Sharing Corrie

Chapter Eight

 "It's time to go!" Hannah announced, opening the door to Christina's room with a grandiose swing of her arm.

Christina slowly sat up in bed, eying her eager visitors. "Corrie? Hannah? What's going on?"

Hannah gave Corrie a conspiratory wink and they both laughed. It had been over a week since Corrie had first arrived in Irvington, and to give Christina a respite from the stale hospital room, they were taking her on a surprise seaside picnic.

"We're kidnapping you," Hannah exclaimed with a cheeky grin.

"Come on," Corrie said, walking over to take Christina's side. "There's no time to lose."

"It's early in the morning!" Christina sputtered though her eyes lit up at the prospect of escape.

"Exactly, time's a-wastin'!" Hannah exclaimed, taking Christina's other side.

Together, Corrie and Hannah shouldered Christina's weight and they painstakingly hobbled outside to the waiting automobile. After much coercion, Corrie had convinced her parents to let her borrow the Model T and Mr. Bricker for the day. In the bright sunlight of the early morning, they lifted Christina into the car and departed. Corrie offered Christina a hat to hide her pale, sun-starved skin, but Christina instead lifted her face to the sky and threw her head back, basking in the glory of the outdoors.

During the ride to the bay, Corrie watched as Christina and Hannah laughed and chattered like a pair of finches over the fine weather, the green fields, and the perfect azure sky. While they gawked over the sights around them, Corrie closed her eyes and immersed herself in the unseen. She focused on the way the wind rushed across her skin, tickling the hairs on her arms and sending the strap of her hat flying. She focused on the sound of laughter, the purr of the engine, the twittering birds. She breathed in the smell of the wildflowers and fresh spring grass in the fields around them.

I could write a poem about this. The thought surprised her; though she had written poetry regularly since she was young, since coming home, her inspiration seemed to have vanished. The sound of laughter and unadulterated joy, however, reminded her of why she wrote. She wrote to express the richest of feelings that she could not verbalize aloud. Mentally, she memorized every aspect of the moment so she could treasure it later.

"We're here!" Hannah announced when Mr. Bricker stopped the automobile outside of the bay.

Aunt Jack was waiting for them with a table set with a picnic. Wide-eyed, Christina glanced between her three companions.

"For me?" she whispered in disbelief, pale eyes wide.

"All for you," Corrie answered, reaching out to squeeze Christina's trembling hand.

With Mr. Bricker's help, they lifted Christina from the automobile and set her up at the table in the shade of a nearby pear tree. Jack handed out fresh rolls from her woven basket, and for a moment they were occupied in munching their rolls and listening to the gentle lapping of waves.

"Aunt Jack," Christina mused whimsically. "When you were my age, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

Jack took a deep sigh and rested her hands behind her head, leaning backwards to look up at the sky. "I wanted to be all number of things. An astronomist, for a while. A scientist who studied birds and rocks and trees. A teacher, but then I realized how much of a nuisance children are."

"How about now?" Corrie asked, watching as the clouds reflected off Jack's cornflower irises.

"Now I've determined to be an activist. My best trait is my stubbornness, so I plan to use it to help those who can't help themselves," Jack explained.