September 6, 1944

ROCKPORT, MASSACHUSETTS

Dear Rita,

How lovely and amazing and QUIET it’s been. I’m spending a good deal of time gardening. Well, you can hardly call it that, I suppose. It’s more like reaping! Oh, holy dear LORD, the sheer volume of tomatoes!

I’ve become a veritable domestic goddess. Sewing and cooking. Mothering. Preparing for Robert’s arrival. (Which could be any day. The army is so disorganized for such an organized army...well, you know what I mean!)

So I’ve been making a lot of things with tomatoes.

Tomatoes and cream and sugar for breakfast.

Tomato omelets for lunch and dinner.

Tomato soufflé.

Tomato SOUP. (So much soup.)

Tomato sauce, as well.

But here is why I am writing to you. This recipe. Oh, Rita. Make it and feed it to our Roylene!

Tomato Soup Cake

(I know! But it’s good. Trust me. SO GOOD!)

1/2 cup shortening

1 cup sugar (substitute 3/4 cup honey per rations)

1 cup tomato soup (best used if sitting in icebox for a few days)

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon cloves

1 teaspoon nutmeg

1 cup raisins

1 cup chopped nuts (of course, if you can get them!)

Blend shortening with sugar. Stir baking soda into tomato soup. Make sure it dissolves. Add to shortening and sugar. Sift dry ingredients and add to the mix. Stir in raisins and nuts. Pour into a greased and floured 13x9-inch cake pan and bake at 350 degrees for almost an hour. Glaze or frost or simply butter. Good toasted, too.

As for your new pal Roylene. I’m so happy for both of you! And more than a little bit jealous. I’d give anything to sit in your kitchen.

And I know your voice. It’s deep and rich and full of laughter behind all that. So don’t you worry. Me? I sound like a bird who got caught in a fan! And if you have any bad habits I’ll just love you more. You’ve been doing the same for me.

Love,

Glory

P.S. Guess who gave me that recipe? Remember the woman who lost her boy and yelled at me in the coffee shop? Yes. She gave it to me! She just walked up to me while I was at the drugstore picking up Robbie’s medicine.

“I’ve heard your Robert’s coming home to us,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said (ready to duck, I tell you...).

“This is for you, it’s a comfort.”

And she walked away. You could have knocked me over with a willow wisp.

I’m just a bubble of hope these days, I swear. Any word from Toby?