Whispers from the Past (3 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Langston

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BOOK: Whispers from the Past
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When Mark returned from his study session, I was waiting for him in the family room.

“Hey, babe. Why are you here?”

“Your mother invited me over.” I rose stiffly. “We had a long visit.”

“Is something wrong?” He crossed to my side and pulled me into his arms. “What did my mom say?”

“You received a thick envelope today from Brevard College. It is likely the second school that has accepted you.” I shook my head. “You are awaiting news from three more.”

His voice tightened. “That’s true.”

“You must promise me to pick the college that is right for you.”

“That’s an easy promise. I’ll pick the right school.”

I lifted my gaze to his. “Perhaps I should clarify my meaning. I want you to go where your heart most desires.”

“My heart most desires to be near you.”

“The separation will not be for long.”

“It could take five years. I would hate that.”

“You thought that you would hate for me to live with Marissa, and you do not.”

He frowned. “I don’t see the point in comparing a fifteen-minute drive whenever I want to a four-hour commute each way on the weekends.”

“We have survived much worse.”

Something akin to pain darkened his eyes. “I can’t be without you.”

“I cannot be the reason you give up the college you want.”

He looked away. “I haven’t heard from all of the schools yet, and I don’t have to make a decision until May.”

“You hid this from me.” My voice quivered. “I had to learn of it from your mother.”

“I’m sorry. I was worried about how you would react.”

I laid my head against his chest. “Perhaps you should have worried more about how it would hurt me when I found out.”

Dorcas’s letters remained hidden in the pocket of my jacket until Mark had taken me home and left again. I said an early good-night to Marissa and disappeared into my bedroom. Once I’d flicked on the bedside lamp, I unfolded and smoothed the heavy sheets of paper on my lap.

Dorcas had written a date at the top of each. I selected the oldest letter and read.

November 2nd, 180

Dear Susanna,

It has been more than a year since we last met and I promised to write. Have you longed for my letters? Have you looked in vain? Oh, I do hope you have not
.

I did not forget. Truly, I did not. It has been difficult here. Please do not think badly of me
.

I shall write more now, perhaps not often, though, for if Papa learns of it, he will be furious and try to stop me
.

Would you like news of your sister? Of course, you would, and I should like to give it
.

Phoebe and Jacob Worth married two weeks ago. It was a lovely wedding. I had a secret hope that you would find a way to attend, but I understand why you could not
.

She was a beautiful bride, Susanna. We all sighed at her happy smiles. Jacob had never looked more handsome. I shall very much want my bridegroom to watch me the way he watched Phoebe. I am quite sure that Jacob is smitten
.

She told me that your husband brought her a lovely gift of buttons. They will be most welcome if she can find stitching work in the mountains
.

I do hope we hear from them and the adventure they will enjoy with their farm and orchards. I have begged Aunt Worth to let me know any time Jacob writes
.

With fondest regards,
Dorcas

My husband? I ached with longing at the thought.

Had my brother—or, perhaps, Jedidiah Pratt—shared this news? Unlike Mark’s century with its endless documents, the people of Worthville had to regard our relationship as a valid marriage once we had claimed each other often and publicly. I should have expected such a result, but the sight of the term
husband
, used so casually in a letter, was still surprising.

July 14th, 1802

Dear Susanna,

I have checked on my letter throughout the months and longed for it to disappear. I shall not give up hope, though. I know you will come
.

Would you like to know about my family? I shall assume the answer is yes and tell you all.

Deborah is the wife of Aaron Foster. He works with his father in the store and owns a little house. They have two children, Edward and Emily.

Jedidiah married a young lady whose father works for Governor Williams in Raleigh. Rebecca does not like living in Worthville, so they visit her family often. I should not be surprised if they decide to live in the capital soon. I shall miss Jedidiah if he moves. He has been so tender to me since my injury.

Drusilla is my younger sister. You have never met her, but you

would find her charming and clever.

Joan does not allow me much time with my littlest brother. It is sad for us both. Peter could use a bit less mothering.

With fondest regards,
Dorcas

Dorcas did not elaborate on her injury. Had her brother mentioned our conversation in the week before my sister’s wedding? Perhaps Dorcas thought I knew more than I did.

No, the more likely explanation was that she wanted no pity, and so she would get none from me. But I could be angry on her behalf, and I would try to learn more.

The third letter was dated from February of 1803. It seemed likely that was the year I had visited earlier in the day.

February 26th, 1803

Dear Susanna,

Will you ever come and collect your letters?

It does not matter, of course. I have promised to write and so I shall, but it will be a remarkable day when I find that my letters are gone. That delight could only be surpassed if I found an answering letter from you.

I have much news to share.

Jedidiah and Rebecca live in Raleigh with her family. Papa was furious when they left. He wished for Jedidiah to help him on the farm. When Papa asked Uncle George for help, he sent another slave. Elijah is very gentle with horses.

We now have three slaves and one indentured servant. Lydia works in the kitchen, although she is a miserable cook. There is a girl who comes to clean each day and another who does our laundry. We have never had so many servants as we do now.

Joan lost a baby. She has been desperately sad for many weeks. I tend to Peter and Drusilla myself. It is a burden that is also a joy.

With fondest regards,
Dorcas

It was as if she spoke aloud, so clearly did these words evoke my Dorcas. They also raised provocative questions of the years she had skipped and the years she had yet to experience.

How long had Mr. Pratt sustained his prosperity?

Who had survived the tornado that destroyed Worthville in the first decade of the nineteenth century?

Did Dorcas ever marry?

