Chapter 14 Full of Surprises

'Your day isn't over yet, Auntie Belle.' David beamed. Belle tilted her head questioningly.

'And what does that mean?'

He shook his head, still grinning like mad. 'Not telling-It's a surprise. For now-you read your letter and I'll go and collect the books that I'll need. It's probably good to actually work on my project while I'm here, but you don't have to worry since my teacher already talked me through some books I could use.' he didn't imply what would happen if they didn't do the project-neither of them wanted any reminder of the thunderous cloud that resided over the house in which they resided. They were free for the day and they were going to make every second count. Belle shooed him off good naturedly and opened her letter.

'Belle,

In your honor, I partook in some beautiful Texas sunshine today. Every ray, every beam I imagine I am sending it your way. I am not surprised that your heart and soul yearn for sunshine-each letter is full of those beams that you store in your soul and I've been happy enough to catch a ray or two that you've been kind enough to share.

My recovery seems to be going quite well despite my distaste for the process of it. This time of being able to think about something else besides wondering how long it will be before I get blasted to kingdom come, has put me in mind of ideas in regards to my future and what I want to try to do with it. Between such thoughts, doing my best to obey the doctors and nurses, and the bits of diversion the nurse brings me, I've found that the time goes by fairly quickly.

Your letters though, are the best bit of diversion that there are. It did worry me though-the date on the inside of your letter and the post date are so different I hope that there wasn't anything bad that happened between the two dates.'

Belle sighed, she had felt so bad that she hadn't been able to send the letter the first Saturday after the letter was sent, as Morris had decided Cathy needed to get something particular and Belle's tasks had been different that day. So it was that she had to wait another entire week to send the letter. She continued reading.

'I hope you are well, that the worries I have, that seem to be woven between the lines of your letters (I'll not tell you the accuracy of your own accusations towards my lack of openness towards my injury in my letters-I will only say that if there were things-they have improved a great deal since then. ) that they are just figments of my imagination and you can tell me so in as much detail as the paper allows. I have cursed myself while writing this for I am aware of my own hypocrisy. I hope for these details anyway, though you may see me as a hypocrite.

Your letter has also had me looking at your picture once more and trying to imagine you in such a state as you described-your hair sternly piled on top of your head, spectacles and a frown. It cannot be done-though I did chuckle at the attempted image. It was a great distraction and I must have read that particular part a half dozen times.

I am afraid that I will end this letter with no beautiful bits of literature or poetry. My nurse thought I would enjoy a particular magazine and there is nothing in it at all fitting to give to a sweet young lady as yourself. I've emptied my brain trying to think of something fitting that I've memorized over the years, but nothing comes to mind. I shall try to pester her (in the nicest way, I promise Belle-though my snappishness rises to the surface at times) into bringing me something richer to read when next she asks.

I do remain ever your friend,

Roger'

'He must have said something nice-You're smiling.' David grinned. Belle hadn't even noticed his return to the table. Belle blushed.

'Hmmmm' She only answered.

'I saw his name-Corporal Gold? Is he from here?' Belle had only described her letters as coming from 'a friend' and that she was unsure of what his father's opinion of the letters would be. David had realized the little privacy they were afforded and had asked no further questions. Apparently in the quiet of the library, he felt as if he could ask the burning questions that had begun since then.

'No, not from here. He's actually from Scotland and then migrated to the US. I don't exactly know where he was when he was drafted into the my understanding, he traveled a great deal.'

'So you didn't know him-before? Before the war?' David was a picture of curiosity, trying to decipher who in the world it was that his Auntie was writing.

'No-not before. I've, um, actually never met him. Not in person.

All the lines in David's face went deeper. 'You've never met him before?!' His tone was loud enough that Belle bit her lip, smiled and shushed him. He looked around anxiously, obviously not meaning to be so conspicuous in the library.

'No. You see, there was an advertisement by the Red Cross…' And Belle went on to tell him an abbreviated version of what had happened since that early September day. '...And now he's recovering-from something, I don't actually know what…' she added when it looked like he was about to ask. '...and we continued to write.'

'I thought he was your beau.' His nose wrinkled at the notion at first. He was on the very cusp of thinking such things might not be so bad after all. But perhaps imagining his Auntie with a beau wasn't something he particularly wanted to imagine quite yet.

Belle hesitantly chuckled, shaking her head. 'No, nothing quite like that…'

David looked at her for a moment. 'But you want him to be.'

Belle bit her lip again. She hadn't admitted anything to anyone. It seemed foolish to work through her feelings on paper to Ruby while she was so blissfully happy with her Archie. None of her co-workers knew of Roger's existence. Apparently a thirteen year old was as close as she was going to get to a confidant.

