Hey, all my fans! I've been out of state on vacation this last week with no access to the Internet (people reading gasp) I know, horrible, right? Anywho, it gave me a chance to finish typing Charlotte's Legacy, so it did me some good! I have guard/band camp starting on August 1st, so it will be a little harder for me to type stuff up and post it. I'll try to post the next chapter of Riley's Declaration by Sunday (I finally wrote the inscription on the key! Yay!), but I can't make any promises on Riley's Almost Perfect Day.

A/N: This Chapter is written in first person flashback form.

Chapter 2:

The Secret Lies With Charlotte

Philadelphia, P.A. - Eleven Years Earlier

"Ben, do you really think this is necessary?" She asked me.

"Yes." I answered. "What if the treasure's hidden underwater?" I doubted that it was, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared.

"How?" She asked.

I wasn't sure, but I came up with a convincing hypothesis. "They could have hidden it in an underwater cave that's only accessible at low tide."

The man in charge, a rather stern looking Navy officer, began checking people off and collecting the class fees. He shouted, "Campbell, Charlotte!"

"Here!" She said, handing him a check.

I heard my own name.

"Gates, Benjamin!"

I too stepped forward with a payment. Once that was done, the instructor began to teach us about proper diving safety and technique. By the end of the class, Charlotte and I were feeling very overwhelmed.

"Wow!" She exclaimed. "I didn't realize the equipment was so heavy!"

"Neither did I." I said. We walked straight to my car.

"And we didn't even get to swim!" She laughed. "Just imagine what this class is going to be like in two weeks!"

I laughed right along with her. We both got into my car, still joking about the class. I drove to the heart of Philadelphia. "Do you want to get something to eat?" I asked. We pretty much ate out every night. Either that, or we ordered delivery Chinese or something else at each other's houses. That night, we decided to go to the Olive Garden.

After we ordered, I asked Charlotte if she had come up with anything new about the clue. She shook her head and winced.

"What's wrong?" I asked concernedly.

"Just another headache." She said, pulling a bottle of Advil out of her purse.

She had been having a lot of headaches lately and I urged her to see a doctor, but she never did, blaming her pain on her allergies.

Within ten minutes, she was feeling fine. We joked about who "Charlotte" was. "I'll tell you one thing." She said. "Charlotte's dead."

I didn't understand why she was telling me something I already knew. I looked at her questioningly.

"If I have to put on any of that diving equipment, I'll sink and never come up!"

I laughed as I realized she was referring to herself. She began laughing, too. Other people in the room looked at us in weird ways. I guess they thought we were drunk.

After dinner, we were supposed to go visit my dad, but instead, I took her to a park in near Independence Hall. I could tell she knew something was up, but she didn't know what. I found a bench in the park let her sit down. I sat down next to her. For a while, both of us sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the city. Finally, I reached into my jacket pocket and drew out a tiny black velvet box. I had written and rewritten the speech I was about to give over the course of the last month. I had memorized it, and now, as I tried to recall the words, my mind went blank. I would have to wing it. I looked straight at Charlotte, my mind racing, trying to find the words to say. She didn't notice my gaze. She was looking at a flag flying over a building, lost in her own thought. I cleared my throat. "Charlotte?"

She jerked her head around, startled by my voice.

I looked at her eyes, those expressive green eyes. Somehow, I found the courage to ask her. "Charlotte, you don't know what your companionship has meant to me. You believe in me and you trust me. You give me the strength to go on when others shoot me down. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. These last three years have been the happiest years of my life. I want this to last forever. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Charlotte smiled and blushed. She knew what I was doing.

"Charlotte Campbell, will you marry me?" I breathed a sigh of relief. I had done it.

Charlotte looked at me, her eyes giving away her answer before she spoke. "Oh, Ben!" She laughed. "Of course I'll marry you!"

I opened the box, feelings of elation rising in me, and slipped the ring on her slender finger. The moment could have been more romantic, but a park officer saw us and "kindly" informed us that the park had closed. I also realized that I had underestimated the time it would take me to complete my proposal. "We're late!" I exclaimed, looking at my watch, a diving watch Charlotte had bought me as a gift for Christmas three months before. (She saved up for a long time, saying she wanted to get me something really special!) "Dad's expecting us!"

Charlotte smiled understandingly. She had a bad habit of always being late herself, and made a point of not being hypocritical of others when it came to punctuality.

My dad always had a problem with me dating more than one woman. When I met Charlotte, I had already seriously dated two other women. He wasn't happy about me hanging out with Charlotte, but we managed to avoid angering him by insisting, to him at least, that we were just friends. It was a miracle that he hadn't suspected anything, even after three years. But you can't keep an engagement and impending wedding secret, and I was a little less than thrilled to answer him when he asked why we seemed so happy. I told why. He didn't react the way I had expected to, but he hadn't exactly jumped up and hugged us, either. He just stared at me. I knew he was fighting the sarcasm that was famous for running in the Gates family. Finally, he said, "Fine. Maybe it will keep your mind off that dumb treasure."

I couldn't believe that he could be so cold to his own son. But I decided to give him some time to warm up to the idea. Charlotte's parents were much more joyful when we told them.

Charlotte began making plans immediately. But she was still plagued by those headaches, which were increasing in frequency and intensity.

Finally, in late May, I convinced her to see a doctor. I remember all to well the dazed and confused look on her face when she came to my apartment that night.

I sat her down on the couch, not knowing what to expect. She wouldn't even look at me.

