Shock
As Cordia entered the kitchen on Margaret’s heels, she peered around anxiously, hoping to find a way to engage Margaret in a conversation so that he could ask the question she’d been longing to have answered. As if reading her mind, Margaret began to slice the pumpkin bread and poured two cups of coffee. “Have a seat, darling. I don’t get too many opportunities these days to visit with you. I’d love to hear how the wedding planning is a’comin’ along.”
Cordia went around the side of the table and sat down in the chair she had always sat in when she was visiting. It seemed like so long ago, in those carefree days when she would come in from running around in the backyard, hair a mess, covered with dirt, and sit down for a glass of milk. Those days were long gone now, as was the friend she had played with so hard.
Margaret set coffee and a slice of bread in front of Cordia and sat down across from her. As Cordia studied her face, she realized she appeared to have aged rather quickly these last two years. The weight of the war, the loss of Jaris, the burden of raising a sick niece, had all worn her down. Cordia longed to ask what the true prognosis might be for Julia, but in a way, she feared hearing the answer. If Dr. Walters thought Julia was not going to make it, she didn’t really want to know.
Sighing, Margaret spun her coffee cup around on the table, not drinking it. “It gets better, then it gets worse. Some days she’s practically normal; other days she can’t even sit up. It’s . . . hard. It’s just very hard to see her struggling.”
Cordia nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. Though she had made the pumpkin bread herself and thought it sounded good at the time, she had no appetite. Margaret took a bite, attempting to be polite, but Cordia could tell that she really did not feel like eating either. “We will continue to pray for a quick recovery,” she said solemnly.
Again, Margaret nodded. “I had thought that havin’ Will come back would fix her, but, I guess I was hoping for a miracle. She’s a little better. She really is. But she’s got a tough road ahead of her.”
Cordia was puzzled. Margaret’s words were a bit cryptic, and she wasn’t quite sure what she could infer from that statement. “I’m sorry,” she said, “Did you say that you thought Will coming back would make her feel better or that you had thought?” The tense in such a sentence was critical, and Cordia’s confusion was mounting by the moment.
Margaret opened her mouth to explain, an equally confused look on her face, but she did not have to. As she began to speak, the back door opened behind Cordia, and she turned in shock to see Will standing there before her.
Cordia pushed her chair back slightly, her astonishment keeping any words from coming out of her mouth. He glanced in her direction, a look of apprehension on his handsome face, but not of surprise. It seemed he had been working outside the entire time Cordia had been there and had not come in to greet her. He crossed the kitchen, disappeared briefly into an adjoining room, and then walked back outside without so much as speaking to her. Cordia’s eyes followed him, but she said nothing, confusion and disbelief crowded her mind, and she was not sure at all what to make of the situation.
As he closed the door behind him, she turned back to Margaret, who also looked similarly confused. Finally, Margaret said, “He’s been back for a little over a week. Is there something I should know?”
Cordia felt her heart racing. How was it possible that Will had been back for more than a week, and he had not come to see her? For two years, she had envisioned a tearful reunion, professing their love for each other to the world, and starting their lives together. He hadn’t so much as written her to let her know he was coming home. For months, she had worried that something awful had happened, and he had been out of harm’s way since at least the beginning of September when his enlistment was up. She could not fathom what could have possibly transpired to make him act this way. Without answering Margaret’s question, she flew up from the table, nearly knocking her chair over in the process, and flung open the back door, oblivious to the sharp October wind.
He was chopping wood just a little way from the house, his hat pulled down over his eyes so that she could not even see them. She paused by the lilac bushes a few yards away, not exactly sure what to say and having difficulty holding back her emotions. He seemed to notice that she was there, but he did not stop swinging the ax to acknowledge her, nor did he speak.
Cordia could feel the tears in her eyes. “Will!” she yelled between swings of the ax. He didn’t pause to look in her direction, and she began to feel even more frustrated and angry. “Will! Please, come and talk to me! I had no idea you were even home!”
He stopped then, resting the head of the ax on his boot, choosing his words as carefully as he could. “I guess I didn’t realize you’d want to know,” he replied, two months’ worth of exasperation evident in his voice.
Before he could resume the task at hand, she rushed over, completely perplexed as to what he was insinuating. She left a few feet of distance between them, aware that he clearly wanted to keep his space. “Will, what are you talking about?” she asked in dismay. “I’ve been waiting for you for two years!”
“Really?” he asked, pausing for a moment, one hand resting on the ax, the other on his hip. “Your finger says otherwise, Cordia.”
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