December 10th, 1943

Dear Bucky,

How could you do that to us?! We were worried sick! The letter we got from the Army said you were missing, presumed killed or some such horrible thing! We were devastated, Bucky! I thought we'd lost you. We all did.

I have never been so happy as when we read your letter. At first I thought it was going to be the last letter you sent out before going missing. I almost couldn't bring myself to open it. But then I saw the date! And then I read it.

I am so mad at you!

But I also don't have the words to say just how relieved and thankful I am that you're alright.

I wish you were home just so I could hug you! Just to make sure it's real and you really are okay. I'd never let go, Bucky.

And then I'd smack you for scaring me like that. You know I would.

I also wish you were home so I could yell at you! I am so mad at you, Bucky! And I don't know why. That's not true. I think I do, but I know I shouldn't. I should be happier and more relieved than I can put into words—I am, of course—but I'm also so mad. Maybe it's because I was so afraid and so upset. It broke my heart, Bucky.

I'm sorry, but I can't write anymore. I'm just— I can't— I'll write again in a couple days. when I'm not so—

I just miss you so much, Bucky.

Please come home.

Love,

Beatrice

A/N : And apparently there's no strikethrough formatting here on Wattpad...boo. You'll just have to make due with dashes, I'm afraid.

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