Corrie had little time to ponder the handsome stranger who had caught her gazing at the stars. Her thoughts were consumed by the fact that she was turning up on the doorstep of the home she hadn't lived in for three years in the dead of night. Hauling her carpetbag in one hand and summoning her last reserves of energy, she approached the mayor's mansion. Her parents' home was a stunning stone edifice with a wraparound porch, a second floor balcony, and a beautiful view of the nearby waterways. Corrie walked up the front steps in the near-dark her boots clattering on the hollow staircase.

She drew in a breath, bracing herself; her parents had no warning of her arrival, so she could only imagine their response. Corrie wracked the broad oak door with her knuckles.

"Who is it?" called the coarse voice of her father's butler.

"Mr. Bricker, it's me, Corrie."

"Corrie," he murmured in surprise, opening the door. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Corrie smiled at the sight of the austere older man in the doorway. "I heard about Christina's condition and came home immediately. Are Mother and Father-"

"Who's at the door?" a voice called from a room further within the grand house.

Corrie grimaced. "It's Corrie, Father."

As she stepped inside the foyer of the house and passed Mr. Bricker her jacket, she saw her mother and father emerging from the glowing sitting room.

"Oh, Corrie!" her mother exclaimed, wrapping her in a hug. "It's so good to see you. What brings you here?"

Before Corrie could respond, her father interrupted, standing a few feet off with one hand pompously resting on a cocked hip. "Cornelia, what are you doing here, showing up on our doorstep in the middle of the night? You haven't been expelled from college, have you?"

Corrie felt her face flush red. "No, Father. I came home because I received a letter from Aunt Jack informing me of Christina's condition. Why didn't you tell me?"

Corrie's mother, Anita, touched Corrie's shoulder gently. "We didn't want to worry you, darling."

Anita was taller than Corrie and carried herself with a gentility Corrie coveted. Her hair was smooth and dark, pinned up fashionably, and her eyes were the same pale green as Corrie's and Christina's. She was breathtakingly beautiful though her hair was graying and wrinkles traced the outlines of her eyes and lips.

"Nonsense. I want to be here for her. Plus, with the war on, I know money is a bit tight. I can resume my studies after the war," Corrie said, setting her carpetbag on the floor with finality.

Oliver, her father, sputtered as he stared at her. "Wh-money isn't tight! How dare you say such a thing. We have always been one of the wealthiest families in the county."

Corrie sighed and tried to assuage his injured pride. "Yes, of course, Father. I just felt that I would be more useful here at home. I'm sure there's much I can do to support the war effort as well as Christina's health while I'm here."

The broad shouldered man frowned and stroked his salt and pepper mustache. "Yes, I suppose there's some sense in what you're saying. It would improve my reputation to have both daughters here by my side instead of gallivanting in the city."

Corrie bit her lip to prohibit a retort from escaping. "I'll stay here until Christina's recovered and return to school after the war."

Her father nodded. "Very well. But what of that wealthy suitor of yours? You haven't scared him off with your newfangled notions, have you?"

"No, Father. Edwin and I are still courting."

Oliver sniffed. "Well, I'm glad to hear it."

Mayor Oliver Walker had reigned over the city of Irvington for as long as Corrie could remember. Though once a handsome, stately man, he had weakened as the years passed, bringing a heaviness his shoulders, disproportion to his once trim figure, and a sprinkling of white in his dark hair and mustache.

Corrie loved her father, but she often struggled to like him. Though her optimism encouraged her to hope that he had changed in the past three years, Corrie knew the hope had been ill founded as soon as she saw his supercilious smirk and characteristic condescension.

"May I stay in my old room while I'm here?" Corrie asked, bowing her head.

"Of course," Anita said, "and I'll be sure that Mr. Bricker gets the rest of your luggage from the train station in the morning. Let me walk you to your room."

"Good night, Cornelia," her father muttered, waving his gold-handled cane in the air and repairing to his chair.

"Good night, Father."
Corrie followed her mother up the staircase, running her hand along the polished banister. Their footsteps echoed through the open foyer as they ascended to the second floor of the ancient mansion. They walked into Corrie's old bedroom, left virtually untouched since her last visit over the holidays. The old-fashioned room still had a brick fireplace though the house had been renovated to central heating. The room had several windows with heavy maroon curtains, and Corrie's large four-poster bed was shadowed by ornate drapery.

