I do not own Liberty's Kids. Please enjoy this new chapter and I will try to get another one up within the next week or so. Thank you.
Chapter 8: Care (Sarah's POV)
"Thomas is dead."
The words flew past my lips. Those three little words had haunted me for the last six months. They had brought me so much heartache, so much pain; I did not know why now of all times those words took no effort to be said. Possibly, I was getting over my grief for Thomas faster than I had imagined. I highly doubted that though. I had loved him. He was to be my husband, the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. He was supposed to be the father of my children, our children. But he was gone. Thomas Roberts was dead.
The letter James had seen was the last letter Thomas sent me. The last words he ever said to me. Those words floated into my mind constantly now. Little phrases of the love we had, "I wish nothing more than to be beside you for the rest of eternity." His hopes for our future together, "I see three little children running around on top of a hill in the distance. They laugh and giggle together as they swing on a swing that is hung from a tree. The girl has red hair like yours, while the two boys have dark brown hair like my own." Those words never left me.
The words that haunted me the most were not those written by Thomas. They were written by the man who found Thomas. He sent a letter along with Thomas' body when it returned home to be buried. In it he explained how Thomas had died, how his life had been cut short.
Dear Ms. Sarah Phillips,
My name is John Rogers. You do not know me, and I am sorry that we must meet on these terms. I am saddened to say that your fiancé, a Mr. Thomas Roberts, died on a road in Virginia yesterday.
You are probably wondering about his death, so I will tell you all that I know. I was riding on the road through the woods yesterday, when Mr. Roberts went riding past me on his horse rather quickly. It had just stopped raining and the road was muddy. As Mr. Roberts rounded a bend in the road, his horse slipped in the mud. The horse struggled to gain its footing, and began to move violently. Mr. Roberts tried to hold on, but he was thrown from the horse as it fell to the ground. He flew through the air and landed on the side of the road.
Once I realized what happened, I slowed my horse, got off, and ran to him. He was face down in the mud and not moving. I rolled him onto his back and saw that where his head had been, was a large rock. His forehead was covered in blood, and he was barely breathing. I tried to help him as best as I could ma'am. A few minutes later a wagon came by. We moved him into it and raced him to the doctor. The doctor tried his best, but it was too late. Mr. Roberts was gone a few minutes after we arrived.
Afterwards, I went back to where Mr. Roberts fell off his horse and I found his saddlebag. In it, I found your letters, and I thought it would be best if you knew exactly how your fiancé died.
It is a horrible thing to lose someone you love ma'am. My wife died last year, and I know the heartache you are probably feeling now. Just find peace in knowing that he went quickly, in little pain, and that he was surrounded by people who wished him well. He is now in God's hands ma'am. Be thankful for that.
Sincerely,
John Rogers
I wish I could have found comfort in John Rogers' words when I first read his letter. I did not though. I cried. I locked myself in my room for two days, refusing to see anyone or take any food offered to me. Tears stained my face for weeks after that. The funeral was a blur to me as well. The preacher's words never reached my ears. All I saw was the wooden casket with a black blanket draped over it. All I remembered was how my heart ached when I watched the men lower the casket into the ground and cover it with dirt. Cold, uncaring, dark dirt.
Suddenly I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. I opened my eyes and saw that James was holding me tightly against him. His hands rubbed my back as more tears began to flow. I buried my face into James' chest and cried. James set his head on top of mine and hummed a tune, trying to comfort me. As the tears fell from my cheeks, I felt the warmth of James' body against mine and realized how much I had missed having someone hold me; how much I had missed knowing that someone out there cared for me.
I realized how much I needed James.