Melatiah DeCuir, Chp. 8, Gen. 3, 1760

May, 1760
Dear Journal:

     According to a newspaper, Boston was recently set ablaze; apparently much of the city was damaged greatly and Aphrodisia and I hope and pray for every soul who was lost in that fire.  We often find ourselves worrying about our welfare here, in Charles Town.  We pray that we be kept safe from any disaster. 
     The French and Indian War, we hope, will end soon.  It has been going on for a few years now, and Aphrodisia is very nervous and unruly at the moment.  I suspect that she is worried about the war.   I, too, wish the war would end so I can see my wife's carefree, beautiful face again.

     Aphrodisia has had her heart set on bringing a child into the world; however, I worry that it is unhealthy for her to be so determined when we are not even sure if it is possible for vampires to give birth.  I am afraid to tell her this -- that maybe it is impossible for her to bear a child -- but I don't think I can bring myself to.  She is very unhappy, and I suspect she feels guilty that she cannot conceive.  I wish she wouldn't worry so.
     Even if we cannot have a child, I will not be distraught.  I just want what's best for Aphrodisia.  I just want her to smile again.  I am very worried about her. 

     Au Revoir,
          Melatiah


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     Aphrodisia could not stand it.  She had been so happy.  She'd had everything.  And now, all the happiness had left her, and she felt like she just didn't have enough of anything.  She wanted a cherry on top of her slice of life.  A child.  
     Was it that she just didn't deserve it?  Was it bad karma coming back to haunt her?  Could it be the fact that a bloodthirsty murderer didn't deserve such an innocent human being?  She considered each of the possibilities. 
     It was shameful, being unable to provide Melatiah with a son.  Or a daughter.  It was considered a wifely duty to give her husband a large family.  Feeling worthless, helpless, and hopeless, Aphrodisia sighed, trying to hold back tears.  She knew, deep down inside, that her vampirism was the reason she was not with child.  If only there were a cure! 


     Melatiah probably regrets marrying me, she mused.  He probably wants to divorce me.  I guess I wouldn't blame him.  If I were him, I would want a woman who could bear me a child.  Me, I'm like a dead tree.  I have nothing to give my husband.  I have no worth to him at all.

     Looking at the red bottle she gripped tightly in her hand, Aphrodisia stifled a sob.  She had purchased the bottle just yesterday at the town's apothecary's shop.  He had given her the deadliest poison he had, at her request.
     "My dear Melatiah deserves someone much better than I.  He deserves a child.  A child I... I cannot give him."  Aphrodisia bit her lip.  

     Giving the world one last glimpse, she brought the ruby bottle to her lips and drank every last drop of the burning liquid...

     "Huh?" Aphrodisia drew in a breath of air.  "What happened?"  She looked at the bottle in her hand.  "How come I'm still alive?"  She felt fantastic.  She felt the most alive she had ever been in her life.  She felt vibrant and radiant.  She looked at her hand.  For the first time in many years, Aphrodisia saw peachy pink fingers.  No more pasty, bluish skin.  It was as if she were a butterfly emerged from a cocoon.  She rushed to a mirror.

     "My goodness," Aphrodisia gasped.  Touching her cheek, she giggled in girlish wonder.  "I'm human again!" She admired her pink face, reddened cheeks, and salmon lips.  She stared in the mirror and saw natural eyes.  "Normal eyes!"  
     Aphrodisia laughed and smiled, feeling like jumping and running.  Her fangs were gone and so was the strange mark on her neck.  Finally, she felt a hunger for real food!  The longing for blood had disappeared completely.

     She dashed out into the sun and danced with joy.  No longer did she feel the energy seeping away from her because she was in direct sunlight!
     It dawned on Aphrodisia that she would now be able to have a child.  She stood taller and pulled her shoulders back and felt the warmth of the sun on her face.  "Thank you," she whispered, so quietly that the words were inaudible even to her.

     At hearing Melatiah behind her, Aphrodisia readied herself to speak to him.

