The Pieces We Keep
“Vivian would start with a new outlook. Granted, she had no misconceptions when it came to her heart; part of her would always yearn for Isaak. So much so, she could not fathom loving so fiercely again. In fact, she flat-out refused to allow it. But that wouldn’t stop her from recovering at least a semblance of happiness. Life was too brief to waste.
Nothing had clarified the point more than the death of Mrs. Langtree’s son. The casualty of a training exercise, he hadn’t even left the States. He... was supposed to be safe. But that word, safe—like innocence, according to Vivian’s father-did not apply to wartime.
She sat on her coverlet now and gazed about her room, at the walls painted buttery yellow. Since the addition of blackout curtains, the place resembled a hive. And Vivian felt the restlessness of a bee.
“I have an idea.” She tossed aside her magazine as Luanne came through the door. “We,” she declared, “are going out.”
“Out? You mean, tonight?”
“Not just tonight.MoreLess
Nothing had clarified the point more than the death of Mrs. Langtree’s son. The casualty of a training exercise, he hadn’t even left the States. He... was supposed to be safe. But that word, safe—like innocence, according to Vivian’s father-did not apply to wartime.
She sat on her coverlet now and gazed about her room, at the walls painted buttery yellow. Since the addition of blackout curtains, the place resembled a hive. And Vivian felt the restlessness of a bee.
“I have an idea.” She tossed aside her magazine as Luanne came through the door. “We,” she declared, “are going out.”
“Out? You mean, tonight?”
“Not just tonight.MoreLess
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