Will You Teach Me… ?
I don't know if the change in the pace of updates was a bad idea, but the previous chapter did not raise many reactions. Maybe I shouldn't have updated so fast?...
Anyway, Brianna and Stephen are now on their little love island and this break away from their routine and problems is an absolute blessing. We will also meet a new character, among other surprises…. I hope you'll enjoy the chapter!
Thanks Rath101 for your review!
Rath101: Gloss over? Bro, you've known my stories for years now, have I EVER glossed over anything? Lololol Last chapter was Brianna's point of view, but that doesn't mean nothing happens somewhere else…. Just wait, hehehehehe.
oOo
29. New Beginnings
Everything was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
The song of the herring gulls hovering above the island, the iodized scents that naturally filled the place, the soothing sound of the waves crashing on the beach below... Brianna had also fallen in love with the house itself at first sight. It was smaller than River Run, more intimate and also warmer with its orange and deep green décor; it had quickly felt like home. And Bree never grew tired of admiring the bay every time she opened a window, taking in the invigorating air of the ocean.
Stephen was right. Just a few months ago she would have hated to admit it, but for once, she was totally in tune with her husband's latest fad. This house was everything they needed. A new start, a new environment, a place just for them to discover each other and get used to their new dynamic – away from duties, memories, and guilt. Phaedre would have also loved this place, and as Brianna was putting away her things in her new cupboard, the idea that they could have done it together – while chatting before having tea on the beach with Jeremiah – had brought a few tears to her eyes.
As she had not packed herself, Brianna realized that several things that Hennessy had deemed "unnecessary" had been left behind. The butler had taken some drawing materials, but her finished sketches – and especially those she used to keep track of her periods – had not made the trip. Brianna was not too worried, though; after Phaedre's death, she had forgotten to do it for a while and had gradually lost track of it. What was the point, anyway? She had surrendered. She had therefore no reason to refuse Stephen a second child. And the idea did not bother her either. This would literally be the beginning of a new life…
Once her cupboard was organized to her liking, Brianna got up and peered out the window, where Jeremiah and Blue could be seen running on the beach a few yards away from the foamy waves. Sitting on the gentle slope of the dune, Stephen was keeping a watchful eye on them. Brianna grabbed a thick woolen shawl, covered her shoulders and left the bedroom to join them. But as she came near the kitchen, there was an angry groan and she stopped in front of the half-opened door. Inside, Fitzpatrick stood amidst crates, pots and pans of all kinds – spinning around and obviously looking for something.
"Are you all right, Mr. Fitzpatrick?", Brianna asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
The cook spun around and shook his head. "No, I am not. I'm afraid I forgot my Arkansas stone in River Run, the one I use to sharpen my knives."
Brianna suppressed a smile. "I'm sure we can have it sent here in a while... or buy another one."
"But this will take time. Some ingredients are delicate, Mistress. Cutting them with blunt knives can crush them and turn a beautiful plate into an absolute disaster…"
"I think we'll survive a few aesthetically questionable meals, Mr. Fitzpatrick", Brianna promised in a soothing voice. "But... thank you for caring."
The cook nodded solemnly. "I'm just doing my job, Mistress."
Brianna smiled at him and walked away, shaking her head. Everyone dealt with grief as best as they could, after all. And if getting upset over a missing stone made him feel better… who was she to judge? She had also found the strangest way to numb her pain, and she was about to indulge in it right now. Crossing the small garden to reach the dune, she stopped in the sand next to Stephen. Instinctively, he straightened up and spread his knees for her to sit between his legs, and once that was done, he wrapped his arms around her shawl and shoulders.
Brianna closed her eyes, enjoying the pleasant contrast between the cold wind on her face and Stephen's warm body all around hers. A few moments later, when she opened her eyelids and turned her head to stare at the Irishman, she was once again struck by the sweetness and peace she could read on his features. That happened quite often since they had set foot on the island, and she had to admit that she never grew tired of it. And it was not the only fascinating thing she had recently discovered...
