The sun was not yet near its peak when June awoke the next morning. Her usual alarm—the morning song of the sparrows that lounged on the cast stone bird bath right outside her window—was eerily silent, and assuming its place was the hearty but faint laughter that radiated from somewhere outside the four walls of her bedroom.

It took June a second to recall who the laughter belonged to, and she immediately turned to her right where the sheets next to her had once housed the twenty-six year old returning veteran known as Harvey Dougherty. With only an overturned pillow left in his place, June sat upright, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. Amid their adjustment, she brought her left hand to her cheek and nearly shivered at the cold metal ring's touch against the delicate skin. She fell back against her pillow and debated whether or not to flutter her eyes close and doze back into a morning slumber, but another laugh—this one of higher pitch and laced with femininity—encouraged her to push back the sheets and heave herself out of bed. As soon as her feet were planted on the floor, June exited her bedroom promptly and let her feet carry her to the source of laughter that doubled in volume as she drew nearer. Upon reaching the kitchen, she avoided collision with a carrot-haired, white pinafore dress-wearing woman.

"Careful!" Beverly Fulton exclaimed as she narrowly missed spilling coffee on the floor from the jug in her hand. Instinctively, June grabbed Beverly's arm to steady her, a gesture that earned her a thank you from her good friend.

"Harvey and I were just debating if we should wake you or not," Beverly noted as she set the jug down on the countertop next to a plate of bacon crusted with black around its edges that made for a satisfying crunch.

Harvey?

June turned on her heel and sure enough, past the kitchen cabinets and linoleum countertops was Harvey planted at the dining room table, his fingertips tracing the rim of the coffee mug in front of him. He wore a green robe that she had never seen before, and his hair appeared damp from a morning shower. He caught her staring and flicked his fingers up in a wave to which June responded with a nod of her head.

"But I figured you could use the extra rest after your eventful night," Beverly's suggestive remark caused June to return her attention back to the woman, her cheeks slightly darkening from a dual dose of annoyance and embarrassment.

"Bev!" She hissed, hitting her lightly on the wrist. While nothing was stopping her from setting Beverly straight, June could not disregard the feeling that any mention of her avoidance to sleep with Harvey on his first night home after he'd been away at war fighting for her would not jive well with Beverly, who coincidentally, recently welcomed her own soldier home. It was thus for this reason June let Beverly giggle at her expense, for the matter was bait for ridicule if disclosed.

"Beverly sure gave me quite a start this morning when I found her in our kitchen," Harvey said suddenly from his spot at the table. "But the fresh coffee made up for it."

"Just wait until you try the bacon and eggs," Beverly said with a smile accompanied by a glance at the eggs still sizzling in the frying pan. "You'll yearn to see this face every morning."

Harvey laughed that hearty laugh of his as June leaned her upper body against the countertop so she could speak to Beverly out of Harvey's earshot.

"Why did you come?" June asked, her eyes on Beverly whose sour perfume consumed any fragrance emitted from the breakfast food.

Surprise and what appeared to be a hint of hurt spread across Beverly's features. "Why wouldn't I?"

June pondered the validity of Beverly's question as she felt a pinch of regret in her chest. Perhaps her question was too brash: she never intended to offend Beverly. She should be appreciative of Beverly's choice to continue her daily morning visitations that would only benefit the rocked Dougherty household. Or more importantly, June herself.

More than just a neighborhood friend, Beverly Fulton had been a staple at the Doughertys' residence since the beginning of Harvey's training. Yet the two women's history ran much deeper, for both attended school together as young girls on Chicago's Northside. With Beverly's father a professor at the university and June's an owner of a flourishing furniture store, the two had been fortunate enough to fall within the fences of the upper class and play at the elite's playground.

The girls had been inseparable, practically sisters, and had continued to be so even as Harvey Dougherty made an entrance into their lives. His entrance could only be described as accidental: Harvey had been riding through the city on his bicycle and had gotten a flat tire. Fortunately, June's father had been wiping the windows of his storefront and saw the young boy. He had taken a liking to him immediately and had brought him to the family's home where June and Beverly had been enjoying their Saturday tea party in the flower garden. While June's father had filled up Harvey's tire, Harvey had asked if he could sample one of the girls' imaginary pastries (a chocolate marshmallow roll to be precise) supposedly laid out on the small porcelain plate in the middle of the table. Surprised by his etiquette for a boy, the two girls had let him join them (they would later learn that Harvey had three younger sisters and had become an ace at entertaining their tea parties). Although a two year age difference and a lower household income had bore expected divisions between Harvey and the girls, what had begun as a sisterhood gradually dissipated into a siblingship as Harvey's visits had no longer been by chance.

