Letters

Willow Trees

September 28th, 1944

Dear Steve,
It has now been a year since I last saw you and my heart aches every time I think about it. I never thought you, Bucky and I could ever be separated and by God, we were proven wrong. The time moves for you the same way it moves for me. Sometimes it feels like days pass by in mere minutes but when I'm alone or thinking of you, they just drag on and on and on.

I'm so sorry that you have to go through all of that Steve. War is an ugly affair and I wished you hadn't gone away. Your feelings about being a soldier may have changed, but your willingness to help people haven't. You want to do what is right and protect people from those trying to hurt them. Your intentions about going into this war was good.

I know how you feel Steve. I love reading your letters over and over. I've committed most of them to memory and try to imagine that you're saying them to me. I replay the words over and over in my head, clutching the scraps of paper and wishing you were here beside me instead of an image in my mind. It's hard to picture you as you are now Steve. All the pictures I have of us and Bucky, you're still this lanky guy and if it weren't for the pictures from the battlefield, I wouldn't have a clear image of you.

I'm sorry that all eyes are on you Steve. It shouldn't still be that way but it is the way it is. If it's worth anything, it's working. People love talking about you, you give them hope, make them believe in this war a little bit more.

You're not scary Steve, that's how you've just been perceived by the enemy and maybe thats a good thing. Less people to kill, less blood to be shed. Don't take being feared as a negative thing Steve. It could play into your advantage.

I haven't. I won't. I promise. Wallace won't let me, despite having received another note recently. This one is less threatening than the others. It reads, Done with the cat and mouse game Willow Peterson? I thought we were having fun. I don't know what to make of it. I don't know what they want from me.

I've passed along your condolences to Sally and mentioned that you knew him. That made her happy and really sad. She would like to talk to both you and Bucky when you return home so she can get a feel of his life over there. She wants to know what kind of death he would have suffered since her letter merely said, killed in action. She won't get his body back. It's behind enemy lines.. I never thought something so terrible could happen. Oh please come home to me Steve.

I don't say this to make you upset Steve but you somehow always manage to make me cry with your letters. Everything you say is so wonderful and beautiful and your poems astound me. I want to hear you say them to me someday. Just reading them isn't enough. I want to hear the way you say them. I can barely hear it in my mind.

Do you remember those willow trees we used to sit under when we were younger? I went to our childhood houses recently. I was just passing through and I thought, why not. The lake is long gone but the trees are still there.

Our initials are still carved into it. Yours, mine and Bucky's. I almost cried seeing it. I think I fell in love with you under those trees. It was during the fall of our junior year of high school. We had gone and sat under them, just like old times and it was freezing cold. My stockings didn't do anything against the cold and of course, I was wearing a dress without a jacket.

You took yours off and gave it to me. I had insisted that you keep it because you had about as much body fat on you as I did and if I was cold, then so were you. But you insisted Steve and so I put on your jacket. It was warm and it smelled like you. I smiled as I played with the buttons. And then I leaned my head against your shoulder.

You put your arm around me and it felt the same as it always did but different at the same time. I don't know how to explain it but I think that's when it happened Steve.

I love you more and more with each passing day Steven and I can't wait until the day you finally return home to me. It will be soon, I know it.

Love,
Willow Peterson

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September 28th, 1944

Dear Bucky,
At first, I was completely sad. You're not one to start off you letters in such a sad way and it hurt me to read it at first. Then I got to the end of it. You really haven't changed Bucky and I hope you never do. You always have to find the bright side to things. There's humor in nearly everything Bucky.

What kind of women do you take me for? Of course I don't joke around with any of the other women, not the way that we do anyways. You are my one true jokester Bucky. I wouldn't trade you for the world, I mean it. Though Betty could give you a run for your money. She's quite funny. She's comic relief in our office and for the paper. She always manages to put smiles on people's faces, just like you!

Girl adjacent Bucky? Really? And I'm sure you'll find the right women for you someday. She's going to have a smart mouth, just like you, and will probably be able to put you in your place. She has to be understanding of the kind of person you are. I don't know if there are many girls out there like that but we will find you one.

You both always do your letters last minute it seems. Which I'm fine with of course, any word from you two makes me happy. Tell Steve to quit bugging you. I swear, you two sound like an old married couple.

I never met Sally's fiancé but he sounds like a terribly good man. Both you and Steve mentioned him in your last letters and so I passed this along to Sally and she nearly cried. She would wish to speak to both of you when you come back and learn more about her fiancé's life overseas.

Oh Bucky, part of that may be my fault. I've asked Steve to look after you, not because I don't think you're both capable but because I'm scared for the both of you as well. If one of you doesn't come back.. Or both of you.. I don't know what I'll do.  I don't want to loose you. I don't want your body ending up in some unmarked grave. I want you to come home to me.

Nothing could ever prepare me for your deaths. Nothing.

Oh Bucky, that was terrible. That was not a good joke. I miss you everyday as well! I love you Bucky. You're on my mind everyday. Come home soon. It's been way too long...

Love,
Willow Peterson