"I really like this place. Thank you…", she murmured and without even looking at her, he smiled imperceptibly until she spoke again. "… I love you."
As she had expected, Stephen jumped slightly and looked at her, a bit taken aback at first, then with… infinite gratitude. Since her first declaration of love a few weeks earlier, Brianna had developed a relentless obsession with this reaction. She was not sure yet if she meant those three words the same way she had once meant them with Roger, but one thing was certain: she liked the effect they had on Stephen. And every now and then, she just whispered them unexpectedly for the mere pleasure of seeing the surprise and joy on his face.
Stephen must have interpreted the silence that followed as disappointment, for he let out a nervous laugh. "I love you too, darlin'… Forgive me if it took so long for me to say it back. I'm not used to hear it yet... and I always flinch like it's the first time."
Brianna chuckled and returned her attention to Jeremiah. The boy had paused to watch them from afar, smiling widely, then bent down to pick up a stick and throw it away for Blue to fetch. The sight of her happy son wrung her heart and she bit her lip.
"I would like to apologize as well…", she began and Stephen frowned, as if the idea of her having anything to be ashamed of was unthinkable. "I realize that my resentment… towards you… caused me to miss so many things with Jeremiah. I was a prisoner of my own hatred and I... I did not take care of him like I should have."
"Don't be ridiculous…", Stephen said softly. "I took care of him. Whenever… my bad behavior and other tragedies were causin' you sufferin', I took over. Before we got married, you had no time for weakness because he only had you, but not anymore. He has me too." Brianna's eyes widened slightly upon hearing him admit that he had not exactly been a saint to her, but she did not make any comment. "Besides, I am sure that Jeremiah does not blame you. Your love for each other is unconditional. I must say that I quite envy him…"
"Oh, you have every reason to be jealous…", Brianna joked with a smug pout. "He is the greatest love of my life. No one can do better."
Stephen stifled a laugh. "I said I envied him, not that I was jealous. He's the only man in this world with whom I don't feel like I have to compete..." He kissed the top of Bree's head and went on: "I know I would lose."
Silence fell between them – only troubled by Blue's joyful barking – and Stephen tightened his arms around Bree to protect her from the increasing wind.
"I've often wondered if my mother loved me that way…", he whispered a few minutes later and Brianna frowned, her mind visualizing the blurry image of a woman, dropping a newborn child on the forecourt of Sligo's cathedral.
Whatever her reason for abandoning her baby, she had her share of responsibility in everything that had happened next. The loveless childhood in a squalid orphanage, the poverty, theft and crime as his only means of subsistence, then his career as a smuggler and ultimately… their encounter and all the resulting violence. Would things have turned out differently if Stephen had grown up in a loving family? Would he have become the same man or someone entirely different, someone who respected others, had empathy and less taste for robbery? Brianna liked to think so. That one could not become a Stephen Bonnet without a good reason. But above all, she wanted to believe that what a lack of love might have broken in him, she could fix it by giving him what he had always needed. He had partially proved to her over the months that it was possible, and perhaps after a few years they would achieve together some sort of appeasement and mutual forgiveness.
"I've often thought about her abandonin' me…", Stephen continued, pulling Brianna out of her thoughts, and the young woman frowned. "I hope it broke her heart."
"What a strange idea. Why?"
Stephen pursed his lips and his gaze drifted out toward the bay and the coast of North Carolina that was barely visible on the horizon. "Because it would mean that she cared. If only for a moment."
Brianna turned around – not without difficulty – in the Irishman's arms and gave him her sweetest smile. The reason why this woman had to separate from her child did not matter; Brianna did not know her story and never would. But she knew one thing: whether they were born or still a bunch of cells in the womb, whether they were wanted or not, it was never easy to part with a child.
"I'm sure she did…", she whispered and as the pirate's shining green eyes watered, Bree pressed her lips against his and kissed him tenderly.