As they aged, the three had become a sight to behold: two Northside princesses and a Southside dreamboat. When June and Beverly weren't convincing Harvey to come see the latest film at the local theater, the two girls were sitting front row at one of the makeshift baseball fields Harvey played at with the other Southside boys. Harvey taught the girls how to play gin rummy and jacks; they showed him the proper way to tip his hat and offer his arm to a lady. Yet change had been destined for the three once they had fully enrolled in high school.

"That boy's gonna choose one of you girls sooner or later," June's mother had warned. "Best to find someone now to make his choice easier and protect your friendship with Beverly."

She hadn't believed her mother at first, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that if Harvey indeed chose one of the girls, it would unlikely be her. Harvey and Beverly just made more sense as both had ancestors that came straight from the lush, green lowlands of Ireland and for her part, Beverly had proven herself to be more mature than June in regards to having more of what her mother described as "ladylike tendencies" to compliment a man of Harvey's age.

But then the depression had hit, and while June and Beverly's respective families had been able to walk through the depression years unscathed, Harvey's family had struggled. To extend a hand, June's father had let Harvey do odd chores around the family's home in exchange for a few greenbacks. Since Harvey had been over at June's home a lot more frequently, the two had naturally ran into each other. Their meetings had first started with lighthearted conversations of the earlier years but had quickly turned into hour-long talks of future plans. And as June learned that Harvey was inspired by her father to attend business school after he graduated and open one of his own, and he of her dream of furthering her study in mathematics, the two had realized that their taste for independence within their future ventures aligned.

Meanwhile, Beverly had been trading more than just plans with a Scottish Casanova that went by the name of Dale Fulton. Almost four years her senior, Dale had more broken hearts to his name than moolah, but Beverly had cared little of this and had dropped out of school and married him anyway. June and Harvey had both attended the wedding at Dale's church, and while Beverly had assured the two that the newlyweds would live nearby, by the next month, the Fultons were gone.

It had taken two years and a world war to bring June and Beverly back together again. Despite his acceptance into the university, Harvey's dream of becoming a business owner had been put on hold as his age of twenty-one required him to abide by the 1940 Selective Training and Service Act and register for the draft. That October, Harvey had been one of the unlucky men to be part of the first draftee class. Instructed to report to training in November, Harvey's sudden predicament had instituted a ticking clock over Harvey and June's heads.

To quiet the ticking, they had wed two weeks after his number was called.

By the following week, Harvey's parents had scraped together the money for a down payment on a home in Chicago's Pullman neighborhood. Notable for its pulsing heart of the Pullman Car Company, Harvey's parents figured that by the conclusion of Harvey's training period, he'd have a secure place of employment, and June would have a roof over her head.

As luck would have it, Dale must've been drunk on the same promise of opportunity that laid within the car company, and after bidding goodbye to Harvey at the train station and returning to a home that felt like anything but, June had learned that only two doors down resided her former friend, Beverly.

Both husbandless, the two had reconnected, and when June had found out she was pregnant, Beverly had been there and would be so for the next five years to help June raise her two children.

So for June to question Beverly's presence now in 1946–five years after her reappearance—was utterly foolish.

"I should be thanking you rather than questioning you," That was the form June's apology took up, and based on Beverly's smile, she was forgiven, and the kitchen's atmosphere returned to the freshness that complemented any early hour.

"When did Dale get back?" Harvey entered the kitchen and sauntered over to the coffee jug and refilled his empty mug with another steaming cup of Joe.

"About two weeks ago. Though the War Department promised to have you boys back by February," Beverly answered as she cut the stove and began placing the fried eggs on a plate rather forcefully. "Instead we've got y'all back when the magnolias are blooming and May is underway."

"Best to come back late than not at all," Harvey countered as he took a slurp from his mug.

Beverly whipped around to face Harvey with both of her hands around the plate. "Oh, you're right! How selfish of me to be flipping my wig over what season y'all were sent home in. The most important thing is that you're home with us now," Beverly said, her eyes flicking to June's, asking for support.

June gave it to her wordlessly with a smile and a nod, something Beverly seemed to appreciate as she set the full plate of eggs down next to the bacon.

"Should I wake the children?" Beverly asked amid Harvey's sampling of a piece of crispy bacon. Before Harvey could swallow his full and lick his lips clean of the bacon grease, June interjected.

"Don't you have work? I mean, Harvey and I appreciate all that you have done but—" Beverly cut her off with a swift head shake.