"Charlotte, what's wrong?" I asked, afraid of what she might say.

"I-I…" She trailed off. Her eyes filled with tears.

I sat down next to her and pulled her into a comforting embrace. "It's okay." I said softly.

I could hear her anguished sobs. Something was very wrong. It was not like her to cry in front of anyone.

Finally, she looked at me, her green eyes once again betraying her thoughts. I prepared for the worst.

"I…have a…brain tumor." She whispered.

The preparation hadn't helped. I was shocked. I stroked her hair comfortingly, not knowing what else to do. I didn't press her for the details. I knew she was afraid, and needed someone to be there for her. After a while, she said she wanted to call her parents. They were devastated. I called Dad and told him the news. His cruelty was unbelievable, and I never wanted to speak to him again. He blamed the sickness on me, saying that if I had just stuck with Sarah, she would be fine. He said it was a punishment from God, and he didn't care how brutal his words were.

The next few days were filled with tears, some of which, I must admit, were my own. Two weeks passed and Charlotte began undergoing treatment. She fought with spirit, and vowed to make it to her wedding day, which had been set for September.

As the weeks passed, Charlotte's symptoms lessened. "She's responding well." One doctor told us. So, we continued with the planning.

She purchased her wedding gown in late July. The day she tried it on at the bridal shop turned out to be the only time she wore it. On August tenth, an unusually hot day, she collapsed in her apartment. I was supposed to meet her there to discuss some information she had found regarding the clue. I was lucky I had a key. I usually knocked, but when she didn't answer I used the key and unlocked her door. I called her name but no one answered. I walked into the kitchen and found her on the floor, a drinking glass shattered on the floor next to her. I called 911 and franticly paced until the paramedics arrived. I was relived.

But my relief was short-lived. The doctor taking care of her informed me and I, in turn, told her family that her collapse had been caused by a stroke. Later, he told me that the tumor had actually increased in size and cut off some of the blood supply to her brain, causing the stroke.

I was dumbfounded. Just days ago, Charlotte and I thought the tumor was almost gone. The other doctors had been wrong. I kept vigil at her bedside. The next week, she suffered another stroke while the doctors tried to stabilize her condition so they could operate. This one left her comatose.

The doctors did not offer much hope. They doubted she would survive, and if she did, she would be severely brain-damaged.

I had to make the terrible decision to call off the wedding. Charlotte's parents flew in from Baltimore. My dad, once again, offered only venomous words, so it was just the three of us. Watching. Waiting.

September eighteenth is etched in my memory. It was the day Charlotte and I would have been married. Charlotte's parents had gone back to their hotel for the night. I had convinced them to get some sleep.

I had dozed off. I was awoken suddenly by movement. I lifted my head from her bed and saw her staring straight at me.

Joy flooded through me. I grabbed her hand and kissed her cheek. Then I remembered what the doctor had said about brain damage. She probably wouldn't remember me. She stared at me blankly, and I truly feared she had forgotten. But then, a whisper escaped her lips.

"Ben."

I clung to her like a drowning man would a life preserver.

"Ben." She said again.

"I'm here Charlotte." I said.

"I've missed you." She said. "I love you."

I leaned over and kissed her. She gave a weak smile.

"I want you to know something." She said. "It has to do with the clue."

I had forgotten the reason she had called me the day she had collapsed. I listened intently.

"At home, on my nightstand, I left my commonplace book. I found some interesting info and wrote it down in there. You can have it. I know it will help you. I have no doubt that you will find the treasure."

I remember thinking, "What are you doing, Charlotte?"

"Also, I want you to know this. I know what..." She stopped. He breathing was becoming fast and shallow. "I know what "Charlotte" is." There was a since of urgency in her voice.

"Charlotte is..." She trailed off and fell silent.

The rythimatic beep that indicated her heartbeat became a monotonous roar.

"Charlotte!" I cried. "Charlotte!"

A nurse was startled by my cries of anguish and came to see what was wrong. Within seconds, a whole team of doctors had arrived. They did everything they could, but she was gone. A wave of grief washed over me. I called her parents and together, we mourned our loss.

The funeral was extremely hard for me. The pastor kept mentioning how much she loved me. How we were supposed to be married. How she had died on the day we were to be wed. It was too much for me. I cried silently. It was the first time I had shown my grief in public. Other guests tried to comfort me, but I was in a daze.

Once again, Dad was not present. But I was glad. He would only make me feel worse.

I was the last to leave Charlotte's grave after the burial. I thought about what she has tried to tell me and saw a cruel irony. She had tried to tell me the answer to the clue, but had not gotten the chance and she took the secret to her grave. The secret truly lie with Charlotte.

A week later, as I helped Charlotte's parents box up her belongings, I came across her commonplace book. I picked it up and a folded piece of paper fell out. I picked it up and opened it. My hands trembled as I read the message.

Dear Ben,

If you read this and I have passed on, please know that as much as you loved me, I want you to move on with your life. It's okay to love someone else once I am gone. There is nothing I would hate more than for you to dwell on me, thinking your ability to love has died with me, and lose your spirit which I so much admire. Also, please make amends with your dad. It has always pained me to see you two so distant. Lastly, don't give up on your dream of finding the treasure of the Knights Templar. You will find it. Remember, Ben, I love you.

Forever Yours,

Charlotte Campbell

I knew I was crying when I read the name at the bottom of the page. I could feel the tears spilling from my eyes.

It took me a year to find the strength to open her commonplace book. On the last page, she had written this:

Is "Charlotte" even a person?