She pulled out a fresh piece of stationery. Heavier than air mail, but she was earning enough to afford the extra stamps and even the paper itself. It was lavender, embossed with silver flowers.
Dearest William,
I am delighted that our correspondence seems to mean as much to you as it does to me. I never suspected when I knit that first sock and wrote that first note that a friendship would bloom from it. But it has become the very best of surprises.
If it seems indulgent that I am writing to you on such lovely paper, I’m going to defend myself straight off by telling you that I have gotten another promotion and it was my little treat for myself to celebrate. Plus, it’s something I get to share with you. You’re worth the extra postage.
(Which in other times, might seem like such a trivial thing to say, but I think in these sparse days, even so much as a second cherry tomato on a salad seems like an extravagance!)
Anyway—on to the good news. The sewing job was child’s play for me, only because of my many years working in the cobbler’s shop. And the engraving work—well, it never really excited me.
But now! I am a welder. A woman welder. Can you believe that? We’ve had to take on so many jobs that the men left behind, but I’m not ashamed to say that it has been pure delight. Holding the torch in my hands is holding power itself. (A rare thing in the life of a woman, I must say. I see why it is an alluring concept.) Wearing the visor reminds me that it’s dangerous. I never would have pegged myself for finding that exciting—I was such a ninny when I thought that engraving ordnance was akin to handling munitions! But my favorite thing by far is watching the sparks fly. It’s like twinkling Christmas lights and the 4th of July all at once.
And by the end, I have made something that I can really be proud of. Why, just yesterday, I welded a significant part of the hull of our newest ship. Marvelously named the “Coral Sea.”
I earn an extra dollar a week. Which months ago, I would have spent on department store cosmetics. (Rather than drugstore ones, not that I expect you to know the difference. But there is one.) Now I feel that each week, each month brings me exponentially closer to adulthood and away from girlish giggles and such. I am setting aside half to give to my parents and putting away fifty cents a week in an old Mason jar for no other reason than it seems like the wise thing to do.
The only black eye on the new assignment is the awful foreman. He missed the cut-off age for joining the military by a mere four months and he takes out his anger on the employees in his charge. Acting like the general he imagined himself to be. (He sounds a bit like your precious Sobel.) I never understood a man’s impulse to be “in the action”—but now that I am enjoying my work so thoroughly, I see the appeal.
Not that I’m comparing it to what you’re doing. Not in the slightest. But for a woman—this woman, at least—it has been the height of excitement.
She wrote a few more lines telling him about Joanna cutting her first tooth and her worry over her father slowing down. Previously, she’d tried to keep things like that to a minimum—William had far greater things to worry about. But him sharing his vulnerability felt like invitation to share hers.
When she was satisfied, she signed it,
Love, Margaret
She put the end of the pen in her mount and thought for a moment.
P.S., she started. Please tell Tom how very much I am enjoying the flowers that he “adumbrates.” (How’s that for a new word?) Assuming you don’t have a dictionary at your disposal, it means “to sketch an outline of something.” If you’re not careful, my friend, I may even begin to anticipate those drawings even more than I do your letters. Tell him to keep them coming.
Margaret smiled as she set her pen down. William’s survival was the cherry on top on a run of things that had been looking upward. The Sock ’Em Club had knit nearly two hundred pairs to date, and her new position in the Navy Yard reinforced how much she loved creating something with her hands. But these accomplishments were small in comparison to Dottie’s new roles of wife and mother. And if Gladys indeed married Oliver, she’d be off having adventures in foreign lands.
It was all the inspiration she needed to imagine a future of her own. And even if she didn’t yet know what they were, she was going to save for them. She gave half her earnings to help her parents, but as she told William, she kept the other half for herself.
She put on her favorite green dress with its lacy V-neck collar, feeling like mailing this letter was an occasion and ran down the stairs before the postman arrived.
* * *
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” Gladys responded when Margaret shared William’s letter with her friends.
Dottie smiled as she stretched her legs and toes across the sandy beach, a picture of bliss at this indulgence. George had offered to watch Joanna so that Dottie, Gladys, and Margaret could spend the day together, as it was expected to be one of the first tolerable ones after a blazing hot summer. Margaret and Gladys had been picking up extra shifts at the Navy Yard because production on the USS Coral Sea was in full swing, and the Navy was hoping to put it in action as soon as possible. It was the first aircraft carrier that Margaret had had a chance to work on, and every time she saw it, it took her breath away.
“A monkey’s uncle? That makes you one as well, then.” Margaret laughed, nudging Gladys in the ribs with her elbow.
“It takes one to know one.”
“Oh, you two,” Dottie laughed. “You’re both the furthest things from a monkey, even if your eyes are droopy these days.”
Gladys pulled a compact from her beach bag and dabbed some powder all around her face. “I blame the Coral Sea. She is a demanding lady.”
“I’m sure she is. Gosh, an aircraft carrier. I can only imagine what she will look like when she’s done. I don’t think I’ve ever seen George this excited over a ship.”
“Don’t worry, Dottie. You’ll always be his best girl.”
Dottie giggled. “I know that. He tells me every day.”
“And bought you the house to prove it. With views of the river in the poshest part of Brooklyn. And five bedrooms! Do you plan to fill them all with babies?”
“In due time, certainly. Joanna is plenty for now. But enough of that. We were talking about Margaret and William.”
Margaret smiled in appreciation of Dottie’s thoughtfulness. Usually, she loved this kind of banter, but Dottie had George and Gladys had Oliver and for the first time, Margaret had someone of her own to swoon about.
“I’m sorry, Mags,” said Gladys. “Please continue.” She adjusted her towel, lathered some oil on her skin, and lay back.
“Well, I’ve read the letter to you. What do you think?”
She was not surprised by Gladys’s answer, nor the fact that she had an opinion at the ready. “I think it’s romantic and all. I really do. But I wouldn’t cut off your options. You haven’t even seen the boy. How do you know you’ll, you know, want him like that?”
“Gladys!” Dottie admonished.
“Oh, come on, Dots. You’re one to talk. You may act prim and proper, but which one of us got knocked up first?”
Margaret started choking on the sip of Coke she’d just taken, the drink fizzing down her throat and mixing with the roaring laugh that wanted to come out.