Author's note: Sorry for not getting to this in a more timely fashion...real life takes priority over the writing, so bear with me. Thanks for being patient. Also, proofread this very quickly so I apologize in advance for errors and I will try to get to them tomorrow (after some sleep) and correct them.

The reader will find in this second part of the Epilogue, that William Tavington's summer afternoon is still filled, or haunted with, his memories...

Late Summer 1804 South Carolina…the same afternoon

The kids' squeals of laughter brought William from his thoughts. He looked about to see Jamie and Millie chasing the shepherd puppy happily. The General smiled at them, and smiled at the fact that his young family's night in the covered wagon had been uneventful. They limped home in the disabled wagon the next morning. And good to his promise, the children went with Diedre as soon as they returned home, and William made love to Melanie in the privacy of their bedroom just as he said they would.

Tavington smiled to himself at having recalled the memory of his young family's night in the wagon. Indeed his 53 years of live had proved to be mostly happy, filled with many times of joy and only a few of sorrow. His years as a husband and father had been the most fulfilling.

"Ganpaw!"

A wee voice called to him from the side. He looked over to see little Millie standing beneath a handful of trees—ones that William Tavington had planted especially with his own hands. He trotted over to where his granddaughter stood beneath one of them, looking down at the ground.

As he got closer, he could see that Millie was looking at an empty bird nest that had probably been blown from a nearby tree branch. William knelt down next to the girl putting his arm about her.

"Buhdy bye bye?" she asked, still pointing at the nest.

"Yes, sweetheart," he answered. "The birdies are gone."

"Fy?"

"Fly, yes!" her grandfather replied. "They flew away."

"Off you go," he bid, giving her a peck of a kiss on her little cheek. "Go get Jamie."

William rose, his tall frame parallel to the tree. He leaned on the thing as he watched his grandchildren skittering about. As he did, he looked up into the foliage of the tree, marveling at how much it had grown since he'd planted it.

The general sighed as he recalled when he'd put the tree into the earth. It had been in the spring of 1783. He looked back down at the trunk of the tree, then back up. This was Worthe's tree. He had planted it as a way for them to remember their stillborn baby.

Tavington hated it when something would make him recall that time. He'd always push the memory from his mind. But today, though he could force away the recollection of that day when Worthe came, the memory of another day came to his mind. The household on that day too, had a somber cloud over it when he entered.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

June 1784 …..

William was glad to cross Highland Creek, coaxing his horse along at a leisurely pace in the water. He was now only a mile or so from home and so looking forward to getting there. He'd been gone all day, having set out on horseback to try to find the source of a lowered water level at one of the mills. Just as he'd suspected, beavers had constructed a dam upstream from the mill causing a decrease in the water flow. It had been a large one, too much for him to dismantle. He decided he'd go back tomorrow with Mr. Barnes to destroy the thing and let the water back through.

In an hour, he was riding up the lane of his plantation. As he cleared the last bend of trees, the house came into view. He saw a strange carriage parked in front of the steps. William's strong legs hugged his steed's belly, urging the beast into a gallop toward the house.

Once there, he dismounted and handed the reins to Jonas the stable boy. General Tavington raced up the steps and in the house. When he entered, he saw Dr. Bennett talking with Mrs. Sloane. The rest of the servants stood about quietly, and there was a horrid, somber tone over the whole place.

William looked up to see Diedre the servant coming down the stairs with a bundle of sheets in her arms. At the bottom, she stopped long enough to curtsy slightly to her employer. The general's eyes rounded and his mouth dropped open when he saw that the bed linens were blood stained—greatly.

Dread over took the man as he felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. Fearing the worst, he ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wanting to know what awaited him on the next floor, yet knowing he wouldn't want to face it.

"Melanie?" Tavington yelled. "MELANIE?"

He burst through the door of their bedroom to see Bridget Wilkins sitting next to the bed holding his wife's hand. Melanie was in tears. William raced to the bedside, pulling his wife up into his arms. Mrs. Wilkins slid quietly from the room, leaving the two of them alone.

"Oh William," she sobbed, "I'm so sorry."

Tavington held her shaking body, breathing hard and holding his emotions in, knowing he had to be strong now for her. He closed his own eyes as, squeezing back tears, feeling sorry for their loss, but worse that his wife had to suffer through this again.

Melanie buried her eyes in his shoulder. "I don't know what happened, Will! I didn't overexert myself. I don't understand. I don't know what I did to bring this on." She wept hard, consumed with her own grief and guilt.

"You didn't cause this," he comforted in a soft voice. "I know that you've been careful."

"I don't know what is wrong with me," she cried.

"There's nothing wrong with you," soothed William.

Still, Melanie kept weeping, wondering why, once again, she had lost yet another child. Tavington held her close, letting her cry, staying as stoic as possible.

"Shhh, we'll have more children," he whispered, trying to assure and comfort his distraught wife.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

William Tavington raked his finger tips up and down the tree he had planted for Worthe the spring after he had died. Then he walked to the next tree, a bit smaller, planted in the summer of 1784, after Melanie's miscarriage. The doctor had found the fetus to be a boy, tiny and intact when expelled from Mrs. Tavington's body. William took a deep breath as he looked over toward the family cemetery. This poor miscarried child was buried there, under a stone that read "Baby Boy Tavington, known only to God."

