I stared at the building in front me, unsure if I really wanted to go through with what I was here for or not. It was so with its door and several windows.
With a racing heart and sweat - drenched palms, I entered the building.
The Armed Forces Recruitment Offices.
This building held my fate in its proverbial hands.
It had been months since I heard from him. Then it happened.
December 7th 1941 and the Japanese attacks on Pearl Harbor.
He was stationed there, aboard the USS West Virginia. No word yet, from him or anyone, regarding him or his whereabouts. Thousands dead. Countless more, like him, unaccounted for.
I spent hours praying for a sign, for a letter, for anything that would give me some peace of mind, but like everything else in my life, I got nothing in return.
This was my last hope.
Unlike the outside, the inside was very typical of what one might expect to find in a recruitment office, or what I assumed what would be typical, for an office of this nature. Offices lined the far back wall, and over to my left was a small waiting area. To my right, and directly across from the waiting area, there was a desk that served as a reception area.
Through out the interior, posters lined the walls, encouraging young, naive men to join a branch of the Forces at the behest of some man in a striped top hat.
I hate you, Uncle Sam.
"Can I help you, miss?" The man behind the desk asked me, tipping his cap.
" Um, yes. I'm looking for information about...my husband." I choked back the building sob.
" Name?" He answered back, not bothering to pay me any attention. After all, my husband was just a name to him.
"Cullen, Edward," I all but choked out the words.
A few minutes of silence followed, I shifted the weight of my feet. Waiting. Anxious.
"Mrs. Cullen?" He began, "we don't have any news here, yet. I am assuming he's M.I.A. Having been stationed at Pearl?"
His back was to me, and I couldn't tell what he was looking through or if he was even looking at anything. File cabinets opened in closed so fast, I lost count of how many he was attempting to rifle through.
I nodded, "Yes, sir. Is there any way I can find out anything, though?"
He looked at me, his eyes shone with unspoken answers. He knew something, and he wasn't telling me.
"Until a soldier is standing on your door step, I would say there's hope. Have a good day, Mrs. Cullen ." He tipped his head in a gentlemanly gesture in attempts to close the conversation but I wasn't satisfied. How could I be?
"You expect me to be okay with that? Really? What if you were in my shoes and that was your loved one out there? Wouldn't you want some answers? Wouldn't you?" I spoke through clenched teeth.
Anger was seeping out of my pores but I knew better than to let it out…in public , simply because, to show one's emotions in public would be unlady like.
With that, the conversation was over. No direct answers were gained, but I wondered if the man had a point. As long as there wasn't my husband's commanding officer on my doorstep, I could hold out hope? Right?
I watched the scenery outside of the back window as Edward's father drove back home . I hadn't said a word, too afraid to possibly jinx whatever good news there may be.
Carlisle and Esme, Edward's wonderful parents, were not privy to the information that the gentleman at the recruitment office told me. They sat in the car, waiting on me, both believing that this was my own battle that I had to fight.
"Bella, dear, you need to come up with something to occupy your time. This can't be good for you, all this worrying." Esme, his mother, spoke up from the front passenger seat.
" I think I should stay close to home. I mean just in case..."
I didn't want to admit to anyone, least of all myself, that the chances of my husband coming home - alive- were getting smaller and smaller.
I wasn't prepared to deal with that. Then again, what wife is?
But , Edward and I had just begun our lives together... And for us to be robbed of the opportunity of having children celebrating anniversaries together, and grandchildren - it just didn't seem fair.
So as long as I held out hope - he might return. Alive. Or even damaged. A damaged Edward was better than no Edward at all.
"Isabella, maybe you could volunteer at the hospital, if not but a couple hours a week?" Carlisle, Edward's father, offered.
Somewhere deep inside of me, I knew that Edward wouldn't want me to sit around the house - waiting. He would want me out there doing something.
Somewhere deeper inside, I had to rationalize this. If I was helping someone, taking care of someone, then maybe somewhere, someone was doing the same for my Edward.
"I could do that, Mr. Cullen. " I agreed.
"Oh please, Isabella, call me Carlisle. We are family."
Even though I was married to their son, I still felt strange addressing both Carlisle Mr. and Mrs. Cullen by their given names. It just didn't seem proper.
"Carlisle, I corrected myself.
Carlisle and Esme dropped me off at my house. At our house. I walked in, making sure to lock the door behind me.
His coat still hung on the small coat rack near the door. Right below that, his farm shoes, caked with mud, waiting to be worn. Waiting just like me.
I missed him. Just the mere thought of him out there alone brought tears to my eyes. The thought of me having to go on in life without the one person I truly loved brought even more tears.
I kept a place set for him at the kitchen table – the setting never moved or changed. Then there was the bed. The bed that felt so empty, so cold, without him in it.
