Winter 1917

    "Aunt Elisabet, will you send this letter?" Corrie asked, slipping a sealed envelope onto her aunt's countertop.

    "Another letter, Corrie?" her aunt inquired, wiping flour from her hands onto a dishrag and examining the letter. "Mrs. Bertrum?"

    "Yes," Corrie answered, hesitating. "She's an old friend from New York."

Amelia Bertrum was an old friend from New York, but she was also a governess for some of the most elite families in the city. Luckily, she had not been put off by the sepulchral end to Corrie and Edwin's engagement and had proffered her help as Corrie recovered from the shame their demise cast on her. Amelia was currently searching for a job for Corrie as a governess in New York, and Corrie had written her a letter inquiring about her progress in finding such employment.

    "I see."

    "Any mail for Christina?" Corrie inquired as Aunt Elisabet brushed stray strands of red hair behind her ears.

    Elisabet Browning, Oliver's sister, was as humble and understanding as her brother was pretentious and judgmental. She was a petite, broad shouldered woman with thick red hair, the same shade as Corrie's, that she kept in a chignon at the base of her neck as she labored about the house all day long.

    Ever since Corrie, Jack, and Christina had arrived three weeks ago, Aunt Elisabet had welcomed them without reserve, giving them each their own rooms in the upper story of her beachside home. Christina spent everyday on the widow's walk with a book or a newspaper though typically she just sat and listened to the waves crashing against the rocks. Corrie and Jack were as unoccupied as she was, taking turns sitting with her or walking on the beach and retrieving beautiful seashells. It was quiet and restful though sometimes so quiet that Corrie could not escape her own thoughts.

    "No letters today, though there is one for you. Another one." Aunt Elisabet raised an eyebrow and winked. "Dr. Benjamin?"

Corrie felt her face burn; though she had kept up her correspondence with Dr. Benjamin, her messages were brief and succinct. She merely relayed Christina's progress and shared nothing about herself. Dr. Benjamin's letters, however, were detailed. He wrote of the happenings in the practice, of Hannah's antics and of the rumors that spread through the town. Each letter made Corrie laugh, no small feat with the events of the past year. Though he crossed no boundaries and confessed no feelings of his own, the letters were so kind and warm that Corrie only allowed herself to read each letter once before hiding them in a box under her bed.

    "Thank you," Corrie murmured, snatching the letter from her aunt's hand before she could inquire further.

    Elisabet chuckled as Corrie rushed off to the widow's walk. Christina sat on a bench on the balcony overlooking the sea with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The wind came harsh and bitter off the ocean as December passed, and though Corrie sometimes worried that the cold would worsen her pneumonia, Christina seemed to crave it. The salt air had cleared out her lungs and the cold brought color into her skin. But perhaps most healing of all, a letter had arrived from David a few days after they settled into their aunt and uncle's home. He admitted that he'd been in some danger and thus unable to send word like Wes, the injured soldier, had suggested. David told Christina that he'd had some shrapnel stuck in his arm but was nearly recovered now. Though Christina fretted for him, she was relieved to receive his regular missives again.

    "Any letters?" Christina asked, sitting up eagerly when she saw her sister.

    Corrie leaned against the balcony, the wind tossing strands of hair into her face as she faced Christina. "Not today. What news of the war?" Corrie asked, gesturing to the newspaper in Christina's hand.

    "Britain has taken over Jerusalem and the United States declared war on Austria. But there's bigger news," she said, leaning towards Corrie with a brightness in her eyes. "There's been a cease fire on the Eastern Front and Russia and Germany are discussing peace!"

    Corrie breathed a sigh of relief though she wasn't sure exactly how significant this was; Christina relayed most information about the war to her, but Corrie paid attention to very little; the war was still happening. Men were still dying. She would not celebrate until it was over.

    "So our men aren't fighting any more?" Corrie asked.

    Christina's expression darkened. "They are. They're on the Western Front, but still. Peace! Even the word gives me hope."

