Chapter Text
July 18th, 1943
Maine
Dash,
I'm heading into town to see the doctor about joining the effort.
I know Mom will have a cow when she hears it, but with you stuck in a hospital nearly two hundred miles away I can't see much reason for me to stay in this two-horse town forever.
I'll write as soon as I have news.
-Dot
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Annie Hudson stepped into the examination room, the door groaning shut behind her. The linoleum floor was warped and yellowed, curling at the edges like it was trying to escape the antiseptic smell by retreating to the corners of the room. Dust caught the light from the flickering overhead fixture, and the air smelled like alcohol swabs and late spring-damp walls. Somewhere in the building, a typewriter clacked out a report with no urgency.
She tugged at the cuffs of her borrowed button down and wiped her sweaty hands on the carpenters pants she had also put on for the occasion. Even though her stomach was eating itself with nerves, Annie kept her shoulders square. Her eyes flicking to the curtained window. It was hot in Bangor this time of year. Hot enough that each breath felt heavy with humidity, even inside.
Although as hot as it was outside and in, it wasn't the reason for Annie's shaking hands and the sweat pooling in itchy drips down the back of her neck. No, she was anxious. But she wasn't given much time to dwell on her growing feeling of anxiety as the door of the examination room creaked open again behind her.
A man shuffled in - or more accurately, lurched - like the floor was pitching beneath him. His coat hung open over a stained vest, and his eyes were bleary behind wire-rimmed glasses. The scent of whiskey hit before he spoke.
"Hello, Mr. Hudson. I'm Dr. Victor Langford," he said with a hiccup and a crooked smile. "I'll be handling your army physical today."
Annie gave a sharp nod, ignoring the way her stomach tightened at the sound of Mister. It still hit funny, even when it was what she needed. Being in the high school drama club had never appealed to her as a younger teen but she had never been a bad actor either.
Doctor Langford wandered the rest of his way into the room like he wasn't sure why he'd just come in. He tapped his pen against the clipboard with a distracted rhythm as he seemed to decide what was going on.
He checked her ears and throat with slightly shaking hands, pressed along her spine, and poked her knees with a reflex hammer a little harder than Annie really thought was necessary. In all of this, He didn't meet her eyes once.
"You're in perfect health," he slurred, scribbling something that looked more like a squiggle than a signature. "Don't know why a skinny boy like you wants to go to war."
Annie gave a noncommittal shrug. Her mouth stayed shut as she tried not to clench her sweating palms to keep them from trembling.
"There's plenty of... of..." He waved a vague hand and looked into the distance while he searched for the word, Annie poised on the edge of her seat while he made vague hand gestures some more, "Positions. God knows we need the men." he finished, leaning in like a coddling grandparent making a joke with their favorite grandchild.
He was close now. Too close. The stench of booze burned her nose.
She resisted the urge to lean back from him while also attempting to not meet his eyes as they roamed down the clipboard he was now looking over one last time.
Finally, He handed her a folded slip of paper - enlistment approval, or something close enough she silently prayed - and then he stumbled toward the door. "Give that to the nurse," he slurred. Then he was gone.
Annie got her button down re-buttoned slowly, fingers stiff with cold. She pulled her cap low over her shortly cropped curls, tucked her gloves into her belt, and stepped back into the hallway. The old school building which had been repurposed into a medical building for the war efforts echoed with every step.
Voices murmured from other rooms and there seemed to be a large emptiness about the halls even though the odd nurse or doctor was bustling between rooms. Passing one room Annie was sure she could hear a woman crying and a young man comforting her, although their words were so muffled she couldn't hear the words.
At the front desk, a nurse with dark circles under her eyes and a cigarette smoldering in a nearby ashtray took the paper without looking up.
"Thank you. Drive safely," she said, monotone, and dropped the form into a dented blue box marked 1A.
Annie paused. The corners of her mouth lifted into something almost like a smile.
"Thank you," she said in a deeper tone than she normally would have. "Have a good day."
The nurse didn't answer so Annie walked herself to the large metal doors that lead outside.
Once in the sunshine she felt the heat of the day seemingly washing over her after the shelter of the large stone building.
She walked down the stairs quickly but with as much restraint as she could manage, doing her best to keep the spring out of her step. She tried to remain calm but..
She'd done it.
She was in. She hoped. After all there were several more checks and she still had the stress of others along the paper trail looking too deeply into it.
