Chapter 3
Hey! Sorry I haven't posted in a while, but I just have been so busy with homework, school, and sports that there wasn't much time to write. So to make up for it this is a longer chapter that I mostly wrote today. Like usual reviews please! Enjoy!
The bright morning sunlight filters in through the royal blue tapestries that hang from the tall windows. I blink a few times to adjust to the light, and pull myself into a sitting position on the bed. I yawn, stretching my arms above my head and my legs beneath the blanket. I hop out of bed noticing that it is nearly eight o'clock, and I haven't completed my chores. Unfinished chores were equivalent to extra tutoring hours. I hurry over to my closet and slip on a cream colored dress that comes to about my forearm. It's adorned with lace at the bottom of the sleeve and along the neckline. I rush to the kitchen where the floor needs a desperate scrubbing.
"Good morning," a voice breathes into my ear. I jump in surprise, and spin around to see Nathaniel's bright face. I slap him on the arm.
"Good Lord, Nathaniel! Do not sneak up on me like that!" I scold. He laughs, but holds his finger up to his lips.
"Shhh…your father does not know of my presence. I snuck in through the kitchen window," he cautions. I stand on my tiptoes and give him a soft kiss on the lips. I pull away slowly, and give a mischievous grin.
"Well, then Mr. Thayer you must behave yourself with conditions such as these," I giggle, running my hand over the rough fabric coving his chest.
"Have these conditions ever stopped me before?" Nathaniel whispers, winking. He moves to kiss my lips, but I cover his mouth with my hand.
"Have you gotten the money together yet?" I release his mouth, letting my hand fall back down at my side. His face falls, and he shakes his head.
"I'm almost there, but I'm still one dollar short," he mumbles, kicking at the wood planks of the floor.
"Oh, but that will not be for another couple of weeks. Father might grow suspicious by then!" I protest. I take his hand into mine, and play with his fingers.
"I know, I know. I'm trying though. I can't get the tickets yet, but soon darling soon," Nathaniel hushes. He leans down to bring his lips to mine, but an awkward feeling enters the room.
"Ehemm…" Father clears his throat at the doorway of the kitchen. Nathaniel retracts, and rubs the back of his neck.
"Mr. Smith, sir, we did not realize your presence," he mutters, moving his eyes to the floor.
"I bet you didn't, nor did you realize that I purposely left that window open because I knew you would try to sneak in," Father reveals with a cheeky smile. I push back a loose strand of hair, and cross my other arm over my chest.
"Father you mustn't be so intrusive. Nathaniel and I wouldn't have to sneak around like this if you would just relax every now and then," I criticize. He turns his attention to me. Before he can scold me or go into his "holier than thou" speech, a knock sounds from the front door. Father rubs his face tiredly.
"Felicity, answer the door and please show Mr. Thayer out. We will discuss this later," he commands. I nod, nudging Nathaniel toward the open doorway of the kitchen. We stride across the parlor, the knocking becoming louder and more frequent.
"I'm sorry. I will meet you at seven o'clock by the harbor, yeah?" I whisper, intertwining his fingers with mine.
"I don't think that is such a good idea…" He trails off. He untangles his fingers from mine, and strides ahead of me. I contort my face in confusion, and catch the upper part of his arm.
"I'm sorry about my father. He just is…difficult sometimes," I apologize, bringing my hand to Nathaniel's face. He stumbles backwards and forces my hand back down to my side.
"No, he is right. We should not see each other. We are not meant to be. You are Christian and I am Jewish. It is not proper for us to marry," Nathaniel sighs.
"Do you think I care? If you have not noticed I am not a proper girl," I laugh, but his face remains serious.
"You should, though. This is not right by any moral means." I look down at the floor, not understanding where all this is coming from.
"So now you decide to do the "proper" thing? The noble thing? Do you not love me at all?" I stammer, trying to keep my voice from cracking.
"Of course I do. You know I do, but maybe that is not enough. I hate having to sneak around just to see you. I hate having to kiss you behind the old general store, afraid that our parents might see. Maybe this is God's sign that we are not meant to be together," Nathaniel continues. I draw closer to him, laying my head on his chest and wrapping my arms around his torso.
"I do not care what my father thinks and neither should you. I will always fight for you, even if it means losing my father," I murmur. He strokes my silky hair, and kisses me atop my head. Nathaniel grabs my shoulders and distances me from him.
