Anne Barnes, Chp. 9, Gen. 4, 1784

Warning: Contains past views of women and their importance in society.  By no means do I support these views or believe in them! I have included them in this story because it is part of U.S. history.

Dear Aunt Abigail,

     It is early January.  How I miss you!  Antoine and I have not been getting along well.  I am starting to feel as if I am an object and not a person.  We learned two months ago that I am with child (the baby will arrive in late July), and since then he has refused to let me leave the house!  What an absurd... absurd... I don't know!  It's foolish.  And absurd!  And ever unfair!

     These quarrels are really making me unhappy.  Antoine orders me clean the house everyday.  I cook every single meal.  And then there's the weaving loom...

     Antoine forces me to weave cloth every day.  He says it's for the children.  When I  asked why we could not just buy clothes, he became upset.  

     "Of course we're going to purchase clothes, Anne.  I just want you to be making them blankets and such.  You're the mother.  You should do something."

     I bit my tongue, but I wanted to ask him what HE was doing to help.  I mean, I guess he is earning the money.  Forgive me for being selfish, Aunt.

     Between weaving, cooking, cleaning, and looking presentable (for the many, many other advocates that Antoine invites to his study area [and Antoine forces me to spend hours in the powder room, applying makeup, so much that I almost feel like a statue, and I promptly remove the makeup once the guests leave]), I am simply exhausted.  Antoine often spends the whole day in his study and is very cranky at night.  We rarely have any alone time with each other, besides sleeping.  I guess I know how some of the slaves feel, doing all of this work!

     Antoine keeps threatening me to purchase slaves, but I stood my ground on this one.  I told him that I could handle all of this work, but inside, I know it will be nearly impossible once the child arrives.  But my father was firm on his anti-slave beliefs.  And for once, I actually respect one of his beliefs!

     Thank you for your wonderful recipe that you sent me.  I love your salads.  Antoine... really... liked it.

     I love you!

          Anne Barnes

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     But Antoine didn't like the salad.  He hated it.  Anne did not have the heart to tell her dear Aunt Abigail, though.

  

     Anne, naturally, was very meticulous.  She followed every small detail of Aunt Abigail's recipe.  Anne took it so seriously, in fact, that it took her nearly three quarters of an hour to prepare a small group salad: just for Antoine and her.

      Cautiously, she slowly diced the vegetables into thin slices.  Anne made sure each piece was even and balanced. Lettuce, tomatoes, onions, peppers, eggplants.

      Satisfied with the perfectly crafted pieces, Anne carefully transferred the veggies to a mixing bowl.

     She gently mixed the vegetables and even added a slight bit of huile d'olive (olive oil).  A little nervous, Anne poured the contents of the mixing bowl to a large dish.  Anne prayed that Antoine would like the meal.  He had to!  Besides, Anne felt proud of herself for making this meal all on her own.  It was going to be a success -- right?

     The salad looked delicious!  Anne even tried a tiny bite, for good measure.  It tasted just like home.  Anne smiled.  Antoine was going to love it!

     Antoine had been waiting in the dining room.

     "It's about time, Anne!" Antoine laughed.  "I knew not that a salad needed such preparation.  I am starving!"

     "You're going to love it, Antoine!  This recipe is of my Aunt Abigail's.  She is a wonderful cook."  Anne said excitedly.

     They were seated and Antoine scooped up a bite on his fork, examining it.

     "Ah, you put olive oil in.  I told you I do not like olive oil!"  Antoine frowned.

     "I did not know that!  You never told me that!  I am so sorry, I just thought--"  Anne pleaded but Antoine silenced her with a shake of his head.

     "I told you."

     Anne did not dare protest, in fear of further upsetting him.  Instead, she watched intently as Antoine ate a bite of the salad.  He chewed slowly, then stopped, then swallowed.  Then... he started... laughing?

     "Where did you buy this food?  Dear, this is tasteless.  It tastes like... like... it tastes like cotton!"

