Mary doubted the veracity of that. It sounded like something a guy would say to get a girl to give in. “Yeah,” she answered dubiously. Idly, she wondered what it would feel like to kiss Phyllis. Her lips looked soft, like rose petals. I bet that would feel a lot better than kissing Sam. Oh, my gosh! Where in the world did that come from, Mary Elizabeth? She shook her head to clear it.

  “You’ve got to give him an answer. You can’t leave him hanging like that. It’s not fair.”

  “I know.” Mary swallowed hard.

  “Guys like Sam don’t grow on trees. If the quality of…hanky-panky…is your only problem with him, I say marry him and train him.” She winked.

  “Right. Train him.” Mary thought she might throw up. She stood. “I’ve got to go. I told Mother I’d be home for dinner.”

  “Thanks for stopping by. I’m glad you did.”

  “Me too.” Mary hugged her friend. “Take care of yourself and your mom. I’ll come by again soon.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Me too.” Mary opened the bedroom door. “I can see myself out.” She took her leave.

  Her stomach churned all the way home. Her experience with Sam didn’t sound anything like what Phyllis described. What was she going to do?

  Nora followed the porter as he carried her suitcase down the train steps and onto firm ground. She rubbed her eyes and smoothed her dress. It seemed like everyone on the train was disembarking at the same moment. People of every size and shape swarmed over the platform, many of them talking excitedly.

  The station sign read, “Knoxville.” Nora knew that Knoxville was in Tennessee. Beyond that, she knew virtually nothing of the place.

  “Oh, my goodness. That’s a lot of folks,” Josephine exclaimed, coming up alongside her. “Do you think we’re all going to the same place?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “I imagine so.” In the near distance, Nora spotted a man in a suit holding a sign with her name on it. “I must go.”

  “Go? Go where?” Josephine stretched. “Will I see you again?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I hope so. But just in case, it was nice to meet you, Nora.”

  “You too.”

  “See you.”

  Nora and the porter made their way over to where the sign-wielding man stood. “I’m Nora Lindstrom.” As she did at Penn Station, she showed her ID.

  “Excellent. Welcome. If you’ll come with me.” He relieved the porter of Nora’s suitcase.

  She barely had a chance to thank the porter before the driver and her suitcase were almost out of sight. She hurried to catch up. “Am I permitted to ask where we’re going yet?”

  The driver loaded her bag in the trunk of a limousine. “You’ll know soon enough.” He opened the back door and helped her inside.

  They left the station, and with the positioning of the sunrise in the rear window, it became clear to Nora that they were heading due west. She breathed deeply. The air was warm—warmer than at home—and more humid. The smell of pine trees from her hometown were replaced by the aroma of cows. Pastures and rolling green hillsides dotted the land, punctuated by farms and homesteads, barns and hayfields.

  She watched the scenery fly by as they traveled in silence. The pinks and oranges of the sunrise gave way to blue skies, and the rocking motion of the car nearly lulled her to sleep.

  She hadn’t gotten much in the way of shuteye last night, between the jostling of the train on the tracks, Josephine’s snoring, and the periodic shrill sound of the train whistle blowing in the stillness of the night. The loud pre-dawn pounding on the door and the man announcing that they’d be arriving at the station within the hour added to the disorientation. Now, all Nora wanted was some rest in a comfortable bed.

  The limo glided to a halt, nudging her back to the present. She ducked to peer out the windshield and was shocked to see a military checkpoint up ahead, and a line of cars in front of them. “Where are we?”

  The driver either didn’t hear her or chose not to answer. A large sign on top of the guard post read: MILITARY AREA, Weapons, Ammunition, Explosives, Cameras, Field glasses, Liquors, Telescopes, Radio Transmitters PROHIBITED. All vehicles and passengers subject to search. Guards with armbands that marked them as Military Police manned the booth.

