing in the living room. He was dressed in uniform, worn duffel bag in his hand, his shoes polished and shining. His hair was short beneath his triangular cap and his blue eyes looked hungry. She paused for a moment, shook her head, and continued past him.

"Did I make you wait too long?" A gruff voice asked.

She whipped back around and covered her mouth with her hands. Paul lowered his duffel bag and held out both hands, pleading. "I know I was gone a long time, but if-"

"Oh god, you're real!" Edith whispered. She ran forward and leapt into his arms, nearly knocking him over. She peppered his face with kisses, whispering how much she missed him, how much she loved him. The house grew quiet as they both tried to slow their breathing. "Does your mother know? You need to go see your family."

"I did, honey, just for a moment. They know I'm back." Paul took in her longer hair and the sinew that replaced her once soft body. "I missed you so much." He moved backward and sat on the couch, holding her in his lap. She leaned forward and buried her face into his neck. He no longer smelled like the gulf; his scent was that of musk and cinnamon, something earthy and organic. She skimmed his jaw with her nose, then lifted her head and trailed her thumbs over the fine lines on his face, a small scar on his chin. She wiped under his eyes at the darkness there. He looked the same, but older, all lingering traces of boyhood finally gone.

Paul was watching her closely, his hands roaming over her shoulders, around her waist, before finally slipping under her skirt.

Edith kissed him. She wrapped her left hand around the back of his neck, using her other to fumble with the buttons on his shirt. Paul grew impatient and ripped the shirt open, the low clatter of buttons bouncing and rolling around on the floor loud in their ears.

"I'll mend it later." Edith whispered between kisses.

"Don't bother. I'm never wearing it again." He pulled back so he could look her in the eyes. Then he pushed her gently onto the couch and nothing else needed to be said.

###

November 1919

The signs were there but Edith was hesitant to acknowledge them. She kept it secret for as long as she could, but one lazy morning Paul noticed. He ran his hand over her stomach a few times before propping himself on his elbow and grinning.

"Honey, are we-"

"Don't!" Edith put her hand over his mouth. "Don't say it."

Paul frowned and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I thought you always wanted a baby."

" I do. But we've lost so many…" She trailed off and whimpered softly. "I don't want to even think about it until I'm further along, until I know for sure it'll keep."

Paul smiled and held up one hand in defeat. "If that's what you want. W-w-when can we start thinking about it?"

"May." Edith said decisively. Paul started to protest but she shushed him. "If it's still alright, we'll start getting everything ready in May. If."

Edith was still pregnant in May.

Everyone saw the signs and tried to find polite ways to ask, but each time Edith would simply shake her head and say, "I will not speak about it yet."

Missy and Marianne began referring to the baby as the May baby, even when names were chosen. Around the end of the month, Paul invited all their friends over for "an exciting announcement". Sis, always the loudmouth, hung up her shawl and immediately whipped around, hands on her hips.

"Yes, yes, Edith is expecting. We all know, Paul." The guests laughed while Paul and Edith blushed. Mary Alice looked pensive and began swinging her legs in the plush chair she was sitting on.

An hour into the party, Edith caught her attention and pointed to the kitchen. She stirred the crawfish etouffee while Mary sniffed the air and made a show of rubbing her tummy.

"That smells good."

Edith looked at Mary out of the corner of her eye. "You seem quiet this evening. How do you feel about me having a baby?"

"Hmm. Okay, I s'pose." Mary folded her arms and leaned against the counter. "I wish my momma and daddy were having a baby."

"Oh." Edith cleared her throat and tapped her spoon against the side of the steel pot.

"Miss Edith, is your baby a boy or a girl?"

"I think it's a girl. Paul is hoping it's a boy."

"Oh. Do you know what you're going to name it?"

Edith nodded and turned to face her. "If it's a boy, it'll be named after Paul, of course. If it's a girl, I'm hoping to name her after my mother. Francine is a bit of a mouthful, though."

Mary stepped back and her eyes widened. "Francine?"

"That's right. I'll probably call her Franny for short. What do you think?"

Mary inched forward and placed one hand on Edith's belly, then the other. She let out a slow, calming breath and smiled, pressing her cheek over Edith's belly button.

"I think that I can't wait to meet her." she finally said.

"Neither can I."

###

Francine Coutu Dewitt was born on June 11th and weighed seven pounds, two ounces. Her mother was the first to hold her, followed by her father.

Then Mary held her, and never wanted to let her go.

The history lesson:

WWI ended on November 11, 1918. In January 1919, forty-five soldiers returned to Biloxi from their station in Brest, France. That's where I placed Harry. Paul was elsewhere which is why he didn't return with them.

WWI really helped push the suffrage movement into the spotlight. Not only did women step up to the plate and do their part for the war efforts, Wilson was under a lot of pressure. After the National Woman's Party staged protests, Wilson came out supporting the movement. He signed the bill in 1919 and it became law in 1920.

The Spanish Influenza made its way across the US around 1918 and killed about 50 million people worldwide. Twihards should know this; the Spanish Flu is what killed Edward Masen (er, before Carlisle did, anyway). Interestingly enough, common advice at the time was for people to spend more time outside "getting fresh air." This idea was popular in the gulf where the sea air was considered to be good for pulmonary ailments.

Author's Note:

I'm sorry about the length of time between chapters. Some of it was just plain RL stuff: I'm a full-time employee and student. A lot of it, however, actually has to do with writing too much. There are several pages of MFOG on the cutting room floor because they don't flow well with the rest of the story. I waste a lot of time trying to get these pieces to fit; these vignettes want to be told, it's just difficult to fit them into the outline.

In order to get these all out without ruining my flow, I'm starting an outtake fic. It'll be called "Give Us This Day" and will be mostly drabbles that didn't quite work in the main story. You don't have to read the outtakes in order to know what's going on; MFOG will still be a complete story on its own.

Alright, I'm done blabbing. Next chapter we see more of...William and Mary together? Oh my.

Reviewers get a tease and some pickled watermelon rinds.