     Shocked, Anne struggled to speak.  "C-c-cotton?" 

     "Yes!  Cotton!  Wherever you purchased this food, never go there again."  Antoine made a noise of disgust.  "It was unbeknownst to me that a salad could taste so... horrible.  I do not like cotton.  Let alone cotton salads."

     Anne was unsure of what to say.  She was heartbroken.  She had hoped the meal would be a success; yet, it was anything but. 

     Strengthened by a sudden surge of hope, Anne declared, "I will get better.  Wait and see.  Soon you will not be able to get enough of my cooking!"

     Antoine was skeptical.  "I will believe it when I see it."  He did not take another bite, and despite Anne's hunger and adoration for the salad, she did not, either.

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     Fortunately, for Anne, cooking became easier.  She cooked grits (which Antoine thought were decent, but "not delightful") and pea soup, as well as potato soup (Antoine's favorite) quite often, and the supper was often accompanied by tea or wine.  Anne also loved to make pudding as a special treat.

     But, Anne refrained from making the salad for Antoine; however, she still kept Abigail's recipe (from time to time, Antoine would catch her eating a vegetable salad covered in olive oil).

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JULY 3rd, 1784

     Anne's pregnancy progressed slowly.  Often, she found herself bored with cleaning and sitting at the weaving loom, and one day, Anne found herself longing to meet the family who lived across the street.

     Antoine had forbade her to meet them (and had forbade her to leave the house during her pregnancy) since, since they were "lower class" and did not deserve to converse with the "upper class".  But Anne had once been a child of the "lower class", and she was curious.

      Before she knew it, Anne was walking up the steps to the front door!  A young woman about the same age as Anne stood on the porch.  They smiled at each other and the woman invited Anne inside.

     Anne glanced around the inside of the house.  It was extremely bare.  There were no fancy paintings, no family portraits.  No impressive rugs.  A simple foyer, small sitting room.  It felt homey, much more welcoming than Antoine's mansion had been when Anne had first arrived, and immediately, she felt relaxed.

      "Are you Anne Barnes?  The wife of Antoine Barnes?"  The woman asked excitedly.

     Anne nodded.  "Yes, I am she."

     "I have wanted to meet you for so long, but..." the woman trailed off, looking down.

     "I understand.  It is difficult for me to get used to living in the upper class.  I went through my childhood without having any shoes, so, as you can imagine, it is quite a difference."  Anne giggled.

      This information seemed to put the woman at ease, which also made Anne feel better.  She did not wish to make the woman uncomfortable.

     "I don't believe I caught your name?"

     "Oh, how rude of me!  My name is Eileen Herron.  My husband is Demarcus Herron.  Ever pleased to meet you, Anne."  Eileen raised an eyebrow.  "I see you are expecting..."

     "Oh -- yes!" Anne laughed, slightly embarrassed.  "I apologize if it is improper for me to walk around in my evening wear, but I had to get out of the house, if only for a moment.  You see, my husband will not let me leave until the child is born.  I could not stand it any longer... I hope you do not find this rude of me," and added sheepishly.

     "Oh, no!  Not at all!" Eileen laughed.  "My husband and I would like to have children as well, but we have decided that now might not be a good time since he is trying to make a name for himself as an advocate.  I don't want him to be too stressed out with a little one screaming all the time!  At least not yet," Eileen added with a wink.

     "My husband is an advocate, too!" Anne gasped, happy to have found something in common with Eileen.

     "Oh, yes; we know!" Eileen nodded.  "In fact, Demarcus wishes to work with Antoine someday."

     

     "Really?  Well, Eileen, I will be sure to put in a good word for him.  Antoine always seems to have one of his advocate friends over... I am sure he would enjoy a new one."

     "Thank you, Anne!  That is so sweet of you."  Eileen's eyes had a faraway look in them.  "You must love that ballroom.  I have heard so much about it.  I have always wanted to dance there with Demarcus, but we never were invited."

