Rose stood by the kitchen window and watched the sun break through the clouds. Everything glistened from the showers earlier that morning. The day was turning sunny and warm but Rose knew that it wouldn't be until around the fourth of July that the rain would stop and the summer heat stay. The garden was wildly beautiful that year. From the kitchen window above the sink she could see the rose garden, the herbs and wild flowers. The lilac bushes were in full bloom. There was one  right below the kitchen window. Rose opened the window a crack and closed her eyes. In a moment, she could smell the sweet lilac coming in with the breeze.

That year, she planted sunflowers around the fenced victory garden. The sunflowers had not come up yet, and so you could see the rows of plants that were starting to grow. The tomato plants were still seedlings. The carrots sprouted in two long rows. The beans and sweet peas were just beginning to climb up the poles. For a moment, the vegetable garden looked pastoral, like a country farm. She thought of Ed O'Neil's mother's garden the way he described it. "Nothing like yours." He had said. "yours is passionate." Did he say passionate? She had not seen him since the spring afternoon when he came to see her garden. Mostly, she was relieved. A small part of her was disappointed but mostly she was relieved. Each of the times she had seen him, she was left feeling like she had been sleep walking. Like somehow she couldn't put the pieces together. She didn't know exactly what had happened. Still, she wondered about him, often. In her mind, the day in the garden was something from a novel. Something that Nick would have read to her up in the tree house. That little time in the garden entered her thoughts often. It was the feeling, having her hair down around her shoulders, his eyes, and the secret she held. It's because she was lonely she thought. And, now that all this time had passed, she began to think that maybe the scene hadn't unfolded the way she imagined. She blamed herself for infusing it with such romance and passion. And, sometimes she felt guilty and shameful for her feelings, because she had seen his slight wife, their little baby. She had seen her sitting outside of the community house. She wondered why Ed O'Neil would act that way with a wife and child at home. She thought maybe it was acceptable for artists to do such things, but really she knew that this wasn't true.

After the pot finished percolating, she filled a thermos with coffee for the garden club meeting. It was at Sellwood pool house, a potluck lunch, a corsage contest, and a talk about dwarf trees by a local expert. Deep inside, Rose hoped that Ed O'Neil would show up again at the meeting. This time, she would understand his awkward smile and his apologies to the women. A misfit in a room full of women, all friends, all exchanging glances. He would be a celebrity. Rose tried to quash the thought from her mind. But then, she realized that she was a little smitten. She smiled to herself, this somehow explained everything.It made it all right. Just like Carmen was smitten with her dentist. It didn't mean anything. It was the same thing. Carmen would swoon over him and wear bright lipstick whenever she had to go. She'd report back to Rose what he said to her about her teeth. Each comment, she joked held some hidden meaning. But, Rose knew that somewhere deep inside Carmen hoped that "please be sure to rinse with mouth wash before bed," was a way to say how much he cared for her. It was husbandly. Or was it? "It's his eyes," Carmen would insist, "I can't explain it to you. Its not the words he uses. Its his eyes." Wasn't that the same with Ed O'Neil? Wasn't it just his eyes? But he had said she was beautiful. He had touched her hair.

Rose opened the ice box and picked up a little carton. Inside was a corsage she had made for the meeting. She looked at herself in the hall mirror before she left. She wore a long gray skirt and a pink short sleeved sweater. Her hair was down, held back on each side with combs.

Carmen was outside on her front porch. Carmen lived in a big rambling Victorian. It was unkept and run down. Carmen had taken in boarders to earn money and so there were chairs out on the porch and usually some women or men would be sitting together talking privately. And, there were always children running around the back yard where several tire swings were hung from the large maples. Although Carmen's house was in disrepair. Her garden was stunning. She had trellis's with climbing roses that were two stories tall. One side of the yard had a dozen or so azaleas and rhododendrons that were all in bloom. The bright magenta, pinks and reds created an explosion of color. The Victory Garden was in the middle of the yard, where grass once grew. Around it Carmen grew lavender and rosemary. Behind the house were several small fruit trees. An enormous forsythia against the house was in full bloom and the buttercup yellow against the red house lit up a corner of the yard. The path to the front porch was always full of annuals. And, now as Carmen walked down the walkway to meet Rose, alyssum were overflowing white mounds. Yellow and purple pansies punctuated the white. Carmen's garden always held such promise, because as one palate of color faded another emerged. And, this somehow lasted almost through January.