The next morning, Carlisle showed up at my door before the sun came up. But it wasn't like I was missing out on any sleep.
"Good morning, Isabella. I hope that you slept well. Today seems like it is going to be busy at the hospital, well perhaps just for you." He nodded in my general direction.
One thing that I had come to learn about Cullen men...gentlemen rather was that they were extremely well mannered.
"Sleep is a luxury that I can no longer afford," I stated simply.
He closed the distance between us, and pulled me into a hug. I closed my eyes just briefly and found myself imagining that Edward was the one holding me, comforting me, and not his father.
"I can imagine. I don't believe my wife has slept the entire night since before-"
"Neither have I. I just wish we knew something. I don't want to assume the worst, but that's looking like reality." I sobbed.
He didn't answer; he just pulled me closer to his chest.
"Is that wrong of me? To be thinking that... he... he isn't coming back?"
I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. Dead. Not alive. Passed away. Drown. Shot. Even blew up.
They were all so final. They were all damning me to a life without Edward, if they were true.
"Not at all. But we haven't heard anything from anyone that he was stationed with, so let's keep our fingers crossed, shall we?"
I nodded against his chest.
"That's the spirit, my dear. Now we best be on our way. We have a lot of patients to attend to and not a lot of time."
I smiled despite myself. Both Carlisle and Edward took great pride in their work. It didn't matter if it was a little or a lot that needed to be done; both father and son gave one hundred percent of themselves one hundred percent of the time.
The ride to St. Martha's General Hospital was a quiet one. I know I should have been asking questions about my responsibilities and what to expect, but I was too busy attempting to gain control of my emotions.
It was a decent hospital for a small town, but Carlisle took great pride in the place. After all, he was the Chief of Surgery. In simpleton's words, he was the man that ran this place. From all outward appearances, he had it running like a well-oiled machine. A machine that now boosted a new cog by the name of Bella Cullen, possible World War 2 widow.
Don't think like that, Bella. You don't know for sure.
"That's the hospital." Carlisle concluded the quick tour before giving me my instructions.
Apparently, I would be working in the rehab wing. Other than who m I was ordered to report to, I knew nothing about my responsibilities or rehabbing patients for that matter.
A running theme in my life.
Dr. Denali was an older gentleman. He had salt and pepper hair and spoke with a hint of a Southern drawl.
"Dr. Denali?" I made my presence known.
"Isabella Cullen?" He extended his hand. "It's nice to make your acquaintance. You're mainly going to be assisting the nurses and myself in the rehab of the patients. Also, you will be in charge of filing paper work concerning the patients and their details."
I swallowed hard. Carlisle said help out and volunteer but not being in charge of anything.
Could I do this?
The louder voice in my head screamed 'no' but there was a smaller, more confident voice in the background. A voice that I hadn't heard clearly in months chanting 'yes.'
It was Edward's voice.
I had been here for just under an hour and I had already felt calmer than I had in weeks, possibly months.
Maybe I could do this. Maybe this was a good thing.
I spent the entire day as Dr. Denali's living, breathing shadow. Anywhere he went, I went.
It didn't seem like it would be a hard job, it just seemed...tedious. Tedious with a lot of running back and forth.
But it kept me distracted, even just for a few minutes at a time.
The sun was setting when Carlisle showed up at the nurse's station.
I saw him, and instantly breathed a sigh of relief. Home was just a short ride away. My bed was just a short walk away after that.
"Are you finished up here, Isabella?" Carlisle asked as I walked behind the oak desk.
"Just a moment or two more. I need to file this patient's information and then I will be ready."
I hurriedly threw the paper work into the cabinet and grabbed my coat and purse.
"Esme has dinner ready, if you would like to join us tonight?" He offered his arm.
"Actually, that doesn't sound like a bad idea. Though, are you sure Mrs. Cullen won't mind?"
He held back a chuckle."Isabella, how many times must Emse and I ask of you to refer to us by our first names?"
I shrugged and bit my lip. No matter how many times they wanted me to address them by their first names; it just felt odd to me. Odder now that Edward wasn't around to physically link me to the Cullens.
I fell into a comfortable work routine. Get up. Get dressed. Wait for Mr. Cullen ...erm... Carlisle to arrive. Make my rounds about every thirty minutes. File paperwork in between rounds. Eat lunch, which is usually brought by Carlisle.
After lunch make more rounds, followed by more paper work. Then around seven every evening, Carlisle would meet me at the nurse's station to go home.
Routine. That's what I needed. Still, coming home to an empty house wound my nerves tight. The silence allowed my thoughts to take over. I lost count of the times I watched the attack in my dreams. I would be standing there, helpless and motionless as Edward lay dying in different ways. I could only hope that my dreams weren't trying to tell me what I feared the most.