     "Actually, we have not had many dances.  Antoine does not think it good for my health since I am with child.  But I still have to clean.  And cook.  And weave.  I find that tiring within itself!"  Anne paused.  "But the next time we have a dance, I will invite you and Demarcus!"

     "You have no idea how much that would mean to me, Anne.  How can I ever thank you?  It is so good to have a friend around here.  I, too, am always cooking and cleaning, and I am often bored."

     A friend?  I have a friend?  Anne thought.  She had never had a friend before, but now she knew how good it felt to have someone who cared about her (besides Antoine and Abigail).  A smile crept onto her face.  "Thank you for being my friend, Eileen."

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      Anne returned home.  It was getting late, so she headed straight to the bedroom, only to find a very upset Antoine.

     "I specifically told you to stay inside the house at all times while you are with child.  What do you do?  You leave the house!  Not only do you leave the house, but you visit some poor, lower class family across the street.  Those people are nothing!  They are poor nobodies and they certainly do not deserve to live across the street from us!  YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO MINGLE WITH THEM!"  Antoine yelled.

     "They have no money, no education -- nothing.  They are a waste of our time!  You even went out in your evening clothes!  Do you know what kind of damage that will do to our reputation?"  He shrieked. 

     "Antoine, does that make me a waste of your time, too?  After all, I used to live in the lower class!"  Anne's voice wavered. 

     "Don't you dare talk about those people that way!  They are good people -- they just have less money -- and Eileen is my friend!"  Anne's voice was strong and stern.  After she said those words, Anne was surprised they had come out of her own mouth.  She felt stronger.  Those words had taken her up to Antoine's level, for once!

     "Your aunt has taught you wrong.  Your values are wrong.  Your opinions are wrong.  Your ideas are wrong!  You can't cook, can barely clean the whole house, you sure cannot weave well at all, you like the poor even though we are rich, and you, for whatever reason, seem to think that you can do whatever you want.  You are a woman.  You can't."

     
     As Antoine's words sank in,  Anne felt as though she needed to get away from him.  This was the type of conversation she couldn't handle.  Why did I say anything?, she thought miserably.  Whenever I speak, I upset people, she thought.  No!  That's not true. I helped Eileen -- I made her happy.

     Instead, Anne walked right past Antoine and tried to leave the room.

      That is, until the labor pains set in.

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     Many hours later, on the morning of July 4th, three beautiful children were born.  One girl, two boys.  Anne loved holding her sweet daughter, named Antoinette May Barnes.

     Franklin Charles Barnes also stole her heart though...

      ... and it was impossible to forget about Bartholomew Jeremiah Barnes.

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~July 4th, 1784~

 Dear Diary,

     Though it was declared on July 4th, 1776 that America was finally in the hands of us Americans, I feel as though I can finally grasp what that "Independence Day" means.  Partly this is because my children have been born into a country that will belong to them, and their generation someday -- their lives will not be owned by other peoples from another country.  We are a free country, and my children are free!  And, lucky for them -- they have been born on the very day that America became America!

     I feel more connected to Independence Day now that I live in Charleston.  We are in the center of action of America, here.  Detroit is far from here, and news always reached us slower there.  I am sad that I have not written of Independence Day nor its declaration until now, but I hope it is some compensation for me to understand it better today.

     Antoine and I have had our troubles, but I do forgive him for his insults.  I hope he forgives me.  I apologized.  He even apologized.  We have our differences in opinion about the poor.  He acknowledged that he would not stop me from visiting the Herrons, though he is unhappy about it.  He is right, in a sense.  I cannot do anything I want.  But he can.  It is my job to raise these children to the best of my ability.  And I will do just that, even if I am a woman.

