"Did you finish packing all your things?" Joan asked, taking a bite of her pound cake.
On the last evening before their friends' departure, the girls gathered in Elise's room. Lily had already stopped by earlier to give her farewell gift.
"Yes," Elise replied. "Though there isn't much to pack. They told us not to bring too many belongings since they might get lost or damaged."
"I hope the war ends soon," Helen said quietly. "Then everyone can come home."
"Oh, enough with the gloomy talk," Lucie interrupted with a grin. "Who knows? Maybe we'll meet Prince Charming over there."
"Ooh, now that would be interesting," Jinen laughed. "A love story between a handsome soldier and his nurse."
"Well, I'd like one too," Joan said matter-of-factly. "Preferably six foot one, with blue eyes."
The room burst into laughter.
"As if those grow on trees," Elise replied, shaking her head.
"Oh, and I'd appreciate a respectable position as well. I'm not asking for much. A lieutenant would do."
"Joan!" Lucie laughed. "You've raised the bar high enough already."
The laughter lingered long after the conversation drifted elsewhere. Knowing the following day would be exhausting, the girls retired earlier than usual.
"Huuh... haaah..."
"One... Two... Three..."
After finishing her final set of sit-ups, Joan drank a cup of boiled water before gathering her toiletries and heading for the bath.
"Good morning."
"Good morning."
"This is our last breakfast together," Jinen sighed, unfolding her sandwich. "I only wish Lily were here."
"I'm sure we'll all eat together again once they return safely," Joan said.
"Exactly," Elise agreed, though her reddened eyes betrayed her emotions. "We'll write whenever we get the chance."
"And besides," Lucie added with surprising composure, "why say goodbye when we can simply say, see you later?"
After breakfast, Elise and Lucie left the dormitory. They first stopped by Lucie's family home to collect the rest of her luggage before heading to the train station, where volunteers from several hospitals were gathering.
Joan and Jinen had been unable to obtain leave to accompany them, though fortunately Helen could.
"I'll miss you," Jinen said, embracing Lucie tightly. "Promise you'll eat properly and get enough sleep."
Joan hugged Elise next.
"And promise me you'll stay clean," she said. "Wear your mask and gloves whenever you're treating soldiers. They may carry all kinds of infections."
She had tried to persuade both Elise and Lucie not to volunteer when the opportunity first arose. In the end, however, it had been they who softened her resolve.
More than anything, Joan feared the unexpected artillery attacks that sometimes struck evacuation stations near the Western Front. Yet there was nothing she could do. The war would rage on for years, and America itself would eventually be drawn into it.
All she could do was selfishly pray that fate would spare her friends.
"God bless you."
"We'll pray for you."
"See you later."
As the train carried them away, Elise, Lucie, and even Lily gradually faded from Joan's daily life.
The maternity ward stirred to life with the first pale light of morning. Joan had barely finished tying the strings of her apron when Vera appeared at the doorway.
"Private Room Three," Vera said, motioning for her to follow.
Joan picked up a fresh bundle of linens and fell into step behind the senior nurse. Over the past few months, the routine had become second nature.
Inside, Mrs. Margaret Holloway rested against a stack of pillows while her newborn son slept peacefully in the cradle beside her. Her husband, Thomas Holloway, had already left for work but had promised to return before evening.
"Good morning, Nurse Blackwood," Margaret greeted warmly. "It's nice to see you again."
"And you as well, Mrs. Holloway. How are you feeling today?"
"Tired," Margaret admitted with a soft laugh, "but much better than yesterday."
Joan smiled. She had first met Mrs. Holloway during the final weeks of her pregnancy while assisting Vera with routine examinations. Since then, Margaret had become one of several private patients Joan had helped care for throughout the past few months.
As Vera checked the mother's pulse and temperature, Joan refilled the water pitcher, replaced the wilted flowers on the bedside table with a fresh bouquet delivered that morning, straightened the blankets, and gently examined little Edward Holloway, whose tiny fingers instinctively curled around hers.
"Quite a strong grip," Joan murmured.
"Just like his father," Margaret replied proudly.
Working alongside Vera had taught Joan far more than medical procedures. She had learned how to speak with private patients, when reassurance mattered more than instructions, and how a calm presence could soothe anxieties before any medicine ever could.
The physicians had gradually entrusted her with greater responsibility, while familiar patients and their families had begun greeting her by name.
After collecting Margaret's luncheon from the kitchen downstairs, Joan quietly returned to the room.
She paused at the doorway.
Vera sat beside the bed, patiently guiding Margaret as little Edward struggled to latch for his first proper feeding.
Without a word, Joan remained where she was, carefully observing every gentle instruction and movement, committing each lesson to memory.
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