'I don't exactly know. It's silly really. To have feelings for a person I've never met in person.'

'But you do have these, um-feelings.' His nose wrinkled again as if the word had a bad smell.

'I didn't mean for it to happen. He's my friend, my dearest friend but, well, maybe you'll understand it when you're older. Though I don't even know if I quite understand how I feel yet. How I can be so drawn to someone that it feels like part of me is somewhere else-and I sometimes think that it's where he is.' Belle blushed further. 'The thought of him hurting, hurts me, and when it sounds like he's making great progress wherever he is, it makes me happy. It's like I feel a tug when I read his letters. The tug of the soul that when his letter is before me I've somehow found the other piece of myself that I've been missing the whole time. I know, I know, it's silly, you don't have to tell me that.'

Belle recovered herself, now completely red eyeing David's wide eyes almost glossed over.

'Yeah, I um, you're right-I don't understand any of it. Don't know if getting any older will help any.'

'I guess it is hard to explain without sounding a bit crazy.'

'Hmmm, well…' He wouldn't contradict her, which caused her to giggle. 'It's okay. I still like you anyway…even if you are a silly girl.'

Belle ruffled his hair. 'I suppose I still like you, even if you do think I'm a crazy silly girl. Now-get that nose stuck in that book so I can write Roger back.'

Her mock sternness made him salute her and say 'yes ma'am!' before they gave quiet, library appropriate laughs and went to their respective tasks.

She was happy. She was happy today and it was reflected in her letter. No dark cloud hovered over her, it was as if when she had opened the letter all the Texas sunshine that Roger had wanted to send had made its way and cast its rays over her soul. She tried to tell him a little of that. Told him that she had felt the sunshine that he had sent, but, of course, told him nothing of the revelation she had talked through with David. She and Roger were friends. To expect anything more, especially when all they had was their letters, would be utterly ridiculous. Wouldn't it?

What would happen once he was recovered and well? Once he went out and made a name for himself, for he would, she could sense that about him. Would he want to correspond with the girl who had sent him a few letters over the span of nine months or so or however long it would be? Would there come a day where he was simply too busy to write and a space would come and go and their beautiful friendship, only captured on paper, would be forgotten entirely by him? For she could never forget it, not as long as she lived.

The rest of the library stay consisted of breathing in her favorite books. She would not take one back-Morris had this strange notion that the only good books were those that spoke of factual things. Novels were stuff of nonsense no matter how well written. So, she only peaked in a few of her favorites and sighed as David allowed Mrs. Smith to stamp a couple that were related to his project.

'Mrs. Smith?' David ventured with Belle beside him, her letter in her hand, ready to send when they finished there. 'I, um, you were telling me the last time I was here that uh, you were needing an assistant, soon?'

Mrs. Smith nodded but furrowed her forehead in confusion. 'Yes, I remember saying something like that when a class came to visit, but I don't remember…'

'Well, you might not have said it to me, exactly, but to my teacher.' Belle's eyebrows were raised, wondering where this was going, though a sort of spark had lit in her chest at David's nerves-looking from the librarian to her and then at his rung hands.

'Yes, yes, I think I did. But yes, I do need someone to come in a few days a week, starting at the end of May, early June. We are trying to do a few summer programs-even trying to get the kids involved in some volunteer work, since school will be over, and things like that, and well…I am not as young as I once was, and I've gotten the go ahead to hire someone on. Well, look at me, rambling on…you have something you want to say about it, young man?'

'Yes ma'am, my Aunt-Auntie Belle here, she is very good with children.' Belle was beaming, now the confirmation of where this was heading. 'And she is looking for a job.'

'Why, of course, Belle! I should have thought of you straight away, really…well, um, I just haven't' seen you in some time and well, I suppose, I had not thought of you as a candidate.'

Belle sensed the awkwardness and interrupted. 'That's alright Mrs. Smith. I-I would really like something like this. Working with books and with children…'

'It won't pay much, you understand, but then again, you're such a young thing, I doubt you need much.'

'No ma'am.' She bit her lip and looked at the floor. 'But I have this feeling that if I got this job, I would be looking for a place to stay. Would it be enough to afford a place to live?'

'No, I imagine not, but if you don't mind living with an old lady, I know one-lives not five miles from here, who just lost her husband. Doesn't have much else but the house and the bit she will get from the government. Told me just last week that she had been thinking of taking on borders. I think the small salary could cover something like that and a young girl like yourself, it would not be good to be completely by yourself, I think. Would you like me to ask her?'

