of bed two weeks ago.”
“Lucy and I have been thrilled with his progress.” Jack squeezed his wife’s fingers in his. Muriel saw that and smiled. They were a beautiful couple, and they had a sweet, charming son. It was like a little fairy tale, if only it came guaranteed with a happy ending, Muriel thought. She felt Char’s presence beside her, his wing around her shoulder.
“I feel so bad, some of their parents can’t even be here,” Lucy frowned, watching her son getting up into one of the swings next to a dark-haired girl with rosy cheeks. She was a little older and missing a front tooth.
“I’m so lucky to have a job I can do at home, if I need to,” Jack agreed with his wife, his gaze never leaving his son. They both looked at him as if they were starving and he was their only source of nourishment, like they believed that, if they looked away, he might disappear. “The firm’s given me as much time as we need.”
“We’re lucky, we live so close to the hospital,” Lucy said, watching the dark-haired girl helping Henry up into his swing. His legs were a little too short. “That’s the little girl from California, isn’t it? Bonnie?”
“Her mother flew out last week for a few days,” Nurse Clara told them. “But she has three more at home.”
“Henry is our only.” Lucy glanced at her husband, her violet eyes shining, but somehow a little sad too. “And he took a long time in coming.”
Muriel guessed they were in their thirties, both of them, which did seem a late start for children. But the war had separated many couples, and Muriel had come across many war widows.
“We thought we dodged a bullet, when Jack came home from overseas safe and sound,” Lucy said. “And then Henry got sick…”
Muriel watched the woman’s eyes tear up, somehow making them look even bigger in her pale, pretty face. Her hair was long, thick and dark, falling in perfect waves past her shoulders, brushing the sleeves of her black and white polka-dot dress with the stylish red belt.
“I didn’t quite dodge the bullet.” Jack gave a short laugh, running a hand through his hair. He needed a cut, desperately—whatever firm he worked at would insist he get one before coming back to the office, Muriel was sure—but they clearly had other things on their minds these days. “I still have shrapnel in my hip. And they took my spleen. But I’m home, and that’s all that matters now.”
“I know I couldn’t get through this without him.” Lucy smiled at her husband, blinking back her tears.
“Henry’s our pride and joy.” Jack cleared his throat and Muriel thought his eyes were slightly wet too.
“I don’t know what we’d do if we lost him,” Lucy whispered, and her husband’s arm went around her shoulder, comforting.
Muriel felt Char’s arm tighten around her shoulder too, and she glanced up at him, wondering what he was thinking.
“He’s in remission,” Jack reminded his wife. “The doctor said if he stays in remission another week, he might even be able to come home.”
“I’d like to have him home for his birthday.” Lucy brightened at the thought, explaining to the nurse, “He was a Valentine’s Day baby.”
“No wonder he’s so sweet.” Nurse Clara smiled. She was very young—early twenties maybe—a pretty girl with short blonde hair and big, blue eyes. A heartbreaker if there ever was one, ripe and ready for love to fall into her lap. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and besides, Muriel could sense when someone was ready for love. It was her job, after all. She wouldn’t be surprised if she and Jari got a call about Nurse Clara in the near future.
“The best Valentine’s gift you ever gave me.” Lucy went up on tiptoe to kiss her husband's cheek and he smiled at her.
“Nurse Clara!” The little dark-haired girl, Bonnie,
“Lucy and I have been thrilled with his progress.” Jack squeezed his wife’s fingers in his. Muriel saw that and smiled. They were a beautiful couple, and they had a sweet, charming son. It was like a little fairy tale, if only it came guaranteed with a happy ending, Muriel thought. She felt Char’s presence beside her, his wing around her shoulder.
“I feel so bad, some of their parents can’t even be here,” Lucy frowned, watching her son getting up into one of the swings next to a dark-haired girl with rosy cheeks. She was a little older and missing a front tooth.
“I’m so lucky to have a job I can do at home, if I need to,” Jack agreed with his wife, his gaze never leaving his son. They both looked at him as if they were starving and he was their only source of nourishment, like they believed that, if they looked away, he might disappear. “The firm’s given me as much time as we need.”
“We’re lucky, we live so close to the hospital,” Lucy said, watching the dark-haired girl helping Henry up into his swing. His legs were a little too short. “That’s the little girl from California, isn’t it? Bonnie?”
“Her mother flew out last week for a few days,” Nurse Clara told them. “But she has three more at home.”
“Henry is our only.” Lucy glanced at her husband, her violet eyes shining, but somehow a little sad too. “And he took a long time in coming.”
Muriel guessed they were in their thirties, both of them, which did seem a late start for children. But the war had separated many couples, and Muriel had come across many war widows.
“We thought we dodged a bullet, when Jack came home from overseas safe and sound,” Lucy said. “And then Henry got sick…”
Muriel watched the woman’s eyes tear up, somehow making them look even bigger in her pale, pretty face. Her hair was long, thick and dark, falling in perfect waves past her shoulders, brushing the sleeves of her black and white polka-dot dress with the stylish red belt.
“I didn’t quite dodge the bullet.” Jack gave a short laugh, running a hand through his hair. He needed a cut, desperately—whatever firm he worked at would insist he get one before coming back to the office, Muriel was sure—but they clearly had other things on their minds these days. “I still have shrapnel in my hip. And they took my spleen. But I’m home, and that’s all that matters now.”
“I know I couldn’t get through this without him.” Lucy smiled at her husband, blinking back her tears.
“Henry’s our pride and joy.” Jack cleared his throat and Muriel thought his eyes were slightly wet too.
“I don’t know what we’d do if we lost him,” Lucy whispered, and her husband’s arm went around her shoulder, comforting.
Muriel felt Char’s arm tighten around her shoulder too, and she glanced up at him, wondering what he was thinking.
“He’s in remission,” Jack reminded his wife. “The doctor said if he stays in remission another week, he might even be able to come home.”
“I’d like to have him home for his birthday.” Lucy brightened at the thought, explaining to the nurse, “He was a Valentine’s Day baby.”
“No wonder he’s so sweet.” Nurse Clara smiled. She was very young—early twenties maybe—a pretty girl with short blonde hair and big, blue eyes. A heartbreaker if there ever was one, ripe and ready for love to fall into her lap. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and besides, Muriel could sense when someone was ready for love. It was her job, after all. She wouldn’t be surprised if she and Jari got a call about Nurse Clara in the near future.
“The best Valentine’s gift you ever gave me.” Lucy went up on tiptoe to kiss her husband's cheek and he smiled at her.
“Nurse Clara!” The little dark-haired girl, Bonnie,
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