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She got a telegram. Some women got a visit from two men in their dress uniforms, and they often broke down in tears immediately after opening the door because there was only one reason why two men from any branch of the armed forces would appear at their door during a war. Deb didn’t know if it was different depending on which branch they’d been in, but Harriet’s brother George had been in the Navy, and Harriet’s sister-in-law had gotten the two men. Sent to the Pacific, George had been killed by a Japanese sub, and the men had shown up at his wife’s door, who’d been there with their two small children. Like a good mother, she’d told them to go to their room and to leave her alone with the men, and they’d given her the news as if it were a script that they had to follow, which they probably did. Harriet had been called there, and she’d gone immediately, helping with the children while the wives of her other two brothers consoled the poor woman, each of them grateful that they hadn’t been the ones to get the visit, as horrible as that sounded. Harriet had come home that night looking exhausted and like she’d been crying for hours.

“Mama, are you all right?” Paul had asked, sensing that something was wrong with her.

Harriet had sat down in their living room just as the war news of the day started playing on the radio, so after turning off the stove, Deb had hurried into the room and turned the radio off, knowing her wife wouldn’t need to hear anything more about that tonight.

“I’m okay,” Harriet had replied, moving Paul to her lap. “How are you? How was supper?”

“Mama made lima beans.”

Paul had then given her a face that told them both that he hadn’t cared for lima beans, and Harriet had smiled for the first time since she’d heard the news of her brother.

“Paul, baby, why don’t you get ready for bed? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Mama,” he’d answered obediently.

“We’ll be right up to tuck you in.”

He’d jumped off Harriet’s lap and moved to the stairs. Deb had watched him make his way up carefully before she’d turned her attention to her wife.

“Did you eat supper over there?”

“No, but there were a lot of pies on the table already, so I had a slice of one of them.”

“How many people stopped by?”

“A few,” Harriet had replied. “No one came with food to eat for supper, though. Just pies. There were all kinds of them. The kids probably love it, but no supper.”

“I made a plate for you just in case. I can get it for you, if you want.”

“Can you sit down with me?” Harriet had asked, sounding even more tired now.

Deb had moved to sit down next to her, but Harriet had patted her thighs. Knowing what that meant, Deb had moved to straddle her instead.

“I know we have to tuck him in, and I’d really like to do that tonight, but can we sit here just for a minute?” She’d moved her face between Deb’s breasts.

Deb had wrapped her arms around Harriet’s shoulders and held her tight.

“We can stay down here as long as you want. You know he’ll fall asleep without us.”

“I don’t want him to. I need to tuck him in tonight.”

“Okay,” Deb had said. “Do you want to do it alone?”

“No, both of us. I want our family there.”

“Okay, my love.” She’d lifted her wife’s face to look into her eyes. “Whatever you need.”

“He was the nicest one,” Harriet had said with tears inher eyes. “He was my baby brother… They’d always wanted three kids, so when they’d ended up with me after my two older brothers, I knew they were disappointed. They’d been hoping for another boy, not a girl neither of them knew what to do with. My mama was the oldest in her family.”

“Oldest of six; the other five were all boys, I know,” she’d replied.

“She helped her mama raise them, and that was all she knew, so when George finally came along, they were so happy that they had their three boys, and I became the extra child no one needed.”

“Ineed you,” Deb had said.

“I know that. But it was hard whenever I wasn’t with you. When I was at home with them, no one even remembered I was there, but sometimes, George would ask me something or offer to play with me. When we got older, he sometimes asked how I was doing or something else. It was never much, but when you have nothing, not much is more than something.”

“I hate that they didn’t see you,” Deb had said. “I don’t know how they couldn’t. You’re so beautiful and smart and kind, and you make me laugh.”