Calling the Stork

"Henry! Where'd you get this?"

"The village, yesterday. I'm sorry it's too big, it was the only one they had that looked close."

I looked at it, a plain gold band, that was indeed at least a couple of sizes too big. "Sorry," he repeated, pulling out a little ball of twine from his pocket. "Here, let me help." Studying the ring on my finger for a moment, he took it off and tied the twine around the back and started wrapping. It took a couple of attempts but he got it close before tying it off and then cutting the end with his little pocketknife.

As he did this, my tears continued, tears of joy and happiness and dread, combined together in a terrible concoction that caused my mind to race and my heart to beat even faster. When he finished with the ring, my sweet man dabbed my cheeks with a napkin, drying my tears, as he tried to soothe my mind with his words.

In truth, his intent to return to his unit is what he's led me to expect for quite some time but which I'd always hoped I'd be able to change. I guess Ma's right about that, too; she's always said to find a good man you can influence a little but don't expect to ever truly change them. Henry, my new intended, is a very good man, but he's bound by duty, so I can only pray that he stays safe.

I glanced across the room at some point to see Miss Pinnock watching us, but she said nothing. I'd guess she already knows of Henry's dedication and his orders.

***

Wednesday, November 28

Henry left today, heading to the station to catch the train. He'll report somewhere (he didn't tell me where due to his orders), they'll re-equip him, and then send him back across the Channel to his unit. There, he's promised to write to me often.

I woke up and went to the station with him, clinging to him for some moments before he boarded the train. I wanted so badly for him to kiss me, just once, but he placed his index finger to my lips and said, "No, Mary. A kiss might melt my nerve and keep me from doing what must be done. No, my dear, there'll be time for many hugs and many, many kisses when I return home, and then a great deal of your wonderful stork calling and raising our little ones once we're married."

I grinned at him through my tears, wondering why he hadn't told me the key to changing his mind somewhat earlier. I'd have kissed him over and over, like one of those cheap harlots at the docks, if I'd only known I had a chance to change his mind and keep him here. The thought made me feel bold and naughty, so I reached up on my tiptoes and brushed his cheek with my lip as I crushed my breasts against him. He squeezed me tight and kissed my cheek, too, before turning and boarding the train.

I watched it chuff out of sight, praying he'd be home safe soon, as I fingered my ring, turning it around my finger. I couldn't wear it on duty, but when off, I'd be wearing it every moment.

***

Thursday, November 29, 1917

I wrote to Henry tonight. I miss him so much and I pray for his safety.

***

Friday, November 30, 1917

I wrote another letter to Henry just now. I wonder where he is, but wherever that might be, I pray he is safe.

***

Saturday, December 1st

Each day, I cry and pray, but each day, I have a duty to my patients that doesn't go away. Miss Pinnock has watched me over the past few days and seems to understand that my love is for Henry and Henry alone, that I'm not trying to meet anyone else to take his place.

Time to write my love before going on my shift.

***

Thursday, December 13, 1917

I received a letter from Henry today! He met his parents in London for an evening before returning to his unit. His mother was excited to hear of our betrothal, though his father asked if he'd sought my hand from my father. Since Pa is an ocean away, we'll deal with that after the war when we can go for a visit in safety. For now, I'll leave my parents in the dark so they won't worry about Henry or about me.

Back in his unit, Henry was promoted to Corporal. He'd been an acting Lance Corporal when he was overcome by the gas, but they needed to move him up to fill a slot. That worries me, making me think that someone else was wounded or even killed to have that slot for him, but he says he's doing his best to keep his men and him safe. He sent his love and eternal affection and says he looks forward to another hug and a real kiss when he returns to me and much more as soon as we can marry. I ache at the thought of that more of which he speaks, and have to be careful not to allow my fingers to wander in the all-too-rare moment when I'm alone and thinking of him.

I wrote him a long letter in reply, leaving, like most nights, little time to write in these pages before starting my shift.

***

Christmas Eve, Monday, December 24, 1917

Letters to Henry and home this evening.

