After he’d gone, she waited upstairs at her window, day after day, week
after week. There were no letters, not even a postcard, and by the time
March graduated from high school, she no longer bothered to walk down
the drive to check the mailbox. Still, each spring the doves who nested in
the chestnut tree in the yard returned, and March took that as a sign of
Hollis’s loyalty and his love.