"I quit."

June pushed her upper torso off the countertop and stared wide-eyed at Beverly. "You what?"

Harvey stopped chewing and Beverly raised a freshly plucked eyebrow.

"I knew that once Dale came home, I would not be of much service at the company and men like Dale and Harvey were going to need employment," She explained as if she was simply reciting one of her recipes and not news that drained the color from June's face. "You didn't think I'd stay employed with my husband back, did you?"

She had, June wanted to say, but rather than speak, she let her mind wander back to the April morning Beverly had waltzed into the kitchen, her right hand in a fist gripping a slip of paper. That slip of paper was her very first check for a week's work, an impressive twenty-three dollars. Beverly had shown June the check as she balanced an eight month old Ronald on her hip.

June had marveled at her friend's name scribbled on the check and the amount and had looked up at Beverly fondly. Then working as part of the Pullman Car Company's recently unveiled Aircraft Division as a factory worker, Beverly's newfound independence had suited her well.

"How do you feel?" June had asked as she eyed the woman in front of her.

Looking from the check to June, Beverly's green irises had seemed to twinkle as she spoke. "Like I can stand on my own two feet."

June wondered where that woman was now as she stared at Beverly silently, her throat having gone dry. Harvey shifted uncomfortably in his spot across from June while Beverly crossed her arms, waiting for June's answer.

Rather than answer, June turned towards one of the kitchen cabinets and opened it, her eyes not gluing to anything in particular.

"And what, you're going to keep working for Mr. Cain? Harvey—" Beverly started, looking at Harvey who had remained silent, "—that chrome dome June works for is a misogynistic, no-good pig that's had it out for her since she's started. Now I know it's above my pay grade to say what I'd do, but I know I wouldn't want my cookie working for someone who disrespects them especially now that I'm home."

June slammed the cabinet door and spun around to face the two of them, and she suddenly felt like she was back in secondary school, but this time, rather than watch Beverly drift away, it was she who was while Beverly and Harvey remained attached like two doves nipping at bread crumbs outside of Mr. Ashford's bakery on 103rd Street.

"Well when you put it like that, Beverly, I don't think I'd want June to work somewhere that she doesn't feel respected," Harvey cautiously put in his two senses, although he kept his gaze on the plate of bacon that no longer appeared appetizing.

Beverly nodded in agreement before addressing Harvey once more. "And now that you're back, I assume you have plans to go back to work and provide for June and the twins?"

"Of course," Harvey said without hesitance, his eyes finally meeting June's. Having heard enough, June excused herself, mumbling about how she was going to be late for work. Beverly called after June as she left the kitchen, but she ignored her and disappeared down the hallway.

That was the first and last time June's employment status was questioned even as Harvey found himself a job. Contrary to what her in-law's had hoped, Harvey did not secure a job at the Pullman Car Company once it shifted back to building railroad cars, and instead, began work with a local home construction company.

By the twins' sixth birthday in August, Harvey was already promoted to foreman. With a heftier income, it came as no surprise to June that Harvey insisted on spoiling her two children for their special day. As much as she warned that doing so would only raise their expectations once the Christmas season came around, Harvey raided the toy store and paid to have each gift expertly wrapped in paper decorated with gold carousel horses and silver train cars.

June herself had little knowledge of what lay hidden behind the shiny paper or the quantity of presents themselves, for Harvey had dropped no hints. So when June and the children returned home from a late evening grocery run and found an assortment of presents stacked on the living room floor in two separate piles, her surprise was as genuine as theirs.

"Can we open them now?" Margaret asked, the red ribbon in her hair bobbing as she moved her head up and down impatiently.

"You two can open your presents whenever you choose, natch," Harvey replied from his seat on the sofa.

Without another word, Margaret and Ronald both dropped the groceries in their arms that they had kindly carried for their mother and ran over to the presents. While June grabbed the groceries off the floor and balanced them in her arms along with the box that held the twins' birthday cake, Harvey pointed out which pile belonged to whom.

June watched from the doorway as the two children tore through the wrapping paper savagely. A pull along walking dog, picture books, an electric train set, and a farm yard set were a few of the gifts the children sorted through.

The final gift was addressed to Margaret, and as soon as the paper was ripped away to showcase a white cardboard box and the top was pulled off, June felt her stomach drop slightly, for she would recognize those soulless eyes anywhere.

It was the doll called Honey that had been pictured in the toy catalog June had confiscated from her children three months prior.

