3. One more time

1571, Virginia Colony

'Mother', Abigail said, looking at Louisa, the woman she had always considered as her mother, although her father George never let an occasion pass by to remind her that she wasn't their real daughter. Unfortunately George died 5 weeks ago, and since then Abigail's mother's health went backwards. Which was too bad, cause she wasn't that old yet. Not even 50 summers she reached.

'What is it, dear?', Louisa replied, looking up at Abigail.

'You look pale, mother. Can I do something for you?', the 16 year old girl asked, a worried expression on her pretty face.

'There's nothing you can do, my sweet girl. But thanks for your concern. '.

Abigail sighed. 'Mother.. I am very concerned about your health.'

. 'And you should be.', Louisa replied. 'Abigail, darling.. Come here.', she sat up a little more on the couch she was laying on, making room for Abigail to come and sit next to her.

She complied. 'What is it, mother?', she asked with a mixture of worried and curious feelings.

'My sweet girl.. I don't like what I have to say to you, but I will.'.

Abigail's frown deepened, she became silent and just stared at her mother.

'I do not have long to live anymore, my dear. So the doctor told me.', she paused, to let this sink in to the girl.

Abigail's eyes filled with tears. 'No! It has to be a mistake! Please mother! Tell me it's a mistake! A terrible mistake.', tears ran down her cheeks now. 'The doctor has to be wrong!', she sobbed.

Louisa sighed. 'Abigail, darling, behave yourself. ', she patted her daughter's back. 'You don't know what else I have to say.', she continued.

Abigail stared at her questioningly. 'What else do you have to say, mother? ', she asked, not really wanting to hear it, but she was raised well and politely, so she knew she couldn't just walk away

. 'I do not want you to stick around during my further illness and watch me die.', her mother answered.

The girl's eyes widened. 'You're sending me away! No, mother! I want to stay with you! Please don't make me do this!', she cried desperately.

'I contacted a police officer. His name is Adam Johnson, and he is a good friend of mine. He managed to find your real family, and he contacted them. They are willing to take you in again.', Louisa continued merciless. 'You're leaving as soon as possible. This after noon would be good. I'm sorry Abigail, I truly am. But I don't want to do this to you. I hope you understand.', she said a little softer.

Abigail was still crying, she couldn't understand this was happening to her. 'Mother please...', she tried one more time, but she knew once Louisa had something in her mind, no one could put her thoughts of the idea. '

Go and pack your bags, my dear. Mr. Johnson will pick you up 30 minutes from now.', her mother replied, trying not to let the pain and the fear for her little girl sound through in her voice. Abigail nodded and went upstairs to her large room.. This was the last time she saw it. Would she ever return to this room? Would she ever sleep in this bed again? Would she ever see this house? One more time? Her mother? She felt the tears come up again and quickly swallowed them. No crying, she demanded herself. You have to be strong.. Crying is for the weak, she decided on that day. And for the rest of her long life, she kept that her motto.

25 minutes later, Abigail looked down at her 2 suitcases. Her whole life was in that.

Her whole life..

Without further hesitation, she picked them up and headed down the large stairs.

'Mother?', she asked and entered the living-room, leaving the two suitcases be in the hallway. 'I'm ready, mother.', she said, ignoring the tears and the knot in her stomach while she walked further into the room and saw her mother, more thin and fragile then ever, sitting in the pillows on the couch.. She seemed to devour in them, and yet she looked powerful. Abigail wished that one day she could look like that. That no matter what she looked like on the outside, that she could still express power. She found it shining like bright gold.. Power..

'Have you finished packing?', Louisa asked her, and Abigail nodded. 'Yes mother. I only took the most important things', she said.

'That's good, darling. Now come here.', her mother patted on the empty spot on the couch next to her. 'Come sit with me.',.

For one last time.. she thought, but didn't say that. She didn't want her daughter to see her inner weakness as well. She already had enough trouble by seeing her weakness on the outside. She wanted her to remember her as a strong person. Someone she wanted to look like. And someone who she 'would' look like.

Abigail sat down next to her, unsure what to do.

'Be the good girl I always taught you to be. ', Louisa said, trying to ignore the thought inside of her that was screaming that this was the last time she saw this girl.. Her daughter.

'Be strong, no matter what happens to you. And remember, tears are a weakness. ', she added.

Abigail nodded, and smiled. Fighting against the tears she was never allowed to cry. 'I love you mother', she said.

'And I love you too dear.', Louisa said. She held out her hand, and Abigail came closer. Giving her a hug. Taking in the sweet smell her mother always carried, even though she was very sick.

'Take care.', she whispered, before she walked out, took her suitcases, and entered the carriage which was waiting for her outside the house. She took place and through the window glanced one more time at the house she grew up in.

One more time..