Yours Truly

15 - Will's Twentieth Birthday

The next few days, Charlotte was very happy. Her father was home a lot more often, and some barrier had been broken between the two of them. It had been so long since Charlotte had felt so comfortable around her father. More so, she was glad that her secret engagement with Will was out. While Mr. Truly didn't seem so keen on the idea, he was quite accepting of it. He'd even told Mrs. Truly about the engagement. Mrs. Truly didn't react very well. 

        "What?" sputtered Mrs. Truly, dropping her purse to the floor with a clatter. "E-Engaged?" She looked ready to faint. "But--" 

        Mr. Truly patted his wife's back. "Breathe, Marjorie. Breathe. They aren't married yet. It's a good thing they haven't eloped... it's alright. They're only going to get married when the war's over, and that could take years. She'll be older when they get married, I assure you..." 

        "But why?" cried Mrs. Truly. "Are you pregnant, Charlotte?" 

        "No," Charlotte said exasperatedly. "How many times do I have to tell you--" She stopped herself. She felt like she was being a little too harsh on her mother. "I'm not pregnant, Momma, we haven't done anything yet. Trust me." 

        Mr. Truly narrowed his eyes. "Damn right you haven't done anything yet." 

        Marilyn Truly had giggled from her breakfast plate. 

        It was on a chilly Wednesday morning that Charlotte had received her second letter from Will. She was just about to head to the hospital with her sisters when Ralph the postman strolled past. Charlotte read Will's letter in the streetcar to the hospital. 

        My darling Lottie, 

        I have some news for you, sugar! I'm out of the country now. I'm in England, but I can't get any more descriptive than that. I'm sorry, dear, I wish I could tell you every single detail, but I can't. When this war's done and won, I'll tell you everything. Promise. My being stationed in England is only temporary. We're preparing for something that's happening in France, but none of us know what's happening yet. I'm afraid I can't tell you, even if I knew. It's a top-secret thing. 
        Okay, enough about war. I'm glad that Jay's been a good friend to you. I want you to make as many friends as possible, okay, Lottie? You go and befriend everybody in sight. I don't want you to miss me now. I don't want to occupy your mind, Lottie. I'm distracting you. I know it's hard, but we can get through this together. I know we can. Personally, I think it's good that Dr. Roberts assigned you the weekend off! I like him now. You need a break, Lottie. Really. Go do something fun. Go to a jazz club. See some live music. Go to a park. Take my momma somewhere. I'd rest a whole lot better if I knew you were all not worrying about me. 
        Oh, my mother is absolutely esctatic ecstatic about the engagement. I told her and the rest of my family all about it in my letter I sent them. Really, sometimes, I wonder if my family loves you more than they love me. (But who wouldn't love you?) When you're the new Mrs. McCaden, I doubt my momma will have a problem with that. Goddamn, I still can't believe we're getting married, Lottie. I can't wait until I get to call you Mrs. McCaden. My wife. Wife. Wife. Wife. I don't think I'll ever get used to this. 
        I love you, Charlotte. I believe that you'd never leave me, but you can't blame a guy for having fears, can you? A hundred years, huh? I reckon you'd get very, very bored. I don't think this war'd last a hundred years. I'd surely die by the time it's over. Cause of death? Old age. 
        I can hardly wait 'til that day comes. I can see it now. It's like a good dream, really. You're always in my dreams, Lottie, but it's just not as good as being with you in person. When my train comes rolling in, you should wear that yellow dress of yours. I like that one on you. 
        Here in England, it's very nice. It's nothing like home sweet home, but it's pretty close. I wish you were here with me, Lottie. I met a couple new friends. Three British soldiers, one Canadian and one French. Also, Lester and Randy came this morning! Fresh from the war zones, having survived their missions. They're gonna prepare for the whole French-mission-thing I mentioned earlier. While I'm a little scared, I'm glad to have my friends with me. It's been so long since I'd seen Lester and Randy-- when I saw them, I almost burst into tears. (Just kidding). They're doing fine, believe it or not. I told them I was going to get married and they didn't believe me. Can you believe that? They're STILL in denial.
        I promise I'll try my best to stay safe, okay, Charlotte? You're sounding like my mother. 

        Lots of love, 
        Your Will D. McCaden 

        P.S. Why yes, Lottie, I've noticed. I must say, it's pretty ingenious. Upon reading it, I laughed so hard that I woke up my entire barracks. They weren't too pleased.

        Charlotte smiled, doing her usual post-letter routine-- she read and reread Will's letter, analyzing every little detail in deep and thorough scrutiny. When she had done everything but eat the letter, Charlotte folded it up tenderly and tucked it into her purse.