Carmen was carrying a plate covered in a tea towel.

"What do you have?" Rose called out.

Carmen walked closer and lifted the towel "butter cream cookies."

"That'll be nice. Your cookies are so good."

Carmen smiled. "You look so pretty, Rosie. Is that sweater new?"

"Goodness no. You're the one who looks lovely." And Carmen did. She wore a cotton dress. It was baby blue and it brought out the color in her eyes. Her had her hair finger waved and her face was flush from the sun.

They started down Miller towards Sellwood Park. Everything was green and lush. Carmen put her hand on Rosie's arm. "Do you think your artist will be there?" It was so innocent and silly. It reminded Rose of being a teenager. How many times had Carmen asked a question like that? How many boys had they imagined they would end up with?

Rose blushed and put her hand over her mouth. She started to laugh a little, "I was wondering the same thing."

"I hope he is there. I want to see what he has to say for himself. How can he show his face again? How dastardly." Carmen made a silly expression, squinting her eyes and smiling at Rose.

It was infectious. Rose started to laugh."Well, I don't know how much I embellished," Rose finally conceded.

Carmen looked at her and smiled. "Its good for you, you know."

Rose felt a sudden deflating feeling. She knew what Carmen was going to say.

"Don't," Rose said softly.

"I don't mean that you should do anything with this artist. It's a good..."Carmen tried to think of a way of describing it, "It is good while you are still...Its safer than a real eligible man right now."

"What do you mean?"

"Its ok to do this. To be smitten. To think about him. One day he'll just not be in your thoughts any more. Then you might be ready."

Rose put her hand on her wedding ring and turned it around her finger. She hadn't thought about it that way. She wasn't thinking about Ed O'Neil as anything at all, except her preoccupation with that moment in the garden. She realized that he had already given her something. Something to wonder and think about. She didn't imagine anything other than that.

When they entered Sellwood park, they could see the small group of women entering the pool house. Carmen and Rose walked passed the pool. It was not open yet and but they had started filling it, cleaning it to prepare for summer vacation. The light glistened on the water and Rose remembered being a girl, swimming in the pool. She remembered being a teenager and walking through the park, to the Wilammette river. She remembered sitting with Carmen, Nick and Bill. All of these memories were automatic, they were a part of the landscape and scenery. This was where she had grown up. So, each season re-opened a chapter in her memory and initiated a new one. Her life was layers upon layers of the same, slowly turning into the present.

"What are you thinking about?" Carmen asked her.

Rose smiled., "I was thinking about growing up here."

As they approached the pool house, Rose could see that Ed O'Neil was not here. Of course he wouldn't be. She was so foolish. He had wanted to see her garden, he saw it and that was that.

Mabel Lynch was speaking on the subject of dwarf trees.

"How about conifers?" one of the women asked.

"There are numerous unusual dwarf cultivars. Are you thinking of growing them in a pot. Or a border?"

Rose was listening intently. She didn't like conifers but they grow so well in the pacific northwest. It might be worth trying to grow a dwarf. She hadn't considered a conifer in a container.

"They are slow growing and can easily be grown in pots. They require almost no maintainence."

Rose looked around the pool house as she thought about dwarf confers. The dwarf fruit seemed almost more interesting because she could arrange a small orchard as Mrs. Lynch had described.

Rose scanned the wooden tables that were all empty except for the one the group occupied. Large windows overhead let in streams of light. There was a doorway to the pool from the meeting room. It was closed now. Rose looked up again at Mrs. Lynch and she noticed Ed O'Neil and his wife were making their way into the meeting. Rose sat up and faintly smiled at them. Mrs. O'Neil was dressed in a long skirt and wore a thin wool jacket over it. Mr. O'Neil had on a starched blue shirt and wool trousers. Again his collar seemed slightly too big. He was smiling awkwardly and again, his face was flush.

