Pearl Harbor |HS| *ON HOLD*

Chapter 12

Evelyn

It's been a month since Harold has left to fight in Europe.

The last I've heard from him being a week ago. 

I worry more and more by the second.

He told me they are doing fine, begging me not to worry about him.

Promising he will be home soon.

I sit with my feet in the soft sand, looking out at the waves. 

Family's crowd the beach, children run and scream in joy, enjoying what the day has given us.

Oblivious to the war building around us. 

How I wish I could be like them.

I close my eyes and feel the warm breeze blow through my hair, the salty taste in the air.

The sun Rays turn my skin a slight shade darker, my hair a color lighter.

I pick up my pen and begin to write on my paper.

December 1st, 1941
My dearest Harold,
I hope you are well, I pray that you are being careful. I miss you more every passing hour. I read in your previous letter that it is cold where you are.
It is warm and sunny here, I imagine you beside me as I sit on my blanket on the beach. I imagine your arms around me, holding me tightly against you. I send you all my love and warmth. Come back to me, I will be here waiting.  Forever yours, Evelyn xx

I set my pen down beside me and lay back on my blanket.

Thoughts of Harold fill my mind as I close my eyes.

Shortly after I drift into a peaceful sleep.

2pm, hospital

"Welcome back Evelyn, how are you today?" Doctor Dan smiles up at me from his desk, his glasses rest on the bridge of his nose.

"I'm doing just fine, thank you sir! How are you?" I politely smile, masking the heartache in my chest.

"Better now you're here! I have a patient behind curtain three who needs a few stitches. Would you be a dear for me and take care of him while I fill out some papers?"

"Right away sir." I hang my coat on the rack and make my way to curtain number three. 

I gather the supplies in my hands and make my way into the small "room".

The curtain is ripped back, I set my supplies on the counter and turn to the patient.

"What happened?" I ask the young man who's sitting on the bed.

He looks up at me and I see that his eyes are a light blue.

His hair a dirty blonde, he appears to be in his early twenties.

"I was carrying a box of tools and I slid down onto the concrete, my arm was the first thing that met the ground ma'am."

I look at his upper left bicep and see a large gash in the ripped flesh.

I sit on a stool beside him and begin cleaning the wound with a disinfectant wipe.

Suddenly I feel nauseated looking at the wound, but I push it away.

"Have I seen you before?" His low southern voice brings me out of my concentration. 

I lift my head up and meet his soft gaze.

"I'm not sure, if you've been here before maybe." I say, grabbing another wipe that's blood free.

"What's your name if I may ask?"