Annie shielded her eyes and let out a breath.
It didn't matter now what happened she supposed, she was doing what she had set out to do since a few weeks ago. And to her whether she got in or not, it was more the effort that she cared about.
Keeping the spring from her step as best as she could she walked over towards the dirt parking lot. Her pants rubbed on her legs and she silently hoped she didn't get any dirt on them - Her brother would kill her if he ever knew she had worn his clothes, Especially out of the house.
Ninety-four degrees was considered unusually hot for Maine, and made worse by the stillness in the air. Even the trees looked wilted. She stretched her arms over her head, rolled her shoulders back, and crossed the gravel lot toward her father's borrowed town car.
The tan paint shimmered in the sun like it was made of brass, and even with the windows rolled down, the vinyl seats burned against the backs of her legs even through the carpenter pants thick material.
The engine hummed to life with a low and old, yet familiar rattle behind the dashboard. She shifted into the right gear and pulled onto the road. The streets were nearly empty since most of the town's sons and fathers had already left for Boston-or further.
Uptown, she passed the park where families lingered under patches of shade, clinging to what little joy remained. There were groups of children playing some sort of kick ball game on the field while lovers sat underneath the trees clinging to one another as if it were their last day on earth together.
It felt as if everyone were sharing the same bitter taste in their mouths, everyone could feel the danger and unease as if it were malleable.
The sunshine slinked along the tan car as it smoothly makes its way around the small streets, hardly seeing another car on the road but plenty of people in vacation wear wandering the cobbled sidewalks looking at the fine manors and large gardens.
When she reached the Malt Shoppe, she stared at the faded sign that creaked above the door: Last Stop Malt Shoppe, with chipped white paint curling off the edges. It had been named years ago by the owner's wife, Mrs. Dart, since it was indeed the last malt shoppe before the stretch up to Arcadia National Park.
When she had been a freshmen she had taken up a job with the Dart family in their then humble ice-cream stand. As Maine gained in popularity the tourists flooded the area seeking a reprieve from the dreary war that ravaged the country even if it was an ocean away. The one thing they almost all had in common was a need for malt shakes, ice cream cones and mixed fountain sodas.
Now the couple that started the store were retired and allowed their only daughter and Annie to take over running the store.
Annie stared at the building for a long moment, it made her stomach sick thinking about leaving Jane during peak season for an unknown fate in the war effort. Annie hummed out a sigh to clear her head as she parked behind the small multicolored house for a little more privacy. She put the car in park and then reached into the back seat to pull out a plain gingham skirt she had made during church group a few years ago.
Her and Jane constantly talked about taking the long trip to Boston to get the latest fashion but the dream seemed further and further away as the economy struggled along.
She looked around to be sure the Bigleaf Hydrangeas were giving her proper cover then exchanged the pants for the skirt.
She hastily stowed the pants underneath the back seat in the place of the skirt and then hopped out of the car, popping down the little door lock as she went.
Inside, the shop buzzed with life. The scent of sugar, cream, and Cola syrup filled the air. A fan clacked rhythmically in the corner circulating the cool air from the large ice cream freezers at the counter.
Soldiers on leave or awaiting their shipment dates clustered in booths with their caps on the table. Most of them sat eased back but a few of them were anxious looking, picking at the worn table tops while their dates talked unaware. There were a few parents ushering their families here and there as they ordered and sat down. Kids darted between stools that squeaked on the checkerboard tile.
The walls of the small shop were covered in local fishing records and a few candid's of the Katadin mountain for the tourists to admire while they awaited their frozen treats.
Behind the counter, Jane Dart stands working the register, a white apron tied over a patched green cotton dress. Her red lipstick made her tan skin look like caramel as it caught the overhead light in warm amber tones. She looked up and smiled as Annie approached through the bustling parlor.
Slipping behind the counter, Annie tied her own apron neatly, and pulled on a paper dipper hat, tucking her curls in tight.
"I didn't know you preferred it that short." Jane quips, giving Annie a side eye. Annie blushes and tries not to meet her eye "I got it cut." She washes her hands in the small sink while Jane takes another order and then turns towards her with an easy smile on her face.
Annie was a bit taken aback and for a moment stands looking at Jane with her mouth open. Her mother was a strict Southern Baptist from Louisiana and she didn't tolerate short hair - or as she called it, flapper hair.
