Author's note: Thanks to everyone who decided to give this story a read! It is something different than I typically write, but I was excited to try it out. I hope you all enjoy 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The letter detailing Ruth's future was crumpled in her hands. She had been hovering around her mailbox for weeks. She waited impatiently to see if she was accepted by the Canadian Military Medical Corps. She was elated when she saw the letter in the mail. She kept her acceptance letter folded in her pocket, and carried it with her everywhere. She was unsure of how to break the news to her sister, Catherine, or her parents. She had let too much time go by, and now she was being sent to Europe in three days.

Ruth's parents, Ivan and Edith Beecroft, had invited her over for Sunday dinner. Catherine still had on the red satin dress she wore while playing the piano during service. Jonathan, Catherine's husband, was sitting next to her with his crutches leaning against the table.

"Mrs. Simmons told me that she loved your piece today, Catherine," Edith said before taking a bite of her potatoes.

"She did?" Catherine smiled. "I will have to thank her next time I see her."

"Everyone loves your music," Jonathan said.

Ruth pushed her vegetables around her plate. Her letter was balled up in her fist under the table. She only managed to take small bites of her dinner as her family's conversation swirled around the table.

"Are you alright, darling?" Edith asked Ruth. "You've barely touched your dinner."

"I am not that hungry," Ruth said. She fought with her voice to stop it from wavering.

"I think she has caught something from the hospital," Catherine said. "She is not eating and she stays in her room all day when she is home."

"I have not caught anything," Ruth said.

"Working with those sick people cannot be healthy for you," Edith said. "I have no clue what drew you to nursing."

"I spend most days in surgery," Ruth said. "I promise that I am not sick."

"You know," Edith said, drawing out the word like she usually does. "You are working way too much. Women should not stress too much. It makes us sick."

Ruth rolled her eyes, and Catherine scowled. Ruth had a similar dinner years ago. She had to confess that she was going to nursing school and her family all scoffed at the idea.

"Jonathan is meeting his uncle in Toronto next week," Catherine said. "Come with us, Ruth. We could go shopping."

"I can not," Ruth said.

"I am sure you can get a day off at the hospital," Ivan said. "It will be good to have the day off."

"I will not be in the hospital next week," Ruth said. She put her letter on the table and smoothed it out. "I will be in France. Or maybe Belgium. I am not really sure yet."

Ivan snatched the letter off of the table. He pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket, and read the letter. His jaw hardened as his eyes scanned the page. Edith reached out and held Ivan's arm. Her slim fingers were clutching at the cross around her neck. A crease formed between her eyebrows.

"What does it say, Ivan?" Edith asked.

"This better be a joke, Ruth," he said.

Ivan passed the letter over to Jonathan. Catherine leaned over, and read the noted over his shoulder. Ruth watched as the colour drained from Catherine's face, and her jaw hung open. Edith started to shake Ivan's arm.

"Please, tell me what is going on," Edith said.

"I volunteered for the Medical Corps," Ruth said. "I was accepted and now I am going to be a nursing sister."

Edith let out a shriek before covering her mouth with her hand. Ivan leaned forward, and he put his hand on her back. She took in a sharp breath through her nose. The tears spilled down her cheeks. Ruth's chest ached. She was not expecting this severe of a reaction so soon.

"How could you be so foolish?" Ivan asked.

"Foolish?" Ruth asked. "This is a chance for me to serve my country."

"All of our men are dying overseas," he said. "I am not letting you die too."

"I will not be down in the trenches."

Catherine was clinging onto Jonathan's arm. Her teeth were digging into her bottom lip. It was something she has been doing since she was a teenager to stop herself from crying.

"Ruth, you are not going," Ivan said.

"Father, I am twenty-two years old," Ruth said. "I get to make this decision."

"You are getting yourself killed."

"I am serving my country. I get to be part of history. This is going to be the last great war."

"It says that you are leaving on Wednesday," Jonathan said.

Edith let out another cry before burying her face in her hands.

"You're not doing this, Ruth," Edith said. "My baby is not dying overseas."

Edith stood up. The chair tipped backwards and crashed onto the floor. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her cheeks were stained with tears. She opened her mouth, but said nothing. She shook her head, and ran out of the dining room. Her sobs were still audible despite Edith being in the kitchen.

"Look at what you did to your mother," Ivan said.

"I did nothing," Ruth said. "I told you already that I am not going to die. I will be nowhere near the trenches."

"What about an air-raid?" Ivan asked. "The Germans are killing people outside of the trenches."

"This is a chance for me to see something new," Ruth said. "I will regret it for the rest of my life if I do not go."