  Wherever they were, it was like no place Nora ever had been before. She swallowed hard when it was their turn and the guards approached the car. The driver opened his window and a stern soldier asked for his papers, the purpose of his request for entry, and whether or not he had anything in the trunk.

  If the driver was rattled by the inquisition, he didn’t show it. He explained who his passenger was and that they were headed for someplace called The Castle on the Hill. A second soldier searched the trunk and the undercarriage. The first soldier knocked on her window. She lowered it.

  “Do you have some ID, miss?”

  Nora fished out her ID with a shaky hand and gave it to him. He examined it, looked her over one more time, and handed it back.

  “You’re cleared.”

  She rolled up her window to keep the bugs from coming inside. She wanted to ask where and what The Castle on the Hill was. Instead, she remained mum and tried to stay calm. He’ll only say you’ll find out soon enough.

  The scene outside the window was organized chaos. Construction workers and equipment covered every available square inch of acreage. Muddy roads snaked throughout the fenced-in complex, bulldozers leveled the land, and cranes hoisted heavy steel and wood. Partially finished barracks, apartment complexes, and houses dotted the landscape, along with the beginnings of massive buildings that seemingly rose out of nowhere.

  Nora knew her mouth must be hanging open. The sheer scope of this undertaking was mind-boggling. A large billboard caught her attention: Your PEN and TONGUE can be Enemy WEAPONS. Watch what you Write and Say. The accompanying image was of a fountain pen pierced through an Army helmet. Nora’s heart lurched as she thought about the gorgeous leather journal in her suitcase. There was no way she could forego her daily diary entries. She’d lose her mind.

  What you see here, what you do here, what you hear here, when you leave here, let it stay here. The drawing of the three monkeys, one covering its eyes, the next its ears, and the last its lips, illustrated the point. Nora reminded herself that she had nothing to fear. The signs reflected the same message General Groves imparted to her in person. Everything about this project was top-secret. As long as she followed the rules, kept her mouth shut, and did her job, all would be well. Again, her mind strayed to her journal, buried underneath some dresses in her suitcase. One thing was certain—if she chose to keep it, that journal was never to leave her home, nor to be visible or mentioned to anyone else.

  “This is our stop,” the driver said. He pulled into a parking lot in front of a sprawling complex.

  The Castle on the Hill. Except that the sign in front of the massive structure read, Administration Building, Clinton Engineer Works, Manhattan Engineer District, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. Nora cocked her head to the side. She could see why folks would think it resembled a castle. The building was comprised of one long center section and a series of wings on either side.

  The driver came around and opened the door for her. Nora stretched to get her circulation moving. Could it really have been less than twenty-four hours since she started this journey? This place was so foreign that it might as well have been a lifetime ago. She took her suitcase, thanked the driver, and walked through the front door.

  “Hello,” she said, as she approached the front desk. “My name is Dr. Nora Lindstrom. My driver just dropped me off here. I’m not sure if I have an appointment to see someone, or…”

  The receptionist held up a hand as the index finger of her free hand trailed down a list.

  There must be a hundred names on that list.

  “Here you are. Okay, hang on a second.” She picked up the phone, spoke a few words, and hung up. “If you’ll wait over there,” she indicated some chairs in the vestibule, “someone will be right with you.”

  Right with you turned out to be the better part of an hour, during which time Nora fidgeted with her watch, ran through ten science experiments in her head, and did her best not to rue the day she said yes to this mysterious job.

  “Dr. Lindstrom? Sorry to keep you waiting. My name is Barbara, I’m Colonel James C. Marshall’s assistant.”

  She said it as though Nora was supposed to know who this Marshall fellow was.

  Barbara walked away and turned back only to beckon Nora to follow her.

  They arrived at an office bustling with clerks and administrative personnel. “We’ll get you an ID badge and a Townsite Resident’s Pass. You can’t go anywhere on the Reservation without them.”

  “The Reservation?”

  “Clinton Engineer Works. CEW. This place.” The woman waved her arms as if to encompass the entirety of this nameless town.