'Yes, Ma'am!' Belle said excitedly, belatedly realizing that her voice had been too loud for a library. Mrs. Smith smiled and shook her head in feigned disappointment in her behavior.

Belle nearly skipped out the door and as soon as the library doors closed was very close to giving a similar joyous yelp that David had given earlier. David's smile was larger than his usual ones and the clouds that had gathered up, threatening to pour forth their cold spring rains did nothing to take away from the sun that was still shining brightly in her heart. No, not it nor the fact that Morris' house was their destination once the rest of their errands were over.

…

His arms ached, his stub ached, the more normal side of his body ached-then pulling off the sock after removing the prosthetic and noticing that the sock was drenched in sweat. He had resolved to do everything asked, prompt like and then some. He was sure some of the nurses that had seen him quite content to lay about on the bed had been surprised at his sudden spurt of obedience. He was tired of being here already. How much longer would he have to stay? A month? Two? Not that life would be any better in the outside world, would it? What sort of job could a cripple do? Would he be hired to do? Work had been hard enough to find at times when he was good and healthy.

Sure, he had watched the propaganda videos (he supposed they were deemed motivational videos by the rest of the wing) of men that had fought in the last great war walking about on their prosthetics, doing normal jobs-even jobs that required a lot of walking, by men who had lost perhaps both legs, or a leg taken as high up as his. Men with arms that had metal attachments now, were doing jobs that took skill and precision. The video ended with some sort of garbage about acceptance. That was what it was all really about. He was lucky, really, he would never have a normal gait, he would always limp and most likely need a cane for the rest of his life, but from the outside perhaps if he learned to work the knee part of his prosthetic just right, people would just think that he only had a bum leg, not that said leg was completely blown to smithereens. He hadn't gotten there yet. He could never fling his artificial leg out just right to make his walk anything less than excruciatingly slow and awkward. He still had trouble with getting the tension just right on his prosthetic to allow him to sit on the side of his bed at the end of the 'session' without looking completely pathetic, and sometimes only barely catching himself (or more embarrassingly, the nurses catching him before he hurt himself worse). He was praised for any step he took, any sort of progress but he was not satisfied with his progress-which is why he had pushed himself so much here lately.

He sunk down into his bed, trying not to think about the job hunting process, how people would see him once he did make it into the real world (how Belle would see him-now that's something that he really was loathe to think about, even if it was utmost in his thoughts most of the time), the way his body ached and how much of what he felt was his new reality, but the truth of the matter was, there was too much time to think. He did not chat with his neighbors or flirt with the nurses like so many did, he did what he had always done, since the day his father walked out the doors of his life as a young man on the cusp of manhood-he kept everything inward. All the hurt, all the tense worry of the future, all the voices that now took residence in his head that told him that he would never recover fully, that he would be a blight on society, and that he would meet Belle, the girl he had built up in his dreams (if he ever had any), and she would look at him with first pity, then disgust and he would go away being alone once more, without the hope of continued letters to comfort him for she would finally see him for who he truly was.

He ached too much to turn in his bed. He was tired. He hoped that the exertion would have left him so bone tired that he would sink into black oblivion, but his body was ever his enemy. His mind was always alive when his body felt dead and defeated. Then there was the fear. Fear that if he closed his eyes he would see all the dead men that used to walk and talk to him. He would see Cassidy, like he did every night.

Sleep was no comfort, wakefulness no rest.

He was broken and his life, such as it ever was before, seemed over. His resolve crumbled with every ache of his body, and he only perked up a little, when he saw the nurse come by with something that surprised him, as it came so early this time around-letters.

Author's Note:

History Stuff:
Videos such as Roger describes were shown to the men to boost morale and help them understand that they could still achieve whatever they could before, though with perhaps a few modifications. Roger's above knee amputation would have him forever sporting a limp and having the most trouble with the knee area of the prosthetic, but he's determined now, and so he'll do as good as any of the 'younger' men, of course :)

Story stuff:
The possibility of a library position is actually a belated thing for me to add to the story. It will help bridge a gap that I needed and to also have some hope at the end of Belle's tunnel that is Morris' house.

I also know that it might be discouraging that Roger's thoughts are so depressing after such hope in previous chapters. However, I felt that recovery isn't always linear, and he would most likely still have some bad days.

I think I mentioned it before, but it might have been just in a comment, but this is going to be quite a long story. I just wanted to give you a heads up :) I was thinking 24 chapters or so when I first started, but it's looking like it will be quite a bit more than that, lol That means if something moves forward in the plot and you're like 'wait a minute-that hasn't been resolved yet!' that it will *hopefully* be done to your satisfaction, just a bit later in the story.

As always, thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate all your comments. They make my day!