        That day at the hospital was quiet. During Charlotte's lunch break, she sifted through her purse and produced paper and pen. She sat by the window in North Wing and began to write her letter back to Will.

        Dearest Will,

        I'm glad to know that you've been reunited with Lester and Randy! It's a great relief to know that they're fine. They're still in denial about our engagement? Have you shown them the ring? That ought to be convincing enough, I reckon. When the war's over, I intend to get to know Lester and Randy properly. Okay? We're all going to do something together. 
        It's fortunate that England's been good to you. I've always wanted to visit England. I understand that you have to be careful with what you write to me, but when you get back, I swear, I will grill you for details mercilessly. Be afraid, William. Be afraid. 
        France... the Nazis have occupied France. It's a war zone. You're going to be in danger, aren't you? Oh, Will, you have no idea how useless this makes me feel. I wish I could do something-- anything-- to protect you. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can't help it, darling. 
        Which brings me to another topic. During my weekend off, my papa scheduled a dinner for me with his boss's wife and son at their manor. It was absolutely horrible! Oh, Will, I was so miserable the entire time. My papa's boss's name is Gilbert Van Buren. His wife is Ophelia Josephine Van Buren and they have this awful, malevolent, idiotic son called Stephen Van Buren. Stephen is turning 36 years old and he tried to make a pass on me. How disgusting is that? He was flirting with me, insulting me, calling me dimwitted... he acted like I was a total share crop. He was completely unbearable-- you would've hated him. I finally snapped when he tried to reach under my skirt. I yelled at him and stormed out. 
        The one and only good outcome of this disaster is that my father has seen the error of his ways. We're close again, Will. And I've been a lot more happier lately. 
        On the same day as the disastrous dinner with the Van Burens, I went to visit your momma and papa and the Tulanes. Sugar, have I ever told you how much I love your family? Probably not. They're great confidants. Made me feel a whole lot better. You're right, your momma and papa really were ecstatic about the engagement. I'm glad. I've also told my parents, and they're getting used to the idea! 
        I also spent some time with Mama Tulane. I heard a couple little funny stories about you as a child, in fact. Mama Tulane told me about how you sucked the venom out of her snakebite when you were 13. Did the venom taste good? (I hope you know I'm not serious). She also told me that when she gave birth to Theodore, you and Dennis were there as witnesses. Funnily enough, she told me you'd completely panicked, shouting and covering your eyes. Mama Tulane also said that she reckoned you'd do the same thing when you witness your wife giving birth. I must say, you'd be very helpful. 
        I don't know if I can take many days off. I don't know if I want to, but I'll take what I can get. I promise you, though, I'll take your momma and papa somewhere. Maybe Mrs. Jones and Mr. Jones, too, if they want to come. I'll think up something, if I ever get a day off. I'll try my best not to worry about you, but baby, it's hard. Especially having seen all sorts of casualties, being the nurse that I am. I know how dangerous it can get. 
        Darling, your family does NOT love me more than they love you. They love you so much, so very much. I know you already know that, but I just want you to keep it in mind. I love you, as well. Likewise, I don't think I'll get used to calling you my husband. But doesn't that sound just wonderful? Husband. Will, my husband. It's very surreal. 
        Your birthday is coming up, Will! You're gonna be 20 years old. Can you believe it? Expect a special present. I really do hope your France-mission-thing won't start by next month. Or by New Years or Christmas, because I'll be sending a Christmas gift, as well. 
        I'll make note of wearing that yellow dress. I never knew you liked it so much. 
        With all my heart, I love you, Will. ♥

        Yours Truly, 
        Charlotte 

        P.S. Isn't it? Your poor barracks have to suffer because of my ingenuity. I feel rather guilty.

        Charlotte constantly had to put down her pen and tend to patients during the composition of her letter. It took her the entire day to finish writing to Will, and when she'd written a good, long letter, she folded it up and prepared it for mailing before tucking it safely into her purse. 

        "Incoming!" a sudden voice shouted from outside North Wing. "Follow me, men!" 

        It was Calloway's voice. Charlotte strained to listen-- she heard doors bursting open, and a fleet of footsteps, as if several people were walking by. Nobody spoke but the nurses. Charlotte peeked her head out the doors and caught sight of about fifty or so filthy, beaten-looking men covered in layers of grime and dirt marching past. Charlotte gagged, for a horrible odor was seeping its way around the hospital. She recognized it instantly-- saltwater. Fish. The ocean. Unwashed bodies. Charlotte figured these men probably have been out at sea for long periods of time.

        "Sailors?" Charlotte asked Phyllis, who was walking briskly past. "Navy soldiers?" 

