Mack had asked for this dish on every birthday for as long as Corrie could remember. It seemed fitting to prepare it for him the night he told them he was engaged. She wondered what kind of ring he’d bought Mary Jo….
“They’re here.” Roy was looking out the front window, which provided a good view of the driveway.
“Perfect timing,” she said, rubbing her hands together. And she meant it in more ways than one. Linnette and Pete were married and now their son, too, was ready to start his family.
Corrie removed her apron and tossed it on a kitchen chair. She’d take the salad out of the refrigerator just before they sat down at the table. They’d visit first, with some hors d’oeuvres and a congratulatory glass of wine.
Roy opened the door for Mary Jo and their son, who held Noelle’s baby carrier.
“Welcome, welcome.” Corrie rushed forward to hug Mary Jo and her son. Her eyes instantly went to the baby who would soon be her granddaughter. She looked forward to becoming a grandmother—twice in one year—and already adored Noelle. She envisioned cooking with her one day and teaching her how to make shepherd’s pie. They’d have tea parties and would fill coloring books together.
“I was hoping you’d make that,” Mack said, gesturing at the table. “Smells fantastic.” He kissed his mother on the cheek as Mary Jo dealt with Noelle.
Corrie noticed that Mary Jo wasn’t wearing an engagement ring, but maybe Mack hadn’t bought it yet. All through their drinks and carefully chosen appetizers—cheese, crackers, stuffed mushrooms and tiny sausage rolls—she waited for an announcement that didn’t come.
“Everything’s ready,” Corrie finally said, and stood to bring the salad to the table.
They sat down together, and after a short grace, Roy refilled their glasses. Corrie handed the serving spoon to her son.
“This is my favorite dinner,” he told Mary Jo. “Mom makes it every year on my birthday.”
“I’ll give you the recipe if you like,” Corrie was quick to tell Mary Jo.
“Why, thank you. I’d enjoy that.”
“My mother’s a great cook.”
Corrie blushed at the praise. She took her first bite and was pleased with how well the shepherd’s pie had turned out—every bit as good as last year’s. She didn’t make it often, since Roy had his own favorites.
Halfway through the meal Corrie couldn’t stand the suspense anymore. “I believe I know why you and Mary Jo wanted to stop by,” she said coyly, glancing at her husband.
“You do?” Mack’s gaze shot to Mary Jo.
“You know we came about the letters?” Mary Jo asked Corrie.
Corrie frowned. “Letters? What letters?” She turned to her husband, hoping for an explanation.
“Mary Jo found a box filled with letters from World War II,” Mack said. “Remember?”
Corrie nodded. “Of course I do,” she replied. In fact she’d had a long conversation with Peggy about them.
“Then Mack found a diary, hidden in the same space,” Mary Jo added.
“You came here because you wanted to talk about the letters?” Corrie was fascinated by them, too, but couldn’t let go of her hope that they’d come to share the news of their engagement.
“They’re incredible, Mom.” Mack’s voice rose with enthusiasm. “Did I tell you Mary Jo and I have been doing research on D-day? The Normandy invasion.”
“June 6, 1944,” Roy said, apparently in case she’d forgotten the date.
“Joan Manry and Jacob Dennison were so much in love, and then after the invasion…there’s nothing.” Mary Jo looked at Corrie and then Roy. “No more letters, no more diary entries. It’s a mystery.”
“Mary Jo and I keep wondering what happened to them.”
“We’re dying to find out,” she told Corrie. “The letters—”
“You asked to have dinner with us because of the letters?” Corrie broke in. She couldn’t conceal her disappointment.
Mack stared at her blankly. “Actually, you asked us to dinner, remember?”
“Yes…no. I apologize.” Corrie placed her hands in her lap. “I thought… I hoped you’d come for another reason.”
“Corrie…” Roy warned, his voice low.
“What?” Mary Jo asked.
“Well, I’d hoped…” Corrie managed a half smile as she turned to her son. “I just assumed, you know, with the two of you spending so much time together, that you might’ve decided to…get married.” She looked from her son to Mary Jo and then at Noelle. She’d swear the baby wasn’t pleased, either, making a sad face and kicking out her legs as if struggling to break free of her carrier.
“Mack and I—” Mary Jo’s eyes widened. “No, that isn’t it at all.”
“So I see.”
“Tell me more about the letters,” Roy said, changing the subject and not being subtle about it.
Mack seemed as eager as his father to talk about something other than marriage. “Seeing how abruptly the letters stopped after the invasion, Mary Jo and I thought Jacob must’ve been killed.”
“We don’t think so now,” Mary Jo said, “because we can’t find his name on the list of soldiers laid to rest in France following D-day. Nor is he among those recorded as missing in action.”
“He might have been wounded,” Roy suggested.
“We thought so, too, but getting that kind of information is much more difficult.”