     Melatiah stared at his wife, mouth agape.  "Aphrodisia, your skin-"
     "I'm human again."  Aphrodisia said shyly.
     "This is wonderful, dear!  But how?  Why?"
     Aphrodisia could barely look at her husband.  "Well, I cannot believe what I was about to do..."  She saddened at the memory.  "I almost killed myself.  I nearly took my life.  Just a few minutes ago.  But, I guess the poison was actually a cure for vampirism.  I did not believe there was even a cure!"
     "What?  You tried to -- to -- kill yourself?"  The look in Melatiah's eyes was heartbreaking to Aphrodisia. "Why would you do that?"  He grew angry.  "Why would you try to take your life?  What about the life we have made together for ourselves?  Was it not good enough?  Did I do something wrong?"
     "No, no!  It wasn't about you.  Well, actually, it was.  But I did not think I was good enough for you."
     "Aphrodisia, I love you.  I married you because I love you more than anything.  I chose to spend my life with you."
     "You don't understand, Melatiah.  It's a wife's duty to give her husband a family.  And I couldn't do that for you.  I thought you deserved better.  I didn't want to waste your time..."
     

    Melatiah stroked her cheek.  "If you cannot bear a child, I will still be happy because I have you.  Can't you see that?  I love you so much -- that's all I care about right now.  You are my beautiful wife and I married you because I love you with all of my heart -- not because you would have a child.  And it would be our child, not mine!  You would be providing us with a child, not me!"
      Aphrodisia smiled.  "Oh, Melatiah!  I'm so sorry I didn't tell you about how I felt.  I should have talked to you about all of this long before I bought that bottle.  I hope you can forgive me."
     "Of course I can forgive you.  I love you!"


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     It all seemed so perfect.  Aphrodisia's life had turned around in mere seconds.  But as she was "physically" twenty years old (she had become a vampire when she was twenty), a few months after she was cured of vampirism, Aphrodisia woke up to a shocking surprise one day.

     Wrinkles around her mouth had appeared, and Aphrodisia nearly screamed.  
     "How could this happen? I'm but 'twenty' years old!"
     To look like she was ten years older or even double her age was unsettling to her.  What happened to looking vibrant and radiant?  She didn't necessarily feel very great either.  

     There was something going on, and Aphrodisia was fearful of what it was...



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*The Antique Legacy*

Melatiah DeCuir

Melatiah DeCuir, Chp. 7, Gen. 3, 1756

      Aphrodisia and Melatiah fell into a swoon of love.  Minutes melted into hours, which flew into days, and, ultimately, years.  Slowly, Aphrodisia earned back Melatiah's trust.  She had deserved it.  Melatiah loved her, and decided that she should be forgiven.  He knew he wouldn't regret it.  He was sure he wouldn't be able to wait any longer to become Aphrodisia's husband.

     Kneeling down on one knee, he gazed into the glowing eyes of his beautiful wife.

     "My word, Melatiah!  What are you doing?" But Aphrodisia already knew the answer.  She giggled with joy and jumped happily at the thought of being the wife of Melatiah.  Over the last five years, she had watched him buy slaves stitched together with the strings of sadness, and set them free -- for the hope that they escape to a happy life.  She watched him put his heart into each slave -- to give them something, anything to hold onto in their hard lives.  Something to keep them stable.  And he listened to the story of each slave, providing them with a warm cooked meal he had made with Aphrodisia to shovel into their hungry bellies.  After the stories and large meal, the slaves were set free.

     As she excepted the ring, Aphrodisia realized that the killing of Emilie had made him stronger.  He craved the good and resented the evil.  Aphrodisia lived with the comfort that she did not do everything wrong in her life.  Melatiah and his family had brought her the most happiness she could ever expect in her abandoned, stone-cold life.  She was just humbled and overjoyed to become a part of the Laurier-Beaumont-DeCuir family.  She started crying.

     "Are you alright, my sweet?" Melatiah was concerned.
     Aphrodisia nodded.  "I'm just so happy to be your wife.  You don't understand how happy."

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EARLY SPRING, 1757
DETROIT (Beaumont House)

     The old Felicity Beaumont sat on the edge of an ancient bed.  Felicity had led an ancient life, as it was shown in the gray that streaked her hair and the wrinkles of joy around her mouth and in the memories in her sparkling eyes.  She had seen the ups and downs of her own life, but fought through them and preferred to look at the joys as more valuable then the hardships.  She had known both life and death, and was now spending the last of her days in her mother and father's room on their bedside.

