1022 Evergreen Place - Debbie Macomber [47]
Mary Jo had set the table and placed the casserole in the middle, together with a green salad and fresh bread, by the time Mack returned.
“Dinner looks great,” he said, eyeing it appreciatively as they sat down.
She dished up the casserole and passed him the salad. “I’ve been reading Joan’s diary whenever I have a chance,” she said. Actually, she’d done little else during her free time since they’d found the book. She’d started with January 1, 1944, getting to know the intimate thoughts of this woman who’d become so important to her.
“Anything interesting so far?”
“It’s all interesting. She refers a lot to how she didn’t get along with her sister. Apparently Elaine wanted her to date Marvin’s brother Earl.”
“And Marvin is?”
“Oh, that’s Elaine’s husband.”
“Was Earl in the service?”
Mary Jo shrugged. “She doesn’t say. It’s sort of hard to follow because each entry is only three or four lines. Joan writes in this shorthand way. ‘Busy today,’ ‘no letter from Jacob,’ that kind of thing.”
“Can I see the diary when we’re finished eating?”
“Oh, sure.” They continued their meal, with Noelle—finally content—in her baby seat. Mack had obviously changed his views on sauerkraut, since he had two helpings. They cleared the table and Mary Jo made coffee, then retrieved the journal from her room. The night before, she’d read until the words had started to blur.
“Did you get to June 6, 1944?” he asked.
“No, just to the first part of May.” Perhaps because she was afraid of what she might learn or because she was so involved in Joan’s day-to-day life, Mary Jo hadn’t skipped ahead.
“I wonder if she mentions D-day,” he said, opening the clasp and flipping through the pages. “‘June 6, 1944. Did my washing. No mail from Jacob. Worked hard all day on troop transports.’”
“Troop transports? What does that mean?” Mary Jo asked.
Mack shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“What about June 7?” she asked, resisting the urge to read over his shoulder.
Mack turned the page. “‘No mail from Jacob. My heart is broken. Had to tack on 3. Got some 200 w lightbulbs. Wrote letters and emb.’” He looked up. “I see what you mean about the shorthand. I wonder why she’s talking about lightbulbs.”
“They were probably being rationed.” Mary Jo had only recently learned about ration books. “Did you know it was because of rations that the recipe for red velvet cake was developed?”
Mack looked up from the diary and stared at her blankly. “Red velvet cake? What’s that?”
“It’s my brother Ned’s favorite. I bake it for his birthday every year with cream-cheese frosting.”
“What makes it red? Strawberries?”
“No.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I’ve been reading about domestic life during the war. You’re not the only one with a library card,” she told him primly. “I checked out a couple of history books, but they weren’t about battles.” She set down her cup. “Like I said, they focused more on the home front and how families coped with their men being away, women working in large numbers, rationing. Stuff like that.” She paused. “Cocoa’s one thing that was rationed.”
“Cocoa,” Mack repeated. “So?”
“So there was a scarcity of cocoa, and women couldn’t make chocolate cakes. Oh, and sugar was rationed, too.”
“Which means…” He gestured with his hand, urging her to continue.
“Which means,” she said, thinking it should be obvious, “that women came up with the idea of substituting red food coloring for chocolate. You mean to say you’ve never had red velvet cake?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“I’ll bake you one.”
“Will I have to share it with your brother?” he teased.
“Probably.”
He smiled and she smiled back, and for a moment they seemed to be lost in each other. Mary Jo looked away first, but her entire body remained aware of the man sitting across from her.
Mack returned to the diary. “June 8, 1944, says, ‘Jacob, oh, Jacob, why don’t you write. I’m losing my mind.’”
A sick feeling assailed