        Phyllis nodded. "Their ship docked just now-- it needs to be disinfected. Well... and so do they." She bit her lip. "I've got to go and help out at the showers. They'll be spending the night up on the fourth floor, but they'll be gone by dawn." 

        Charlotte nodded in understanding. They got ships stopping by often at the hospital, so it wasn't anything new to Charlotte. Her eyes met with one passing soldier, whose sunken eyes looked profoundly exhausted to Charlotte. She gave the man a timid smile, and was pleased to see his spirits seemed to have lifted after that. 

        "Nurses," breathed another young man as he walked past Charlotte and Phyllis, gawking at them in a sort of dumbfounded manner. "I haven't laid eyes on a woman in months!" He blinked rapidly. "Damn the treacherous waves!" 

        The sailor beside him shoved him, snickering. "Get a grip o' yourself, mate." 

        "Sod off, Merwin!" 

        Their banter and roughhousing faded as they passed. 

        "He hasn't seen a woman in months?" stammered Phyllis, who looked mortified. She straightened her cap, looking nervously around her. "But... that's... that's such a long time!" 

        Charlotte nodded. "Well, they must've been out at sea for a while. I don't imagine there are many women on their boats. I reckon they only see women when their boats stop at hospitals." 

        Phyllis still looked thunderstruck. Nevertheless, as Phyllis and Charlotte traipsed back to North Wing, she spoke. "So, Charlotte... how are things going with... with Private McCaden?" 

        Charlotte was silent for a moment, registering how odd it was to hear Will addressed as 'Private McCaden.' It sounded so formal, so sophisticated-- no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't picture 'Private McCaden' as anything other than her silly, idiotic yet lovable Will, wearing a goofy smile and a red flower hairpin in his hair. She didn't figure 'Private McCaden' would be seen that way, would he? 

        "Things are going swell," Charlotte said in a tight, well-controlled voice. "He's alive, if that's what you're asking," she added sharply. "He's been writing to me." 

        "It must be hard," Phyllis said in a quiet voice. "Waiting, I mean... for him to come back, and all..." 

        Charlotte took a deep breath and nodded. "It kind of is." She peered down at the ring on her finger, and instantly felt more at ease. She clasped her left hand in her right. "But I'll manage. Besides... how much longer could this war last?" 

        Little did Charlotte know, there was a world of possibilities in answer to her question.


The days free of Will were not as agonizingly treacherous as Charlotte had dreaded they would be. She woke up for work everyday, as bland as it was. She tended to wounded soldiers at the hospital. She did her duty without complaint, and didn't let thoughts of Will deter her from her job. Charlotte missed him feverishly, but quickly realized that moping around did nothing to help with the aching in her heart. Instead, she turned to distractions. Her family. Her sisters. Her friends. The Tulanes. The McCadens. The Joneses. More so, Will's letters helped. 

        Will's letters were quite possibly the highlight of Charlotte's day. Each letter was like having Will right there next to her. It was like she was talking to him again, and the mere act of talking to Will was so treasured to Charlotte. Even though their responses lagged, they talked nonetheless. For a good long bit, Charlotte and Will talked about Stephen Van Buren.

        Dearest Lottie, 

        Did he touch you? Where did he touch you? How long were his hands on you? Respond immediately, please. That bastard! The first thing I'm gonna do when I get back is hunt this Stephen Van Buren down and stick my bayonet up his ass. I'm so sorry you had to sit through that, baby-- I wish I was there. I could've punched his lights out, then we could've left the house and gone somewhere else together. Back to the hill, maybe. Stephen's really 36? Why isn't he serving in the war? You can't see me through this letter, but I'm very, very, very angry. I hope you yelled some good stuff at him, sugar. Knowing you, you probably had yelled some good stuff at him. Wish I'd been there to see it. 
        Lester and Randy both say hello, by the way. I've showed them the ring, and a little bit of your letter, and they're starting to believe me. Good, eh? Maybe we could kill two birds with one stone when the war's over, and you, me, Lester and Randy could go to England-- not for war, but for holiday. One day. What do you think, Lottie? 
        It's great that you're close with your father again. Oh, darling, you have no idea how happy this makes me, knowing that you've been better lately. Maybe now that you're close with him, he won't loathe me as much? Or is this too much to hope for? Ah, I'm kidding. I like your father enough, anyway. I send him my greatest thanks for making you happier. Whereas your papa's coming around to accepting the idea of our marriage, my papa's a right eager beaver. Oh, Lottie, I'll be fine. Really, I've been in combat before. I know what to expect. I promise you, I'll try my best to stay alive. Going into war zones was bound to happen at one point or another, wasn't it? Besides... I've always wanted to see France. Not particularly this way, but... you know.