     Felicity pulled out a diary of her own and looked back on her earliest days.
     "Ah... Dear old Emilie had gone through her rebellious phase.  She wouldn't listen to anyone but that Bernard.  How she did love him.  I never did see the big deal between braids and a bun, but, to Emilie, it seemed to make all the difference."  Felicity sighed.  She flipped forward.
     "When Mother died, we were all heartbroken.  No one knew she was dying until she was already deceased.  We couldn't bear it without her.  She had carried so much love for us.  We just weren't used to having it all gone."  Felicity turned to another page.
     "Oh, this was when the DeCuir family decided to move to Charles Town.  Emilie wanted Hettie and me to inherit the house.  I'm so glad we did.  This house has been a garden of memories -- the good and the bad.  How I do wonder whatever happened to those DeCuirs.  Emilie promised to write... but she never did."

     Felicity was deep in thought when she heard a soft knocking on the door.   "Come in, dear."

 
     "Aunt Felicity, would you like me to bring up your morning tea?"  
     "Oh, yes.  That would be splendid.  Thank you, Abigail."  Felicity turned back to her diary.  Abigail turned to leave.  "Oh, wait!  Abigail, would you do me a favor and spend some time in the graveyard today with your sister?  I think it would be nice for you two to get out and have some fresh air.  Hettie would be so proud of you darling girls.  She would have loved to see her pretty daughters grow up into strong women like I have seen."
     Abigail nodded.  "Of course, Aunt Felicity.  We'll go out shortly.  Is there anything else?"
     Felicity gazed at her niece.  "Have I ever told you how much you look like my mother?  Your grandmother?"
     

     "Uh, no, you haven't, Aunt Felicity." Abigail lied.  Though Felicity was no doubt sharp-witted and wise, her memory was not as strong as it had once been.
     "Well, don't let me hold you up from your daily duties.  Go along now," Felicity said fondly.  Abigail turned away quietly.  She walked to the kitchen, calling for Claudette.

     "Claudette?  Claudette?  Aunt Felicity would like us to visit the graveyard today.  Hello, Claudette?"  Abigail heard no answer.  Frowning, she spotted a dirty dish on the table.  "Claud-ette!  Why do I always have to be the one cleaning up around here?  If you use a dish -- goodness -- clean it up!"

     "Well you certainly do not need to yell.  Heaven forbid disturb Aunt Felicity..." Claudette came into view. 
     Abigail glared at her younger sister.  "Stop, Claudette.  She wants us to go to the graveyard and sit awhile.  And I've got to give her fresh morning tea."
     Claudette yawned.  "Goodness, that woman lives on tea.  Is that the only thing she consumes?"
     Gasping, Abigail shook her head.  "If you had any respect for our Aunt-"
     "Come on, Abigail.  Let's just get this graveyard thing over with.  It's just like another chore Aunt Felicity orders us to do."
     "No, it's not.  She cares about us very much.  More than you care for her."  Bickering and arguing, the sisters strolled out to the yard.

     Once they had sat on the bench, the argument vanished, like ice on a hot day.  They listened to the buzzing of fat bumblebees, saw the mystic butterflies swirling in the crisp morning air, and felt the sun peek out of the clouds and warm their shoulders.  Their fight had vanished -- replaced with nature.  Abigail supposed that it was probably nature's job.
     It was Claudette who interrupted the nature.  "Why do you suppose there are so many flowers over Grandmother's grave?"

     It was true.  To Abigail, it was strange, especially since there were no other bundles of flowers on the other graves.  And it looked like it would be very difficult to plant them all over one grave.
     "I... I do not know... That is odd."
     "Yes.  Extremely.  Our family always says that you look a lot like her."

     "Who cares if I look a lot like her?  I wish everyone would stop saying that all the time!  I don't care what she looked like, and I certainly do not care if I look like her.  I'm NOT her!  In fact, I wish I didn't look like her so I wouldn't have to hear everyone telling ME about her!  I could never live up to the person everyone says she was.  I can't wait to leave this house and stop hearing everyone tell all those stories about who she was because I am so different from her.  Does anyone hear me when I say I'm NOT her?  Anyone?  Do you hear me, Claudette?"