     Until next time,

          Anne Barnes

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*The Antique Legacy*

Anne Barnes

Side note: Hey, all! There will be an heir vote to vote for the 5th generation heir here: http://theantiquelegacy.blogspot.com/p/generation-5-heir-vote.html or you can visit http://forum.thesims3.com/jforum/posts/list/564186.page.  Please just vote on one of these ;)
     

Anne Barnes, Chp. 8, Gen. 4, 1783

     Dear Auntie Abigail,

     I just arrived in Charles Town today.  Actually, the name has been changed to Charleston -- just this year.  Antoine is upset about the fact that its name has been changed.  "It has always, always been Charles Town, and now they want it to be Charleston?"
     The house was... quite simply... wonderful!  The moment I saw it, I knew that it was the Barnes Mansion.  It was gorgeous outside and I saw the delightful flowers that Antoine had bragged about when I first met him.  The carriage pulled up right to the gate and Antoine helped me out onto the cobblestones.  "Have a look inside, dear.  I'll be inside in an hour or two.  I must first make sure that the garden is still in one piece due to the fact that I've been away for so long."
      I complied, opening the door and not quite knowing what to expect.

     Let me just begin by saying that it is not anything like our lemon-drop house!   

     Immediately, I noticed a floral sitting room which looked wonderful!

     It had book cases with many of what I assumed were books from his ancestors.  I also admired the beautiful wall decorations and portraits of Antoine's family.

      I became a little embarrassed at the fact that I had spent almost ten minutes in awe at this lovely sitting room.  It was perfect, of course.  Everything seemed so, truly, perfect.  I felt a little uneasy.  Why did Antoine's lifestyle have to be so much better than mine had been?  Mine had been so full of struggles and he had everything so easy!  Abigail, is it wrong that I feel this way?  I am sorry if I am being unreasonable.  I feel very guilty now.   I left the sitting room to tour the rest of the house.

     I neared Antoine's "Meeting Room".

     Antoine had mentioned to me that this was a room strictly for him and his work as an advocate.  Apparently, he had many other advocates come here and they would often discuss their work and do their business.  He explained that I was only permitted to enter if it was an emergency.  Otherwise, I am forbidden to go in that room.  When I looked shocked, he said that I would be busy with my "wifely duties."  I wonder what duties I am required to perform?

     Right outside the "Meeting Room", I found the dining room.  There was a long wooden table accompanied by luxurious chairs.  I even noted a chandelier and even more paintings of Antoine's relatives and ancestors! 

     Next to the dining room, there was a lovely kitchen.  I guess this is where I am going to have to prepare all of the meals.  I wish you had taught me more about your cooking secrets, Abigail!  I hope Antoine does not expect me to prepare anything too fancy!

     I used the stairs to find an elegant ballroom waiting for me!  It was just wonderful!  I cannot wait to dance with Antoine!  I hope I do not step on his toes too much!

     Around the corner, I noticed a study room.  It was nicely decorated -- of course, how silly of me to say that because the whole house is nicely decorated -- and I swallowed hard when I saw the weaving loom.

     That weaving loom made me nervous, because Antoine once told me that I should be doing something "productive" like WEAVING; hence the weaving loom.  I hope that is not going to be one of my wifely duties!

     I exited the study room and found myself in the bedroom.  This was where Antoine and I would be spending our nights together as a married couple!  I was excited to be by Antoine's side.  I would never leave him.

     I even noticed that there were bottles of perfume and makeup.  Antoine must have known he would be returning with a wife when he traveled to Detroit!  He must have just sensed it -- that's how intelligent he really is.  Not only that, but he even prepared for my arrival by purchasing the perfume and makeup!  What a wonderful, wonderful man!

    I noticed another set of stairs and decided to investigate.

     The stairs led to a small attic with a baby crib and a few toys.  I smiled when I saw that baby crib.  I simply cannot wait to have a son or a daughter of my own!
     My eyes found my father's wooden chest.  I wondered how it had gotten up here.  Antoine must have carried it up without my noticing.

     An internal battle was occurring inside of me.  That wooden chest.  I want to open it, but at the same time, I do not.  Why unleash all the memories of my father?  Is it even worth it?  I know you want me to open it, Abigail, but I don't know if I can bring myself to do so!
     I was about to open it -- I really was -- when Antoine called for me.

