Sunday Noon

October 8, 1944

Dearest, darling Preston:

Do you remember two years ago today? Right about this time? It was a beautiful fall day and we had just become engaged. I met you at Steve’s for breakfast and we walked out to Walbridge along the river and watched the boats. I wrote - Marguerite E. Searle – I love you in your lap. It seems so long ago yet I have only to shut my eyes and I can feel your shoulder against mine and feel the sun warm on my back and hear our feet rustling the leaves about. Two short, long years of being with you – and without you, of loving you more every day, of heartache from being away from and joy at being with you. Oh Pres, it’s been wonderful – but awful too – hasn’t it? If we can only make all the rest of our years as happy. There can never be another for me like you; you’re the right one. Don’t ever stop loving me or wanting me, Pres, for I need you so is it wrong for two people to need each other as you and I do? For you do, you know. The only time you’re really content is when you are with me. Right?

It’s going to be hard on you coming home to a family but maybe it’ll all work out for the best. I’m not afraid with you. Are you with me? Every morning I can wake up and see you beside me and every night at five I’ll be able to see you come in the door. Then there will be walks to take, movies to see, kids to scold, pigeons to feed. There’ll be payments due and chicken on Sunday and someone to stay with Allen and Ellen Saturday night. Christmas trees to decorate and quarrels to make up. So much to do! Do you think we can manage it all in a lifetime? I’ve so much to learn from you. My greatest fear is not being able to make you happy. You can’t live without friends yet I’ve never had any. There’s only been a couple of yours whom I didn’t care much for. There are some I liked very much – Clydes wife and the Sechlers especially. It won’t be too hard for me to leave here as all I’m leaving the familiar things and home. There are so many things I must see and do with you. Right now I’m merely marking time. I’d like to be with you this Oct. 31^st, wouldn’t you? Or doesn’t all this matter to you. Did I disappoint you dreadfully on your furlough, honey? You don’t mention it ever and you always used to don’t you think about it or wasn’t it worth remembering or did I do something wrong – or what?

Pres, for a long time now I’ve had the feeling that all wasn’t too well between us. As far as I’m concerned I’ve never loved you more day by day. I think you feel the same – it may only be my imagination to think you would like to be free. I hope it is for I can’t live without you. Please tell me I am wrong and that you miss me and need me always and love me and wish I could be with you. Write me a love letter. It seems so long. But only if you do feel that way. If you don’t – well, I guess I’d best know it now. Oh Pres, you don’t want it that way – do you? I love you.

As ever,

Marguerite