No one seemed to hear Anne enter, so Anne dressed for bed. She felt exhausted, as if she should fall asleep within one minute of closing her eyes; however, Anne tossed and turned with no avail to sleep. Anne could not help but feel jittery and excited inside. She had overcome a hindrance that had put her life on hold and now she was finally free!
Restless, Anne decided to descend the stairs and maybe read a book to calm her scattered mind.
Anne, however, nearly ran right into a sobbing Abigail once she was on the first floor of her home.
"Oh, Annie-Kins! I must be the worst Aunt in the land for you to want to run away from me!" Abigail wailed. "Anne, if only you knew how much you really mean to me. I always wanted a little girl of my own, and you were -- and still are -- all I could ever ask for and more! Are you alright, dear? Oh, Annie-Kins!" Abigail burst into sobbing and hysterical wheezing. Anne felt like she had betrayed her best friend. And, in a way, she had.
Abigail reached out to Anne, pulling her close. Anne tried to brush away a (not so) invisible tear from her own face as her Aunt buried her tear-dripping face into her guilty niece's shoulder. "I am sorry we don't have enough money to buy you some shoes! And -- and I'm sorry I did not cook your favorite meals more often. And I should have let you have my shoes even though my feet are much bigger than yours are!" Abigail cried on.
"I am so, so sorry, Abigail." Anne whispered so silently that she herself could not even hear her barely audible words. But, somehow, Abigail did. She froze, became tense. Wasn't sure if her mind was playing a trick on her.
"You are the best aunt a niece could have. I regret running away. I hope you can forgive me," whispered Anne apologetically.
Abigail struggled to grasp the situation. "How? Why? Annie-Kins -- you just spoke to me!"
Smiling shyly, Anne nodded. Mysteriously and wisely, Anne added, "It is fine to be silent from time to time, but we all must speak to show the world the meadows we hold inside ourselves."
Anne looked away. "It is my biggest regret that I ran away from you, of all people, who has shown me love at a time when I needed it most. I will never forget your kindness and good nature, your willing to face challenges with new ideas as long as I live. I just want you to know that you have been the mother I never had."
Despite the shock at the sudden turn of events, Abigail smiled and took joy and pride from the beautiful words Anne spoke.
"You -- you really mean that Anne? Really and most truly?" More tears came to Abigail's eyes, but they were tears of happiness. "I still cannot wrap my mind around the fact that you are speaking to me, the fact that we are having a real conversation with words!"
Anne smiled, nodding her head in strong agreement. The two headed over to sit on the sofa for a chat, as neither of them seemed in the mood to go back to bed, despite the untimely hour.
"Oh, Annie-Kins, I have never been more proud of you! You have finally pushed through that brick wall of silence. How did you do it, dear? How?"
Anne stopped to consider. She was about to tell Aunt Abigail about Elizabeth, but then she remembered that Elizabeth wanted this to be a secret.
"It's a secret." Anne confessed. "I wish I could tell you. I guess being in that woods sort of showed me that I needed to break out of my comfort zone and get into the world."
Abigail sighed. "I guess you just needed to figure some things out. I am so happy for you, dear. I just wish that I would have been more of a help for you. Your father will be ecstatic when you finally speak to him tomorrow!"
Anne stopped smiling. "I do not think I will be speaking to him. I'm sorry, Abigail. I really do not feel like talking about this any more."
Abigail wanted to ask why, wanted to protest. She had so many questions about Anne's silence. Why did she stop speaking in the first place? How did she keep quiet for fourteen whole years? And, especially, what made her come out of that silence? But, Abigail could see that Anne was finished talking for the moment, and she just did not want to push it.
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Anne would eventually speak to her father again, but it was difficult for her. Their conversations were strained, and often filled with silence on both ends. Anne wanted to scream at him, wanted to tell him how much of a struggle she had been through, and how he was never there for her.
Melatiah wanted to apologize to her, but wasn't sure how. He wanted to tell her all about Aphrodisia, her mother (as he had once promised Aphrodisia many years ago), but just couldn't bring himself to do so. Anne looked so much like Aphrodisia -- so much like her -- it wasn't even funny.
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~1781~
Melatiah began suffering from high fevers and muscle aches. He took many trips to the privy to vomit, especially during the night. Abigail was extremely concerned. She sent for an apothecary, who thought the best thing to do was to let blood.