My heart longed to write back to her—to let her know that I cared—but I knew that I could not. There had been danger enough in retrieving these letters.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

E
XERCISE OF
P
OWER

As I drove to school on Thursday, I couldn’t help thinking about how much my life was about to change. In my final three months of high school, there were a lot of big things left to experience. Prom. AP exams. Deciding on a college. Finals. Graduation.

Then there was Susanna. What was I going to do about her?

I turned into the senior parking lot, more upset now about the college thing than I’d been in weeks. My mom should’ve kept her mouth shut. I hadn’t wanted Susanna to know. I didn’t need the extra pressure that she was placing on me. Once I’d heard from the three remaining universities, I would make the right choice.

I wasn’t all that worried about Virginia Tech. My SATs and AP scores were great, and I was a legacy. I would get in. No, it was Newman that had me stirred up. My dream college, sitting in a gorgeous valley in western Virginia, surrounded by amazing mountains with some of the best biking trails around. If that weren’t good enough, it had a strong program in life sciences—which was about as far as I could narrow down a major at the moment.

But Newman’s distance from Raleigh? Not so perfect. How could I stand to be four hours away from Susanna?

I’d already thought about coming home every weekend, but I hated that idea. I wanted to enjoy college. I wanted to make friends and hang out and get involved in sports.

I’d also considered asking Susanna to come with me, but that had its share of problems. For one, my parents would freak. Mom would refuse to pay for an apartment, so Susanna and I would have to do that ourselves. She’d have to find a job in Virginia to cover the rent, which I couldn’t let her do. It was the same dick move that Marissa’s ex-boyfriend had pulled on her. Fletcher had talked my sister into moving with him to Colorado, expecting her to pay the bills while he got his MBA. I’d been glad when she wised up, dumped him, and returned to North Carolina. No way would I ask Susanna to do the same thing.

But there was an even bigger reason I wouldn’t ask Susanna to move with me. She was finally fitting into twentyfirst-century Raleigh, going to church, finding her way around, and making plans to work on her GED program through Wake Tech Community College. Plus, she had the safety net of my family here. She loved my grandparents like they were her own. I wasn’t going to wrench her away from Raleigh.

I’d applied to Duke as a long shot. Maybe they would let me in. Duke wouldn’t be so bad. They had a great reputation and were a twenty-minute commute from home.

I wished I had someone I could talk to about this, but no one—not my family, or my guidance counselor, or my friends, or even Susanna—would want me to base my college choice on her. Hell, if a friend were asking my advice, I’d say the same thing.

But Susanna was different. I couldn’t leave her until she was ready. Moving her into my world had made her my responsibility. I could get a good college degree in a lot of places, but I could only take care of Susanna here.

I spent the first two class periods barely tuned in, pissed that my mom had broken my confidence and that Susanna could be so stubborn about things that I felt like I had to hide them from her just to keep the peace.

When I entered the cafeteria for lunch, I was ready for a break from the tension. Good thing I spotted Jesse eating by himself. I was glad that Benita and Gabrielle weren’t around. Jesse wouldn’t get his feelings hurt if my mood stayed bad.

“Hey,” I said, sliding onto a chair opposite him.

He nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t look up from whatever was absorbing him on his iPad.

Got it. He was busy. I didn’t mind attacking my lasagna instead. It was one of the best dishes they made in the cafeteria.

“Paying attention now,” he said, pushing his tablet to the side.

“Where’s Benita?”

“She has an extra practice session with her cello teacher.”

“Good. I want to ask you about something I wouldn’t want her to hear.”

He nodded as he tossed a grape in the air and caught it with his mouth.

“Next year, you’re going to college at Berkeley,” I said, “which is in California.”

“Yep, last time I checked.”

“Your girlfriend will be here.”

“If she gets accepted at the School of the Arts, my girlfriend will be in Winston-Salem.”

“Which is data that makes no difference to my point.”

“What is your point?”

It wasn’t clear if he was being matter-of-fact or smartass, but it was irritating either way. “You and Benita will be almost three thousand miles apart.”

He grabbed another grape. “Yeah, it sucks, but what can we do?”

“Go somewhere closer than Berkeley.”

He laughed. “Not an option.”

Definitely matter-of-fact, like the distance didn’t even bother him. How could that be possible? “Won’t you hate being that far away from Benita?”

His smile turned smug. “It’ll make Christmas break a lot of fun.” Then he leaned on the table, eyes scanning the room, looking everywhere except at me. “I love everything about Benita. I get that she’s passionate about music, just like she gets that my passion is chemistry. So we’re relieved that we’ll be far apart. We can focus on school and not be tempted to see each other every day.”

“Relieved?”

“You’re not really asking about us, Mark.” He looked at me, eyes narrowed, smile gone. “You and Susanna can’t live with our solution, not when your passion
is
your girlfriend.”

I frowned. Was Jesse right?

Well, of course, he was. What other answer could there be? I enjoyed the thrill of mountain biking, the sweat, the exercise of power, the feeling that it pitted me against nature. But compared to Susanna? Not even close. In a choice between Susanna and biking, she would win. Every time.

“Do you think—” I never finished the question, because a hand touched my shoulder.

“Hi,” Gabrielle said, sliding onto the seat beside me. “What’re you talking about?”

This conversational thread was officially over. “Nothing really.”

“What did you think about the quiz in psychology?”

“Not bad,” I mumbled, uninterested in discussing psych. Gabrielle didn’t need any encouragement, though. We were doing a unit on developmental psychology, and she was happy to carry the topic by herself.

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