~o~
The neighs of a dying horse filled the air, along with the acrid smell of gunpowder and dust stirred up by the overturned cart and dozens of hooves. Added to this were the triumphant voices of their assailants, the jingling of the gold bags being loaded onto their horses, and the deafening hiss that had invaded her ears since her skull had hit a massive stone in her fall. Everything was blurry, the sounds were either muffled or more violent when she came to, before the excruciating pain in her skull made her fall back into a state of semi-consciousness where nothing could reach her. Not even the terror she had felt realizing she could not move an inch.
Under her left cheek, the lumpy soil smelled of rain, humus and clay. Small pebbles uncomfortably sank into her temple, but she could not move to dislodge them. One of the second horse's hooves swung dangerously close to her forehead as the animal struggled on the ground to get up, and she vaguely thought her suffering could have ended right there, with a simple kick that would have been more than enough to blow the rest of her brains out. But the Lord above would apparently show no mercy on her today.
She tried to scream, but the faint sound that escaped her mouth was not enough to cover the surrounding din. She tried to crawl, but her body no longer responded and the slightest attempt to move triggered a series of violent electric shocks in her neck, paralyzing her brain and wiping out any desire to escape. It's too late anyway, she thought as two shoes made of leather and animal skins stopped a yard or two away. Their assailants would certainly finish the job, loot what was left of their cargo, scalp them and leave them to rot in the middle of the woods. A feast for wolves and maggots.
It was at this point that Phaedre of River Run decided to start praying. In thinking. The only brain function that would not cause her any pain.
Hail Mary, full of grace; The Lord is with thee.
If she were to leave this world today, away from her home, away from wee Jeremiah and her friend, without a priest to grant her absolution, then she might as well try to get it herself. And enter God's Kingdom confidently, after one last prayer.
Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
The shoes became knees as the Indian stooped down to touch her face and Phaedre gasped at his touch. This was the end of her. Hopefully, it would be quick and she would soon be at peace. The Indian shouted something in his own language and stood up again. His knees, then his feet, disappeared from Phaedre's field of vision. Behind him, she could now see his fellow men bustling about the overturned cart. Inside was O'Donnell's body – his long leather coat making him easily identifiable – but there was nothing where his head should have been, and she gasped again.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, Now and at the hour of our death.
Two powerful hands lifted her unceremoniously, causing her so much pain that Phaedre barely had time to realize it was the end before everything went black. Her face distorted with distress and her mind picturing Jeremiah's small arms hugging her one last time.
Amen.
Phaedre woke up with a start, sitting up on her makeshift bed like a devil coming out of its box. Underneath the loose blouse that she used as her nightgown, her skin was entirely covered with a sticky layer of sweat, and the unpleasant contrast between the stifling heat of her body and the ambient cold made her shiver. Wincing, she raised a hand to her head, her trembling fingers feeling the scars under her raven-black hair. Sudden movements were still a bit painful, but the healing process was coming to an end. The gesture had become nothing more than some sort of habit over the weeks, as if she still feared the wounds might reopen. She was closing her eyes to regain control of her breathing when a soft female voice rose in the semidarkness of the tepee.
"Nightmare?"
Phaedre turned toward Angeni's bed and nodded – although the young Indian girl probably couldn't see her despite the first rays of the morning sun filtering through the animal skins over their heads.
"Yes. Sorry if I woke you up…", she muttered before laying on her mattress, made of leaves, dry grass and animal skins.
"I was not sleeping. I was thinking about Onacona…", the young girl chuckled, turning over on her mattress. But an annoyed "shhhh" rose from another bed and forced her to lower her voice and move closer to her friend. Their teepee was one of those for single women, widows or young girls. It was therefore always difficult to have a real conversation at night without disturbing the other three sleepers. But Angeni loved to chat and practice her English, and it would take much more than a few angry women to stop her.