Tavington walked to yet a third tree in the small grove. When they'd lose a child, he'd planted a memorial tree for the lost one, hoping that the memories would live on in the pretty magnolias of the tree, and the sweet smell of those same flowers would carry on the breeze. He sighed as he recalled that this tree was planted for a baby girl named Laurel. She was born near the end of the year in 1787, after Alexander in 1786 and before Josie in 1789.

Laurel was a sickly baby that lived only three days. William and Melanie took turns holding the tiny babe, trying to will her into good health. Her little body gave out and the infant died in her mother's arms. Again, Mrs. Tavington had blamed herself and her seeming inability to be able to carry a baby to proper term—despite her healthy living children—and was beside herself with grief. And again, General Tavington found himself being strong and stoic, despite his own grief, to uphold his wife through the pain of losing another baby. On top of it, the twins, Will and Mary, who were aged five, and little Regina at age three were old enough to ask what had happened to their baby sister. Yet they couldn't understand, when their father tried to explain to them, why the angels had taken baby Laurel to Heaven so soon. All they could see was that their Mama cried a lot that Laurel had gone.

William closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to get the sad memories of lost children out of his mind. As he did, he heard the squeals and peals of laughter drifting on the breeze. He looked over to see Millie and Jamie jumping and rolling in the grass, playing with the shepherd pup. Tavington smiled at his grandchildren—they had certainly brought him so much happiness. He couldn't look at them without thinking of their parents: his daughter, and the Wilkins' son.

With that, he recollected a happier time. He remembered 1798, and when James Wilkins Junior came to him and asked 'for Mary's hand in marriage. Of course, William gave his consent right away. He and Melanie had known the couple to be in love with one another since childhood. Tavington was also happy that Mary was marrying well, in fact, one of the sons of one of the wealthiest men in South Carolina. And the Wilkins' were well accepted in society. He had no doubt that Mary would be secure and never want for anything.

Tavington chuckled to himself, recalling how fast Jimmy Wilkins had come to talk with him about marriage. The Tavington family had been gone fo several weeks to England to visit his mother and other relatives. William had always joked that young Jim must have missed Mary terribly, for he ended up in the Tavington's study within an hour of their return home. Melanie had commented that Mary's absence had made young Jim's heart grow only fonder.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Early Spring….1798

"Our wedding was here," Melanie said after a sip of wine. "Your father knew practically none of the locals that attended, but by the end of the wedding, he made friends with everyone and had charmed them all into becoming customers!"

The Tavington's, William, Melanie, Mary, Will, Regina, Alex and Josie sat about the dinner table laughing as stories were told. Young Jim Wilkins was the dinner guest of Mary, and the Tavingtons were happy to be welcoming him soon into their family. The mood was happy as wedding plans for the young couple, aged 18 and 17, were being discussed.

"We'd like to have the ceremony at the Wilkins' parlor, then return here for a reception in our gardens," Mary said.

"That would be grand, Mary," William answered. "Whatever you want."

Melanie turned her attention to young Wilkins. "Jim, I can't tell you how happy William and I are that you will be part of our family."

"Thank you, Ma'am," replied Jimmy. "My mother and father are equally as thrilled to gain Mary as a daughter in law!"

Mary looked at her mama. "Mother, I need your help finding a wedding dress."

"Of course," she replied. "We'll go to Charlotte or Charles Towne. I'm certain we will find a most beautiful one at either place."

"It doesn't matter how pretty or fancy that dress will be," General Tavington interjected, "because Mary will put it to shame."

"Oh father," Mary said, blushing furiously at his compliment.

"She is a beauty, general," Jim agreed. "My own father says that I am marrying one of the prettiest girls in South Carolina."

"Aye, that she is," William said. "My three girls are among the prettiest. Of that you will never change my opinion."

"Papa, really," a teenage Regina said, blushing herself now and rolling her eyes.

Everyone looked at nine year old Josie, the youngest of the Tavington children, and youngest girl. They had expected her to be flushed and giggling like her older sisters. Instead, she hadn't eaten a thing and was white as a sheet.

A concerned William spoke up. "What's the matter, love?"

"Nothing," Josie whispered. Her eyes were glassed over, and she seemed not to be focusing on anything.

In an instant the girl's eyes closed and she fainted on the spot. Seventeen year old Will Tavington caught his sister, preventing her from crashing onto the floor. He held her limp body in his arms, kneeling beside the dinner table. The eldest Tavington child stared in disbelief at the youngest as he heard chairs scoot away immediately from the table and frantic footsteps to that side of the table. Equally as quickly, he looked up to see the whole family gathered around him and Josie.

When they couldn't rouse her, Melanie put her hand on the child's forehead. "She's burning up!"

"Alex," General Tavington summoned, "please ride for the doctor now."

"Yes sir," answered the 12 year old boy, running from the room, headed for the door.

