The Marriage Cure (12 page)

What if something had happened to him? What if the letter wasn't really from him? Maybe one of his buddies had sent the letter on his behalf because he was lying in a hospital bed somewhere.

Abigail smiled.
“Of course I'm sure.
That's his address, isn't it? Now stop worrying and read it.”

Laura turned the envelope over, and her heart slipped down to her shoes.
When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“It's his address, but i
t's not his handwriting, Mama.”

It was really happening. Her worst fears were coming to light.

Abigail leaned over her daughter's shoulder for a better look.
“You're certain?”

Laura's eyes filled with tears.
“I'm positive.
I'd know Mark's handwriting anywhere.
He's been writing me for the past five months.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth and continued to stare down at the envelope.
“Oh, Mama, what am I going to do?”

Abigail wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her into the kitchen.
“You're going to sit down here and let me fix you a cup of tea.
Then we'll read the letter together. You don't know for certain it's bad news.”

Laura shook her head, fear making her shiver.
“I don't think I can open it.”

Abigail paused.
“Do you want me to read it first?”

Laura couldn't convince her fingers to relinquish the paper. Slowly, she shook her head again.
“No.
I have to do it. Oh, Mama.
What if something has happened to Mark? I don't think I could bear it.”

Her mother tugged out the padded chair with the chrome legs and handmade cover.
She
reached across the slick table
top and took hold of Laura's wrists.
“Now, let's not start borrowing trouble.
You don't know what that letter says until you read it.”

“If he's hurt or….” Laura couldn't bring herself to say the other dreaded word.
“The Army wouldn't tell me because I'm not family.
They'd contact his parents.”
She leaped to her feet, dislodging her mother's hands.
“That's what I'll do.
I'll go see Mark's parents.”

She raced toward the back door of the kitchen and ran straight into her father's broad chest.
His arms closed around her, and he held her tightly, so tightly Laura knew she wasn't going to like what he had to say.

“There's no need to go to the Wentworths, Laura.”

She began to cry, in anticipation of his next words. As much as she wanted to shut out her father's deep voice, to ignore what he was going to say next, she had to listen, had to know.

“Mark is missing.”

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