     I found Antoine in the bedroom.  
     "How do you like the house, Anne?"
     "Oh, Antoine!  It's wonderful!  And just the opposite of my humble home in Detroit!"

     
     "I am so happy, Anne.  I am so glad that you wanted to return here with me."
   

     We reflected on our voyage from Detroit to Charleston together.  I was finally able to relax, because I am here to stay at last.  Finally safe in this house with my wonderful husband.  
     I miss you, Abigail.  Tell Aunt Claudette that I say hello.  It has been quite a while since I last saw her.  And please do not neglect to write back!

     Until next time,
          Anne Barnes

P.S.  Please send a cooking recipe.  My cooking imagination is very feeble and quite limited!

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     Anne dreamed of her father that night.


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*The Antique Legacy*

Anne Barnes

Anne DeCuir, Chp.7, Gen. 4, 1783

 NOTE: Contains past views of women and their worth.  By no means do I support these views or believe in them! I have included them in this story because it is part of U.S. history. 
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~May, 1783~
Dear Diary,

     So many things have happened recently -- I do apologize for not writing about them sooner.  Life, for me, has taken a complete turn for the better and I cannot believe how things are turning out!  England has finally agreed to end all hostilities or violence in America -- we can finally rest assured that America is our nation for good!  And more recently, in April, General George Washington stopped officers from the Continental army from challenging the authority of Congress.  Apparently, the officers felt unfairly treated and did not receive money for their hardships.  General George Washington, however, made sure that they would not challenge the rule of Congress.  I am usually not interested in political happenings, but I did find this a bit interesting.

     I will break the news to you now...  Would you believe me if I said I am off to travel to Charles Town, South Carolina -- yes, the very place I was born -- to live with my newly wedded husband?
     I told you that you would not believe me!  In just a few hours, he will be coming to fetch me, and I must say my final goodbyes to this house, Auntie Abigail, and my life here.  I am going to begin a new life, once again!
     Forgive me for being rude, Diary.  I suppose it is only fair that I share with you every single detail about my new husband!

     It all started a month ago.  I was still nineteen (and I will be turning twenty soon).  I had gone to visit that beautiful place (the place that taught me to come out of my silence), just like I normally did.  I had been visiting at least once a week.  It's just a wonderful place.  So peaceful.  I even started writing about it.  I do so love writing; though, it is hard to be published due to the fact that I am female.
     Anyway, I was at my secret sanctuary, when someone behind me coughed.

 
      For a moment, I just stood there, not turning around.  Mostly, I think I was frozen in fear.  I never see other people come to my secret place.  But the man cleared his throat a second time, and, slowly, I turned to face him.

 
     "Amazing.  Simply odd.  I've never seen a woman on her own, so far away from the village before."  The man smirked.
     "Really? Well, I have never seen a man come to this part of the woods before.  I guess you see something new every day."  I replied levelly, not lowering my gaze from his face.
     The man raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly.  He seemed slightly amused.  He took a few steps closer to me.  It occurred to me that this was a bad situation, my being far from the village, alone with a man I did not know.  But, somehow, I felt safe.  This was my secret sanctuary!  And I knew that I would always be safe here.

      "I have been coming here for two years, and I have never seen someone else here before."  I admitted. 
  

      The man was surprised.  "A beautiful, young maiden like you should not be out alone all the time!  You never know what dangers lurk."
   

    
     I became really upset.  "Oh, so just because you are a man means that you can go out in the woods alone?"
     The man frowned, glaring at me.  "Yes, that is exactly what it means.  You obviously need to learn a few things, young maiden.  I do not appreciate your tone of voice."