     Claudette looked surprised.  "I didn't know you felt that way."
     "You, Claudette, you just coast along on everything and you always think everything has something wrong with it.  You never actually think about things.  You just sit here and complain and complain and complain.  Don't you ever wonder?  Don't you ever wonder if we have cousins living in Charles Town like Aunt Felicity says there might be?  Don't you ever wonder if we'll ever get to leave this old house? Do you?"

     "Well, Claudette, I do.  I think about these things because I have nothing else to think about.  I sit here and do chores for Aunt Felicity and I do her cleaning and cooking and I listen to her like a slave.  What else am I supposed to do?  Yell at our Aunt?  Scream?  Leave her alone without anyone to care for her?  You certainly wouldn't do anything like cleaning or cooking.  You'd complain.
     "Maybe I'm being selfish, difficult, or unreasonable.  But I just know that all my life I've been told about someone better and bigger and smarter.  And to be told I look just like her is an insult to me, because I can't compare to her.  I'm sorry I yelled at you.  I just know that when Aunt Felicity passes away I will move far away.  And I won't have to worry about Grandmother again because no one will know me and no one will have known her."

     The sisters were silent for some time.  They did not look at each other or acknowledge the other's presence.  The sisters just rested on an old bench that had always been in that spot.  For a while, at least.

     After quite a while, when morning had run into noon, Abigail left the bench.  Mumbling to Claudette, she said, "I forgot to give Aunt Felicity her morning tea."


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*The Antique Legacy*

Melatiah DeCuir

Melatiah DeCuir, Chp. 6, Gen. 3, 1751

     She liked fresh berries off of a flourishing bush.  She liked sitting on the beach in the moonlight.  She was an only child.  She was born in Charleston.  She smelled like delicate lilac. Her skin glowed, a radiant pale shine.  Her curls of ribbon-like hair bounced gently as she laughed.  She seemed perfect.  Maybe too perfect.
     But she still held back secrets.  Melatiah could feel it.  He could tell she was holding something back, was uncomfortable, or maybe didn't trust him quite enough.  When he would ask how old she was, she'd ask how old he was.  When he'd ask why she had followed his family around, she'd change the subject.  And now Melatiah was skeptical of Aphrodisia.

     Of course, Aphrodisia was one of the best things that had happened to him, Melatiah would think.  She's simply wonderful!   But even as he knew that, he found his lover quite odd.

     Her eyes had a bright glow -- but only if one looked directly into them.  Her skin would almost smoke in the midday sun.  Her teeth were so sharp.  Melatiah was almost afraid to kiss her.  But how he did love her!

     "What's wrong, my love?" Aphrodisia batted her eyes at Melatiah.  "Is there something troubling you?"  
     Melatiah glared.  Suddenly, he felt about to explode with anger.  "Why do you hide things from me?  I'm so tired of you keeping secrets to yourself and leaving me in the dark!  I have told you again and again that I will love you no matter what.  You haven't told me everything.  You have to tell me now.  How can you expect me to trust you if you don't tell me?"

     Aphrodisia's face drooped.  Her eyes held a sadness that Melatiah could not comprehend.
     "Alright," Aphrodisia whispered.  "I'll tell you."
     Melatiah felt worried.  He was not sure of why.
     "I... Well, I was the cause of your mother's death.  I killed her."

     Melatiah felt his heart go numb.  His face was a piece of plaster.  His eyes were chipped and watery. I killed her.  I killed her.  I killed her.  I killed her.  I was the cause of her death.  I killed her I killed her I killed herIkilledherikilledherikilledheriwasthecauseofherdeath.  Death Death Death Death Death.... Two bleeding circles on her arm... unknown cause of death... dog bite... reaching out to you, fear surrounding you... Aphrodisia... 

     "You killed my mother." He said simply.  Calmly, stoically.  Quietly.  He laughed, then stopped abruptly.  "You killed her.  You killed her!  YOU KILLED MY MOTHER!"