Phaedre smiled briefly, but she was still too shaken up by her dream to pay attention to what Angeni had to say about the young man from their tribe that she coveted. Despite everything that had happened since that fateful last day of October, the memory of the attack kept haunting her. She had looked death in the eye, she had said her last prayers, so much so that when she came to many hours later – naked and surrounded by Indian women spreading various ointments on her wounds and bruises – her first thought was that she was lost in limbo, with celestial beings preparing her imminent entrance into Heaven or Hell. She had then realized that she was alive and well. Broken, lacerated, covered in blood, but alive.
Angeni – one of the few English-speaking members of this Catawba tribe – had explained to her that their warriors had brought her back with them after the attack, but not out of kindness. They had taken her in, cared for her, hydrated her and fed her; but once healed, when she had expressed the wish to leave them and find her mistress's family, the Catawbas had not let her go. Worse: the chief of the tribe had strongly admonished her, explaining that she now belonged to the tribe and that she should work hard to thank them for their good care.
Phaedre had therefore stopped broaching the subject of her departure, keeping the existence of the ledger secret and patiently waiting for an opportunity to run away from them and to Fraser's Ridge.
But it was easier said than done. Things had soon become complicated when the tribe had started to migrate towards Virginia – as they did not want to linger around Lumberton for too long – and moved every few days. Phaedre had spent the first journeys on horseback, as she was still too weak to walk – but having never ridden in her life, she had been assigned a rider. And that was when she had met...
"….-li was looking at you last night?", Angeni's voice said, close to her ear. Phaedre jumped, feeling ashamed as she realized she had not listened to a word of what her friend was telling her.
"What did you say? Sorry, I'm still a little bit sleepy…"
Angeni sighed loudly and there was another annoyed whisper somewhere in the teepee.
"I said… did you see how Wohali was looking at you last night?"
Phaedre felt her cheeks heat up, to the point that she wondered if she was coming down with a flu. "No, I did not…"
She was lying, of course. Wohali was the young rider who had carried her on his horse when she was still recovering and the mere mention of his name, the mere memory of his hard chest against her back, his gentle smile, his dark almond-shaped eyes and his long braided black hair adorned with bone beads… had a strange effect on her. Unfortunately, the language barrier had not really allowed them to get to know each other properly and Phaedre could not imagine flirting with him using Angeni as an interpreter. Not to mention the fact that she did not really feel at her best with her head covered in bandages and scars. Still, that did not seem to bother the Indian boy, and he kept staring and smiling at her on every occasion.
"I really don't know what you're waiting for… If Onacona looked at me like that… I would have found the courage to make him a necklace years ago…", the young girl whined, ignoring the grunts that came from the other beds.
"A necklace?", Phaedre whispered, turning her head towards her friend.
"In our tribe, when a woman fancies a man and wants to let him know, she makes him a necklace like those our warriors wear..." Angeni lowered her voice and chuckled. "…Then, the families agree to the union and they can have their own teepee and children."
Phaedre took a deep breath – convinced that if her skin had been clearer, she would have been as red as a tomato. Was it as simple as that? A few beads on a string, a pendant carved in a piece of wood… Was that all it took to be back in Wohali's arms? The young maid shook her head to chase the impure thoughts from her brain.
"Seems like a quick and inappropriate thing to do…", she mumbled, as if to convince herself that this was actually a bad thing.
"Really? How do your people proceed?"
Phaedre thought for a minute. Her people – as in ancestors – were a complete mystery to her, since she was born and raised in River Run and had always lived apart from the other slaves. But "her people" – as in North Carolina's citizens – were following different and more complicated rules.
"Well, a man has to court the woman he fancies. He has to ask her family for her hand… then they can plan to marry… and have their own teepee and children", she finished with a smile.
Angeni let out a groan. "Seems like a long and boring thing to do", she retorted, humorously misquoting Phaedre. "I can't wait to have my own teepee. I'm pretty sure it's much more pleasant to sleep with a man… than with these old frumps…", she added when one of the two widows who shared their tent grew impatient and hissed something in their language that Phaedre did not understand, but the meaning of which was not difficult to guess. The two young women fell silent again, holding back their laughter.
