Corrie had never thought of herself as an arrogant person, yet the reservoir of dread she felt prior to humbling herself before Dr. Benjamin told her that she was indeed proud. Though she enjoyed her work at the post office, she missed the companionship of her friends and longed to fulfill her promise to Dr. Benjamin to serve as a nurse in his hospital, yet she knew she needed to make things right with him before she could return.

The nerves Corrie felt, however, came from something beyond her pride. Corrie knew that her feelings for the doctor had not abated though it had been months since they first appeared, yet she also knew their fulfillment to be an impossibility. Dr. Benjamin was an honorable, upstanding young man who would make a fine match for any young woman, and she was merely Edwin's dishonored castoff. She would be lucky enough if he would forgive her, much less return her to his good graces.

Corrie wrung her fingers and drew in a deep breath, standing before the doctor's office. "The Medical Practice of Dr. Alexander Benjamin." She remembered when she had first read the sign upon arriving in Irvington and trying to find Christina; how little it had meant to her then. Now, this practice, these people, had become the center of the new life she was building, and though they in some ways represented everything she had left behind when she left for New York, she now cherished them more than anything.

She pulled the door handle open and was surprised by what she found. Cots littered the hallways and the noise of torturous groans and agonizing cries filled the entire building. She saw Hannah running through the hallways with a load of freshly laundered cloth bandages, and the girl only offered her a brief smile before descending the hallway towards the operating rooms. The hospital was small, but based on the number of soldiers she found lying about, she knew there must be fifty or more injured men under the doctor's care.

"Miss, please," one murmured. "Is there any morphine?"

Corrie turned to the blue-gray gaze of a man younger than herself, one leg sawed off above the knee with only a crude bandage to cover the sundered stump. Drawing in a deep breath, she schooled her features to hide her shock and offered him a reassuring smile.

"I'll see what I can do."

Picking her way through the hallway, Corrie popped her head into the operating room where Dr. Benjamin was laboring over a stomach wound. "A patient with an amputated leg wants morphine. What should I give him?" Corrie called, knowing she would have to save her apology for later.

Dr. Benjamin glanced up, eyes glinting for a moment as he registered the fact she was there, that they were seeing each other for the first time in weeks. He offered her a ghost of a smile.

"Codeine, labeled in the back room. It's less addictive."

Corrie nodded and ducked back out, busying herself for the rest of the day in the chaos of the hospital. She and Hannah worked side by side much of the day, cleaning wounds, reapplying bandages, and offering painkillers to those unable to withstand the torment. The day passed in an endless succession of mutilated bodies and tearstained faces. Corrie couldn't even spare a moment to visit Christina and ask how she was enduring the knowledge that David could easily be one of these men.

By the time night fell and the men started to drift off into fitful slumbers, Corrie scarcely realized the entire day had passed. They had neither paused for food or drink, and Corrie's once clean dress was now besmirched with dark crimson stains. She carried the final bowl of bloody water to the backyard and tossed it in the grass, letting the cold winter wind whisk over her heated, exhausted body.

"Miss Walker, thank you for your help today."

The doctor's low voice startled her from her respite. She turned and found him standing in the doorway, sleeves rolled up and appearing as disheveled as she felt. He sagged against the doorway, running a hand through mussed hair.

"Of course. I'm sorry for just jumping in; I wanted to speak with you first, but it was a bit too hectic for that." Corrie brushed stray copper hair behind her ears and looked away, eyes resting on the stars that had brought them together in the first place.

"No, don't apologize. I appreciate the help. Those soldiers arrived only yesterday and Hannah and I have been very busy caring for them." Dr. Benjamin paused, eyes flitting across her face. "You have been sorely missed over the last few weeks, Miss Walker," he finally said.

For a moment, Corrie wished he would just call her by her given name instead of her surname. She craved the familiarity they'd once shared.

