Bates must have rushed to find her after her husband had walked out, for after walking only a few minutes outside the doors of the Abbey, she could see the tall figure she'd been so desperate to see. He walked with his head down, and even from a distance she could see the telegram clutched in his hands. She guessed where he was heading, and decided not to call out after him, but simply quickened her steps, pulling the blanket more firmly around her.
He was sitting on the bench under the tree when she arrived, and she could tell by the way his head turned slightly to the side that he had heard her approach. He didn't immediately move to stand and greet her, which she couldn't decide was a good sign or not. Surely if the news had been about one of their daughters, or Tom and Sybbie, or Mama . . . she stood for a moment to catch her breath, wondering what to say and then -
"Did Bates send you?" he asked quietly, focusing her thoughts.
"I've been waiting to see you all day, darling. When he said there was a telegram . . . " She chanced a few small steps forward, hoping he'd turn to offer her his hand.
He turned back to look at the crumpled paper in his hands for a moment before running his hands through his hair and turning his face completely away from her.
"It's nothing to trouble you with, Cora." She could hear the thickness in his voice as he spoke, slowly, carefully. "You should go back inside. It's not the least bit warm out here."
A small part of her couldn't help but seize up at his words. He'd promised - promised - to never say them again. That they would never shut each other out again. That he would let her be bothered.
She could still hear the words she'd spoken in his dressing room, a few weeks after their reconciliation from the Bricker incident. She'd found him hidden away there, unable to truly face her and fight for their relationship. He'd suggested phoning Murray just to see what it would involve to draw up papers.
She'd been livid, of course. Their words had been heated and thrown at each other from several feet away and yet still sharp enough to break through any emotional walls they'd been foolishly hiding behind.
So that night, she'd waited for him to come to her. Waited for an apology and a chance to apologize. Robert hated conflict as much as she did, and she felt certain that he'd see reason and seek her out.
But he didn't. And she'd waited as long as she could before the only options left were crying herself to sleep and facing life as a divorcee upon the morrow, or breaking down any physical or emotional doors built between them. She'd weighed the circumstances, she'd considered her dear husband, and as always, she'd taken the chance, turning the knob (he hadn't locked it, thank God) and entering his private chambers. His curled form on the tiny bed had moved her straight to him - "Robert!" she'd whispered urgently, sliding behind him, legs tucking into the spaces left by his knees, arms around his neck and shoulders, pressing light kisses to his cheek and neck.
"Darling," she'd murmured, feeling him relax, if only slightly, against her. "Do you know what I've just been thinking about? Our wedding. So many years together and I can still remember each moment, clear as day. You were so handsome. You smiled so warmly at me. I can still feel the butterflies in my stomach just remembering the way you looked at me."
He chuckled softly. "Cora - you've never had any idea the effect you have on me."
She bit her lip to keep from crying against his neck, breathing deeply to still herself before pressing on.
"Dearest - you remember, don't you? For better or for worse, Robert. Don't you see? I want to be bothered. I want to be troubled. I want to share any burden with you. You are my husband and I have chosen to walk this life with you. Let me?"
She was still holding her breath, she realized, when he suddenly looked to her and stood to face her, a mixture of recognition, guilt, and something that had nothing to do with her written across his face. His hand reached for hers and he was before her in a moment.
"I'm sorry, Cora, forgive me. I know we said - " he began, reaching one hand to hold hers and the other angling around her waist. "Darling, you'll freeze out here! Come here at once!" he said, rather harshly, pulling her to him.
With little time to do else but gasp and then fold more comfortably to him, Cora, sank into his arms, Mama's blanket trailing behind her on the grass. She felt Robert reach down behind her for it and pull it over her shoulders. His hands began running up and down her arms, and she burrowed more deeply into his chest, hearing his heart beat - it sounded strong, didn't it? His breaths were regular, his color was good, his appetite healthy - - - no. Cora, no. She begged herself to stop running triage on her husband. Whatever may come, it was her duty and her desire to see him through it - to uphold him with her love and strength - not with her meagerly acquired duties as a war nurse.
"Robert?" she asked softly, folded against him so tightly. "Is it the girls? Is it Mama? Is everyone alright. Please. Tell me."
He shook his head and only held her closer. "I'm sorry, Cora. I should have guessed that's where your thoughts might go. But no. It's not our family. And I know you didn't ask, but for once, it's also not about the money." He took a deep breath and steadied himself. She felt his arms around her waist a little tighter. "Cora - it's Howard." She heard and felt the choking in his chest as he tried to hold back all he was feeling. "Howard's gone."