I had hopes of receiving something from each of them before Christmas, but maybe news will arrive tomorrow. I almost told them about Henry in my letter home, but am not quite sure how to tell them that I'll be staying in England with Henry after the war, other than a brief visit home to see them and tie the knot. Being of Irish descent, they've never had great love for the English but neither have they hated them like Cousin Sean before he died so many years ago.

Perhaps the joy and love of the Christmas season and some intermarriages among peoples will someday serve to unite people across troubled borders and put an end to this and any other horrible wars.

Of course, then I think of Henry and realize that love follows the heart rather than the needs of, or the constraints imposed by, borders.

A safe and happy Christmas to you, my dear, sweet Henry, wherever you are.

***

Christmas Day, 1917

No letters came for me today. Disappointment weighs heavily on me, but I pray that Henry, my parents, Clara, and all of my other friends and relatives are safe and well and that they're having a nice time, wherever they are.

Being on the night shift, I missed most of the Christmas celebration, too, sleeping through it, but I'll try to share the joy with each of my patients tonight as I care for them.

***

Thursday, December 27, 1917

Three letters came today!

Henry is safe and well, somewhere on the Western Front. He sent his love and such beautiful words that I could hardly read them through the cloudy lens of tears in my eyes. He said that the arrival of more and more of our American boys (he termed them doughboys? Not sure where that came from) on the lines are helping reinforce the front and making their situation better. Henry wrote me a poem, too, and I loved every word despite the fact that Vivian and I agree, despite the lovely sentiment, it's complete rubbish from a classical standpoint. Vivian says I should write him a poem in return, but that my first thought, "I love you, I love you, I love you," would quickly become boring and not convey the depth of sentiment that Henry deserves for his effort. I haven't written a sonnet since school, but perhaps that will change tomorrow.

Letter two was from home, with Ma and Clara contributing most of it but there were a couple of paragraphs from Pa, too.

The last was completely unexpected and was actually a small package and letter. I cut the strings and unwrapped the package first, yielding a small frame and a photo of my Henry in his uniform! He looks younger in the photo, soft even, but the letter from his mother explained it all. When they met in London, Henry told her of our love and betrothal, and he asked her to send the photo from when he joined the British ranks in 1914 shortly before he turned 18. Mrs. Bankston sent well wishes from herself, Mr. Bankston, and all of their family, with hopes of meeting me soon and welcoming me to their family.

That brings a smile and much hope to me.

***

New Year's Eve, Monday, December 31, 1917

It's hard to believe that this year ends after all that has happened in the last 365 days, but the calendar proclaims it so and gives us the chance for hope of better days ahead in the 365 days to come. I write this to close out this volume, since I don't think that I'll continue in 1918. There are too many letters to write, to my Henry, to my parents and sister, and to Mrs. Bankston and my sisters-and-little-brother-to-be.

Julie and Jillian, Henry's twin sisters, wrote me a letter that arrived today. They shared some funny stories of their big brother and asked me so many questions about myself it will probably take a week to respond.

With that in mind, I close these pages, praying for peace and happiness in 1918 and the years to come.

***

Fri., 3/8/18

A letter from Henry came today

***

Sat., 3/9/18

The letter I've dreaded for all these months came yesterday. It was from my sweet Henry...but it wasn't. My love is

***

Sunday, 3/10/18

It's so painful to write the words that Sergeant Henry Bankston, my love and betrothed, was killed in combat during a scouting sortie on Thursday, February 21st. His body was recovered later that evening by his fellow soldiers and Corporal David Villiers found Henry's letter to me in his pocket. Part is mudstained but most is legible, and Corporal Villiers added the horrible news in a cover letter that he sent with Henry's. Corporal Villiers said that Henry's parents were informed by his superior officer, but since we weren't yet married, Henry's request to include me as a contact in the event of such a horrible disaster must have fallen on deaf ears, for Henry told Corporal Villiers of making the request and of his great love for me.

It hurts so bad, I don't know what I can do....

