Sharing Corrie

Chapter One

Spring 1917

"In the words of one of the most renowned poets of our time, Robert Frost, 'Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.' As you write this week, remember these words. Return to the roots of your emotions, be honest with yourself, and channel your emotions into your poetry," Professor Baron said, slapping his hand on the wooden lectern. "Class dismissed."

Corrie Walker gathered her notes and pencil and shoved them into her bag, slipping out of her seat in the back of the classroom. Corrie ducked from the room and exited the imposing university to meet her suitor, Edwin McAlister, for tea.

Corrie was still growing accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the streets of New York City; it was so disparate from the slow ramblings and country greetings of her hometown in Virginia. Corrie no longer felt as if she belonged in either environ. In New York City, she felt like a bumbling southerner, but in Virginia, she was far too modern and independent for their tastes. She sighed and placed a hand on her hat to keep it from flying off in the brisk breeze as her heels clicked down the sidewalk.

"Cornelia!"

Corrie heard Edwin's voice before she saw him standing and waving his handkerchief towards her from a corner table in the crowded cafe. He was dressed to the nines in a dapper pinstriped suit, all the latest fashion, and smiled at her from beneath his dashing mustache. His constant chipperness sometimes grated on Corrie, especially in light of the Great War in Europe. It was hard for her to see the purpose of all of her hard work in pursuing an English degree at New York University when hundreds of men were dying every day. She shook her head to dispel the dark thought and smiled at Edwin.

"Cornelia, I'm so glad you've made it," Edwin said, pulling out her chair with a flourish and kissing her on the cheek.

"You can call me Corrie," she answered, grimacing at her full first name.

"Of course," he laughed. "Corrie. We have been courting for a few months now," Edwin added with a smile.

Corrie regarded the handsome young man across from her. She and Edwin had met through one of her professors, a modern-minded man named Dr. Devish. The professor had invited her to dinner and introduced her to Edwin, a law student from a prestigious family; Edwin had taken to Corrie immediately, and before she knew it, she was being swept off her feet by his debonair charm. Edwin had introduced her to a whole new class of New Yorkers, taking her to satin-cloaked parties and daring masquerade balls. Every moment spent with him was an adventure.

"So how were your classes today, my brave college student?" Edwin asked, poking fun at her.

Corrie ignored his condescension. "My poetry class is wonderful. We've been reading the works of Sir Walter Scott. He has such a wit to everything he writes; wit and emotion at the same time."

Edwin gazed at her, a bemused expression on his face as he lifted one eyebrow. He reached out and gently pulled a strand of her copper hair loose from its pins.

"You're charming when you talk about poetry," he murmured.

Corrie pulled the strand of hair from his grasp, blushing at the impropriety. Edwin was a modern man, and though Corrie considered herself to be fairly forward-thinking, she was at times taken aback by his forward ways.

"I feel bad that you're slaving away at your studies. You look tired."

Corrie softly touched the skin under her eyes; she'd been up late the night before writing an analysis of a Scott poem on the typewriter Edwin had given her for her 24th birthday a few months ago. Between her studies and her job as a typist, Corrie had become accustomed to constant exhaustion.