     "You killed her, Aphrodisia.  You killed her," Melatiah squeaked.  He reached toward the sky.  Aphrodisia tried to take his hands in hers, but Melatiah jerked them away from her grasp.  
     "You're a vampire, aren't you?  One of those blood-craving savages that steal life away from others, aren't you?  One who kills for your own worthless benefit?  One of those disgusting, sly-"
     "Melatiah, you don't understand! Let me explain-"
     "-sneaky, fruitless, barbaric animals that kill innocents!  How dare you harm Emilie?  What did she ever do to you?  I had never doubted you before, and now I wish I had.  For once I began to doubt you, I noticed what you really were.  You are evil with a beautiful face.  That's the worthless scum you are."

     Aphrodisia had not expected this type of reaction.  She had thought that Melatiah might crumble into her arms and sob.  But now, at hearing all of his angry insults, Aphrodisia was the one who wanted to crumble into his arms.  Only she knew that he would drop her to the sand, cold and hard.
     
     Her eyes filled with sad tears; tears she had not expected to shed.  "Yes, Melatiah.  Maybe I am what you said.  Maybe in your eyes I really am a blood-craving savage, a stealer of life, a killer for my own benefit.  I just might be a sly, barbaric animal that kills innocents.  Maybe I am-" Aphrodisia's voice caught "- worthless scum.  But you didn't let me explain.  You didn't let me tell you my whole story.  You just jumped to whatever conclusion popped into your head.  And you certainly do not understand me, my life, and my hardships.  
     "I'm disappointed in you, Melatiah DeCuir.  This is not the Melatiah I saw buy those slaves a while back.  You aren't the Melatiah I saw set Nancy and Exeter free.  You are someone else.  If you can accept the differences and hardships of slaves, can you not accept my own differences and hardships?  If you can accept what makes others who they are, why can't you accept what makes me what I am? And now my little soliloquy sounds so silly because I have only explained part of my story.  A word of advice: if you want to know someone's story, listen for the WHOLE THING!"  Aphrodisia shot a look of ice at Melatiah, and turned around, walking away.

    Melatiah did not understand.  He sadly gazed off at Aphrodisia's disappearing figure.  She did not look back.  
    Once again, Melatiah wondered what he could have done differently.  "Wait!" He called out, but she was already too far away to hear.  Red hot fury pulsed through Melatiah's veins.  Aphrodisia had killed his mother -- but why?  What had made her do it?  Melatiah sobbed in the humid air.  Betrayal clouded his vision.  Aphrodisia had betrayed him.


******************************************************************************

     She had lost track of time.  All she knew was that she had been walking all night, sometimes weeping, sometimes remembering back to the days when she and Melatiah had been happy together.  Aphrodisia knew that killing Emilie was bad, but she felt that she had learned so much since Emilie's death.  In her heart of hearts, Aphrodisia knew she was not a blood-craving savage.  But Melatiah's words had cut deep.

     If Emilie DeCuir were here, what would she do?  If Elizabeth Laurier-Beaumont were here, what would she do?


     Aphrodisia knew that she had to right these wrongs.  


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ONE MONTH LATER:

     Aphrodisia cautiously crept up to Melatiah, who was sitting on the old wooden bench.  She was unsure of what to expect from Melatiah, because she had left him with a month to settle with the idea that she had killed his mother.  Aphrodisia wanted today to be the day that Melatiah found out her whole story.  If he listened, that was.

     "What are you doing here?" Melatiah asked.  "What do you want from me? Blood?"
     Aphrodisia ignored him.  "I'd like to tell you my whole story, if you'll listen to me."
     Melatiah snorted.  "Amuse me.  I'll tell you if I think it's laughable or not."
    

     "I was born in Charles Town, in 1648.  I was born human.  I lived a sad childhood, as my parents did not want me.  They left me in out in the streets when I was six because they did not want the burden of taking care of a child they did... did not want to have.  I ate the leftover scraps of the wealthy and was beaten by them because they did not want a filthy child eating their unwanted food.  


     "So I lived in the streets, with other kids who were orphaned until I turned twenty.  At that age, I decided to leave Charles Town.   The night before I was set to leave, I slept in the graveyard because I not many people visited at the time, and I wanted to protect the few valuables I had stocked up on during my homeless life.  But, that night, I awoke with a start to find a strange looking man staring down at me.  He had startling glowing eyes and terrible fangs.  He offered to turn me into a vampire.  He said it would make my life better, less sad.  He told me he knew that I had a tough life on the streets.  I didn't know he was wrong.  I agreed, and he turned me into a vampire."