"Blood-letting is the best way to cleanse our bodies of sickness." He had said. Anne, who was always rather queasy when she saw blood, was even a tad worried, despite the anger felt towards her father. She had a gritting, unsettling feeling.
The blood-letting proved unsuccessful, as Melatiah felt even worse. He felt dizzy and often fainted. One night was particularly awful. Abigail and Anne each held one of Melatiah's hands as he lay in bed, moaning. He slipped into unconsciousness and never woke up again.
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Anne did not know it was all going to be so hard. She did love her father, yes. She loved him very much, even if she did not like him sometimes. Anne was going to turn eighteen soon. She knew her father was hoping to see her age up to adulthood. She had hoped he would make it to see that, too. Anne sometimes forgot that he had been getting old. In fact, he had lived to be fifty-three years old, which was quite old.
Anne wished she would have talked to him more. She just wished that she would have gotten to know him a little better.
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Anne DeCuir
*The Antique Legacy*
"Where is Anne? Dinner has come and gone. She should have been back hours ago!" Abigail placed her hand over her heart, feeling faint. The thought of losing Anne, her poor, sweet, little Annie-Kins made her feel dizzy. The world spun, and Abigail sat on the sofa, trying to catch her breath. No doubt she was getting too old for these surprises. Abigail had led a tough life, and the thought of losing the only thing that really grew close to her in her life made her feel like she was dying inside.
Swallowing hard, she began to sing, as she did when Anne had nightmares.
"Sweet little Anne,
Quiet as can be,
Quiet as the morning after a stormy sea
Sweet little Anne
I won't ever leave you
Close your eyes and know it's true
Sweet little Anne,
Everything is better now
It will be true forever now
Sweet little Anne,
Quiet as can be
Sweet little Anne, come back to me!"
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Anne took a few cautious steps toward the woman, of whom she was sure was her great-grandmother. But how was that possible? Anne wondered if her mind was playing tricks on her. Yet, nonetheless, Anne soon arrived right in front of the odd woman.
The woman turned toward Anne. Anne could not believe her eyes. Was it really Elizabeth? Back from the dead? It could not be...
Anne, despite usually withdrawing from people besides Abigail, smiled. An act of recognition, hope, delight. Admiration. She knew it must be Elizabeth. She had seen the portrait in the house! And this woman standing in front of her -- she had the same features. The same hat! It HAD to be her...
Anne tried to sign something to the woman. Tried to communicate.
"I am so sorry, Anne. I do not understand those signs. I wish you could speak to me. I wish I could hear your beautiful voice again." The woman was apologetic.
Distrust flashed in Anne's eyes. Fear. Bewilderment. Surprise. Even a hint of shock. Disappointment.
Who are you, really? Anne's eyes seemed to ask.
"I am your guardian angel. Keep it a secret though. You wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Just call me Elizabeth. You are my great-granddaughter." Elizabeth whispered.
Anne shook her head sadly. She wanted to cry.
Elizabeth looked at her regretfully. "You do not think I have been the best guardian angel, do you?"
Anne looked away. Elizabeth saw a flash of anger in the girl's eyes.
"Do you know what Abigail is thinking?" Elizabeth asked.
The anger in Anne was replaced with sadness, as well as a longing for her Aunt. Slowly, she shook her head.
"She misses you very much. She is crying right now. Singing and crying."
Anne felt a sinking feeling inside. I cannot go back.
"Yes, you can. Each day, you make a decision, Anne. Today, you made the decision to stay silent. You made the decision to run away. You made the decision to give up on your father. And you are trying to convince yourself that you cannot go back because you do not think they will understand."
Anne felt a rise of indignation, embarrassment.
"Things seem different when you put them into words and then speak them, do they not? But hasn't everything I said been true?"
Anne glared at her great-grandmother.
Elizabeth laughed. "I take that as a yes."
Anne shook her head.
"Oh, yes. I almost forgot. The issue with your father... You think he pulled away from you, not the other way around?"
Anne nodded.
"It always seems like the parent should be invincible, strong, powerful. But Melatiah is broken inside. He really just misses your mother a lot. He does not know how to parent you. I am not making excuses for him. He should have put you in front of his problems. But he did not, and because of that, you must rise above his mistakes. Sometimes it is the child that must be stronger than the parent. If you care about your relationship with him, you must reach out to him. You must help him cope. He has a past life. A life you know nothing about. A life full of your mother.
