Sharing Corrie

Chapter Eighteen

 As Mr. Bricker drove the Model T Ford over the cobblestone streets amidst the drizzling summer rain, Corrie clutched her hat to her head with one hand and pulled Christina closer to her with the other. With every bump in the road, Christina jolted and fell into fits of coughing. Betwixt the rain, humidity, and rattle of the Model T, Corrie was counting down the moments until they arrived at the train station.

"Here we are, girls," Mr. Bricker announced, pulling them next to the awaiting train.

Dr. Benjamin, Hannah, and Jack were waiting for them, their luggage already loaded, and Mr. Bricker passed Christina to Dr. Benjamin who carried her to the sleeper car in which they had rented her a bed for the trip to Richmond. The journey to Richmond would take at least six hours, so the doctor had thought it best to provide her with a place to lie down during their journey.

As Corrie boarded the train and settled into one of the passenger cars adjacent to the sleeper car, she was unable to stifle her worry as she watched Dr. Benjamin deposit a sagging Christina into the bed. The doctor slid next to Hannah at the booth the four of them shared, and the only sound was the distant chatter of their few companions in the passenger car and the rattling of the rain against the train windows.

Hannah pulled out a copy of The New York Times, and Corrie cringed at the violent photo on the front page of men's bodies strewn across desolate, ravaged land. No wonder Christina was so haunted by what she'd read and heard about the war; how much worse it must be knowing that her beloved was being sent to a field much like that one. Corrie leaned against the window frame and let her eyes wander the soggy scenery as it blended into a watercolor of greens and browns through the rain-soaked window.

As the miles passed, the train stopped and started, allowing passengers to board and leave, and still Corrie looked out the window. If she were honest with herself, Corrie realized that Christina carried a far heavier weight than she. Christina's beloved, the man she wished to marry if they were granted a future after all of this madness, was thousands of miles away, preparing to fight in the trenches for king and country. Corrie could not fathom the unimaginable worry that Christina must carry on her shoulders every hour. It was hardly any wonder that her spirit was failing as readily as her body.

Corrie excused herself from the table, brushing past her Aunt Jack who was skimming a colorful book on bird types. Corrie pulled open the sliding door to the sleeper car and approached her sister's bed, steadying herself with a hand on the opposite bed.

Christina's face was turned towards the window and the mixture of rain and overcast light painted eerie shadows across her pallid skin. She had managed to kick off the blankets covering her, so Corrie tucked her back in, gently situating the blankets about her shoulders. Heat radiated from her feverish figure. As Corrie moved one of Christina's arms, she noticed a piece of paper clutched in one hand. Corrie pried Christina's fingers apart and pulled the paper loose.

Corrie straightened the paper to refold it, and her eyes caught on the first line.

Dear Christina,

I miss you with every breath. I regret leaving you with every heartbeat. Your letters give me life in the midst of so much death.

When Corrie realized what she was reading, she checked the signature--David Marshall--and folded the letter back up, slipping it into Christina's carpetbag. For all the love poems and declarations Corrie had read, she found that David's simple words portrayed more emotion than Corrie had ever felt in her life.

Long ago, Corrie had decided that she wouldn't spend her life searching for that magical, elusive myth called love; she would find someone faithful and respectful, and that would be enough. However, seeing Christina's devotion to David and his apparent affection for her, Corrie wondered if she'd been wrong to forsake love. Was it too late for her?