     Melatiah's anguish had morphed into concern.  "I... I didn't know you had suffered so much in your childhood.  I'm very sorry..." 
     Aphrodisia nodded.  "I'm not done, though.  Life as a vampire was hard.  The man left me all alone.  Once again, I was abandoned.  I had an intense longing for blood.  I was starving, and I needed blood or else I would die.  I visited the home that belonged to my parents.  I-" Aphrodisia let out a soft whimper "- drank every drop of blood they had.  Once I realized what I had done, I felt terrible.  I tried to wake them up, but they were dead.  I finally understood that I had made a mistake in agreeing to the man's offer.  But there was nothing I could do.  Once you're a vampire, you can never go back."

     "I fled to France, leaving innocents drained of blood behind.  I began to ask myself if I really deserved to live since I was killing so many people.  I tried to drink from animals, but it wasn't the same.  I had a difficult time learning to control my desire for human blood.  
     
     "In France, I met a young girl who changed my life forever.  I called her Lizzie.  She was a sparkling child with a beautiful imagination.  I became her 'imaginary' friend.  I couldn't let her parents see me -- I knew they would be suspicious.  Lizzie and I would play in her backyard all the time.  Sometimes we would visit a small stream in the woods.  One day, after it had rained, Lizzie begged me to take her to that stream.  I wanted to refuse because it was slippery.  I didn't want Lizzie to fall and get hurt, but making her happy was the least I could do.  Her younger sister had recently died from an illness.  Making Lizzie happy made me feel better and forget about my own problems."


     "We did visit the stream, and Lizzie wanted to cross it.  I told her not to, but she did anyway.  She slipped on a wet stone and fell into the water, face  down.  If I had not been there to save her, I fear the sweet girl of ten years might have drowned.  I always feel like if I had been a little more responsible, the whole situation could have been avoided.   Sweet Lizzie Laurier..." Aphrodisia sighed.

     "Lizzie Laurier? Do you mean Elizabeth Laurier?  Did she move to Detroit? That yellow house?" Melatiah interrupted, forgetting his anger at Aphrodisia.  Aphrodisia smiled.
     "Yes, that was Elizabeth Laurier.  I knew her."
     "You saved my grandmother's life..."
     "On with my story, though.  Lizzie grew up, and eventually I hid myself from her.  I wanted her to be able to move on.  She dearly wanted children and I didn't want our lives so intertwined that my decisions affected her wishes.  She meant everything to me.  I followed her to Detroit and have watched your family over the years.  When you were born, I became visible to you.  Sometimes, when you're happy, I can see a flicker of Elizabeth in your smile."  Aphrodisia sighed, saddening.

     "The trouble began when Bernard wanted to move.  He had your whole family leave.  I was torn; I wanted to stay in Lizzie's world, where her grave lay, where her dreams remained, but I knew she was gone and that she was living through her children and grandchildren.  I followed your family here.  I was desperately trying to ignore my desire for thirst; I tried to live off animals, and originally, I wanted your blood.  I pretended to not know much about your family in front of you.  I decided to drink from Emilie.  Thing was, I was so thirsty that I couldn't stop drinking... I drank too much." Aphrodisia glanced at Melatiah apologetically.  "I am so sorry.  I know I cannot make up for what I have done."

     "No, I suppose you cannot,"  Melatiah said.  "But I suppose the fact that you saved my grandmother earns you something.  If you indeed had not been there, my current family would not be alive today.  How can I ever return the favor?  And I know that you would never kill my mother with malice.  Anyone who knew Elizabeth would never be able to kill our family with malice.  You made a point the other day;  if I can accept others' differences, I should accept yours.  It is difficult for me to accept yours, but I will do my best to understand you and your differences.  It may be a while before you can earn back my ultimate trust.  It was an accident.  You must drink off only animals from now on.  If you agree to that, consider yourself forgiven, although understand that you will need to buy back my trust."

     "I guess you aren't a blood-craving savage after all," Melatiah smiled as Aphrodisia put an arm around him.
     "I love you, Melatiah.  I don't know where we go from here.  I mean, I understand if you cannot love me back anymore, but..."