"T-Thanks Jane. Really, I wasn't sure I could pull it off." The two stand side by side while Annie dries her hands off and Jane scoops out a large waffle cone of chocolate.
"I mean I can't lie, it does make you look like your brother." Jane pauses to give Annie an apologetic grimace "But like, if he was a pretty boy. You know?"
Annie throws her head back and laughs as she and Jane do a bit of a twostep so Annie can take over scooping while Jane takes the orders. "I'm going to tell Tony you said that!"
Jane, who had been smitten with her twin brother since primary school, flushes a dark red that creeps up her cheeks like a wildfire.
"Annie you wouldn't." She chokes out in a scandalized voice.
Annie just grins back "Watch me."
Then she headed for the ice cream bar and braced herself for the lunch rush while Jane lets out a nervous laugh.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
The bell above the door chimed again, letting in a gust of humid air that clung to the checkered floor like a wet blanket. Annie didn't look up at first - she was wrist-deep in Rocky Road, the scoop slipping stubbornly against a dense vein of fudge.
Behind her, Jane ducked low to grab cones from the rack, nearly bumping her head into the counter and in her redirection bumped into Annie's elbow and knocked her off balance.
"Careful, you almost took me out," Annie muttered, bracing the tub with her hip.
"I warned you not to lean that far into the freezer, especially if you see me getting cones." Jane said, her voice sugarcoated for the customers as she handed off the triple-scoop cone she whipped up from her new stock of cones. "Have a sweet one!" she added, all teeth and retail charm.
The gentleman customer barely nodded or even looked away from his brunette date who also seemed to only have eyes for him.
Jane looks over at Annie in time to see her make a gagging face at the floor as she sweeps up the nuts and sprinkles off the floor.
Jane rolled her eyes "You never think about finding a nice young man-" Annie cut her off immediately with a shocked face, "You can't be real. Me?" The two stare at each other for a minute and then break out into a fit of giggles.
Annie wiped her forearm on her apron as she sets the broom into the corner again. She felt sticky after standing in the air conditioned room with the humidity outside. "That's the third guy today who didn't tip." She pointed out as if to change the subject.
"They're just mad we still don't have cookie butter," Jane sighed, grabbing the laminated 'Out of Stock' sign and slapping it back in place from where it had started to slide down the icy treat bucket. "I'm gonna start telling people you're the one who ate it all."
Annie snorted, appreciating that Jane could so easily accept a change of subject. Men were her least favorite subject since she was known as the town Tomboy by every man from her junior high school. It was a nickname that had followed her now even into her young adulthood. She smiled at Jane, "Fine. But I'm telling them you watered down the milkshakes."
"I did water down the milkshakes." Jane says back with her eyes wide.
They both cracked up, too loud for how close the next customer was. Jane turned back quickly, face flipping to a mask of neutrality. "Hi there! What can I get started for you?"
Annie scooped behind her, elbowing open the fridge door to grab more whipped cream. The fridge hissed as cold air poured out. A toddler shrieked, slapping the glass and pointing at the rainbow sprinkles like they were buried treasure. The two girls behind the counter try not to cringe at the small smearing finger prints. Jane passed off another cone, then leaned in during a lull, her voice quieter now.
"I meant to call you last night," she said. "You still coming Friday?"
Annie blinked. "Oh-yeah. Sorry. I just... things got weird."
"Weird how?" Jane's hands kept working on wiping the fingerprints off of her beloved glass window, but her tone sharpened.
Annie's eyes drifted to the window, where kids and parents crisscrossed the lot under the dying sun. "I got this letter. From New York." She hesitated. "Not great news."
Jane slowed just a bit, moving the rag a bit slower now as she processed this before looking up at Annie to ask, "Is it bad?"
Annie shrugged. "Kinda. Just-you know. Makes everything here feel like a waste of time, you know?"
Jane looked at her for the first time since she had gotten into work, really looked. Her expression softened, but the bell over the door rang again signaling an incoming customer, and the moment dissolved like ice in a cup under the midday sun.
"Talk later?" Jane asked, already returning to the register to tend to the next group.
Annie gave a small nod and faced the freezer again. Her scoop landed with a heavy thud in the waiting cone. Her hands were sticky. Her chest ached a little in a way that didn't come from laughter.
The fan droned on behind her, drowning out the sound in her brain as she scooped out the next order.
