Cordia sat next to Will’s makeshift bed, hardly believing she was looking into his eyes. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to be shot and then have someone digging around inside you with a knife and no anesthesia trying to find the bullets,” she mutters, shaking her head. “No chance you’re going to get an infection or pneumonia or anything is there?”
He shook his head. “Nope, I’ll be just fine. Y’all can’t get rid of me that quickly. Take a few weeks or so to heal up, that’s all. Doctor did say I was lucky that the bullet that hit me in the collarbone had already went through something else though, otherwise it probably would have killed me.”
Cordia’s eyes were wide with amazement. “Really?”
“Yep, but I’m okay.” He paused for a second, studying her face. “How are you?”
He could tell by the look she was giving him that she must know what happened to Jaris then. He hadn’t known if he should tell her or not. “You hear? About Jaris?” He nodded. “Glad I don’t have to tell you,” she said, dropping her voice. “After all, it probably isn’t the best idea to tell a wounded man that his cousin…. But, I’m glad you know because it don’t seem right keeping it from you either.” Will nodded, and Cordia took a deep breath. “I don’t know how I feel.” She sat back on her heels. “I guess it ain’t sunk in yet. I feel. . . very strange.”
He nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, I guess a day or so is not quite long enough for something like that to settle on ya.”
“A day or so?” she repeated. “Will, battle news around here spreads slower than watching paint dry. When I left home yesterday morning, all I knew was that you and Jaris were both casualties. I bet news of who’s living and who ain’t probably still hasn’t made it back to Lamar.”
He was shocked. “Then, you mean to tell me you just found out that Jaris was dead when you got here?” She nodded. “My God, Cordia,” he exclaimed, looking up at the ceiling. “How is it that you aren’t crying your eyes out right now?”
She seemed to question herself for a moment. “Perhaps I should be. Somehow, though, I don’t even think that’s what Jaris would want me to do.” She let out a sigh and readjusted as if she wasn’t sure what to say. “When I first saw him, I cried my heart out,” she explained. “I did mourn him. I will mourn him.” After a moment of thought, she admitted, “I was just so happy to hear that you were alive that I couldn’t really think of anything else, presently.”
Then he realized just how much anguish she must have been in the past few days, not knowing if either of them was alive. “Oh, Cordia, I’m so sorry,” he said. “All that you’ve been through.” She shook her head, as if he needn’t be thinking of her now. She realized he had been through much more himself. After a moment, he added, with conviction, “He was a good man.”
She nodded her head and repeated him. “Yes, he was a good man.” The tears were threatening to empty over again, now. “I will have plenty of time to think on Jaris on my way home. I do not have too much longer, however, that I can spend with you. Tell me, what do you mean to do when you are all healed up?”
He was holding her hand in both of his now, and it was all he could do to keep from reaching up and touching her face. “Well, I am a Confederate prisoner right now. However, word has come through the line that we have all been exchanged, and as soon as we are healed, we will be released. My enlistment was for ninety days, which I have served. So, that leaves me with a few choices. I could go back and join my unit in Rolla, or I could go east where the 'real fighting’, as we’re told, is happening. I don’t rightly know just yet what I plan to do.”
“This seems real enough to me,” she declared. He nodded, and he assumed she recognized he had been being sarcastic. She reached up and smoothed his hair as she talked, a gentle touch that calmed him like nothing else had for days, years maybe. “I don’t reckon there’s any chance you would consider coming home, then?”
The question just seemed to hang there between them for a moment. “Cordia,” he began, and he could see in her eyes that she knew the answer was no. She pulled her hand down now, rested it on his, which was still clinging to her other hand. “My duty isn’t over yet. Just ‘cause I got shot, don’t mean I get to go home and sit out the rest of the war.”
She was exasperated. “Twice, Will. You got shot twice.”
He looked away from her again. “I know, Cordia. I know I got shot twice.”
“Then come home. Please, please come home,” she was beginning to cry now. “I didn’t know if I can bear going through this again.”
The look of anguish on her face made him want to hold her. He tried to sit up, but could not do it, no matter how hard he tried. Frustrated, he reminded her, “Cordia, the thing is, I don’t really have a home.”
Cordia looked at him and in her eyes, he saw the clear message, “I’ll be your home.” She was quiet for a moment before she asked, “What about your sister?”
“What about my sister?”
“Well, you should have seen her the other day, not knowing if you were alive. Crying her eyes out.”
He nodded his head slowly, “I am very sorry for that. I am very sorry to both of you for that. But Julia’s strong. Not as strong as you, but strong enough.”
“I find it almost comical to hear you say that I am strong when I am pleading for you to come home so that I won’t have to ‘be strong’ anymore. But I know a thing or two about bull-headedness, and the look on your face tells me I am not going to change your mind.”
No longer able to meet her gaze, Will looked away for a long moment.
“All right,” she finally acquiesced. “But, maybe you will consider coming home for a few days before you head off again? I know Julia would like to see you. I wanted to bring her with me, but I didn’t know how she would handle . . . the smoke.” He was sure she was going to say “handle the trip,” but she likely didn’t want to let him know she thought his sister might have actually made herself sick over him.
Turning back to face her, he nodded, letting her know that he would consider what she had to say.
“Well,” she said, standing, “I hate to go, but, there’s a lot of people back in town waiting to hear what I have to say. And I am sure my mother’s probably worried to death by now.” She caught herself on those last words. Funny how something you might say a hundred times during normal circumstances sounded so wrong when it slipped out in a situation like this.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing her hand. “I have something for you.”
“You do?” she asked, her expression showing she had no idea what in the world it could be.
“Yes,” he strained to reach down inside his pocket. He had placed his letters to her in there just before the battle. Reaching them with his fingertips, he pulled them out and handed them to her. “Here you go.”