"And, just to let you know, your mother loves you and thinks about you each and every day."
Anne looked down. She tried hard not to cry. Mother!
"Anne, I'd like to show you something." Elizabeth said gently. "Look around you."
Anne took a cautious glance at the world surrounding her.
The world seemed to give way to a meadow of a iridescent flowers. Anne, in awe of its beauty, was sad because the meadow was deep into the woods, and no one would likely see it. This beauty would never be appreciated as it should be!
Anne took a few moments to enjoy the flowers and song of the birds. Even selecting a few of her favorite flowers, Anne felt herself truly relax.
"This will always be your special place, Anne. This will always be a piece of you. Of me. Of the Beaumont line. Our generations. Our descendants. They will always have a second home here." Elizabeth stated as she gazed at the trees.
"Isn't it a shame that it is obscured from view by all of the other trees? Few people venture out this deep into the woods. Even fewer stop to appreciate the view. Very few will really see its beauty."
"You know what else, Anne? I think this meadow is just like you."
Anne froze, hanging on each word. Goosebumps prickled her skin.
"I believe each person has a destiny. Talents. A way to change the world. This meadow cannot change the world very much if no one can see it or know that it's there."
Anne, anxious, waited for Elizabeth to continue.
"You are obscured by your refusal to speak out."
"Although, unlike this meadow, you have the power to destroy what obscures you."
Anne's face crumpled slightly, as she shook her head. I cannot, her eyes said. Please do not make me!
"I cannot make you do anything, Anne. But you have a choice. You write, and that is wonderful. But speaking out will be the only way to show people your meadow. I'm not talking about this meadow we are standing in. I'm talking about the meadow inside you.
"Simple words will bring you so many privileges. It will bring you your father back. It will give you a better understanding of others. And of you to others. I know you can change life as you know it. And I know you are unhappy now. Words, for you, will be the key to unlock the door to happiness. With your words, you will get through anything. And, maybe, a little luck from your dear guardian angel, as well as the spirit above." Elizabeth chuckled.
Realizing that Elizabeth might be right, Anne tried to break the invisible barrier between silence and sound. She could not. The three-year-old that made the vow to never speak would not let her.
"You owe that three-year-old nothing. Remember that we make our choices every day. This day is not different. You are smarter than that child. Outsmart her. Speak."
Anne opened her mouth. Took a deep breath. The birds stopped chirping. The wind stopped blowing. Everything stopped. "Will." A sound of a twinkling star. A mousy, shy voice. A squeak, really. But it was confident at the same time. Small, but mighty. Beautiful.
"I will." Anne swallowed. "I will show the world my meadow."
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It was getting dark, and Elizabeth said it was time to go. "I will always be there for you, Anne. Even on the darkest of days, and in the saddest of times. I love you so much."
"Thank you, Elizabeth. For... for everything."
"Oh, my darling! There is one last thing I would like to do for you." Anne waited patiently while Elizabeth undid the braid in Anne's hair.
"My own daughter, Emilie, taught me that sometimes your hair really does make a difference, at least as a teenager," Elizabeth said (somewhat sadly, in Anne's opinion). "It's part of who you are, and do not let anyone else steal that from you."
Elizabeth fastened a green bow to the back of Anne's hair. "Sometimes, you just need to be free."
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It was well after midnight when Anne found herself on the front porch of her home. Anne supposed it was meant to be. She realized that she did miss Abigail during her journey, and maybe -- MAYBE -- she missed Father a little.
Anne had so many answers, but even more questions.
Anne remembered the decisions that she could make each day. She placed her hand quietly on the doorknob and decided to remember this day forever. She opened the door.
"Aunt Abigail? Father? I am home."
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Anne DeCuir
*The Antique Legacy*
~Summer, 1780~
Dear Diary,
Aunt Abigail spends all day out in that garden. Or, rather, when she's not in the garden, she cooks, with the produce that she grew with her bare hands, with her hope, with her sweat. And without that food, I am not sure what we would do. It seems to me that it is the only thing that has held us together. Father is still distant. He has given up on trying to get me to speak. Father still sees through me, like I am a lonely ghost with no sense of purpose. Sometimes I wonder if that is true. It is no doubt difficult to find yourself when your own father has given up on you.