     "Aphrodisia, I may be a fool, but... I still do love you.  No more secrets, okay?"
     "Okay."

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*The Antique Legacy*

Melatiah DeCuir

Melatiah DeCuir, Chp. 5, Gen. 3, 1750

     As Melatiah reached his twenties, he had for the most part gotten over the sadness of his mother's death.  Still, there lingered the deep hurt of losing a mother young.  But Melatiah had the determination in what a young woman (he struggled to remember her name; he often went to his diary entries to read of her) had told him: to not let the death ruin his life.

     Young Charles was doing well.  Charles had gone to Melatiah for help quite often in coping without Emilie, and in helping his brother cope, Melatiah felt better.   
     Melatiah was hopeful in his younger brother's success.  He knew Charles would do well in the world.  Both he and Charles knew that it would be time to say goodbye to each other, sooner then either one of them wanted.


     But what was concerning Melatiah, at the moment, was the declining health of Bernard...

     Bernard was fifty years old.  He was the oldest man on the street, and proud of it.  He often bragged about his age to nearby neighbors, who sighed and pretended not to care.  Bernard hardly noticed.
     
     Gray streaked his hear.  He was coughing all the time.  He was getting weaker by the day.  But he had recovered from the death of his wife quite well.  He preferred to think of the fond memories he had had of her instead of losing her.  He often told stories of meeting her as children and teasing her.  He chuckled at the happy memory of putting a frog in her hair.  He daydreamed aloud of their first kiss, of when Emilie struggled to become her own person, of when he came back to marry her from Boston.  
     He described in great detail the joy he had felt at the news of Emilie's pregnancies.  He talked about the day Melatiah was born.  The day Charles was born.  And his sons listened with all their hearts.

     "My dear son," Bernard whispered on one particular day.  He had been feeling more weak than usual, more tired, and the need to tell his son of a few things.

     Melatiah looked at his father, with his pale, sallow face, numb lips, and tired eyes.
     "I'm dying."
     Melatiah sighed.  "I know, Father.  I wish you could stay with us longer."
     "But I want you to know that I'm so proud of you.  As proud as a father could be."  Bernard stopped and sniffed, wiping a tear from his eye.  "You are as strong as your mother was.  Maybe even stronger.  Your mother had to do everything on her own.  Her father was often not there for her.  I want to know if I was there for you."

     "Yes, Father.  You were always there for us.  I believe you must be the opposite of Grandfather Claude."
     
     Bernard shook his head.  "Not the opposite.  Not the opposite.  Maybe just different.  Claude was a good man.  He had troubles, too.  But there is something I must tell you.  In the privy, underneath a loose floorboard, you will find a painting.  It was one your mother painted before she died.  She hid it there.  I have not seen it, but she told me about it.  Emilie was disturbed by it.  I know not why.  Maybe it will answer questions, or maybe not.  But take it out and hang it up."
     Melatiah nodded obediently.  "Of course, Father."
     Bernard sighed.  He wobbled a bit, then caught his balance.  "I... I think I'd better..."
     "Of course, Father."  Melatiah bit his lip.  He knew it was time for Bernard to move on.

     "This side of the bed, as you know, has not been made since your mother left it on the night she died.  I'm going to sleep on it now."
     Melatiah smiled sadly.  "I think that's a perfect idea, Father."

     "You look so much like Claude... and so much like your mother, my dear Melatiah."

     Bernard closed his eyes.  He never opened them again.

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     The painting was of that strange woman... Aphrodisia?  Melatiah struggled to remember her...  How could it be possible that his mother knew her?  Questions swam in his head, but he could not answer any of them.

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     Aphrodisia could not bear living.  Emilie was not the first victim she had killed, of course, but Aphrodisia began to think of the families that belonged to the victims.  The number of children left parentless.  The number of brothers left sisterless, the number of sisters left brotherless.  It all added up into an extreme number that Aphrodisia could not stand.

     She looked at the ocean, which had always calmed her on the most horrible of nights.  She thought of this every day.  For almost a decade.  She considered setting herself out in the sun to die.  It would take a few hours.  Or she could turn herself in, claiming to be a vampire.

