Whisper In The Wind

"So they can treat me like a wounded puppy?" She shook her head and stared across the room. "Why don't they treat you this way?"

"I'm not a Chadwick," Jen said as she put her arm around her friend's shoulders.

Caitlin rubbed her forehead and then ran her fingers through her hair. "Can we go back to being kids?"

Jen laughed as she poured another glass of wine. "We had fun and crazy times, but look at the women we have become. So you hit a brick wall. Knock it down or find a way around it. Use that strength and fiery independent nature inside to pave your way. Let Garrett help." Jen looked at her watch amazed at the time. "Will it be easy to return? No, but is it easy to stay? Call him, you know you want to." They hugged and talked a while longer. When the wine glasses were empty and tongues too tired to speak, Jen left.

Too tired to sleep and too weary to cry, Caitlin looked through the trunk. With it empty, she moved it to find the bottom broken. "Drat. It must have happened when I dropped it downstairs." Much to her surprise, she found a false bottom. Her eyes widened as she shook her head. "This is unbelievable." She hesitated but then lifted out one of three leather-bound journals with the initials EC embossed in them. It shook in her hands as she anxiously awaited reading the words-her grandma's words. The other books were placed on the coffee table.

After making a pot of chamomile tea, Caitlin curled on the couch, pulling a blanket over her legs and stared at the book. Her fingers ran over the golden initials. "Wow. Grandma's thoughts and words lay between these yellowed pages written in her elegant handwriting. Is it okay to read this?" Minutes passed before she took the leap and opened the book. "I finally learn more about the lady who raised me."

June 10, 1941. Today is my sixteenth birthday and I have met my future husband, Marshall Chadwick. We moved to Valley View last year and the Chadwick's were the first family we met. Marshall stayed to himself, busy with his horses and working his daddy's ranch. Today he gave me this leather journal and I saw a sparkle in his green eyes and felt the strength and warmth in his hands as our hands touched. A chill covered me and that's when I knew I love him. I dare not speak these words to anyone, especially to my sister Estelle. She is older and will marry first. I do not understand that rule, but that is the way it is done. Why am I worried? Marshall has yet to ask me on a date. She reread the entry, amazed by her grandmother's life. Each day's writings pushed her further into an unknown but pleasant world. December 7, 1942 exactly one year since the President announced we were at war, and now Marshall is leaving. When I heard him mention it a week ago, I ran from church, my heart breaking with each step. How can he leave his home and family? What if he does not return home? No, I have to think positive thoughts to keep him safe. He is the only man I want in my life for eternity. God would surely not bring Marshall into my life for a short time, offering me hope of eternity and then take him from me, would He? Marshall has to return to Valley View. Tears spilled onto her hands as she stared at the words of love, hope, and fear. She felt the same way about Garrett. Caitlin turned the page. December 8, 1942. Despite inner protests and a fear of crying, I went to the train station to bid a fond farewell to Marshall. He looked handsome in his uniform. Though he showed strength and valor, I saw a young boy lurking in those green eyes that are the color of Virginia grass in spring. A boy who longed to be riding and roping, not carrying a gun and going to far-off lands to fight those we call enemy. People we do not know and will never know. They are faces with no names. Sons, husbands, brothers who will return from the fighting scarred physically and emotionally or worse, not come home at all. Why? Nothing makes sense. Caitlin closed the journal and took a deep breath. "I know granddaddy returned, but how difficult a time for them. They waited and wondered when they would hear from him, if at all."