The room quieted as they entered. Mrs. Lynch stopped talking and smiled politely at the two of them. Margaret O'Neil sat next to Rose, very close. Mr. O'Neil sat on the other side of her. Carmen who was sitting next to Rose leaned over and whispered almost inaudibly, "well what do you know?" When she pulled away, her face was very close to Rose's and she raised her eyebrows high. It almost made Rose break out in uncontrolled laughter. Rose could feel herself starting to smile, but she regained her composure.

"We're just about finished with the lecture," Mrs. Lynch said "but you are welcome to stay.

Mr. O'Neil said "thank you," and Margaret folded her hands together and looked down for a moment.

Rose was stunned. Yet she felt that all of her feelings were unwarranted. She tried to act as the situation called for. She smiled at Mr. O'Neil without letting on that she had been thinking about the time in the garden. She leaned closer to Mrs. O'Neil and said "welcome, Mrs. O'Neil." Mrs. O'Neil looked up at her and smiled. Rose thought she looked young, almost too young to be a mother and a wife. Her skin was pale and perfectly clear. She had a small nose with several freckles. Her hair was shoulder length with barrettes on either side. She was slight, that is why she seemed young, Rose thought.

Rose couldn't hear any more of the lecture. Her mind was racing with this new development. She didn't dare look at Mr. O'Neil although she wanted to. She wanted to see what his eyes were telling her. She could almost feel that he found a humor in the circumstance. But, was this just like Carmen with her dentist. Was there nothing more to this situation than it seemed? She tried to act as if she were paying attention to Mrs. Lynch.

"All of these trees. I would almost say the fruit trees more than the confreres lend them selves well to ornamental plantings. And of course with the fruit there are orchards. These trees bear as much fruit as a small family would want or need." Mrs. Lynch moved to the table and opened a case. She removed a stack of photographs. "I will leave these and answer any questions."

The group gave a quiet applause then all was silent. Rose stood up and walked over to Mrs. Lynch. "Mrs. Lynch" Rose said to the group, "Thank you for your lecture. You certainly are an expert." Rose turned her attention to the garden club group, "Everyone please help yourself to cookies and Mrs. Lynch has agreed to stay for any questions."

Rose walked back over to the O'Neils. "Mr. and Mrs. O'Neil. I am so glad you could attend the meeting. I hope we will be seeing you more often, Mrs. O'Neil."

"It's Margaret," Ed said to Rose.

"Yes,"Margaret said, "I hope to get more involved."

All night Rose was angry. She was angry at Ed O'Neil. She felt tricked and foolish. She was mad at herself. And then in an instant she was glad that he behaved that way. "What way?" Carmen had said. "What way?" Carmen didn't understand. Rose was jealous.

Rose walked past Henry's room and looked in. He was playing with his blocks and toy plane. He had the blocks all laid out on the floor and the plane flew in close and knocked some of the blocks down. Charlie made a "boom boom boom" noise as he crashed the plane into the blocks.

"What are you playing son?"

"I'm a bombarder. I'm going to kill Hitler."

Rose looked at the little plane. She was so relieved when Mr. Malden fished it out of a sealed up box. "Is this it?" He had said. Rose's hands were shaking. She had been so relieved. She walked out of the school and tears streamed down her face the whole way home. She had on white gloves and was carrying the plane in one hand and her purse in the other. She never remembered Nick giving it to Charlie. She tried to remember. She thought about it over and over on the way home. But, Charlie would only have been two or three at that time. And, it was before Nick left for Europe. It was uneventful, just another moment in their lives. She didn't know there would be so few left. She didn't' appreciate or savor any of the time.

"Mommy," he said without looking up.

"yes, darling?"

"Did daddy try to kill Hitler?"

Rose walked in and sat on the bed. "Darling daddy did the right thing. He was very brave."

"Did Hitler kill Daddy? Is that why daddy died?"

