1: The first drafts of James' note to Sarah, as retrieved from his room at the "Ocean's Roar."
Dear Sarah:
I guess it must have been surprising seeing me last night. I know I didn't tell you I was sailing to Europe, and the explanation for that is simple: I didn't know myself until a week after you left. You see, I was setting type for the new issue of the Manhattan Times when an unexpected guest dropped by. Surely you remember the article I did on Sybil Ludington during the war? Well, the subject herself came in to thank me. I guess it took her a while to get the paper, and
Dear Sarah:
Were you as surprised as I was to see me last night?
Dear Sarah:
I'll bet you run into old story subjects all the time. Funny story
Dear Sarah:
Hey, remember Sybil Ludington?
Dear Sarah:
There's a perfectly good explanation, I swear.
Dear Sarah:
Of all the stupid things I've ever done
2: A correspondence.
Dear Sarah:
I hope this reaches you happy and well.
I can only imagine how surprising it must have been to see me last night. Hopefully I can explain adequately so that you're not upset with me.
After some unforeseen difficulties the week after you left, I decided to visit Henri in France and do a story on the citizens' oppression there. He tells me that it reminds him of America before the war, so I think my readers will be interested in a feature. You may be wondering why I decided to leave so soon. Well, Sybil Ludington (remember her?) came to New York to talk about my artice on her, and [the following is scratched out; Sarah squints to make out the words] we got to talking did you know her father's a colonel? the insane girl carries a gun everywhere [the words are no longed crossed out] long story short, I bought a ticket for Paris that afternoon.
I'm staying with Henri and Lafayette while I'm in France, but for a week I'll be at the "Ocean's Roar" in Scaithe's Ebb. I'll be there until Monday. I understand if you can't get away, but if you'd like to drop by I hope to hear from you soon.
Yours,
James
Dear James:
You may trust that your explanation is more than adequate; and also trust that no explanation would have been sufficient. I was so glad to see you last night—a familiar face among my mother's friends! I may have forgotten my manners. I hope you will not think the worse of me for it.
Your talk of a French revolution is intriguing, and a little frightening. I have seen enough of war. I wish to live peacefully and happily, free to follow my own pursuits. You may say that war is "news," but I would rather that news be of creation, such as Dr. Franklin's inventions, or towns being founded, than of such things.
On Saturday night my parents and I will attend a party at the Pembroke estate. Would you care to establish a presence there?
Truly,
Sarah
Dear Sarah:
War is news, but I'd rather have no news than that news. You and I are in concord there. A life peaceful and free, in America or France or anywhere, really—it sounds idyllic. I can't imagine a better way to live. Hopefully our new nation will fit the bill (ha ha!).
I'm so glad we met, Sarah—do you know you're the only person I can really talk to like this? I just thought you should know.
See you Saturday.
James
** end Chapter Five
Note: Well, ff.n is being snotty and isn't letting me see my reviews, so I can't thank you lovely, lovely feedbackers by name. But I will en masse: You're wonderful! I love you!