Diana threw a hand over her eyes. “Dear God, I don’t want to hear that.”

“We have to be strong for them.” Joanie’s chin quivered. “But I’ve watched too many television shows about medical stuff. Zoe’s had technical-school training to be a nurse, but she’s never seen a field hospital with bloody towels on the floor, and she’s never lost a patient. I worry about her the first time one of her patients doesn’t make it.”

“Zoe’s tough. They all are.” Diana tried to convince herself as well as her friends. “When we start to miss them, we need to remember that they’ve driven us batshit crazy the past year with their senioritis and their too-big-for-their-britches attitudes. God, this house is going to be like a tomb without her.” Diana finished off her whiskey. “Besides, y’all do realize we’re worrying for nothing. They’ve got to get through basic training and then Advanced Individual Training before they go into their actual fieldwork. We’ll have to take it one day at a time for the next couple of months. Right now, I’ll just be glad when the first part of basic is over and they can call us.”

“That’ll be at Halloween,” Carmen groaned. “For the first time ever, Natalie and I won’t decorate the house for Halloween together.” She got up and went for another drink and returned with half a wineglass of coconut rum. “Nine months of carrying them, then we basically raised them on our own while our husbands were deployed or got sent someplace to train other officers. And now they’re gone, and we won’t see them for Halloween or Thanksgiving. And who even knows about Christmas? It’s not fair.”

“We’ll see them right before Christmas at the graduation at Fort Sill,” Joanie reminded her. “And if we’re lucky, they might not be sent to their AIT until after the holidays, so we could possibly get one of those rent-by-the-week places in Lawton and spend Christmas Day with them.”

Carmen glanced around at the house that was basically the same floor plan as the one she lived in on the other end of the block—living room, small dining area, kitchen, hallway to three bedrooms and a bath and a half. Now all three homes were going to be downright lonely. “And have Christmas dinner all together like we’ve always done,” she sighed. “I might be able to survive the next few weeks with that goal in mind. After this drink, I’m going home. You’ve got work to do, Diana McTavish, and besides, you are not a nice drunk. If you have another double shot, we’ll have to put you in restraints to keep you from driving up to Oklahoma and bringing Rebecca back home with you. Remember how you were on her first day of kindergarten?” She patted her friend on the shoulder.

“I was afraid someone would make fun of her because she was so tall and skinny. I just wanted to be there in case they made her cry.” Diana set her empty glass on the coffee table. “And besides, y’all were just as bad as I was.”

“I made an excuse to go to the school at noon.” Joanie finally smiled.

“And I sat in my car and watched Natalie when it was time for recess,” Carmen admitted as she got up to leave.

“Y’all will come back this evening, right?” Diana asked.

“Sure we will,” Carmen said.

“Don’t we always?” Joanie finished off her rum and took the glass to the sink. “But work is what we all need now. Not having hangovers tomorrow morning.”

“Speak for yourself,” Diana said.

“We’re only half a block and a phone call away. If any of us feel the world dropping out from under our feet, we can get back together in less than five minutes.” Carmen carried her empty glass to the kitchen, rinsed it, and put it into the dishwasher. “I’ll see y’all later. I’ll bring a pan of lasagna for supper.”

“I’ll try to be sober,” Diana called out.

“I’ll make fresh yeast rolls, and, Diana, you’d better be able to make dessert,” Joanie scolded.

“Does Jack Daniel’s count as dessert?” Diana joked.

“It does not.” Carmen put a lot of emphasis on the last word. “Our girls aren’t the only females who have to be tough. We’ve got to hold down the fort.”

“Is she going to be all right?” Joanie whispered as she and Carmen walked out to the end of the driveway. “We’ve at least got husbands who’ve got our backs. She’s only got us.”

“We’ve been through worse than this,” Carmen said. “And she’s lived through a cheatin’ husband and a messy divorce.”

“Thank God we’re here for each other.” Joanie headed out to the right.

“Amen.” Carmen went in the opposite direction. They had met when their daughters were all just babies and their husbands had been assigned to the same team. And then they’d all moved to Sugar Run the same summer just before their girls started kindergarten. With their husbands gone so much of the time, they wanted to be close to each other. Other army wives had come and gone through the years, some living in Sugar Run for a few months, others a couple of years, but none of them had maintained the long-term friendship that Diana, Joanie, and Carmen had.

Carmen unlocked the door to her house, tossed her purse on the foyer table, and went straight for Natalie’s bedroom. She threw herself onto the bed and inhaled the vanilla scent of her daughter’s perfume still lingering on a throw pillow. After a while she got up and made sure all the wrinkles were gone from the bed and the pillow was put back at just the right angle. Then she heard the mail carrier opening the squeaky lid to the mailbox and hurried out to see if maybe she’d gotten a note from Eli.

The lady still had an envelope in her hand and looked shocked when the door flew open. “I was just about to ring the doorbell. You need to sign for this one, Miz Walker.”

Carmen scribbled her name beside the X and took the manila envelope. “Thank you,” she said, hoping that it was from Natalie. It would be just like her to send something cute because she knew her mother would be sad.

She rushed into the living room, sat down on the sofa, and carefully opened the end of the envelope. From the heft of it, she could tell there were several pages hiding inside. She slipped the stapled pages out, expecting to see a silly drawing, only to read in fairly large letters, DECREE OF DIVORCE.