  

     But these ideas did not seem right.  There would be no way to redeem herself.  She would just be killed.  And what if Melatiah had seen?  The image of him watching her die scared her more than living.  

     The long years that had passed had not been completely worthless.  Aphrodisia had nearly cleared Melatiah's memory of herself.  Unfortunately, there were a few things she couldn't erase, which made it even more difficult for her to kill herself.  Aphrodisia wanted to talk to him again.  Wanted to confess.  Confessing might make her feel better.

      Yes, that is what she would do.  Confess.  It sounded so easy!  Apologize, and give Melatiah some closure.  And then she would never drink from a human again.

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     Melatiah was walking around town in the late afternoon when he heard some loud, angry shouts and cruel laughing.

     It only took a second for him to realize he was hearing the sounds of a slave auction.  Since it was later in the day, and most of the auctioning had been done earlier, there were not too many people interested.  Melatiah entered the auction house out of pure curiosity and dread.

     He smiled at the memory of Exeter and Nancy, but that smile was put out like a fire when he saw the slaves and heard them.

    "Papa, will I eva see you  'gain?  Papa?" A little girl cried.  "Papa, don't let dem take me!"

     The mother, crying as well, put a hand on the little girl's shoulder. 

     "Hey! Get over here, you stupid slave!" Yelled the slave owner.  The mother reluctantly hurried over, hoping to avoid a slash from the owner's whip.  She stood in place and looked at the ground.

     "This fine wench is healthy and is able to give birth.  Obedient and great for cleanin' and cookin'.  Nice an' young. Who's interested?"

     Melatiah was horrified.  He couldn't believe how terribly these poor slaves were being treated.  Melatiah did not know what he would do if he were split up from his family.

     "I'll- I'll take them all!" He shouted, surprising himself at the force of his voice.  The owner, too, was shocked.  "Mister Melatiah DeCuir?  You want the slaves?  Isn't your family the one that don't have any slaves?"

     "Yes, sir.  We don't have any, at the moment.  But I have a small kitchen and area for slaves, and I intend to put it to good use, mind you."

     The owner laughed.  "Well, wouldja lookit that...  You can have 'em all, Mister DeCuir, if you pay up."

     Melatiah smirked.  "How much?"

     The owner look shocked, again.  "I'll have 'em ready for you tomorrow, DeCuir.  I'll bring 'em to your house at noon."

     Melatiah nodded.  Of course, he had no intention of putting these innocent slaves to work.  He was going to set them free, and no one was going to stop him.  He turned around and came saw someone very familiar.

     Suddenly, every single memory Melatiah had of Aphrodisia came back to him, as if everything he had said to her, everything she had said to him, happened yesterday.

     "It's you," Melatiah said softly.  

     "It's me," she replied, gazing deeply into his eyes.  For the first time, she realized that she was falling in love with him.  He had listened to her words, all of those years ago, and he was better.  He had grown into something she had always wanted to be.  He had warm, understanding eyes that she felt she could trust.  

     "Who are you, Aphrodisia?  Why aren't you disappearing like you said you would?"

     "Do you want me to disappear?"

     "You didn't answer my question."

     "You didn't answer mine."

     Melatiah sighed.  Aphrodisia was even more beautiful than he had remembered.  He wanted to marry her.

     "It was really nice of you to buy all of them like that," Aphrodisia admitted.

     "Thank you."

     "Melatiah, I came back because..."

     "I love you, Aphrodisia.  I do.  I'm not sure if you love me back, but ever since I saw you as a young child, you've mesmerized me.  Maybe I'm making a fool of myself, but when you told me to marry a girl next door, I knew that I never could.  I only thought of you."

     "I love you too, Melatiah.  I knew there was something about you that set you apart from the other boys in Detroit.  There was something different about your family.  I wish I could marry you, but there are so many things about me that you don't know, would never want to know..."

     "I want to know everything about you, Aphrodisia.  All you have to do is start telling me.  Whatever your secrets are, I'll listen.  And I will accept every single one of them, because I love you."

      Aphrodisia gulped.  Confessing was going to be a lot harder than she thought it would be...

*The Antique Legacy*

Melatiah DeCuir