  “Is this place a city? A military base? What is it?”

  “It’s the Clinton Engineer Works,” she said pointedly, with a look that told Nora she’d better not ask any more questions.

  Nora nodded as if those three words elucidated everything.

  “Sit here. They’ll take your picture for your ID badge. As I said, you’ll need to wear that everywhere, and carry your resident’s pass, also. You were pre-cleared, so that will make things go more quickly for you.”

  Nora had no idea what that meant, but whatever it was, if it cut red tape, she was all for it. Her escort whispered something to the clerk taking fingerprints and pictures, and then she was gone.

  Another half hour later, Nora was equipped with an ID badge and resident’s pass, and then she was shuffled off to another administrative cubbyhole for housing processing.

  This clerk examined her badge, ran a finger down a list, and tapped an entry. “Hang on a second.” She got up and conferred with a colleague. Their whispers were loud enough for Nora to hear.

  “…I know, but her badge indicates that she should be eligible for a Cemesto. They’ve got her in a dorm room. That ain’t right.”

  “It’s on the list. We have to follow the list. It’s not ours to ask questions.”

  Nora had no idea what a Cemesto was, but she already knew she wanted one. A dorm room? She shuddered.

  “Okay, Dr. Lindstrom. This is where you’re going to be bunking.” The woman showed her a map and indicated a building designated W-1. “Go get settled and unpacked. You’re due to report for orientation at 0800 hours tomorrow.”

  “0800?”

  “Eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  “Ah. Where should I report?”

  “Come back to the reception desk. Someone will direct you.”

  “Thanks.” Nora turned to go. “Um… How do I get out of here?”

  “Turn right, go down the corridor until you can’t go anymore, then turn left, go down the stairs, and follow the exit sign.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Nora picked up her suitcase and accepted the proffered map. Whatever she’d been expecting when she said yes to Dr. Lawrence’s invitation, what she’d seen and been through so far left her questioning her judgment.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The cap tilted at an angle and Mary feared that if she turned her head too quickly, it would fly off and poke somebody’s eye out. The graduation gown was several inches too long and a size too big for her petite frame. She pulled up the sleeves so that they didn’t swallow her hands.

  “Stop fidgeting.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “Try,” Phyllis whispered.

  Mary was glad the school had decided to let Phyllis graduate, despite missing the last few weeks of classes. “Your dad would be so proud of you right now. I bet he’s up there looking down on us.”

  Tears sprang to Phyllis’s eyes. “I hope you’re right. I bet your father is really proud of you too.”

  Mary fingered the letter she carried in the pocket of her gown. Her mother had handed it to her right before she’d gotten out of the car. She hadn’t read it yet, beyond seeing that it was from her father and that it was addressed to her. She didn’t want to read it now in front of Phyllis—that would be insensitive. Besides, she didn’t want to invite scrutiny over her reading abilities.

  The principal stood in front of the students. “Class? It’s time to line up. As we discussed, you’ll be seated alphabetically by last name. Since you’re about to graduate, I sincerely hope you can figure out where you belong. Just in case, I’ll make it easy for you. Line up behind the big sign displaying the first letter of your last name, and the teacher assigned to your group will call your names in order.”

  Mary found the “Ts” and took her proper spot, between Sylvia Topsail and Lucius Turner. She fingered the letter again, determined to open it.

  “Aren’t you nervous? I’m terrified,” Sylvia said.

  “No. I can’t wait for it to be done with.”

  “Rumor has it Sam proposed to you. Is that true?”

  Mary’s eyes flashed angrily. Apart from Phyllis, who hadn’t been back to school, she hadn’t told a soul about the proposal. So Sam must have shared it with his buddies. How dare he…

  “Is it?” Sylvia stared at her expectantly.

  What should she say? “I don’t respond to idle gossip.”

  “You don’t have to be snippy about it. I was only asking whether or not it was true. It’s not gossip if you ask the source.”