Jimmy Wilkins spoke up. "If you'll excuse me, I'll fetch my mother and bring her back here." After all the years of growing up next door, he knew Mrs. Tavington would want Bridget by her side helping to care for the child. And he knew his mother would want to be nowhere else at the time.

"Thank you, Jimmy," Melanie answered. "I am grateful."

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The entire Tavington family, plus Jim and Bridget Wilkins were milling about the second floor of the Tavington home, waiting for the doctor to arrive. The physician had come the first night that little Jo had fainted and had recognized the symptoms as Malaria. And he was back today, checking the girl.

Josie's condition, in several days, had worsened. Her fever raged on, and she had weakened. The doctor, after examining the ailing girl, emerged from her bedroom with a worried General and Mrs. Tavington on his heels. Jimmy Wilkins, Mary's fiancé, moved into the room to sit by the nine year olds side. The Tavington family, as well and Bridget and Major Wilkins, gathered about the doctor to hear what he had to say.

"I'm afraid I don't have good news for you," the doctor began, his words slow and measured. "She's worse, and she's not going to get any better."

"What?" asked Mary, both her parents frozen, clearly stunned.

"I can't do anything more for her," declared Dr. Bennett. "She's dying."

Melanie felt her knees buckle, leaning onto her husband for support. "No! Oh God, No!" she cried. "William!"

Tavington held his wife firm though himself in shock. What injustice, he thought, to have another child taken from them. But this time it was different. Josie had been the light that had come back into their lives after losing three babies. She was their youngest and her nine years had been a blessing to them, taking their minds off of the infants they'd lost, and of course, bringing them so much joy. And now, they were losing her.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The next day…..

Josephine Ann Tavington's last hours were filled with love and sorrow. The whole family surrounded her bed, while beloved friends Jim and Bridget Wilkins kept a sentinel near the child's bedroom, affording the family their privacy, yet helping as a bridge to the servants and world outside the girl's chambers.

The doctor had done his best to keep Josie comfortable. The family talked softly to the girl and held her hand. Her brother Alex placed her favorite toy, a stuffed animal rabbit, into bed with her. Regina lovingly wiped her sister's sweaty brow. Will and Mary took turns reading aloud to their ailing sibling. Jimmy Wilkins stayed near Mary, supporting her, then would move out of the room periodically to speak with his parents.

It was hardest on Melanie and William. The loved their youngest child so much and it broke their hearts to watch her slip away. When the child's breathing slowed, Tavington pulled her limp body into his arms as he sat against the headboard, rocking her gently, willing her to be brave and strong and fight. Her mother held her hand and through her tears, told her not to be afraid, that they wouldn't leave her.

"The light is so bright," whispered Josie. William and Melanie looked at each other. It was late evening and dark outside. When they both realized the end was near, both began to cry.

Tavington tightened the child in his arms. "No, Josie," he wept. "Don't go yet. Keep fighting, angel."

"Stay Josie, please," Melanie sobbed.

"Mama…Papa….," the girl murmured, barely audible.

Jimmy Wilkins held his fiancé Mary tightly as she cried onto his shoulder, trying to soothe his future wife. Will Tavington Junior wanted to wipe at his eyes but he could not for he had one arm about his brother, Alex, bravely trying to hold back his own tears. His other arm held his younger sister Regina against him, who buried her eyes in his shoulder. All the children had tried to be brave, and they had seen their mother cry many times, but seeing their father cry for the first time in front of them had been too much to bear.

"Mama…..Papa…," Josie mouthed, not a sound issuing forth. Then the girl breathed her last breath as her body rested in her father's arms. The Tavingtons cried together over the loss of their beautiful, little angel.

It was late evening when she died. After the family cleared the room, Bridget and Diedre came in to prepare the girl for burial. The two women bathed her sweat drenched body, dressed her, and lovingly brushed her hair. They put dry linens on the bed where they laid Josie out, covering her with a light sheet.

And that night, as the rest of the family and friend's slept, William and Melanie sat by their little daughter's bedside, as if keeping some kind of vigil over the dead child. The room was filled with silence, then would resonate with quiet sobbing. The two of them simply couldn't bring themselves to leave their late child's side.

Josie was buried the next day in the family cemetery. Tavington held his wife strong in his arms as she leaned hard on him for her feared her knees would buckle. Melanie cried through the whole, brief service, unable to stop. William wept openly along with his wife, caring not who saw, for he'd lost the youngest of his children after only nine short years. His wee angel was gone.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

"Uh….General."

William stood up straight from where he had leaned against the tree he'd planted in Josie's memory. Evans, one of the young farm hands that had been working on the broken delivery wagon moments before, stood in front of him.

"Sorry to disturb, you, sir," Evans apologized. "We're going to have to take the axel into the village and see if the blacksmith can't straighten it a bit."

"Certainly," answered William. "Have him put it on the mill's account."

"Surely sir." With that, the young man dashed off the get the wagon's axel taken care of.

Tavington's eyes drifted toward his left to where he looked down a slight slope, seeing the family cemetery. His sight rested on one grave in particular: Josie's. He could pick it out from the distance. Though the little girl had been gone six years now and the pain of grief had passed, he still missed her fiercely.

"Watch over her, God," he whispered as he closed his eyes and sighed.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/