Chapter 4: The Visit

Chapter 4: The Visit

May 1944

I was excited to have Alex over for dinner. It had been years since we'd last seen each other, and I was looking forward to catching up.

My mother was equally excited. She spent all day in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. She made all of Alex's favorite dishes, including his beloved chicken pot pie.

As the clock ticked closer to Alex's arrival time, I found myself getting more and more nervous. I hadn't seen Alex in years, and I wasn't sure what to expect.

But as soon as he walked in the door, all my nerves disappeared. He smiled at me, and I saw the same old Alex, the one who had been Jack's partner in crime when they were kids.

"Emily," he said, coming over to give me a hug. "It's great to see you."

I hugged him back, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity. "Alex, it's great to see you too," I said, pulling back to look at him.

My mother came over, a big smile on her face. "Alex, dear, it's so great to see you," she said, giving him a hug.

Alex smiled, hugging her back. "Mrs. Wilson, you look just the same," he said, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

We chatted for a few minutes, catching up on old times. Then my mother invited us to sit down to dinner.

The meal was delicious, just like I knew it would be. My mother had outdone herself, and Alex was clearly impressed.

As we ate, we talked about everything and nothing. We talked about the war, about Jack, about our hopes and dreams for the future.

Alex was easy to talk to, just like he had always been. He listened attentively, asking questions and making thoughtful comments.

As the evening wore on, I found myself feeling more and more at ease. It was like no time had passed at all, like Alex and I were still kids, hanging out at the lake.

But as the night drew to a close, I couldn't help but think about Jack. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he thinking about me?

I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on Alex instead. "Thanks for coming over tonight," I said, smiling at him.

Alex smiled back, his eyes warm with friendship. "Thanks for having me," he said. "It's great to see you, Emily."

I walked him to the door, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him. He had come to visit, to check in on me, and it meant a lot.

As we said our goodbyes, Alex turned to me with a serious expression. "Emily, I have to tell you something," he said, his voice low and solemn.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. What was it? What did he have to tell me?

"What is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Alex hesitated, looking around nervously. "I don't know if I should be telling you this," he said, his voice full of uncertainty.

I felt a surge of fear. What was it? What did he know?

"Tell me," I said, my voice firm. "I need to know."

Alex took a deep breath, his eyes locked on mine. "I saw Jack," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I saw him at the prison camp."

My heart skipped a beat. Jack was alive. He was a prisoner of war.

I felt a wave of emotions wash over me. Relief, fear, anxiety. I didn't know what to feel.

"When?" I asked, my voice shaking. "When did you see him?"

Alex hesitated, looking around nervously. "It was a few weeks ago," he said. "I was on a mission, and I saw him at the prison camp."

I felt a surge of hope. Jack was alive. He was a prisoner of war, but he was alive.

I looked at Alex, my eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for telling me."

Alex smiled, his eyes warm with friendship. "I'm just glad I could help," he said.

I nodded, feeling a sense of hope that I hadn't felt in months. Jack was alive. He was a prisoner of war, but he was alive.

And with that knowledge, I knew that I could face whatever came next. I knew that I could wait, that I could hold on to hope.

Because Jack was alive, and he was coming home to me.

As I stood there, trying to process the news, I felt a wave of emotions wash over me. Relief, fear, anxiety - they all swirled together in a confusing mix.

But as I looked at Alex, I saw the sincerity in his eyes, and I knew that he was telling the truth. Jack was alive. He was a prisoner of war, but he was alive.

I felt a surge of hope rise up in me, and I knew that I had to hold on to it. I had to believe that Jack would come home to me, that we would be together again.

Alex smiled at me, his eyes warm with friendship. "I'm so glad I could tell you," he said. "I know how much you love him."

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I do," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I love him so much."

Alex nodded, his expression serious. "I know you do," he said. "And I know he loves you too."

I smiled, feeling a sense of comfort wash over me. It was nice to know that Alex understood, that he knew how much Jack and I loved each other.

As we stood there, talking, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. It was a fragile peace, one that could be shattered at any moment, but it was peace nonetheless.

And as I looked at Alex, I knew that I would hold on to that peace, no matter what. I would hold on to the hope that Jack would come home to me, that we would be together again.

The days that followed were a blur of activity. I threw myself into my work, volunteering at the hospital and helping out with the local war effort.

I also spent hours writing letters to Jack, pouring out my heart to him, telling him how much I loved him and how much I missed him.

I didn't know if he would ever receive the letters, but it didn't matter. Writing them was therapeutic, a way for me to process my emotions and hold on to hope.

As the weeks turned into months, I began to feel a sense of routine settle over me. I knew that Jack was alive, and that gave me the strength to keep going.

I knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult, but I was ready. I was ready to face whatever challenges came my way, knowing that Jack would be coming home to me someday.

And so I waited, patiently and hopefully, for the day when Jack would walk through the door, when we would be together again.