Thankful she'd sent money home for telephone service, she waited. Mattie smiled, remembering how her grandmother had said the new contraption wasn't to be trusted, yet Atuska enjoyed the conversations with her granddaughter.
Mattie gave information to the operator, then waited for the call to be put through, watching customers come and go. She caught a glimpse of someone standing outside the window. The person wore a trench coat but quickly disappeared, and Mattie wasn't able to see a face. A shiver of fear moved through her. Don't get yourself into a tizzy over a raincoat, she told herself.
Hoping for a distraction, Mattie studied an elderly man bent over the counter. He puffed on a cigar between sips of coffee. He also wore a trench coat, as did many men.
The operator returned, instructing Mattie to add more money. She dropped more coins into the phone.
“Hello,” Affia's voice echoed. She sounded far away.
“Mama, is that you?”
“Yes. It's me. Mattie? It's good to hear you. Are you all right?”
“Yes. I'm fine.”
“Are you sure? You don't sound all right.”
“I'm just a little homesick.” Mattie cradled the phone as if that would bring her mother closer. “I miss you.”
“We miss you too. I think about you every day. Will you be able to come for a visit soon?”
“No. I can't miss work. And I don't have money for the fare.”
“Of course.” There was a pause. “Are you happy?”
“Yes.” Mattie wished she were telling the truth. She had been happy until a couple of weeks ago. “Seattle is a beautiful place,” she said. “And I have good friends, especially Meryl. I wish you could meet her. You'd like her.”
“Maybe you can bring her when you come for a visit.”
“I hope so. I miss you and Grandma…and everyone. Please say hello for me.”
“I will.”
“How is Grandma?”
“Not so good. The cold is giving her trouble. It's getting harder for her to get around. The doctor said it's old age.”
“I'm sorry she's not well, Mama. Tell her for me?”
“I will. She's already asleep for the night, but I'll tell her in the morning.” She was silent a moment, then asked, “How is your job? Do you still like it?”
“Yes. I get to see people from all over the world, but I don't like watching the sailors and soldiers going off to war. It makes me think of Luke.”
“Have you heard from him?”
“Yes. He's in the Pacific on a ship called the Wasp.”
“We're praying for him.” Affia's voice trailed off as if she had something more to say, then she was silent.
“Mama, is everything all right?”
She didn't answer.
“Mama?”
“I have bad news…about Adam. He's missing. He was writing about a bombing mission, and the plane was shot down…in France somewhere. The family hasn't received any word of his whereabouts.”
Mattie felt the pang of grief. “How awful. How is Laurel?”
“Scared and sad. But she believes he'll come home.”
A singsong voice instructed Mattie to add more coins. “I have to go, Mama. Please let Grandma know I love her, and tell Laurel and Jean too.”
“I will. We love you.”
The phone went dead. Mattie held it a moment, then hung up. Adam was probably dead. What would happen to Luke? She hated the war.
Her heart heavy, she headed back to the apartment building. News of Adam and her fear about Luke had replaced thoughts of her own troubles. She didn't remember to watch for danger.
A large man stepped from the shadows of an alley. He wore a trench coat and a broad-brimmed hat, which kept his face in shadow. Terror surged through Mattie. She tried to walk past him. He grabbed her.
“Let me go!” she screamed, struggling to free herself.
He tightened his hold and clapped a hand over her mouth, then pulled her against him. “Shut up!” he hissed.
His voice sounded gravelly and hushed. Mattie didn't recognize it.
He wrapped an arm around her neck and squeezed, cutting off her breath. “Japs don't belong here. You all deserve to die.”
