Yours Truly

10 - The Truly McCaden Travel-Writing Duo

The next few days that followed Will's dinner with the Trulys went by as a whirlwind of sheer happiness for both Charlotte and Will. At the hospital, Charlotte always arrived early, saying hello to Will before she began her duties as a nurse. 

        "Morning, Lottie," Will would always say. 

        "Morning, Will." 

        And his eyes would glimmer with the sly mischief Charlotte had grown to love. 

        Charlotte-- in spite of her romance with Will-- was not a biased nurse. She treated all her patients the same, spending long amounts of time at several different beds, not just Bed Thirty-One. Will certainly was not a seriously injured soldier anymore, and that meant that other patients called for more attention. However, during Charlotte's lunch breaks, she always spent her time with Will. 

        Sometimes, when Will was in a bad condition-- if he was very tired, or if his legs hurt-- then Charlotte would sit at his bedside and they'd simply... talk. 

        "I wrote a poem for you, Lottie," Will told Charlotte weakly one day. 

        Charlotte-- remembering his ambition to become a writer-- had smiled. "Oh, yeah? Is it any better than your little 'Lottie, Lottie, frowning alotty' song? If so, I'd love to hear it." 

        Will laughed. The sound was like a croaky peal. "Hey-- I'll have you know, that song was brilliant. I reckon Frank Sinatra'd buy it from me, and I'd make millions." He paused, grinning, as Charlotte giggled. "On a serious note, though, I did write you a poem. Well, it's more... inspired by you, actually. You're my muse. And it's not completed yet. And no, you can't read it." His cheeks were reddening slightly.

        Charlotte pouted. "Please, Will? Pretty please? For me?" She widened her eyes, curled her lips into a pout and executed the best pitiful puppy dog face she could possibly muster. 

        Will made a strained noise of protest. "Lottie--" He looked away, laughing. "Stop! You know I'll always say yes to you if use those eyes as a weapon against me. Dammit, Lottie..." 

        Other days, when Will was much healthier, Charlotte spent her lunch breaks outside of the hospital with him. They couldn't go very far, since Charlotte had a limited break. Usually, they sat out on the hospital's front steps to enjoy the sun, or they walked around the block. 

        "How's my walking now?" Will asked Charlotte another day, trying his best to walk normally. 

        "You're still limping a lot, Will," Charlotte answered in a sort of exasperated voice. "Look, no matter how healthy you feel, you're gonna have to exert a lot of energy overseas. This is nothing compared to what you're gonna have to face." 

        Will scowled. "How do you even know what I'm gonna have to face? I already know, Lottie! Several-mile walks or runs, lots of agile movement... but really, I think I'll be able to do it. Lots of men are limping overseas, trust me." 

        Charlotte sighed. "But they don't have bones still healing, do they? Come on, Will, just listen to what Doctor Roberts has to say." 

        "All he says is that he's not sending me back until I've made a full recovery," muttered Will gloomily. "I can imagine my platoon fighting right now, laughing at me and how I'm back home, being babied over nothing... I'm practically like a draft dodger..." 

        "Over nothing?" Charlotte repeated, vividly remembering a blood-and-soot-covered Will with two broken legs (one end of his broken bone piercing his flesh) and several large open gashes, shrapnel and bullet wounds strewn around his body. Sure, there were much worse cases, but she wasn't exactly going to call what happened to Will 'nothing.'