"No, you belong to your father not me. Go to him now, and never seek me out again." He spins around and stalks toward the door. I stand dumbfounded in the middle of the room.
"No, you cannot make me," I defy.
"Of course I can't, but your father can," Nathaniel answers softly. I see the pain exploding like fireworks in his eyes. I step forward to run to him, but he holds a hand up. "Respect your fiancé like you would a husband, and leave me. I pray that you will find the happiness that you deserve. That you and your father can find someone you both can love and respect unconditionally. Another fiancé that you can love like a husband, and your father can love like a son. Goodbye, Lissie," he bids. For the first time in a couple minutes we have noticed that incessant knocking has intensified, and is now accompanied with incomprehensible shouting.
"Get out," I state, nodding toward the door. He nods, but before he can pull the door open it comes flying inward at him. The thick wood comes tearing at him, and clips him across the face. The force knocks him backward toward the floor. Nathaniel is unconscious. Three men stand in the doorway, and I hold my breath. They don red coats lined with blue cloth and gold buttons, and gold designs adorn the cuffs of the sleeves. They stomp into the parlor, tracking in mud caused by the recent snowfall. My eyes shift from the redcoats to my wonderful Nathaniel lying hurt on the floor, and the anger in my heart flares viciously.
"You have no right to be here. You are trespassing on private property," I snap. The three men approach, malicious smirks on their faces.
"We have come for Mr. John Smith for treason against the mother country of England, and his majesty King George III. Now miss if you would be so kind as to tell us the whereabouts of Mr. Smith it would be most appreciated," one orders smoothly. I lick my lips, forcing myself not to look back toward the kitchen.
"What is this treason of which you speak?" I inquire.
"We have acquired information that Mr. Smith has been conspiring against England through pushing for a rebellion against the mother country, and participated in the dumping of British imports into the harbor last night. He is to be hanged for his disloyalties to the British government. Now where is Mr. Smith?" The second soldier demands. He fingers the shiny musket.
"I am sorry to tell you officer that he is not here. He fled Boston last night," I lie. The first soldier steps toward me so that only a foot separates us. He towers a foot above me, and casts his dark eyes down upon me.
"Don't lie, girl. If he really did flee Boston, why would he leave behind his children?" He points out. I hold my ground.
"Rose and I are not children. We are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves," I retort. An evil grin sends my heart plummeting to my stomach. He brings his hand to my face, and strokes my cheek. I pull away. "Don't touch me," I spit. He laughs maniacally.
"Like you said you are not a child. You are a woman. A gorgeous, spirited, foul-mouthed young lady. Never was one for a sweet, quiet girl. I like feisty patriots," he drawls, snatching my wrist. I slap him across the cheek with my free hand.
"Hold your tongue." Anger erupts on his face as a red hand mark appears on his left cheek. He grabs my other wrist despite my hardest efforts to escape, and pulls me into a rough kiss. I fight hard to push him away, but his tight grip on my hair tugs painfully at my scalp. He breaks the kiss, but refuses to release me from his grasp. "Let go of me," I order in a dangerous whisper.
"Oh come now. This isn't even the best part," he murmurs, running his fingers along the neckline of my dress. I whimper at the thought of what will happen next, when a sudden slam of a door stops everyone in their tracks. Father comes rushing into the room his hands held up in the air.
"I heard you were looking for John Smith?" The soldier turns his attention away from me, and strides up to Father.
"Father, no. Please," I plead, running toward him. They begin to bind the rope around his hands, and I tear at the shoulders of the soldiers. "Leave him alone. Don't take him away. Take me," I beg, but they brush me aside.
"Lissie, calm down. Everything will be fine," he assures. No it will not be alright.
"Rose! Rose!" I scream, clawing at the soldiers' backs.
"Sir, if you do not get control of your daughter I will shoot you and her," the third soldier bellows, leading Father toward the ajar front door.
"Felicity Isabella Natalia Smith, get a grip. Do not force them to kill you and me both. I will figure out something. I promise," Father barks.
"You say I lie to you all the time, but you lie to me more. You know that you have no way out of this. I know you are lying. I see it in your eyes. Why give up without a fight? You know I don't," I expose. I sprint over to the nearby closet, and seize his shotgun. I prepare it to fire, and aim it in the general direction of the soldiers. In turn they hold up their guns to me, but I do not budge. I do not dare falter. "No one moves or I shoot," I warn.
