A week passes. There is no news from Father.

On Sunday, Hazen comes over for a few hours. We talk briefly about the war and the Easter service that morning, because the Einhardts decided to come, but the topic quickly turns to us.

We are walking in the field, stopping every now and again to point out a flower to the other, when Hazen asks, "What did you think of me before I came to your house?"

Quiet for a second, I think back. "All I ever noticed was that you were extremely shy. Of course, now I know why."

She smiles, rather sadly I think, and I turn the question back on her.

"Honestly, Evelyn, I was jealous."

"Jealous?" I put a finger to my chest. "Of me? Why, whatever for?"

"You have a mother, younger siblings, and you never seem in need, whereas our family was cut almost in half. And Father is always taking on odd jobs to keep Christoffer and me in nice clothes."

I almost laugh, but thankfully hold it in.  "Seriously Hazen, you should've told me! My parents make clothes! Mother would be happy to sew something for you." Then I remember the extra fabric she mentioned. At the time, I was repelled by the thought of my clothes matching someone else's, but now I like the idea.

"Actually, after my mother made that purple dress, you know, the one I wore last week, she had enough fabric left over for another. Would you be interested?"

Taking my hand, Hazen alters her voice so it's deeper, bows her head and says, "I would be honored, my lady."

We burst into a flood of laughter which is renewed every time we look at each other. When we finally settle down, we're on our sides in the field, and I'm clutching my stomach with tears streaming down my face. Hazen sits up, pulling grass out of her hair, and sighs happily

"You know, I've never had this much fun with a friend. Not since Mother died."

I smile. "I haven't had this much fun in a while, either. I guess we should do this more often!"

"Let's."

~

After Hazen is gone, Mother calls me and Heidi to the living room with an ecstatic voice. "There's a letter from your Father!"

Excitedly, I jump up from my bed, grab my sisters hand, and practically drag her down the hall.

Plopping down on the floor, I fold my legs under myself and clasp my hands, like an eager child. Which, really, is what I am. "Read it to us!"

Mother rips open the starchy envelope and pulls out a single sheet of rather transparent paper. Assuming her reading voice, she starts the letter.

Dear Rosa, Evelyn, Heidi, and Ansell,
First off, I miss you all very much. Incredible how lonely I can get in a short week. Women and children have an irreplaceable presence.
Secondly, I am not allowed to say where I am, or what I am doing, but I promise you I am safe. The food is decent, but Rosa, I can't wait for your soups again!
I will write soon.
Love,
Kyland

My mother clutches the letter to her chest and Heidi pats her back gently. I press my lips together and try not to imagine what he is doing right now.

Instead, I go to my father's office, untouched since he left, and take out a piece of paper from a desk drawer. Snatching a pencil out of the cup that holds so many, I sit myself down where Father sat on multiple evenings. I bite the end of the pencil thoughtfully, tasting rubber, and then start forming a letter in my neatest handwriting.

~

At school in the morning, my mood has improved considerably from last week. Knowing my father is safe, at least for now, brings some hope.

I sit with Caroline, but she seems distant. Hardly ever looking me in the eye, she gives monosyllabic answers to my questions about her chicks, which I ask since she has so far avoided the subject.

"Caroline, what's wrong?"

She continues to pick at her onions.

I put my head close to the table so I can see her downward-cast eyes. "Caroline?"

Lifting her head, she snaps, "Nothing's wrong, okay?"

Startled, my eyes widen a bit as I pull my head up. "Okay! Sorry." I continue eating in science.

Just after I finish lunch, the bell rings. Picking up my books, I walk down the hall open the door to geography class. I maneuver around the other chairs and desks, working my way to the middle of the classroom. This is my favorite class, because it is positioned in my school schedule in such a way that the sun is always filtering through the dirty windows right onto my place when I enter the room. I pull out my chair, the legs making a dull scrapping sound on the dirty floor, and set my books on the small desk.

That's when I notice them.

Sitting on my desk, staring at me through the sunlight, is a small bunch of violet colored asters.