 
     I was offended, but I knew that he was right.  It is a man's world.  There is nothing I can do about it.  I tried not to cry, and the man softened.
    "Beautiful maiden, do not cry!  Your face is too pretty to be sad."  The man smiled.  I tried to hide my shock.  No stranger, ever, had told me I was beautiful or pretty.  Most of the other men my age stayed away from me -- they knew me as the town 'mute'.  The odd girl.  They still gave me weird looks when I passed by them in town.  Even though I was speaking again.  Some people do not care about the present, only about the past.  Immediately, I realized that this man was not from town.  He must have come from a place faraway.

     I looked deeply into his eyes and saw how handsome he really was.  He was looking at me with what I judged to be genuine concern.
     "My name is Anne DeCuir," I said, shyly.
     "I am Antoine Barnes.  I am of Charles Town, in South Carolina.  I am here because of the recent death of my uncle."
     "How interesting!  I was born in Charles Town.  I moved here with my father when I was three."
     Antoine nodded.  "I am an advocate.  Sometimes I look to nature to relieve some of my stress," he laughed, looking around.  "This is truly a beautiful place, Anne.  You certainly do have an eye for nature."

     "I think nature can change one's life."  I replied.  "Nature inspires me to write about it and how it affects life.  About how it has affected my life."
     Antoine laughed and laughed.  "My, my.  A little philosopher maiden!  Goodness!"  Antoine kept laughing for a few moments, then quieted down a bit.  "You should be doing something more productive.  You should be a seamstress or should be weaving materials.  Writing and philosophy are for the educated men."
     I tried to hide my disappointment and tried to make myself believe this was true.  He was right.  I really should be a seamstress or something of the like.
    

     For a few hours, Antoine Barnes and I talked.  He told me all about his life at home.  Apparently, he owns the Barnes Mansion and Estate in Charles Town.  He is a famous advocate.  He kept telling me I was so pretty and beautiful (to which I could not stop blushing.  I could not believe someone actually liked me so much!).  He told me he has a garden at his home.  Iridescent flowers that surrounded you and made you feel like you were somewhere mystical.  It sounded like heaven, and I immediately wished I could see it.

     Antoine's life sounded so perfect that I was afraid to bore him with the details of my own life.  I told him I was nineteen, and unwed.  That I lived with my Aunt Abigail.  That my father passed away from a disease about two years ago.  And I told him of the fact that I never knew my mother.  I did not tell him about my silence.  I was afraid he would not be able to understand.  At least not yet.  I told him of our garden, and how I did not have shoes throughout my childhood (I recently had a pair fitted, so at least those years are behind me!).


     I could see pity in Antoine's eyes.  He was obviously very wealthy and well-off.  His life was the complete opposite of mine.  But I wished I could know what it was like on his side.  To live with much money to spare, to purchase items for pleasure and not just survival.  


     "It's too bad you have to wear that dress; it looks like it was made out of a potato sack.  A beautiful woman in a raggedy potato sack is a very sad sight."  Antoine shook his head.

     I looked down at my dress.  Aunt Abigail had sewed it for me.  To tell the truth, it really was made out of a potato sack.  I felt guilty because Aunt Abigail had told me I looked nice when I tried it on.  Suddenly, I felt hot and itchy inside it.

     If only we weren't so poor, Abigail and I.  I was becoming more and more embarrassed of how much of a difference there was in terms of money between Antoine and me.  It was beginning to get late, and I needed to get home to Aunt Abigail.  Antoine told me to turn around.

     I complied, but I wondered what he could possibly be doing!
    "You can turn around, now!"

    I turned around to a bouquet of bright purple flowers!
    "How wonderful!  Oh, my!"  I giggled.  "Thank you, Antoine!"

     "Beautiful flowers for and even more beautiful woman." Antoine said with a grin.  I felt my heart glow.  Antoine did not care that I was poor compared to his wealth!  I told him where I lived and he said he would definitely visit.
     "It's the lemon-drop house," I said, because it was all I needed to say to describe my home.


    Antoine visited a week later.  He could not stop staring at the house.  "It's just so... small."