  “Okay, everyone,” the principal intoned. “The band is about to play ‘Pomp & Circumstance.’ When you hear the first notes, that’s your cue to start marching in. As we practiced, fill in the seats until there are no empty chairs in the row, then start the next row.”

  The sound of the trombones playing saved Mary from having to respond to Sylvia, though she continued to seethe about Sam’s obvious indiscretion. She marched in with the rest of her classmates and took a seat toward the end of the second-to-last row. She twisted in her chair, craning to see where her mother and Sam were sitting. The auditorium was packed with graduates and spectators, and she couldn’t pick them out, although she knew they were somewhere in the throng. Maybe it was just as well that she couldn’t see Sam at the moment.

  As the first speaker droned on, Mary nearly dropped off to sleep. She willed herself to pay attention. When that didn’t work, she removed her father’s letter from her pocket and unfolded it. Slowly, painstakingly, after reading each word and sentence multiple times, she managed her way through it.

  My dearest Pumpkin,

  I’m sorrier than you know that I can’t be with you on your big day. I’m sure you’ll be the prettiest girl on that stage, and I am the proudest father of any of the graduates.

  Your mother tells me that you’ve been at logger heads with her over Sam, and that he’s asked you to marry him. She says you haven’t yet given him an answer. I wish I was there in person to advise you.

  Please know that no boy is going to be good enough in my eyes for my only daughter, but what I’ve seen of him over the time you’ve been dating leads me to believe he’d be a good husband to you and a good father.

  Having said that, I know how strong-willed you are and that you have a mind of your own. Your mother and I want what’s best for you, but only you know what that is. Search inside your heart, Pumpkin. The truth lies in there. Whatever you decide, whatever path you choose, I will support you and your right to make that choice. Yes, even if your mother wants to kill me for it. I might be more afraid of her than I am of any of the Krauts we’ve faced over here, but I’ll always stick up for my little girl.

  Above all, know that I love you more than anything. I kiss your picture and your mom’s every night before I go to bed, praying for God to keep me safe so that I can come home to you both.

  I love you.

  Dad

  Mary sniffled and blinked away a tear. “I love you too, Daddy.”

  “Class, please rise.”

  Mary stuffed the letter back in her pocket and stood.

  “As your name is called, please approach the stage.”

  By the time they got to the Ts, Mary thought she might die of boredom. But when she arrived at the edge of the steps and gazed out at the sea of faces, her heart nearly pounded out of her chest. She really was going to do this—she was about to start a whole new chapter in her life. As she climbed the stairs and started across the stage, she heard a holler and a whistle. She turned in the direction of the sound. There was Sam, standing and waving. Her mother sat next to him, looking proud, if a little embarrassed.

  Mary wanted to crawl underneath the stage. She hurried to the president of the school board, who shook her hand and placed the diploma in her other palm.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Mary finished the walk, exited the other side of the stage, and returned to her row. The sound of Sam’s cheers echoed in her ears, and she squirmed in her seat.

  Half an hour later, when the ceremony ended, Mary tried to locate Phyllis. She stood on her tiptoes and scanned the crowd. Finally, she saw her standing off to the side, quietly hugging her mother as Truman stood nearby. She headed in their direction.

  “There’s my girl.” Sam intercepted her, swept her up into his arms, and twirled her around. “I’m so proud of you I could bust.”

  “Put me down.” Mary squirmed and twisted out of his grasp.

  “Well done.” Her mother joined them. “Your father would be so happy. I wish he could’ve been here.”

  “Me too.” She removed the mortar board and handed it to her mother. Then she removed the letter from her pocket, yanked the gown over her head, balled it up, and gave that to her mother too. She smoothed the wrinkles in her dress. “Do you have my purse?”

  “Here.” Mrs. Trask separated the strap from her own purse and Mary’s and handed Mary the bag.

  “Thanks.” She placed her father’s letter in the purse. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Without waiting for a reply, she ran in Phyllis’s direction.