"It sure can't be worse…", Phaedre chuckled a minute later and this time Angeni's laugh shook the entire tent, marking the end of their night's rest once and for all.
~o~
Somehow, a new routine was setting in on Ocracoke, and although Brianna had a hard time finding her bearings around her new home, seaside living suited her perfectly. No responsibilities, no obligations… She, Stephen and Jeremiah could spend hours in bed in the morning, playing, reading, talking or just cuddling. Then they set off to explore the island, meet the few neighbors, play on the dunes or dip their feet in the water. Stephen had also taken them to explore the ruins of what had once been the lair of Edward "Blackbeard" Teach – killed here by the Army of Virginia after a bloody battle in November 1718 – and treat Jeremiah to some of the greatest feats of the famous pirate.
For long winter evenings or rainy days, Stephen had also invested in an impressive number of games of all kinds, including a magnificent chess board imported from England and its pieces made of ivory and ebony. Several months ago, hearing her talk about the games she played with Frank during her teenage years had piqued his curiosity and Brianna – pleasantly surprised that he had remembered that kind of details – had promised to teach him how to play.
Far from fancy dinners, from Tryon's influence and their various activities, Stephen was literally reborn. Brianna discovered a relaxed and rejuvenated man who did not really care what people thought of him and whose entire universe revolved around her and their son. When many other men would have gotten tired of this role of doting father, Stephen for one literally dogged Jeremiah's footsteps and the child gladly returned the favor, following him around like a little chick and asking ten questions a minute. About ships, about the sea, about Stephen's youth – a subject that he had been obsessed with since his father had revealed he used to be a ship's captain during the journey to Ocracoke. The Irishman was happy to answer, sometimes forgetting he was talking to a four year old, until Brianna intervened to gloss over the naughty details of the pirate's life.
Once a week, a ship came from New Bern to bring the islanders supplies and for a few hours, an improvised market took place in Silver Lake, Ocracoke's small harbor where Fitzpatrick and Lloyd filled their cart with food, candles and other useful consumables. And that was where the three of them were coming from right now – walking along the beach with Blue trotting by their side – after Fitzpatrick had gone home with all their brand new goods.
If Brianna had first feared that she would feel cramped on this thin strip of land of barely nine square miles, the well-being that she found a little more each day had soon swept her doubts away. The island was a welcome break from their daily lives on the mainland. It was also far less isolated than she had originally thought, and she hoped to be able to come there as often as possible. And why not with her parents? Stephen had agreed to invite them last May, he would probably be willing to repeat the experience in a few months... She was also looking forward to spending time there in the summer, when she could really enjoy the ocean and its warm currents. A vision of Stephen's flabbergasted face as she stepped into the water wearing a bikini – just like those she used to wear at the beach – made her smile and she jumped when her husband's voice reminded her that she was neither alone nor in the 60's.
"What are you thinkin' about?"
"Nothing in particular", she lied, tightening her arm around his. "I was just thinking how much I love it here. I'm sure my parents would too…"
Stephen cringed exaggeratedly and shook his head. "Hmm… I knew it, I should have bought the other house… Ocracoke is much too close… Ow!", he protested when Brianna pinched his arm through his thick coat. "Usin' violence now, are we?"
"I learned from the best", she retorted tit-for-tat. "What other house?"
"It was a joke, darlin', there is no other house…" Stephen sighed and his gaze shifted slightly to the right, towards the mouth of the Neuse River and New Bern across the bay. "My search area was somewhat limited…"
Silence fell between them, as Brianna understood that he was talking about Tryon and the impossibility of leaving North Carolina as well as their profitable partnership. For a second, an imperceptible frown brought back on Stephen's features his continental concerns, and Bree almost blamed herself for bringing up the subject. Forcing an enthusiastic smile to her lips, she cocked her head to the side.
"Where would you have taken us if Tryon had not been holding us back?", she asked mischievously. "Would we have roamed the seven oceans, as… you did?"
"You mean like common pirates?"
"Your words, not mine…", she sneered, but Stephen chuckled and shook his head.