*-*-*-*-*-*
The shop had finally quieted. Chairs were stacked, tables wiped down, and the last of the customers had long since wandered into the warm, pulsing night. The only lamp that was on was the Gumball machine shaped lamp at the end of the Ice Cream counter, glowing at the far end of the counter and casting its soft amber light across the black-and-white linoleum floor.
Outside the front windows, the street was nearly deserted, a lone moth batting itself against the glass with rhythmic desperation.
Annie folded her apron with practiced care, smoothing the creases before tucking it under the counter. She lingered there for a moment, her hands resting on the wood, watching the lamp's reflection flicker in the glass.
The weight of the day pressed in. The war, the letter, the conversation she hadn't had yet, more over wasn't sure she even should be having.
She blinked the dizzying thoughts away and reached for the tub of dishes, the plastic bin cold against her already freezer numbed hands. Glass and silverware clinked softly inside in their own clinking melody as she carried it through the narrow walkway to the kitchen pass window.
In the back, Jane was finishing the last round of prep, wiping down the steel prep table in slow, tired circles. A cigarette hung from the corner of her mouth, the smoke curling upward in slow spirals, catching the low light. Whenever a small bit of ash would fall onto her pristine counter, she would swipe it away with an annoyed huff of smoke out of her nose. She looked up as Annie approached.
"I'm sure glad you work here," she said, her voice rough with fatigue, the dark under her eyes deeper than usual.
Annie set the bin on the ledge near the foaming soapy sink and leaned into her elbows with a small shrug. "It's no problem," she said quietly, feeling the guilt burn inside her. "Just doing what I can."
Jane gave a half-nod, then took a long drag and let it out toward the cracked ceiling with her eyes searching every corner for anything else she missed.
"I know it's hard. Knowing our neighbors and classmates are out there... risking everything. And all we can do is dish out scoops and platitudes." Jane said suddenly, pulling Annie out of the daze she hadn't realized she had fallen into.
Annie glanced up from the worn out kitchen floor, trying her best to meet her eyes steadily. Jane was usually quick with sarcasm, fast with a joke - but she was also the motherly type, and she knew when Annie's mind was running her in circles.
Jane held her gaze for a moment that felt like eternity as Annie tried to look pleasant and not stressed in the least bit, which couldn't be further from the truth.
"I've known you since we were 14 Ms. Annie." Her slight southern accent came out, almost in a threatening way if she didn't look so much like a concerned auntie. Sometimes she resembled her mother so much it was startling.
"I remember when they took your brother 'way and you didn't look nearly as worried then as you do now." She paused for another quick drag off of her cigarette, it making a slight pop as she pulled it back out to keep speaking as the smoke flowed from her mouth like a dragon breathing ancient wisdom.
"Maybe it isn't him I'm worried about-" Annie tried to deflect but Jane went on.
"You worry yourself too much young'n and you'll not live to regret it." They stared at one another for a moment as Jane tried to pull whatever it was out of Annie with just a look. Annie broke the eye contact to start putting the dishes into the sink gently, trying to keep her mouth shut before she said anything, as it was bound to lead to too much.
"Sure it don't help, hell with this war goin' on, I can't imagine it feels like there is much else to do." Annie couldn't restrain herself and said a little louder than she would have wanted "I just wish I could do-" She hesitated to find the right words as Annie stepped in beside her, rolling up her sleeves,
"More?" Jane supplied. Annie sighed as she set in the last few spoons, looking to Jane with an almost torture expression on her face. "Why can't we do more?"
"I mean, hell," Jane muttered, smoke curling past her wrist while she shook her head. "They think we're good for bandages and burgers, and nothing else. But we give a damn too." She pointed her cigarette at Annie for emphasis and Annie leans away from its willowy smoke. "We care just as much as any man with a uniform."
Annie gave a tired laugh, placing her palm over her heart, "Women care about this country, too. We give a damn, because we're goddamned Americans."
Jane snorted, slapped a sudded and soaking hand over her own chest, and grinned. "Amen, sister."
They stood in quiet for a beat, just the freezer hum and the soft tick of the wall clock filling the space as Jane washed and Annie dried and put away.
It felt like the anticipation was building more and more. The anxiety and quiet finally became too much, and Annie said it in almost a mumbled blur, "I went to the recruitment office today."
Jane looked up from where she was draining the sink, eyes flickering with interest as she used a wet hand to snuff out her cigarette on the rusted edge of the old sink.
