The day after Michael left for war, Julia baked a cake. 

She told herself that those two things had no connection. She had been known to bake occasionally, after all. With Michael gone, she felt the need to busy herself with nothing, and baking a cake seemed as good a thing to do as anything.

Her mother knew better, though. June was more observant than her daughter. She noticed how upset Julia seemed, when she came over to share the dessert with her. It wasn't nothing.

"How are you feeling?" She'd asked Julia when she'd appeared in her doorway with the cake.

She gave her mother a smile, but it looked more sad than anything. "I'm fine."

She came in, and they ate the cake. But it was quiet. Quieter than either of them were useful.

It was okay, Julia told herself every time she offered to make a cake, or a pie, or a batch of cookies, as long as she mostly focused on making them for other people. She'd make them for church functions, or to give to bake sales, or to give to the elderly woman across the street who had just lost her son - and tried not to think about how she would feel if it was Michael.

It was fine. She enjoyed baking. Simply for fun, nothing else.

oOo

The day after the telegram arrived, Julia baked a cake.

It was a chocolate cake. His favorite.

She didn't know why she made it, really. She was sad when she did, she couldn't deny that. But she didn't make it for him. That would be silly, she told herself. He wasn't there to eat it. He wouldn't ever be there to eat it.

These thoughts ran in and out of her head as she baked. Maybe she did make it for him, she realized. For Michael. Was that such a bad thing? She didn't know.

It helped, though. It gave her something to do. If she could make herself focus on something, even something as small as a chocolate cake, it took the pain away. For a little while, she wasn't scared.

oOo

The months went by. Empty as they were, they still went by.

A year went by. Julia baked a cake.

Time kept going. The days, the weeks, the months kept going, and it seemed like Julia was frozen in time. Going to work, visiting her Ma, and baking cakes.

A year and a half after Michael died, and Julia was baking a cake. She was baking a cake for church, and someone knocked on the door.

She waited a moment, not really wanting to answer it, knowing it was probably someone bringing her a floral arrangement or a casserole, even though it had been a year and a half.

She answered it, and no one was there. She looked a little further down the street, and saw a young man walking away down the street.

"Hey. Aren't you a little old for ding dong ditch?"

She was irritable, until he turned around, and she saw that, though he was young, he seemed to be carrying the weight of someone much older than him on his shoulders. And he seemed familiar, yet she'd never seen him before.

A year and a half after Michael died, Julia met Donny Novitski.

Soon after she did, she found out there was so much more to life than baking cakes. So much more she could do to take the pain away, and keep it there.

The music filled her. The months were no longer empty. And soon, she was genuinely okay.