An Expectation

6

"Are you glad to see him gone?" asked Lewis as soon as Marion entered the room.

"Yes," she admitted. "But, if we're being frank-" she lowered her voice to a whisper- "what he did isn't uncommon."

"It's not?" Lewis's disfigured face contorted into a look of utter disgust. "That's terrible."

"I'm glad you think so," she said sadly. "Most men don't think the way you do."

"Oh." He seemed almost surprised by that, and it was clear to Marion that he'd never been very social. "What's that in your hand?"

"Just a letter, from a friend. I think you know him, actually. Private Abbot?"

Lewis thought for a moment, then his face lit up. "James Abbot? You know him?" He shook his head with a laugh. "I thought it was funny that I was sent to recover at Abbot House. Same name, you know, so I suppose it's a strange coincidence."

"Wait- you're not serious?" Marion laughed and sat on the now-empty bed.

Lewis's face dropped into confusion. "About what?"

"James Abbot lived here. This is his house- or it will be."

His jaw dropped. "You're joking."

She shook her head with a short laugh. "No, of course not! I got here as a nurse a while ago, and James -Mr. Abbot- hadn't left yet, so we became friends and now he sends me stories he's been writing."

Lewis felt his heart drop when he saw how happy she was talking about him. Why? he asked himself. There's nothing wrong with her writing someone. Besides, they're just friends.

"Have you read that one yet?" He gestured to the letter in her hand. 

She looked at it. "No, but I'll read this one to you if you'd like."

Lewis gave his little lopsided smile and Marion's heart fluttered. "If you feel comfortable doing that."

Marion laughed and slid her thumb under the seal. "Why not? You know him better than I do, I think."

Lewis thought for a second. "We were stationed together and he was there for me after my brother died- but you talk to him more, I suppose."

Marion skipped the letter page and went right for the story. 

A young man went out in search of adventure. His wanderings took him to the seaside of Spain, where he decided to buy a boat and go out to the sea to find something new.

He played the guitar and made up songs to entertain the people who came to visit the sunny shore, and one day he saw a beautiful girl in a grey dress.

"Oh, señorita, why so grey?" he sang in her direction. "You should have gold and silver, bright as a day."

She smiled at him and he could not speak. She had deep dark eyes that laughed, and pale brown hair that curled around her face, wet with sea spray.

"I don't want attention because of my clothes," she responded with a smile, cleverly guessing that the song was for her. "Too many men have tried to woo me with pretty things."

The young man put down his guitar and the girl stepped closer to him. "Well," he began, "you don't need pretty things. You're lovely without them."

The girl blushed, and the man picked up his guitar, opened his mouth, and nothing came out. He strummed and the girl laughed at his dumbness. 

"I can't sing when you're here," he sang on a single note. "You make my heart stop."

The girl laughed and turned away, but the young man reached for her hand. "I come here every day. Will you be here tomorrow?"

The girl smiled, nodded, tossed a coin into his cup, and she promised that she'd see him the next day.

When tomorrow came, the young man found that he had enough money to buy a little boat. He met the girl and told him that he was leaving.

"I'll write you," she replied. "We have not known each other long, but only write me poems, and be honest, and I shall always be yours."

The young man smiled sadly and kissed her cheek. "I promise to do so."

They parted that evening, and the young man bought his boat and set off for the coast of England, where he came upon a large grey house on a cliff above the beach. Weary of the sea, he decided to go and beg a night in the barn.

He went up to the door and knocked. Upon it being opened, he saw the girl from the beach, and with joy fell into her arms. She was the heiress to the house, and it became clear to the young man that he was home.

Marion looked up and saw Lewis smiling at her. 

"I never knew he was so good at writing stories," he said shakily. A tear gathered in his eye, but it was a happy tear. "That was beautiful."

"Yes," replied Marion simply, folding up the letter. "It truly was."

*****

After a day of dealing with more than a few ornery men, Marion was more than ready to go to bed. With a sigh of relief, she pulled off her shoes and day dress, slipping into her nightgown and opening the letter.

Dear Marion,

I wanted so badly to see the world. I thought that the war would be a chance to serve my king as well as see what I'd always dreamed.

That was a silly illusion.

I want to go home. I have been sick for months on end and bored out of my mind. So many times I have tried to come up with a story and been completely unable to. I am tired, discouraged, and even the Sunday services do not lift my spirits. I miss green hills not spotted with death, I miss market Saturdays and I miss you. 

So here is a story for you, the only one I was able to finish, and I wonder if you will cry as much as I did.

I miss you, and my mother, and my father.

All of my love, and my longing to be home,

James.

Marion read the story again. The young man was clearly James, off in search of the world- a goal he never knew would weary him. The girl from the beach was her, and their brief meeting was the start of a cliche that never seemed to die. The girl and her soldier- where would it end? With his death, or with his return.

Unhappily she closed the letter and threw it in the drawer. It would not do to dwell on a silly lovesick boy tonight.