But there was nothing sweet about that doll as Margaret pulled the doll from her box and cradled her in her arms, and June watched joy dribble from Ronald's eyes and fall in the form of tears onto his plump cheeks. Ronald tried to hide his sadness from his father and sister by wiping the moisture from his cheeks with his sleeve, but June noticed it immediately.

"I'm going to go get the cake ready," June said quietly as Margaret stared lovingly at the doll and Ronald picked at the crinkled wrapping paper around his new train set.

"Don't forget to thank your father," June reminded her children as she exited the living room and went into the kitchen. She set the groceries down on one length of countertop and the cake box on the other.

As she went to unbox the cake, she felt something brush against her side. Looking down at a head of flat, brown hair, June set a hand on her son's shoulder.

Ronald looked up and met his mother's gaze, his tears were falling freely now. June's heart ached as she took her other hand and wiped his tears with her thumb.

"Do you want the first lick of cake?" She whispered down to her son.

Ronald managed a small smile despite the glossiness in his eyes. "Yes please, Momma."

———

Once the last remnants of vanilla cake were scrubbed from the porcelain plates that were then tucked away in the cabinets, June slipped out of the Doughertys' home with the excuse that she had forgotten to purchase eggs at the grocery store. Harvey believed her, which was to be expected, for June was notorious for her forgetfulness especially when shopping with two children riddled with impatience. However, once situated in the family's Atlantic blue Volkswagen Beetle and out of Harvey's sight, June's hands on the wheel steered her elsewhere.

She arrived at the nearby toy store a half hour past seven o'clock and walked into the lit up store determinedly. After exchanging a friendly greeting with the store's owner, June's eyes scanned the shelves of children's toys until they settled on the doll section. With her Oxfords clicking, June made it over to the dolls and attempted to ignore the blank stares their marble eyes seemed to direct towards her.

A replica of Margaret's new doll, Honey, was on one of the higher shelves, so June had to ask for assistance from the owner to help fetch it. Abandoning his post at the front of the store, he located a ladder and grabbed the boxed doll and delicately placed it in her outstretched hands. Once he climbed down, he led June over to the counter.

"This one's been flying off the shelves," The owner named Elbert commented as June opened up her clutch and located fifteen single greenbacks. She handed him the money and watched him use his fingers that were as wide as cigars to count each bill.

"Gift for your daughter, niece?" He asked amid his counting.

June shook her head though his eyes were still panned down at the moolah in his right hand. He eventually concluded his counting and slipped the amount into the cash register.

Elbert repeated his initial question as he slid the white cardboard box towards June, his mouth in a grin that gave her an exclusive look at the black that crawled up his bottom row of teeth.

"For my son, actually," She responded, grabbing the box and hugging it to her chest. Elbert knitted his brows in confusion, but before he could say anything else, June wished him a good night and hurried out of the store like a bandit.

Soon enclosed in the familiar body of her Volkswagen, June set the doll in the seat next to her and revived the engine. She was out of the parking lot in seconds and would return home a few minutes past eight o'clock. Looking out the dashboard window, she assumed that her family had retired for the night as black prevailed behind the large, white curtain that covered the home's front window. She shut off the car, held the doll's box in one arm, and walked up the stone path that led to the porch.

A nettlesome mosquito that circled the porch light above the door was the first to greet June, and as soon as she stepped inside, it was still darkness that assumed the mosquito's place as her greeter. June slipped off her shoes to curb the noise emitted from her heels and abandoned them at the closed front door. Taking gentle steps with her nylon-covered feet, she crept down the hallway and looked through the crack between the twins' bedroom door and the door frame.

Unlike his sister who had wrapped herself around her new doll and burrowed herself under her bed covers, Ronald's body laid outside of the covers, and his eyes were wide and illuminated by the oil lamp on his nightstand that Harvey must've forgotten to shut off.

June nudged the door open a smidgin, enough so Ronald could see his mother. His eyes met hers immediately and with a finger to her lips, Ronald acknowledged the hint and slowly crept off his bed, padded across the floor, and slipped into June's arms outside the door.

"What is it, Momma?" Ronald whispered quietly, but June chose to let his question hang in the air until they were in the confines of the living room.

She switched on one of the table lamps before instructing Ronald to take a seat next to her on the sofa. He obliged because she was his mother. At least that is what June liked to think, but she knew that his compliance had much to do with the white box still on her arm.

Setting the box on Ronald's lap, June gave her son a smile. "I went out and got you something, honey."

Ronald beamed at the mention of a gift and looked down at the box, his legs swinging against the sofa in anticipation.

"Open it, but be quiet about it," June instructed before Ronald lifted the box's top and gasped at the doll inside.