She sat on the bed with a sigh, finally allowing her body rest after the wearying day.

"You were right about the money," Anita said, perching on the edge of the bed with perfect posture. "We've had to release all of our servants except for the cook and Mr. Bricker. Christina's medical bills are exorbitant, especially with the broken leg and this relapse, and your college tuition..." she sighed. "Well, I know your work as a typist helps to cover your living expenses, but tuition is costly. I would never tell you to give up on your dreams, but perhaps putting them off for a year or so is best for the family."

"I understand," Corrie murmured.

Though she still felt a wave of disappointment at the prospect of foregoing her education and her dreams indefinitely, Corrie ignored it and focused instead on her sister's plight.

"Christina's very ill, isn't she?" Corrie whispered, her voice aching with vulnerability.

Anita nodded, eyebrows knit together. "She is. Her recovery is more doubtful than it has been in the past."

"You...you mean..." Corrie stuttered, unable to finish the sentence. You mean that she may never recover?

A moment of mutual understanding passed between the mother and daughter before Anita stood and made her way to the door, chirping with false cheer, "Well, nothing is for certain." She sighed. "All I know is this most recent bout of illness is far more severe than the previous. And with David leaving..."

Corrie could hear the quavering doubt in her mother's voice. Though there was no predicting the future, Christina's recovery was looking more and more improbable.

~~~~~

When sunlight filtered through the windows of her bedroom the next morning, Corrie struggled to awaken. With her trunk containing all of her clothing still at the train station, she had merely taken off her jacket and fallen into bed from exhaustion. She staggered out of bed and found the luggage waiting outside of her door. Quickly dressing in a plain cream colored blouse and navy blue raised skirt, Corrie pinned her hair up, tucking stray strands behind her ear, and doffed a plain straw hat with a blue ribbon around it. As a last minute thought, she grabbed a copy of a book she had purchased for Christina and brought it along.

Her mother's concern over Christina's condition had only amplified her own worry. Though Christina had always been frail and infirm, a sinking feeling in Corrie's stomach told her that this was far more serious. Corrie rushed out the door, stopping in the kitchen to grab a slice of bread and a piece of cheese for lunch, and headed for the doctor's office. She needed to speak with Dr. Benjamin to discuss her sister's condition.

She travelled the few blocks to the doctor's office, and in the glowing light of morning, Corrie walked up the steps and pushed the door open, taking in more of the office than she had previously. The yellow room seemed to glow with the dewy sunshine beaming through the windows, flickering over a scattering of papers on the desk and the vacant chairs of the waiting room. Two hallways met in the waiting room, one descending behind it and one stretching to the right; Christina's room was at the end of the hallway to the right.

Though Corrie had rushed into the hospital without decorum the night before, she realized that she needed to present a more dignified mien unless she wanted gossip to spread through the town like a wildfire. She removed her hat and clutched it in front of her, standing before the desk.

"Hello?" she called, glancing around for any sign of inhabitance.

"Oh, Corrie, er, Miss Walker! You're back!"

Once again, the freckled face of Hannah Benjamin popped out from Christina's room at the end of the hall. She scrambled to meet her with a lively grin, tucking her escaped shirttail into her skirt.

"Yes, I am," Corrie answered with a laugh. "I don't mind if you call me Corrie. I understand you're Miss Benjamin, the doctor's sister?"

The girl gave her a mock curtsey. "That I am, though you may call me Hannah. I'm not much for formalities."

"Well, Hannah, then," Corrie grinned, enjoying the girl's familiarity. "Is the doctor around? I wish to speak to him about Christina's illness."

Hannah frowned. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Alex just left last night. He'll be in Richmond for a few weeks to attend some meetings related to the war effort. He will be serving as a civilian doctor to the wounded troops who return to the States."

"That's very valiant of him," Corrie said though her voice fell flat with disappointment.

Without the doctor present to answer her inquiries, her imagination was left free to speculate about her sister's uncertain future. 

~~~~~

Guys, Sharing Corrie is at almost 100 reads!  I'm so encouraged by the response! Shoutout to the faithful readers, and extra points for those of you who are commenting and voting. 

What do you think of Corrie's parents? Oliver and Edwin are cut from the same cloth if you ask me. 

Read, vote, and comment! New chapters to come next week :)

~ Hannah