***

Monday, March 11

The pain is still pressing on my heart like a great weight, making it hard to breathe, but my duty remains and I must go to my patients once more in just minutes.

Oh, my Henry, why? Why did you have to go back to the fight? Why?

***

Tuesday, March 12

Sleep during the day is hard enough usually, but with Henry's passing, it's even worse.

I woke up screaming this afternoon, reliving Henry's death in my dreams despite the fact that I don't know the actual circumstances. I was tossing and turning when I screamed out, only to feel death's grip on my arm, making me scream the louder.

I awoke with the hand on my arm before turning to see Miss Pinnock, a worried look on her face, sitting on a stool next to my cot holding me.

"I'm so sorry, Mary. I hope you understand now that the seemingly severe rules weren't there to punish you or your young Mr. Bankston; they were put in place to protect you from this very circumstance where your lover returns to combat and is killed, leaving you behind with great responsibilities still in your care. I saw how you loved each other, but I feared this very thing could happen and do far more damage to you than breaking off your relationship before it was fully developed. I'm so sorry, dear."

She hugged me and patted my back much like my mother would do if she were here. Maybe Miss Pinnock isn't such a cruel taskmaster after all, though she did instruct me to be sure to dry my face and take care of my wards tonight.

"Do your job and do it well, and that will take your mind off of your young man," she said.

Maybe not such a cruel taskmaster as I thought, but I know she's wrong on this part.

***

Thursday, March 14, 1918

Another day passes and Henry remains on my mind. Yesterday I sent a letter with my deep condolences to his parents and his mother had mailed a somewhat similar letter to me that arrived at the same time as mine was being mailed. She didn't know if I would have heard so she tried to break the horrible news as softly as she could, but there is little soft about telling someone your lover is gone, particularly when the pain is already so heavy in her heart, quite probably as heavy as it is in mine. Being his mother, perhaps she even has it worse, though as much as I hurt, I can't imagine how.

***

March (date scratched out) 1918

Another day passes. Miss Pinnock makes certain to see me each day, giving me a hug or a kind word. To have disliked her so much, I find I understand her reasoning now and look forward to our interaction.

The other nurses have been very kind, too, helping me as they can, and they feel better now that they understand the reason for the rule.

Collette, the British nurse with the Cockney accent (it is with an "n," Henry told me before he departed; he laughed mightily when I told him what I thought it was), said that's one of the reasons but the other is to keep recovering soldiers and their nurses from having sexual congress and producing our next generation of soldiers outside of wedlock. She termed it quite delicately in her heavy accent but then said "fuck" anyway, causing all of us in the room to laugh riotously. In fact, I think it was my first real laugh since Henry's death.

I realized today that I should have returned my ring to Henry's mother, but I continue to wear it to comfort me when I'm off duty. Perhaps I'll find the strength to return it soon. Or someday, anyway.

One other bit of news: Miss Pinnock let me know today that I'll be back on day shift starting next week. That is harder work since patients are up more by day and need correspondingly more care, but that will be better for me, to draw my mind from what feels like the depths of Hell to which it descends as I think of Henry's loss.

***

April 1918

I think of Henry often and cry from time to time, but I now realize and accept that he is gone and there is nothing I can ever do to change that.

Miss Pinnock tells me that love will likely touch my heart again someday, though I'm not sure if that is a reasonable expectation she dangles in front of me or a lifeline of hope she attempts to toss my way. Either way, I do maintain a strict separation from my patients now, like Miss Pinnock always demanded but which I violated so readily with my Henry. However, now that I understand the hurt that can come from it, I won't allow myself to fall for another who puts himself in harm's way while this war continues.

***

Sunday, May 12, 1918

Today is my little sister's 15th birthday. I sent her a letter several weeks ago but can only hope that it arrived in time to cheer her. Ma said Clara continues to grow and fill out and that she's now as big as me. This war takes far too much, not just good men like Henry but the hopes and dreams of the young, male and female, who may have to take part in it if those of us who are already here can't put an end to it all before their time arrives.