     "Small is okay, right?"  I asked.  Sometimes, Antoine would say little things that would hurt my feelings.
     "Oh, yes, yes.  I mean, your family is poor, right?  I am just not used to seeing a tiny home like this.  Is there even a ballroom here?"
     "Oh, um, no... but we do have a back porch..."  I said sheepishly.  He nodded.

     I really began to feel like there was something happening between Antoine and me.  I felt so safe in his arms.  No one had ever made me feel so special before.

     "Anne, I think I am falling in love with you."
     "I think I'm falling in love with you, Antoine."  But I wondered.  Was I really?  Wasn't all of this happening a little too fast?  In one week, someone loved me and I loved them!  It was difficult for me to grasp.

      Within two more weeks, Antoine came to the house quite often.  I could not help but notice the disgust on his face when he poked around Aunt Abigail's famous stew, barely eating it.  And there was that one time when he scoffed at the size of the house the first time he saw it...  I guess he is definitely not used to living the life of the poor.  Sometimes, though, it just makes me feel bad.  A bit of melancholy inside, knowing that this lifestyle of mine just isn't 'good enough' for him.  

 
     One night, however, Antoine quietly pulled me aside.
     "I'm leaving for Charles Town in a week.  I... I would like you to come with me, Anne.  Will you marry me?  Come back with me to Charles Town?"
     I was absolutely speechless.  I could not begin to tell you how happy I was to know that I was -- am -- special enough for someone to want to marry me!  I nodded happily.

      "Yes!" I managed to choke out.  "Yes!"


     We had a private wedding a few days ago.  I sometimes do have my doubts about this whole thing.  Charles Town is very far.  I would miss Detroit -- it has always been my home.  I've tried to convince Abigail to come with us, but she swears she could never leave Detroit.

     Aunt Abigail is coming down to say farewell.  I will write later.

     Until next time,
          Anne DeCuir Anne Barnes


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     Abigail entered the room and saw Anne sitting on the couch.
     "Up early, my dear Annie-Kins?"  She smiled sadly.

     Anne could not help it. She raced into Abigail's arms and started sobbing. 
     "Please come with us.  Please, Aunt Abigail.  If you stay, I'll probably never see you again.  Please!"
     "Oh, Anne!  At one point in my life, I would have done anything to leave.  But now, I would do anything to stay.  This is my one and only home.  I have asked your Aunt Claudette to return here and I won't be alone, dear."

     "Aunt Abigail, I just do not want to leave you."
     "Anne.  You need to leave.  You are being held down here, whether you know it or not.  Your past as an invisible hold on you here.  You must go and start fresh with Antoine."

     "Anne, I love you very much.  You will always be my little daughter, even if I am not your true mother.  I want you to be happy with Antoine."

     "Abigail, you are my real mother.  The only thing you did not do was give birth to me.  I will never forget all that you have done for me, and I will write to you from Charles Town.  I promise."  Anne whispered.
     Abigail nodded and wiped away a fat tear from her eyes.  "There is one last thing I have for you, before you go.  I see Antoine waiting outside.  I want you to take this wooden chest."  Abigail pointed.  Anne stepped closer for a better look at it.

     "It was your father's."  Abigail said carefully.  "He wanted me to give it to you when he died, but I wasn't sure if that was the right time.  It is full of things inside.  Open it when you get to Charles Town."


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     "Antoine!" Anne shouted, full of excitement.  "You are here!"
     "Yes, I am.  Dear, I would like you to change into that dress I had tailored for you a few days ago.  I simply cannot bear to see you donned in that ratty old potato sack dress any longer!"
     Anne hurried inside to put on the new dress, and promptly returned.

     "Ah, my dear Anne, you are simply splendid in that dress, just as I knew you would be.  Would you like me to get rid of that other dirty old one you had?"
     "No, thank you," Anne replied.  "It will remind my of my life here in Detroit."
     "Well, fine.  As long as you never wear it again.  Time to depart!"
     
     They stepped up into the carriage and the horseman lashed the whip, and they were off.  They were off -- to Charles Town.



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 *The Antique Legacy*

Anne Barnes