"Oh, to be a nurse out there... Fat chance," she scoffed, flicking the butt into the trash can and attempting to light another of her endless supplies of Lucky Strikes. "They barely let us within ten miles of the front." as she said it her cigarette waggled near her raised lighter "We're either in an apron or an infirmary."
Annie hesitated, worrying the edge of the tattered and damp dishcloth in her hands as she decided how she wanted to word this.
"They made a mistake, I think."
Jane laughed bitterly, "Yeah. By not letting us fight-"
"No, Jane." Annie's voice came low and serious. Jane froze mid-sentence, cigarette hanging from the end of her red lips.
Annie looked from her curious expression down to her dish towel. "The doctor was drunk."
Jane stood up straighter. The humor drained from her face in an instant.
"He didn't do anything, did he?" she asked sharply, scanning Annie's posture like she had been hiding an injury of some kind.
Annie shook her head, lips twisting into almost a smile as she struggled with the words.
"No- Nothing like that."
Jane exhaled, shoulders easing. She lit her Lucky Strike and took a long drag and then let it out slowly with a mumbled "Give a gal a heart attack, why don't you.."
Annie hesitated, then pressed on, "He thought I was my... my brother." She finished with an awkward smile and a shrug as if this were an easy mistake to make.
Jane choked mid-inhale and coughed out little puffs of smoke, eyes wide and staring at Annie.
"Your brother?" she hissed, glancing instinctively toward the front windows as if the MP's would arrive right then and haul her away to federal prison..
Annie nodded slowly when she looked back, afraid of her reaction. When Jane just stares at her, she presses on again.
"The one in New York Hospital, yeah. I just.. Sort of mixed up our paperwork when I made the appointment." She finished with a sort of sigh as the pressure in her chest seemed to lift from the confession.
Silence stretched, thick as caramel on an ice-cold sundae.
Jane stared. Then leaned in, red lips parted although her cigarette was burning idle at her side now. The pieces were falling into place behind her large brown eyes as they search Annie's face over and over as if waiting for the other shoe to drop on the joke.
She seemed to come to herself and took a long pull, killing the cigarette in one nearly, and then stubbed the cigarette out in a ramekin ashtray on the prep counter, then rested on her elbow, looking sideways at Annie like she was considering all the aspects of what would happen now.
"So.. what does that mean?" She finally says, trying to meet Annie's now roaming eyes.
"I don't know," Annie said, continuing to examine the pass window as if she had not used it nearly everyday. "But-"
She didn't finish. She didn't need to, as Jane cut in whispering, "I'm sure they'll catch it-"
"What if they don't?" Annie asked back in equal rush. Her voice dropped again - deeper, firmer - and it didn't sound like a joke this time "What if they presumed me Tony Hudson?".
Jane blinked, stunned. Then... slowly... a grin bloomed.
"You can't-" she started breathlessly, then, "But you absolutely have to." She put her finger into her mouth, biting it in anticipation before saying in a breathy laugh "God Anthony would kill you if he knew. He doesn't right"
"Oh, God no." Annie waves the idea off. "God no." She says again as if to assure herself.
They both share a moment's pause and then smile wide and wild, like they'd just stepped off a cliff and found they could fly.
******************
The car rumbled softly under Annie's hands as she drove home. Headlights cut through the quiet dark, the wind moving swiftly through the open windows humid as ever.
The talk had gone on longer than Annie had thought it would, but seeing as they both shared the same ideals it wasn't entirely a surprise either. They had both agreed that if the plan went ahead that they would talk when she got back, and if Tony's name appeared in the obituaries than Jane would be sure to confirm which Tony had kicked the bucket.
It had been a more tearful goodbye than either really had meant it to be. They had no idea when they would see each other again or if they even ever would.
Annie would do what she'd dreamed of since the first newspaper headline: Serve. Fight. Protect.
She turned onto her street while her mind buzzed with the information of the day and pulled into the narrow drive of the only brick apartment building on the street, narrowly missing the birdbath - again.
Her father sat on the front steps, stubbing out a hand-rolled cigarette on the bottom stair. The cherry hissed against the baked, dry concrete.
Annie grabbed her gloves and cap, and then stretched to grab the pants from under the seat. She bundled them up tightly to conceal what they were as she climbed out of the car, leaving the engine idling as she did so.