"No my sweet boy. Daddy was very brave and he gave up his life to help. He did help."

"How did he die."

What should Rose tell him? That he was on his way home? He was in a hospital in the United States? That he won a purple heart and then his leg –his left leg—had to be...And, then he died from the wound? That he didn't have to die at all.

"He died in the war. He was killed trying to help our country."

But, Rose didn't believe that. Nick didn't have to go to war. He didn't have to fight. She hated him for going. He could have waiting until he was called—if it would have even happened. But, he said he couldn't'. She remembered the two of them standing in the kitchen in a big argument over it. How much he had been a part of their home. His presence completing things. And there he had stood. She had been so angry at him that she couldn't speak to him. And although they were lovers, they were like brother and sister as well. They had known each other since they were children. So in that way, she could become so angry with him that felt like she might hit him or start screaming and never stop. And that is how she felt when he told her he had enlisted. And they had been standing by the sink. She had been so ready to throw a glass across the room that he had both of her hands to stop her. He was holding them, at first gently, but then as he saw the anger rise in her, he held them more firmly. "It is serious, Rose. You don't know how serious." But she had seen the newspapers. She knew we were under attack. But, she was scared and he was more important to her than... Than she didn't know what.

'Let go of me," she had screamed.

"No." he had said. 'You need to stop. I'm not letting go until you get control of yourself."

When he finally released her, she went to her room and sat on the edge of the bed. She had started crying. Then she grew angry again. She sat there for a long time. She could hear Nick putting Henry  down for a nap and she didn't move. She stared out of the window at the houses across the street. It was just about Christmas time. And the trees were bare and the rain poured down in sheets. The sky was so gray that the rain was hardly visible. But, you could hear the thump thump thump as the large drops pelted the roof and windows. She was so angry she couldn't cry. And then Nick was standing there in the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe on one arm and just stared at her. Henry was asleep in his room. She knew that. Otherwise she would have stood up and started yelling at him all over again. She would have tried to hit him and told him to take it back. Finally, she turned and looked at him. Her eyes were swollen from crying. Then, she softened. He was so strong and handsome. 

He frowned a little at her, but his eyes were bright. "You know I'm not going to leave you Rosie. I'm going to come back."

"You can't say that." She knew that. She read in the paper all the boys who died. She saw pictures in the ads for bonds. She'd heard stories about the war on the radio. They had both watched the newsreels. The black and white screen, smoke rising. The men looking like vulnerable children as tanks navigated the terrain. Artillery fire relentless.

"Its not a game, Nick." She said.

"You think I don't know that?"

He had walked over to the bed and lay across it. He had been right next to her. She ran her fingers through his hair and looked at his deep blue eyes. Even though she had him, she always felt a hunger for him. Always.

Returning to time and place Rose heard Henry's voice. "Mommy" Henry said impatiently. "Mommy!"

Rose looked back at him, he was holding his plane in his lap. "I want to go fight in the war when I get big."

Rose felt the rage for Nick all over again.

When Henry finally fell asleep. Rose sat and read the Sellwood bee. She was tired and feeling exhausted. She sat in the upholstered chair in her room. The light cast a yellow circle on her page. She felt herself still angry at Nick again. She wished she could just tell him how she felt. Pound her fists into his chest. "You lied to me!" She would scream.

She glanced at the news section and read with interest some of the goings on about the neighbhorhood:

Dr. and Mrs. Thayer left Saturday for a couple of weeks vacation in Washington. Dr. Thayer whose offices are on Bybee and Milwaukee is one of the very few dentists in this section and is certainly a very busy man.

Rose smiled and thought of Carmen. How funny all of the things she said about Dr. Thayer were. Rose broke up when Carmen showed Rose the can of tooth powder. "See?" she had said.

"What?" Rose had laughed.

"Why would he give this to me?" Carmen had insisted.

How silly those kinds of situations were. Rose was tired but she scanned the paper some more.

Mr. and Mrs. Horace McGinnis and two small children have returned from a two-week vacation which they enjoyed at Cannon Beach.

