Corrie bustled into the doctor's practice, dropping a few letters on the desk for him and Hannah and humming as she picked through the cots to visit Christina. Winter was falling on Irvington and snow threatened in the gray storm clouds hanging over the town. As Corrie entered the narrow hospital room, Christina lay lifeless on her bed.

"How are you feeling today?" Corrie asked, voice as cheery as she could manage.

"Any letters for me?" Christina answered, her voice monotone.

Corrie hesitated. "Not today."

"It's been three weeks. I haven't received a letter in three weeks," Christina whispered, her features still.

If Corrie didn't know better, she would presume her sister felt nothing as her eyes stared at the ceiling. David who had been faithful in sending her letters so regularly had not been heard from in weeks.

"I'm sure he's fine, Chris," Corrie offered her empty encouragement. "Perhaps he can't send mail from where he's located."

"Or he's worse off than the men who scream at night in the hallway," Christina responded.

Every night, according to Christina, the men would cry out from their dreams and memories, filling the hallways with their eerie screams. Though most of the soldiers were recovering from their physical wounds, they had undergone a psychological torture that Dr. Benjamin could not cure. Corrie worried about Christina living in such an environment; with her own worried preoccupation with David's safety, their heart-rending cries were the worst kind of reminder.

"I can't promise you he's alright," Corrie murmured, sitting on the side of Christina's bed and stroking her hair softly, "but I can promise you he loves you, no matter where he is."

Corrie saw this as no small comfort; whatever other characteristics David possessed, he had proven himself loyal to Christina, and were he in Heaven or Hell, he would still love her.

"What if it's not enough?" Christina whispered so softly Corrie was unsure if it was meant for her ears.

Corrie did not respond; she had no answer for the girl. It seemed that the war was tearing everyone apart and nothing seemed capable of survival, not even love. Minutes passed as Corrie continued to run her fingers through Christina's hair, ignoring the strands that fell out as she combed it. Christina was worsening. Though Corrie had refused to accept that after everything the illness still persisted, she saw it in Christina's emaciated frame and sunken cheekbones. Her newest turn for the worst seemed to be correlated with the arrival of the soldiers and the cessation of David's letters. The desolation of the war pressed in on her, and Christina no longer had the strength to withstand it.

As the invalid drifted off to sleep, Corrie rose to her feet with a sigh, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her with a soft click. Corrie heard Dr. Benjamin's soothing voice as he spoke to one of the injured soldiers while she fetched an apron and put on a pair of gloves. On quiet mornings like this, she would start by removing all the bedding from the cots and washing it in the large wooden basin in the backyard. It was long, grueling work, especially in the cold of the nearing winter, but Dr. Benjamin insisted cleanliness was necessary for avoiding infection.

While removing the bedding from the cots, Corrie tried to offer the recovering soldiers a few words of hope, but though her words were elegant on paper, they fell short aloud. She started with the cots that remained in the hallways, helping the men to sit up so she could remove the sheets and then resituate them on the now bare cot. During the days, the men often chatted with each other and played cards on the floor while Dr. Benjamin, Corrie, and Hannah cared for them.

"Good morning, Wes," Corrie murmured, greeting the very first young man.

He smiled up at her beneath blonde hair, eyes muted blue. "Morning, Miss Walker. Any letters for me today, Miss?"

Corrie loved the days when she could answer yes to their inquiries, but today she could not. "Not today, Wes."

Corrie offered him her arm as he struggled to sit up. The young man had wasted away from dysentery and was just now starting to regain some weight thanks to the generous contributions of food from the ladies of Irvington. He awaited a letter from his only surviving family member, a sister in Boston.

"I know I should be patient, but I just wish she'd send for me."

"I'm sure she will as soon as she can," Corrie answered.

Though Wes was well enough to return home, his sister had yet to come for him. Corrie pulled the sheet, stained beyond repair, from the cot and paused afterwards, standing over him.

