I only own a few characters and the plot.

Chapter 1 ~ Honeysuckle

"I love you sweetheart." My mother hugged me.

I fought the tears that were threatening to spill over. I fought for her sake.

She ran her fingers through my hair, "Don't forget to write."

I stepped timidly onto the train. "Bye mom." I whispered. I didn't show it, but my heart was afraid. A small tug at the bottom of my stomach, and the train was off. I stared out the window and watched my mother wave. Goodbye.

It wasn't long before the rain started tapping metallically against the roof of the train. I loved the sound of rain. Just like my father. I looked out the raindrop-covered window. The country was so beautiful. Even in the dull colors caused by the gray cloud covered sky. Yellow meadows, flecked with purple and orange flowers, traveled across the road.

I took the time to study the men, women, and children who accompanied me.

The man who sat in the seat to my far right looked absolutely broken. His eyes were red and his cheeks were streaked with glistening tears. He caught me looking and offered me a sad smile. I blushed and looked away.

The woman in the seat in front of him sat with a determined stare. Her hands were folded neatly on her lap, covering the bible that lay on her orange floral skirt.

In front of me a little girl sat with her mother and father. She peeked back at me. Her eyes were amazingly violet. Captivating. I wish I could maintain that same innocent brightness that sparkled behind her long lashes.

I'm only fourteen, but I'm wearing down. I know that I'm getting old. Too many troubles have I come across. Too many nights of crying for reasons I can't yet fully comprehend.

The little girl smiled at me. I couldn't help but smile back. "My name is Carol," she said, "You have pretty hair."

I smiled again, "Thanks." She blushed and hid her face in her father's shoulder.

My hair was cut just above my shoulders. It was a dark black, with slight curls, which I got from my mother. She always said that I was lucky not to have gotten the bushy hair that she used to have. My eyes were dark. Almost black. Maybe they were black. I've been told that when I'm particularly happy, or angry for that matter, honey golden flecks shine in the dark color.

I look a lot like my mom. My face is heart shaped, but I have high cheekbones. My lips are full and have a natural pout. But I always look very serious. Unless I'm laughing. Then I look exactly like my mother. She's beautiful. An angel. Her hair is a honey brown and falls in ringlets over her shoulders, even though she insists that it is still as bushy as it was when she was younger. Her eyes are a dark chocolate brown. The only time I complimented on her eyes she began to cry, saying it was what my father used to say.

I had told her that they were simply…captivating. Apparently it was a word my father loved to use.

Captivating.

Now I use it as well.

I don't know what happened to my dad. My mom says that he was there when I was born. He even chose my name. She says that he was beautiful.

I would always reply with, "Just like you."

She would smile and say, "And you my little honeysuckle."

I loved that nickname. Honeysuckle. She grew tons of them around the house. I don't know how she kept them so beautiful and so fragrant all year round.

I asked her once and she replied with, "Hopefully you will have my same gardening expertise when you get to be my age. I keep them alive with love and just a pinch of magic."

My name is Ophelia Silence Granger. I like my name. It's different. Unique. Most people call me Elly, but I think Ophelia is beautiful.

"Why do you look so serious?" The little girl, I mean, Carol asked.

Her violet eyes stared at me curiously. "I was just thinking."

She leaned forward over the seat of the train, "What about?" She pressed.

I smiled, "Everything."

She nodded her head as if she understood completely. "Me too. I was thinking about my dog Sir. We call him Sir because he's serious. Just like you! I'm five and you're fourteen."

I laughed, "Yes, how did you know that."

Carol shrugged her little shoulders, "I dunno."

"I'm sorry, is she bothering you?" The father turned around and asked me.

I shook my head, "Not at all."

He smiled and put out his hand, "I'm John and you are?"

I took his hand, "Ophelia. Umm, most people call me Elly."

John raised his eyebrows, "Shakespeare. A smart guy and a very beautiful name."

I blushed. The woman next to him poked him in the shoulder, "I'm right here! And stop harassing the poor girl."

John laughed, "Alright my dearest wife." He kissed her on the cheek.

I was born somewhere in London, but when my father disappeared, my mother took me to a house that her Uncle owned in Oregon. We've lived there ever since.

My mom home schooled me, and no one ever bothered us. Until I turned eleven. My mother became extremely worried. She left me in the care of a few close friends while she went to, "Go fix something." When she came back I asked her why she left. She told me that she wanted me to choose my own destiny. She said she didn't want me to get hurt and to forgive her when the time comes.

At the age of twelve, she began to keep secrets. I forgave her for that.

At thirteen, strange things began happening. She wouldn't tell me what was going on. I forgave her for that.

Now, at fourteen, she's sending me back to where I was born. This train is taking me to New England. From there, I will visit every place I can. In search of what my mother calls my "destiny."

I went through every possible bad scenario. Rambling on about what could happen while I'm on my own. She assured me that nothing would happen.

I'm nervous. I've never really been alone. I've felt unhappy. I've felt empty. But never have I felt alone. Now I don't know if I can handle this.

The train jolted to a stop. My eyelids were drooping and I didn't know if I was awake or asleep.

I could hear faint voices saying, "Come on Carol. Grab your bag."

The rustling of bags told me to get up. "John. John, should we wake the girl."

"Oh," a warm hand shook my shoulder, "Ophelia. Ophelia is this your stop?"

I nodded my head sleepily.

Johns wife took my hand, "Come on hun' you can hang with us for a while."

I grabbed my bag slowly mumbling a "thank you."

"Cameron, are you sure?"

I could hear who I now knew to be Cameron huff. "Of course I'm sure! It's a mother's instinct."

Carol squeaked with delight. "Does this mean she's my sister!"

John laughed, "For a little while Care." A little hand grabbed mine and began to pull, "Come on Elly! Come on!"

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