    Corrie smiled but the news of the peace talks did not bring her the same hope. She sat on the chair next to Christina and unfolded Dr. Benjamin's letter, prepared to savor it. In an effort to trample her persistent, rebellious feelings, Corrie had stopped writing poetry completely. She only allowed herself to read each of the doctor's letters once. She was even pursuing the position as a governess in an attempt to get away from him. With Christmas approaching, Corrie didn't even know if she would be able to see him again without her resolution crumbling.

    With a sigh, Corrie opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

    Dear Miss Walker,

I was delighted to receive your previous letter and hear that Christina is recovering. It has been my greatest wish and prayer that she recover and be able to live a full and wonderful life, and if your absence is necessary for such healing, then it is but a small price for me to pay, especially if it brings you both home soon.

Corrie's face warmed at the comment; though she had grown as distant from him as she could bear, she could not demolish his feelings any more than she could her own.

"What are you reading?" Christina inquired, her voice playful.

"A letter from Dr. Benjamin," Corrie confessed, seeing no point in lying.

"Another one?"

    "He wrote to say how pleased he is that you're recovering," Corrie explained though she didn't volunteer to read the letter aloud.

"And let me guess, you're going to reply with three lines that will be all about me." Christina rolled her eyes. "It's a wonder he doesn't give up on you already."

Corrie sighed and leaned her head backwards, closing her eyes. "I wish he would."

"Are you sure?" Christina questioned.

Of course Corrie didn't want him to stop writing to her, to stop shining light into the dismal grays of her life, but she needed him to. She needed him to give up for her own sake and for his so they could both move on. When Christina recovered, hopefully in the spring, Corrie would move to New York and assume a role as a governess for a wealthy family. She may even have the opportunity to continue her education. It wasn't the life she had imagined, but it was the best one she could currently envision.

Corrie continued reading the letter, stifling a laugh as he told a story about a rat that had managed to hide under one of the cots and scared the soldiers to death. He had a way with words, especially on paper, that seemed designed to bring joy to others. As her eyes lingered over each syllable, she finally reached the final line of the letter and read it slowly, tasting each word.

Miss Walker, I hope you will not find this too forward, but I must tell you: I miss you, and as you know, hope deferred makes the heart sick.

Yours,

Dr. Alexander Benjamin

    Corrie felt her hands tremble as she pressed the letter into her lap. Heat rushed to her cheeks despite the cold wind and she stood up, leaning against the balcony and staring at the undulations of the waves. They crashed rhythmically on the beach and she tried to focus on the sound to steady her heartbeat.

    Hope deferred makes the heart sick.

    That had been the very line of the poem that Dr. Benjamin had first shown her in Christina's hospital room so very long ago, and it was the line that had resonated within her ever since. I miss you. Had he ever spoken so clearly before? Her every effort to deter him had proven unsuccessful.

    As the winter ocean wind whisked over her, it brought a sense of panic unlike anything Corrie had ever experienced before. As the air filled her lungs and sent tendrils of hair dancing through the wind, her heart began to race and the world seemed a thousand miles away.

    He's too close. That was the only thought in her mind. Though they were miles apart, he seemed to be drawing nearer and nearer, and eventually he would be so close she could no longer dismiss the hope he inspired.

    "Corrie? What's wrong?" Christina questioned from behind her.

    "Nothing!" Corrie exclaimed, balling the letter in her fist and rushing from the widow's walk into the house.

    Corrie raced down the hallway, her jacket streaming behind her, and nearly collided with Aunt Jack. "Corrie? Is everything alright? You look mad!"

    "I'm fine, please, let me by," Corrie answered, sliding by Jack and finding solitude in her room. She closed the door, pulled out a pen and paper, and began to write a response.

~~~~~

Guys, there are only four chapters left after this one! What do you think's going to happen? Comment and tell me your predictions! And thanks for joining me for this story. I hope you've loved it as much as I have.

~ Hannah