They hugged briefly and then broke away so Annie could see him clearly. He was Mute and couldn't speak so he used signs with his hands to communicate. He signed for "decent day today?"
"Another good day," Annie said lightly, smiling warmly at her father's worried expression. "How's the shop?"
He signed a so-so with one hand, then nodded as if assured of something. Annie smiled knowing it was just his ever living passion for the sport of hunting. As long as her father lived in the area there would always be Hudson's Huntsman and Gunsmith..
"Still slow, huh." She asked, although it went without saying. The fall when hunting opened up was always a much better time of year for sales.
Another nod, but she noticed his face looked lined and more exhausted than when she had last seen him. Alot of the orders being placed at his shop were orders for the war effort, hardly anyone was hunting for sport anymore, and the ones who were buying guns for home were doing it for protection or to feed their families off of the wild game.
"Well, I'll let you get some sleep." She yawned theatrically gesturing towards the brick building with a nod of the head. He responded with an 'I love you' sign before heading for the car with shuffling feet.
She watched the towncars taillights vanish into the dark, the hum of the engine fading behind them. She felt a conflict inside as part of her prepared for it to be the last time she sees her father, but also reminding herself of what she was trying to give him and everyone else in this town.
Peace.
Once inside the old brick apartment building, she locked the door behind her and hung her cap on one of the open iron hooks that held her other coats and Sunday hats. The apartment room was small - just a twin bed, a kitchenette, a battered dresser, and a cracked mirror leaning against the wall
She paused in front of it.
Her reflection stared back: Soft skin, her lips were still rosy from the more natural lipstick she had put on during her break at the malt shoppe. Her eyes seemed somehow stuck wide open, and she blinked them, feeling the burn of having not blinked enough.
She considered the shape of her face and neck. Although she could see the feminine traits, she had heard the teases and taunts of the men in town saying how she and her brother were more brothers than brother and sister.
Tall frame, broad shoulders. Annie had always been made fun of for her boyish figure, but now it seemed more like a blessing in disguise. If she did pass for a boy, it was a pretty boy like Jane had said. She wondered for a moment if she should cut her hair even further down to pass better.
She tugged at her hair, frustrated. It was too short now as it was. No going back.
Then with a loud clanging, the phone rang.
Annie bolted down the narrow stairs and snatched the black receiver.
"Hello?" She said in a deep and breathless voice from the large leap she had taken.
"Yes, hello. Is this the home of a, Mr. Hudson?" The voice was clipped and Military.
Annie's heart skipped.
"Who is calling, please?" Her voice was now stuck in her throat, and even deeper though she mentally was trying to gain composure. She was silently and briefly thankful for her anxiety making her voice deeper because it flew her mind entirely.
"I'm with an Army base in New Jersey. We just received your papers," the man said. "I think you might be a good fit for a unit I and an associate are assembling-called the Howling Commandos."
Annie swallowed thickly.
'You absolutely have to' Jane had said.
Annie straightened up a little, dropped her voice half an octave more, and answered:
"Well, I thought you'd never call."
The man chuckled.
"That's the kind of confidence we like. It says here you were in reserves for a bit before falling ill but it didn't list what kind of illness?" The voice was smooth and Annie couldn't help but think he sounded almost husky, she blamed the heat of the coming summer.
"Pneumonia, Sir. I had a bad case and almost couldn't shake it." Annie tried her best to keep her voice as deep and believable as possible, although she could feel her heart racing a mile a minute as she waited and listened to the sound of a pen scratching paper.
"Well, glad you shook it. We don't have a lot of other information, but I feel your training in military arms and weapons experience could be useful to the team. We plan to be doing more dangerous shit than the average soldier. Do you think you can handle that?" The longer he talked the more Annie wanted to meet the man behind the voice.
"Of course, Ain't nothing I can't do with a rifle sir," Annie said, and this time she was telling the truth. Her father owned the only guns and ammunition store in the whole greater Bangor area; she had grown up knowing more about guns and their workings than she did about sewing and cooking.
"Fantastic. We'll be sending a train ticket. Can you write down the time?"
Annie reached for the pencil on its string, hands steadier now from the tremble that had started.
"Yes, sir."
(A/N Am I once again reuploading this chapter? Maybe... Am I going to be working on the rest of the book? Perhaps.. Is it all for the greater good? Absolutely. -Moonpie)