Well, I do love Aunt Abigail. She has been the mother I never had. She has been so patient with me -- so understanding of me! But, besides that, I love to write. I feel like it is my only communication to the outside world, my only way to show my true thoughts and opinions without speaking. It is my only way out. Sometimes I wish that I could run away from this house and never come back. I could run, run, run, past this town, past America, far into--
Father and Aunt Abigail are worried about the American Revolution. It was Aunt Abigail's scream we heard at the dead of night on April 19, 1775. She claimed she heard a very loud gunshot. Later, we realized this was noted the 'shot heard around the world'. Well, Aunt Abigail always seemed to have a sixth sense. Not I nor Father had heard a thing until Aunt Abigail's scream. I think America is divided in half: the half that is excited about the revolution, and the half that is worried about it. I will say that my family is most likely the latter...
To this day, I still have no shoes. My feet are callused and tough, and I have seen many splinters in my day. Most seventeen-year-old girls have at least one pair of shoes... Oh, Aunt Abigail wants something. I will leave you now!
Until next time,
Anne DeCuir
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"Anne, my dear?" Aunt Abigail asked. Anne smiled in reply. Yes, my sweet Aunt? Her eyes seemed to say. Anne got up from the sofa. It was probably another chore she needed to do.
"Anne, I am cleaning some dishes and preparing for dinner. Supper will be later tonight. Would you like to pick some berries in the woods for some cobbler after supper?" Abigail smiled.
Anne nodded, looking away. Escape was within her grasp!
"Hurry along now, before some birds eat up those berries. You know what the newest saying is, 'the early bird catches the worm' I think."
Anne wrinkled her eyebrows and glared at her Aunt, as if to say, I am not a bird, thank you very much! But Abigail did not seem to notice; she had already started tidying up the home.
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Anne did not walk. She ran. She passed the berry bush; did not even glance its way. Her feet kept going, she almost could not control them. Those feet were raging wildfires, never stopping or slowing down.
Anne was convinced she was running in circles, passing by the same hills, trees, and landmarks again and again. No matter how hard she tried to break that familiar loop, she always recognized the same nature she had seen earlier. She ran up hills, and down them. Curved around bends, and out the other ways.
Anne was a fire person. But even that hungry, raging inferno inside her, that growing ball of anger, began to die out when Anne saw something she had never seen before. She slowed, and stopped.
This was something new. Anne knew these woods well, but she had never seen this part of it before. Anne grimaced as she recalled yet another of Aunt Abigail's corny 'new' sayings: "Curiosity got the cat!" Anne wanted to explode.
Turns out curiosity got Anne, too, as she slowly stepped forward to investigate the new territory. A flash of worry struck her. What if other peoples are around? I could be injured, or worse! But Anne felt somehow drawn to the odd new area. All fear seemed to vanish after a few steps.
As Anne reached the area, her stomach grumbled. She did not even want to think about what time it was. Anne was concerned about how to find food. Aunt Abigail must be worried sick! Anne considered trying to find her way home, but was it worth it?
For one, Anne reasoned, she was lost. She did not remember ever seeing this part of the woods in her life. It would take hours -- maybe even days -- to find her way back home.
Secondly, Anne thought, is this not what she had wanted in the first place? To escape from the home she had been confined to? To escape the fear she had lived in for almost her whole life? Out here in the wilderness, Anne would be free! She was a baby bird that finally flew from the nest! Bitterly, Anne realized Abigail could probably find a saying that included the words "baby bird" and "nest". Anne shuddered and tried to forget about it.
Thirdly, Anne would not miss anyone. Well, she would miss Aunt Abigail. Father probably would not even care if she were gone, right? But Anne would not miss any friends. Most of the other girls stayed away from her, whispering and pointing, calling her mean names and laughing at her because she was silent. Others mistook her for being rude by not talking and always sent her glares when they met eyes.
No. She did not want to return to that house. To Father's weary face. To Abigail's worried face. To have them ask useless questions that they knew she would never answer.
Snap!
Startled out of her reverie, Anne looked up, heart pounding. And nearly leaped out of her skin.
On the top of a small hill, stood a young woman, donned in a milk-white dress, looking off into the distance, probably deep into thought.
Anne realized with a start who it was. Or at least, she thought she knew. How could it be possible? Was it really her? Great-Grandmother? Elizabeth Laurier-Beaumont?
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Anne DeCuir
*The Antique Legacy*