"You need a change of scenery?" Jonathan asked. "I would have let you paint your room if I knew."

Ruth let out a deep breath, and she tossed her napkin onto her plate. Her mother's wailing rang through her ears. Catherine was still clutching onto Jonathan's arm, and her eyes were wide. Ruth stood, and then she smoothed out her skirt. She straightened her posture before holding her head up high.

"Thank you very much for dinner," she said. "I will be leaving on Wednesday. I hope that you all can find it in your heart to support me. I would love to properly say goodbye to all of you."

Ruth stepped away from the table. All of the dishes rattled when Ivan brought his fist down onto the table.

"Ruth, sit back down!" Ivan yelled. "You are not going anywhere."

She did not stop walking away. She grabbed her coat off of the rack and tossed it on. She slammed the door shut as she stormed out. The cold night air bit at her skin and she shoved her hands into her coat pockets. Luckily, she did not live far from her parent's house. She moved into Catherine and Jonathan's spare room.

Ruth's anger sat heavy in her chest. Nothing she ever did pleased her family. Her family wanted her to be married and focus on being a homemaker. The thought of spending her life with a man disgusted her. She hurried into her room and flopped down onto her bed. She buried her face into her quilt and let out a scream.

If she stayed in Canada, she would regret not becoming part of history. If she went into war, she would regret how much her family would disown her. Ruth's head throbbed as she contemplated her future.

The soft voices of Catherine and Jonathan filled the house. There was a light tap on the door. Ruth groaned and sat on the edge of her bed.

"Come in," she said.

Catherine popped her head into the room. She gave Ruth a soft smile. Ruth undid the buttons of her coat and kept her eyes casted down.

"Ruth, we need to talk," she said.

"I am in no mood to argue," Ruth said, throwing her coat over the back of her chair sitting in front of her desk. Catherine sat down beside her on the bed.

"I am not here to argue with you," Catherine said.

"You're not?" Ruth asked.

Catherine shook her head. She reached out and covered Ruth's hands with hers.

"It pains me to see you run off to war," Catherine said. "But I understand why you want to do this. Mom and Dad reacted poorly, but I can barely blame them. I did not act the greatest either."

"I knew that it wouldn't go over well," Ruth said.

"Is that why you waited so long?" Catherine asked. "Wednesday does not give you much time to say your goodbyes."

"It came much quicker than I anticipated. I promise, I did mean to tell you sooner."

"I am sure you did."

Catherine squeezed Ruth's hands. She smiled, but Ruth knew her sister well enough to know that her sister was deep with worry. The stress from her marriage had already started to pepper her dark hair with strands of grey.

"Go to Europe," she said. "I will handle Mom and Dad."

"Are you sure?" Ruth asked. "If they know you told me to go they'd never forgive you."

"It is okay. I think you are forgetting that I am their favourite."

Catherine giggled, and Ruth joined in. There was a knock on the door before it opened. Jonathan was standing there leaning against his crutches.

"I need to talk to you, Catherine," he said.

Catherine rolled her eyes. Her back was to Jonathan, so he didn't see this reaction.

"About what," Catherine said, "darling?"

Ruth watched as Jonathan gripped his crutches so tight that his knuckles turned white. He hate it whenever she gave him a nickname in disgust.

"I don't think we should talk in front of Ruth," he said. "Come to our room."

Jonathan pulled himself away from the door. Ruth listened to the sound of his crutches as they got quieter as he went down the hallway. Catherine removed her hands from Ruth's. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear as she stood up.

"I should probably go see what he wants," she said. "I promise I will visit father's office tomorrow and talk to him. I am sure I can convince him to approve of you going."

"Best of luck," Ruth said.

"Do you work tomorrow?"

"No, the hospital gave me a few days off before I leave."

Catherine nodded her head.

"Good," she said. "That gives us time together before you leave. I will see you in the morning."

"Goodnight," Ruth said.

Catherine closed the door behind her as she left Ruth's room. Ruth sat down at her desk, and pulled out her journal. She started to jot down her thoughts from the day. Jonathan's voice boomed down the hallway.

"What were you thinking?" he asked. "I heard you talking to Ruth. How on Earth could you let her do that?"

"She's an adult, Jon!" Catherine yelled. "She is allowed to make her own decisions."

"She is going to die," he said. "Maybe it is a good thing we do not have children. You would encourage them to do the stupidest things."

"I would not," she said. "Ruth is not a child anyways."

Ruth let out a deep breath as she scratched her pen along the page. She hummed to herself as she tried to drown out their daily arguing.