The Doughertys' Home Front

II | III

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.