VIII. Sunday, December 27th, 1942. En route to Norfolk, Virginia.

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Sunday, December 27th, 1942.

Her jaw was already aching, and it had been for hours. Georgia had boarded the train headed north from Columbus an hour ago, and Lew hadn't stopped looking at her. They'd selected first class, and now occupied a private cabin that had plush navy blue seats and walnut wood paneling. She'd tried to distract herself from the mood between the two of them by looking out the window, but it wasn't working.

"Would you like to say anything Lew?" Georgia asked.

Lew's jaw clenched, and he sighed. He looked out the window, then back towards her. "Don't go to Norfolk, Georgia."

"Why?" she asked.

"You know damn well why."

The train shuddered and jolted, and Georgia huffed angrily. There was a rap at the door, and both of their gazes snapped up.

A uniformed waiter made to enter the car, but both Georgia and Lew shook their heads and waved the man off. He nodded and continued on his way down the train car.

Turning her attention back to Lew, Georgia delivered her response to his remarks thus far.

"Well, what would you suggest I do?" she said, "It's not like I'm welcome at your house without a promise of marriage to you. And last time I checked, you're in no position to provide that."

"Oh goddamnit, Georgia. Just don't go back to Norfolk for Christ's sake," said Lew.

Georgia pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes until she saw lights dancing across the inside of her eyelids. "Lew," she spat, "if there was another option I would take it. But there isn't."

Lew sighed angrily and turned to look out the window. Georgia bit her cheek and didn't look at him. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a pack of Lucky Strikes. The silence between them was tense and thin, with Lew periodically taking sips from his flask while Georgia smoked.

The air outside grew frostier as the train chugged its way north, eventually arriving in Norfolk. Georgia could smell the sea air before she got off the train, and it made her sick to her stomach.

"G, please," said Lew.

She met his pleading eyes one more time before she turned and exited the car. With her bag slung over her shoulder, she felt the weight of bad memories pressing down too as she began to walk across the platform.

"Miss Fenley?" a voice called.

Georgia turned to meet the gaze of a man wearing a black and white chauffeur's uniform. She sighed before speaking.

"My mother sent you?" asked Georgia.

"Yes, miss. She's awaiting your arrival in the sitting room."

Of course. She couldn't have the decency to go visit her parents in the country.

"Well, let's go then. Can't keep her waiting."

"Very well, miss."

The man took her bag and put it in the trunk before holding the door open so she could slide into the back seat. As the car started, Georgia leaned her head against the cool glass window and watched Norfolk pass her by. The familiar streets and buildings gave her a strangely comforting feeling like they were a shield meant to protect her from the challenges ahead. The last time she'd been home had been before she'd left for basic training at Fort Des Moines. She and her father had fought horribly, and her mother had just stood there, silently judging her.

They drove past the ocean, and the law offices, and into the wealthy end of town. Soon enough, a stately brick house loomed ahead on the horizon. The red bricks were complemented by white dovetailed edging on all of the corners, and tall white columns in front. The rose bushes were trimmed, and the poplar trees loomed bare-branched above them. On the outside, it looked like the home of a happy, incredibly wealthy family.

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