"Put it down or we will shoot you," the second soldier shouts. I let out an incredulous laugh.
"You shoot me we all die."
"You can only get off maybe one bullet, before you fall dead on your face. Not enough time to kill all of us," the first soldier chuckles at my "stupidity".
"Maybe, but my father is no fool. Ever since he heard you British burning down the homes of those who refuse you in any way, he created the perfect defense system. Notice how there are no lamp holders lining this room? That is because this room is highly flammable. In that chest right next to the door is full of gunpowder. Carefully packaged so that none of it escapes into the air, but one spark of fire near it can send the whole street aflame. So you shoot me, I shoot the chest, and we all go up," I explain, smirking.
"You're bluffing."
"Do you really want to risk it though?" I challenge. He bites the inside of his cheek, knowing he has no way out. Rose hurries into the room.
"What is going on here?" She questions, looking from each end of the room to the other.
"Justice," I snap.
"Felicity, don't do this. You can't do this," Rose stammers, approaching me cautiously.
"Yes I can. They have to let him go. They cannot refuse my demands," I insist.
"You know they can't let him go. You know they will die honorably just to say that they killed one of the biggest conspirators against the British government. You know your father will die either way," Rose replies quietly. I feel the tears rush down my cheeks.
"Give him to me!" I yell my voice cracking.
"We cannot do that, miss. He's a traitor, and after this you will be hanged right next to him," the second soldier states.
"You know you can't win either way. You and your father have committed treason, and will have to pay for it. There's no way out by going this route," she continues.
"I cannot win," I murmur in realization. There is no way I can use my wits to charm me out of this one. There are no loopholes that I can dance around. There is no way I can outfox anyone this time. I will lose everything. Everything. Rose, Father, Nathaniel, myself. All the things that mean most will be gone. "What do you mean this route?" I recall. Route means an alternative. Alternative could very well mean a way to get some of us out alive. Alive.
"Your fob watches. Open them," Rose urges. I roll my eyes.
"Rose, this is no fairytale. This is no worthless dream. Everything in those journals are just dreams. Everything I wrote in there is fiction. None of it is real. None of it can be real," I snort. She shakes her head.
"You don't remember that's why it all seems fake, but those dreams are real. They are more than just dreams they are memories! They are memories that have been pushed back into your subconscious to make room for false ones. This whole life your living isn't real. You and your father are fictional. Your real name is Avani Genevieve, and your father isn't your real father. He is the Doctor. He adopted you when you were a baby. You and the Doctor are not from this world. You and the Doctor are Time Lords from the land of Gallifrey. You and the Doctor are the last of your kind. You are the lightning in the oncoming storm. The lonely goddess. The girl without a home. You are the protector of everything that is, everything that was, and everything that could ever be," she presses. The gun wavers in my hands.
"No. It is all impossible. It is all completely mad. You are mad," I reason.
"No, it's all true. Believe me, Avani," Rose begs.
"I don't want all that. All I want is Father, Nathaniel, and you. That is all I want. I don't want to be protector of the universe. All I want is to get married and have children. I want to live here, and be human like everyone else. I don't want to be her. I don't want to be lonely," I sob.
"But if you do become her you can live, your father can live, I can live, and Nathaniel can live. We can all live if you just open this watch," Rose promises with a smile. Through the blurry tears I can see two gold, circular objects sitting in the palm of her hand.
"Stop this nonsense, girl. You belong in an asylum," the third guard roars, pointing the gun at Rose.
"Shut that hole in your face or I will shoot," I bellow. He stops talking, but keeps his gun trained on me. Every move I make all three of their guns follow. I turn back to Rose. I reach out and take the fob watches into my hand. "Okay, move aside so I can give my father his," I order, motioning to the right with the gun. The three soldiers move to the left with reluctance, leaving an open way to Father. I walk forward to his open palm, and drop a gold watch into his hand. I toss the gun to Rose. "If they try to pull anything, shoot them." She nods. I focus on the watch again. I finger the cool metal and intricate designs on the lid, wondering how such a contraption could alter my whole life.
"Are you ready?" Father inquires softly.
"On three," I breathe.
"One." You are being foolish.
"Two." This is impossible.
"Three." This has to work.