Epilogue

Nine months later

Trudy would never tire of seeing the ocean, much as she missed the hill country of Texas, and the German accents of her people. The bluebonnets of spring were vivid in her memory. But she wished she could capture the blue of the ocean to show her parents. A letter arrived from Mother every week. She’d heard from Father, who was doing well, but long past ready to return home.

Please forgive me for making things so difficult for you and Bradley. A mother only wants to protect her child. One day, I am sure you will understand, her last letter had read.

Trudy snapped another photo of a palm tree at the edge of a sandy beach, then wound the film. For a wedding present, Bradley had given her a brand-new camera.

“Are you out of film?” Bradley asked.

She nodded. “I can’t wait to see how these come out.” They’d turned their pantry into a darkroom, much to her delight.

“Frank is pleased as punch with your photographs, as am I.” There was talk of eventually bringing This American Life into a color print format, one day. There was also talk of Trudy Meier Zimmermann winning a photography award as well, but Trudy wasn’t thinking of that overmuch these days.

“I’m thankful that I get to do what I love, and that you and I are together in such a beautiful place like this. Our apartment isn’t much to speak of …” She didn’t mean to sound as if she were complaining, because they were often out and about on their assignments together.

“I wish it were more …”

“But I love it because we’re together.” She smiled at her husband.

Bradley kissed the tip of her nose, then touched her stomach. “Have you felt the baby move?”

“Not yet.” She smiled. “It’s too early. I think. My mother would know.” Sometimes homesickness struck Trudy in waves, but the wonder of discovering the world around her kept that at bay most of the time. Now, she felt sickness for a different reason. Bradley had been over the moon when she told him about the baby.

“Now it’s my turn with surprises.” Bradley held up an envelope.

“What’s that?” She reached for it, and he whipped it away from her grasp, then handed it to her with a smile, the ocean breeze ruffling his dark hair.

Trudy opened the envelope. “Plane tickets? Where are we going?” Their first stop would be Los Angeles. She didn’t page through the tickets after that.

“Washington, with a detour by Texas first. I know you’ve been missing your family.” He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned into him as they looked out at the crashing waves.

“That I have. I enjoy reading their letters, but I would love to visit before I can’t travel anymore.” A mother. She was going to be a mother.

He nodded. “That’s what I thought. And I know just the place we can stay when we get there.”

Trudy smiled up at her husband. “Our Sunday house will do just fine.”