Third chapter, I don't own it, Enjoy!
BTW, I had to make it so that they were 17/18 in the war, so they were born four months apart in 1900, not 1901 as it is in the book. Sorry about that, but the draft was eighteen, so Edward had to be aged up slightly.
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Eight days later…
I sighed as I flipped through the mail that had only just arrived, a letter for Mother, for Papa, another for Papa; then I saw the letter marked with my name. I gasped; it had only been three weeks since I sent him my letter. I rushed home as quickly as I dared, going directly to the solitude of my room.
I found the small, sharp letter opener and slipped it under the flap, slicing along the edges to open the essence which I so readily craved. I opened the letter, standing up so I might walk to the balcony for the light, reading whilst I paced. I smiled at his words. He so loved children, and wanted a baby so badly. I hoped I may someday give him what he desired. I lit a candle and sat at my new desk.
"My darling love," I began, wanting him to know how much I needed him.
You letter found its way to my heart, where your soul, resides. I miss you; I can not use simpler words. I pray my presence is with you as well. You shall never leave my heart.
I pray that this letter still find you well, as I am well.
As for your letter, kind, mischievous sir; I pray you will never see a battle. Our grandchildren will suffice with stories from long ago, when their grandfather met their grandmother when he fell from the tree, landing in front of her, breaking his arm when they were so young and foolish at the adolescent age of fifteen. I have never told you how afraid I was when I nearly fainted away. How enamored I was of your dazzling green eyes, your messy bronze hair, your Adonis like face and body.
I was more enamored still when your personality came through. You were the perfect gentleman, everything a young man ought to be, when you assisted me first, never mind that you were the one who as gravely hurt. You promised to repay my kindness for helping you, and I was most surprised when you arrived at my house, in a sling and bandages, to invite me to a ball. I accepted, positively flabbergasted, and five days later, we arrived to the ball, at fifteen years of age, you looking dashing in your light gray suit with a bouquet of flowers, I in my dark blue dress, which you so readily complimented with my blush. I relive that moment everyday in my head; for it was then that I knew I wanted to marry you.
Little did we know the adventure we were getting ourselves in to! It is now August 31st, 1918. You are eighteen, a man in the world's eyes, and I am seventeen, turning eighteen in a mere thirteen days.
How I wish you could be here for my birthday, but you are doing something far more important. I realize now, that this is a war for freedom, and I was being atrociously petty before. Please, I beg you to forgive me.
I must admit, I am being tortured. I overheard my mother, my father, and a mysterious person whom I do not know speaking in private about a ball in honor of my birthday. I am terribly distressed about it, grimacing even as I write the words. Only you would make this bearable. But alas, alack! You can not be here, so I must suffer. Perhaps I shall be able to save a memento for you. A token of me for you.
Please, my dearest, do not rush writing the letters. I do not want you to receive punishment for indulging me when you should be doing your 'civil duty'.
I love you more than you could know, please, please, please, return safely, and I shall never ask of you anything else!
My body, my heart, and my soul belong to you, do what you will with them,
Your Bella