"I've missed being here. I was wondering if...well, if you'll still have me, I'm ready and willing to serve as a nurse as I promised earlier in the year." Corrie caught her breath and glanced up at him.

"If we'll have you?" he asked, perplexed. "Of course we'll have you. I was hoping you would come back but didn't wish to be so presumptuous as to ask."
Corrie felt her face color. "I wasn't sure if...with everything that happened, with what Edwin said and how the town sees me, if you would want me here any more."

Dr. Benjamin's long features softened in a gentle smile. "Of course I want you here." He coughed and corrected himself, "We want you here."

"This doesn't..." Corrie hesitated, unsure if she wanted his honest answer. "This doesn't affect your opinion of me?"

Dr. Benjamin's eyebrows gathered in sympathy. "I knew what I thought of you long before any of this, and nothing that you've done could change my opinion."

Corrie was grateful for the dusky night sky that hid her reddened features. "I suppose I'll come in the morning?"

"That sounds perfect."

Corrie rushed off before she could fall prey to any more of his gentle words.

~~~~~

"Corrie, what are you doing? You've barely said two words to me!" Christina complained as Corrie set aside her fountain pen.

"I'm sorry."

"I haven't seen you write so much in months. What's going on?"

Corrie was reluctant to admit that her conversation with Dr. Benjamin had reanimated every hibernated feeling for the doctor. Edwin had every reason to believe in her character, yet did not; Dr. Benjamin had every reason not to, yet he still did. In an attempt to crush the hope back into submission, she was writing again.

"Nothing," Corrie said.

"I know you're lying. What ever happened to that poem you were going to submit for publication?" Christina prodded further.

"Also nothing."

"Fine, then don't tell me what you're writing."

Corrie finally set down her journal, ignoring the partially penned poem that detailed the hope she couldn't yet conquer. She didn't want to write the ending; she didn't want to describe the death of the hope she nurtured. She wasn't quite ready to release it.

"Have you heard any more from David?" Corrie inquired, changing the subject.

"He's still alive and well, or at least I think he's well." Christina's gaze wandered to the window. "He might not tell me if he weren't well. He could be as bad off as any of these men and I might not know. Not that I would be able to help him."

Corrie watched as storm clouds passed over Christina's features. Though she had handled the influx of the injured soldiers well, Corrie knew it must vivify Christina's image of the war. If these soldiers were so terribly maimed and considered the lucky survivors, how much worse must be those left on the battlefield?

"He'd tell you if something serious had happened to him," Corrie assured her sister. "Are you sure you'd rather not move home with Mother and Father to avoid all of this?"
Christina groaned, sighing and leaning against her pillow. "I have no desire to be a prisoner in my childhood home. Besides, I get to see Hannah and Jack if I'm here. If I'm at home, Mother will never allow anyone to see me except for eligible bachelors." Christina raised her voice in mockery of her mother.

Corrie grinned but directed her gaze back to the page before her. "Hope deferred makes the heart sick." The first line of her newest poem was the same as the poem Dr. Benjamin had shown her all those months ago.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick

Yet this hope floods me again and again

As if around him, it is always spring

Bringing this unfulfillable hope to bloom again

Though I know I merely condemn myself to illness

I can't help but hope

As Corrie readied her pen to write the next line, Christina's door flew open and slammed against the wall. "Corrie, come quick!" a breathless Hannah exclaimed. "There's been an explosion at the munitions factory!"

~~~~~

I'm so happy Corrie and Dr. B are talking again. He knows her so much better than he-who-shall-not-be-named!

In exciting news, Sharing Corrie has won two awards this week! It placed 2nd in the Hopeful Awards for historical fiction, and won "Most Likely to be Found in a Bookstore" in the Iced Tea Summer Bash! Woohoo! Welcome to old and new readers a like. This story is nearing its end - less than ten chapters to go - and I'm so grateful you've joined me for the journey! If you're enjoying the story, please vote!

~ Hannah