For my little sister's sake and for all of Henry's siblings, I hope that doesn't come to pass.

***

Thursday, May 16,1918

Dr. Whalley approached me today and offered his condolences on Henry's passing. He asked if it was too soon for him to ask me to dinner. I thanked him kindly but told him that my heart continues to mourn and will for I don't know how long.

"I understand, Mary, but I hope you will go on with your life someday."

Perhaps that will happen, I tell myself, someday, if or possibly when the time is right. But then, I also tell myself, I'm fairly certain that it won't be with a man like Dr. Whalley, a man who is over twice my age!

***

Friday, May 31, 1918

As hard as it is to believe, I finished nursing school a year ago and had no idea what I would see in my time since then. To fall in love with Henry, to become betrothed to him, and to lose him to the war is only one part of the many changes I've witnessed. These are, by far, the most important parts in my heart, but the care I've given so many of our soldiers, the broken men I've helped improve so they can continue on, whether just living or even going back to the fighting, means so much to them and, in some cases, their families.

I continue to pray for it to end, but the war drags on, making me question if I'll be writing the same thing this time next year.

We're also hearing more about some new flu that's going around; so many people have already gotten sick from it. We're rather isolated so we hope it doesn't spread here.

***

June 1918

I have little time to write these days with letters home and to Henry's family, so a few random thoughts on the month that was.

I still think of Henry almost every day, but 'almost' isn't quite as painful as 'every.'

There have been a couple of cases of the flu in the village. The Manor's administrator has ordered us to avoid going to the village for now, since people are dying from it in a lot of places. If anyone from our hospital catches it, the likelihood is that it would sweep through our wards like wildfire, possibly killing us all.

We're worried about new patients coming in bringing it with them, but they are screening the patients as well as possible before bringing them to us. Still, it only takes the wrong one and we're getting several patients per week.

***

Friday, July 12, 1918

Two months to the day past Clara's birthday, my 21st birthday arrives and I have to remind myself that her birthday is actually five years and ten months to the day behind my own. It's the silly way we often teased each other at home and I miss that so much today. My birthday letter and the card that Clara made for me arrived a few days ago, which makes me hope that the German threat on the high seas is continuing to lessen.

Thoughts of Henry's passing continue to plague me at times, but the open wound has now healed, at least a little, to become a raw ache. I still think of him almost daily, but it is with love and tenderness rather than that forlorn sense that dogged my days in the early going after learning of his death. In fact, I realized a few days ago that I forgot to put on my engagement band after getting off of my shift. Now, I'm thinking again about whether I should send the ring to Henry's mother. The girls are split about evenly, meaning that my own split, with a determined "Yes!" on some days and an unqualified "No!" on others results in me waiting yet again before I'll eventually decide.

***

Sunday, September 1, 1918

Despite the influenza that continues to rage, Vivian has been after me for weeks to go on a "double" with her and Doctor Maloof, the man she's been seeing. Since we can't go to the village, they've been having dinner together in the Doctors and Officers Mess.

I've had absolutely no interest in going with them; Henry weighs on my mind. However, I finally agreed this week to get her to stop pestering me about it so last night I went to dinner with the two of them and Lieutenant Jordan. It was a pleasant two hours but I was comparing him to Henry and was even less interested in him when the evening concluded than I had been at the start. With that mindset, I made sure I didn't allow him to steal a kiss as we parted.

Vivian and Doctor Maloof, on the other hand, were locked in a kiss the likes of which has never before seen on the moving picture screen while he gave her a rather thorough breast exam. Equally shocked at and excited by their familiarity, I went to our quarters and climbed in my cot under the cover where I allowed my fingers to roam as I've only been tempted to do a few times before. I was as quiet as I could be but was still breathing rather heavily by the time I finished, my head almost spinning from the thrill, leading me to need to change my knickers before going to bed for real.

As good as it was, there was one other side benefit. Now I know what Christy and, on occasion, Deborah, have been doing when they get in their respective cots and have a very early "unexpected nightmare" some nights.

***

Sunday, September 8, 1918