Gloria M. Bolds, 3036 S.E. Rex St. returned recently from a visit home after working in a Portland shipyard. She was accompanied to Portland by a friend, Miss Phillis Combs and both girls are now employed by the Postal Telegraph Company. Miss Barnes is the Granddaughter of M.E. Chief of 1523 S.E. Linn St.

Then, as Rose scanned over the news she noticed Ed O'Neil's name.

Mrs. Edward O'Neil of 1215 S.E. Clastop street will spending a week at Rockaway with her daughter and her sister Mrs. E. P. Charters who is visiting from California."

Rose put the paper down and looked around the room. It was such a strange bit of information. Or rather, it was strange to see their name in the paper. She ran her finger over "Mrs. Edward O'Neil." Somehow this notice made their marriage official. It dispelled the crush that Rose had. She felt herself deflate a little. This is good, she thought.

Rose turned the page and skimmed over the stories. There was an appeal for Quinine Donations, and a story about the garden club meeting. Rose saw her own name in the story.

Although there were showers out of doors last Saturday, the flowers bloomed in the sellwood pool house when the S.E. Garden club held their meeting. Mrs. Nick Miller was presented with a lovely azalea plant presented by Mrs. Lester Pepper for her prize winning corsage.

Instantly Rose wondered if Jeff had seen her name in the paper. "Stop" she whispered to herself.

She looked over an add for the Emily May Dress shop. Two piece dresses, jerseys and print. Latest in sun suits slacks and slack suits for all occasions. Rose thought she might want to see what they have. Maybe try on a rayon suit. Or a jersey two piece dress. She didn't have enough rations to buy something new, but she could look.

She was about to put the paper down, finish reading it tomorrow when she saw a picture that she couldn't look away from. The headline read "A tragedy of War." At first, Rose didn't realize it was an ad for Bonds. It was a half page picture. A soldier with a gun was standing above a dead soldier. The dead soldier was wrapped in a dark blanket, the mounds of his body visible. The scene was out on a beach somewhere in Europe. There were sand and dunes with crab grass in the foreground. Further out was the sea. It was hard to make out, but Rose could see white caps towards the horizon. She stared at the dead soldier, at the lumps where his shoulders and knees were covered. She thought that one leg was bent to the side. Then she thought that there was a depression where a leg was supposed to be. Rose tried to calculate which leg was missing. Her heart was beating tremendously fast and her eyes stared in horror. She thought at first that it was the soldiers right leg. She felt relieved because then she knew it wasn't Nick. She blinked and exhaled. Then, she looked again, she could see that it was the dead soldier's left leg that was gone. She was stunned, frozen in time. Her lips started to tremble and she touched the picture. She wanted to pull down the black blanket and be sure it was Nick. She looked at the caption. It read, Study this picture for a few minutes. Imagine that the man under the blanket is your son, your brother, your husband." Rose starts to cry but still she read on "Then ask yourself if you can't sacrifice whatever is necessary in order to buy $100 extra in War Bonds this month. You can dig up the $100 can't you? But Rose didn't have to imagine that it is her husband. To her it was Nick at that beach in the picture. That was the place where Nick had lost his leg. The place that killed him. That was now what her mind saw.The soldier standing above him was the last person to talk to Nick and Rose felt the anger begin to well up inside of her again. She was jealous of that man.

Rose stood and opened the door of the armoire. She stood for a moment smelling the smell of cedar and staring at her silk shirts hanging from the bar. And, neatly down below on top of hat boxes were the letters. Rose removed them and fingered them. She had them tied with twine and carefully, she untied the bow. She carried the letters over to the bed and lay down. Carefully she removed each one. She placed them face up on the bed, as if she were laying down cards. There are fifteen of them. The one she is most afraid to read is the last one. She picks it up.

She felt pain as she studied her name written in his handwriting. "Mrs. Nicholas Miller." And, without ever reading these letters, she knew that inside they start with "Dear Rosie." Rose felt her lips tighten and turn down in a frown. She felt like a little girl as she started crying. At first it was quietly, then she rolled into her pillow and sobbed.