He lifted Honey outside of her box carefully so that her soft yellow dress did not catch on any of the box's corners and held her in his arms as if she were real.

"Happy Birthday, Ronald," June said, placing a kiss on her son's forehead as he stared into the doll's aqua green eyes that somehow appeared more full of soul than when June had first seen the two pupils of marble.

Ronald looked up at his mother suddenly, his eyes wet with happiness. He didn't need to thank her: June already sensed his gratitude.

With another kiss on his forehead, June guided Ronald back to his bedroom with his arms wrapped around his doll. No words were exchanged once Ronald was tucked into bed with Honey and June turned off the lamp, but both parted ways knowing what it felt to have their hearts full.

As soon as June was out of the twins' bedroom and the door clicked shut behind her, her own bedroom door was pulled open, revealing a wide awake Harvey.

His face was as red as his plaid nightshirt as he stepped aside for June to enter the couple's room. With her back towards him, June walked over to her dressing table and began taking out her stud earrings using her dressing table's lamp for light.

"I know what you did."

A few pockets of air escaped from June's heart, but she did not turn around. "Harvey, I'm not sure what you speak of."

"Do I look like a yuck to you? I heard you come in and wake Ronald," he said from directly behind her. "I know what you gave him."

June turned around to face him just then, her heart deflating much faster now. "Well if you know, what is the point of discussing it?"

His blue eyes filtered in surprise as if June had just revealed that she wanted to enroll in culinary school which sounded cockeyed even to her.

"June, you went behind my back! What was wrong with the presents I got him?" His voice rose slightly, baiting June to remind him that the children were resting in the very next room.

Yet she opted to say nothing and went over to her dresser and opened the top drawer to pick out her sleepwear for the night.

"Did I stutter?" Harvey asked as June's eyes landed on a sheer, ivory nightgown.

"I heard you just fine, Harvey," She pulled the nightgown out of the drawer and slammed it shut prior to facing the 6 '1 man that shared her bedroom. "There was nothing wrong with the gifts you gave Ronald. But Ronald wanted a doll like his sister so I bought it for him."

"Without telling me ahead of time?"

"You never told me what you purchased for the children in the first place, so I found it unfit to do anything different."

"Wait a minute—" Harvey began but June interrupted. "Harvey, it's done. Both of the children are content and that's all that matters."

Unconvinced, Harvey shook his head and took a seat on the edge of the couple's bed. "You know, ever since I got here, it seems like whenever I make an effort with the kids, you undermine it. Every time."

June suppressed a roll of her eyes and instead, sent him a questioning glare. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Those kids share some of my DNA, June. Why can't you just let me do something for them without butting in?" Harvey asked, his eyes on his hands that he was wringing anxiously.

June put her hands on her hips though she doubted he saw. "If you do something that endangers their happiness, I have every right to get involved."

His voice spooked her as it adopted the anatomy of a shout. "So now you're saying I make our kids unhappy? From where I am sitting, the only reason they are unhappy is because you shield them from their own father!"

"No!" Her voice joined his in volume, her heart having become merely a piece of flabby tissue. "It has nothing to do with your presence. I know what makes them happy because I know my children."

"Our," Harvey corrected, his hands in fists. "Our children!"

But could he really claim them as his if he's only been home for three months?

Harvey's afterthought remained ingrained in his mind even as June stormed out of the bedroom and disappeared into the bathroom without another word. Violently stripping out of her daywear, she changed into the nightgown and sat on the edge of the bathtub, trying to steady her breathing.

She pressed her palms to her forehead, minding little of the leftover makeup that was likely to cover the skin of her hands. Her anger transformed itself into tears, the thick, salty kind that blurred her vision and reacted poorly with her mascara.

June sat there for hours—crying without sound—until her back grew sore from being hunched over on a hard surface, and once she pulled herself up and began to wash her face, June took solace in the lukewarm water, thankful that it was just water that ran down her cheeks instead of tears.

She patted her face dry with a towel and returned to the couple's bedroom, her day clothes from earlier rolled in a ball in her hand. She set her worn clothes by a leg of her dressing table and peered into the darkness at Harvey's sleeping form, for the lamp on her dressing table had gone dark.

Certain he was engaged in a deep sleep, June tiptoed over to her side of the bed and crawled under the covers. Once settled, June closed her eyes, letting her exhaustion break through the surface and transcend her into a restless sleep.

Sleep, however, would not erase her and Harvey's troubles.

Or the words said.

Or the fists balled.

Sleep was just a temporary: the severances along the Doughertys' home front were not.