"Wes, may I ask you a question?"
"Of course, Miss."

Looking down at the boy, she wondered how he had been reckoned old enough to die; he was scarcely older than eighteen. "When you were...over there, did you have trouble sending letters home?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes when we were closer to the front, we would lose contact with headquarters. Artillery fire would block us off so we couldn't send any mail."

Corrie breathed a sigh of relief; there was still hope that David was merely isolated, not lying abandoned on a field somewhere, his body mutilated beyond recognition.

"What's wrong, Miss? You have a sweetheart out there somewhere you haven't heard from?"
Corrie offered him a ghost of a smile. "Not me, Wes. Thank you."

She whisked the sheets away before he could ask any more questions while Hannah came behind her to offer the men washcloths and warm water to clean themselves. David could still be alive, and if David was still alive, then Christina could still recover. Their fates seemed tied together across the oceans. Corrie carried a load of sheets to the backyard. Jack, unemployed thanks to the factory fire, was taking a stint at the wash basin. She had tried to serve as a nurse, but her brusque ways brought more terror than comfort to the soldiers and she'd been downgraded to menial labor.

A few hours later, the laundry was cleaned and hung on the line to be dried by the bitter wind and the laborers took a respite for lunch. Anita had taken to sending food for lunch with Corrie, and today Corrie fetched the salted ham and rolls from her bag.

"Good morning, Miss Walker. Or perhaps I should say good afternoon as I've scarcely seen you until now."

Corrie turned around and smiled at the young doctor, trying not to let her eyes rest for too long on his boyish smile. Despite the weariness she knew he must feel, he still had a warm smile to offer her as he sagged against the doorway to the supply room. He seemed to have aged in the last few weeks as a shadow of a beard grew on his jaw and his hair remained permanently unkempt. Most of his clothing was now stained and he rarely kept his shirts pressed, making him appear bedraggled.

"Good afternoon, then." She lifted the basket of food to her hip and avoided his gaze.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, regarding her carefully.

"What? Nothing," Corrie stuttered, unwilling to pour more troubles onto the doctor's shoulders.

"Tell me. What is it?"

Corrie sighed. "I don't want to trouble you. Please."

"It troubles me that you're troubled," he teased, his eyes twinkling. When Corrie didn't laugh, his expression grew more concerned and he straightened. "Miss Walker?"

"It's Christina," Corrie confessed. "She's getting worse, isn't she?"
"What makes you think that?"

"Just answer me. Is she getting worse?"

Dr. Benjamin sighed; neither wanted to further burden the other. "I'm afraid so."

"It's David and the soldiers." At the doctor's questioning glance, Corrie explained, "Christina hasn't received a letter from David in weeks, and all night she hears the soldiers' nightmares. It's..." Corrie could not finish her sentence. It's killing her.

"I'm sorry; I wish I could move her elsewhere."

"I would have her go home, but she refuses. I think...I think I need to take her to the coast like Dr. Howard suggested. I need to get her away from all of this." Corrie formulated her plan as she spoke. "My aunt and uncle live on the coast and I'm sure they could take us in for a while. Jack could be our chaperone as I know she needs time for her burns heal. Can you spare us?"

Corrie turned her gaze to Dr. Benjamin, wondering if he could care for all of the soldiers without her and Jack's assistance. His smile appeared so much wearier than it had when he'd first smiled at her underneath the stars. Corrie silently wondered if space from Dr. Benjamin would also give her a chance to reimagine her future without this pesky hope as a distraction.

"Do what you must for Christina. I'll manage in your absence."

Corrie sometimes felt as if she knew little about the thoughtful man behind the twinkling eyes, but she was certain of one trait they held in common: They would do anything for those they loved.

~~~~~

Just when we thought Christina was out of the woods! Thanks so much for reading Sharing Corrie. The story is drawing close to the conclusion and it's already reached almost 2k reads. I really appreciate your support and I hope you're enjoying this story!

~ Hannah