"No, I don't want this life for Jeremiah. The ocean is no place for a four-year-old lad… The thought that you could both perish in a shipwreck revolts me."
"Where, then?", Brianna urged him, but Stephen seemed reluctant to answer.
"What's the point of talkin' about somethin' that will never happen?"
Brianna shrugged. "It doesn't hurt to dream a little bit…"
Both spouses exchanged a look and Stephen sighed, knowing full well that she would not let go. In front of them, Jeremiah pretended to reach for a stick to throw at Blue, but his dragging feet and frequent backward glances indicated he wasn't missing one bit of his parents' conversation.
"Well, for starters… I would choose a Spanish or a Dutch colony. I've had enough of English people!", he finished in a loud voice, drawing the disapproving looks of two of their neighbors who were walking in the other direction towards the market. Brianna chuckled and looked around, but thankfully there was no one else than the couple silently judging them on the other side of the path.
"All right, no Sassenachs, then. Anything else?"
"A place with better weather. And more beautiful beaches. These are an absolute disgrace…" He waved his hand dismissively, and Brianna laughed harder at his fake jaded attitude. "And palm trees. Warm waters all year round…" He leaned over to her with a mischievous smile. "… Light clothing."
"Obviously…", Brianna sneered, pushing his face away with the palm of her hand. "As for palm trees, I can't do miracles… But we'll just have to come back in the summer to have everything else..."
"And we will…"
"…with my parents", the young woman added laughing, reveling in her husband's long tired sigh.
"I guess I have no choice…"
Brianna grinned at him, knowing she had won another battle. Or even war? She wasn't even sure there was any conflict going on yet. Maybe she had not won the war the way she had imagined it, but her life was pleasant nonetheless. It was simply different.
"I would like everyone to make peace with the past and move on. The trial, our separation. It was incredibly violent for them too. The family can't be reunited if they don't fully realize that I…" Gave up?, she thought, before changing her mind. It was a bad choice of words, that did not convey exactly how she felt. "…decided to give us a chance. And I also want them to give you a chance."
Stephen slowed his pace, then came to a halt in the middle of the road, turning toward Brianna. His eyes were glowing with such devotion and gratitude that the young woman's cheeks began to turn pink.
"You know when I told you that, although I was sorry I had to resort to such methods, I had no regrets because you were finally mine? Well, it's not true. My only regret is that I couldn't meet and love you sooner." He tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear and went on. "You made me the man I am today… Every day I spend with you and Jeremiah brings me more happiness and peace of mind than I ever experienced in my entire existence…", he smirked. "…With you by my side, I wouldn't have attacked as many ships, or smuggled as many goods, for sure…"
"Hmm… Well, thanks to me, sailors in the North Atlantic can now rest easier. I should get a medal for domesticating you", Brianna joked, putting a humble hand to her chest and Stephen laughed.
"I can always have a word with Tryon about that, but I think he'd rather be hanged than give you any kind of reward."
"Let's face it, the hanging would be my reward", she chuckled and Stephen gave her a long smile, until Brianna stopped giggling at her own joke and got lost in his emerald eyes.
"If all you need to be happy is for your parents to be part of our lives…then I can hardly refuse. You gave me everythin' I wanted most in the world, I would be a complete ingrate if I did not return the favor." He saw her smile but before she could say anything, he went on: "And I too want to put the past behind us. Stephen Bonnet the orphan, vagabond, smuggler, pirate, criminal,… the newly rich with his rather unscrupulous ways…", he added, making a face, "I do not want to be those men anymore. I just want to be the man you made of me: Stephen Bonnet, happy husband and father."
Tears were slowly welling up in Brianna's eyes, but she still managed to push them back long enough to answer, her voice slightly hoarse.
"Good, because it is with him that I want to be."
Their kiss was long – soft and shy at first, then gaining in passion and ardor as they pressed a little more against each other. Stephen's hands traveled from her waist to her back, up and down (and especially down), before venturing towards her buttocks. And the more his fingers went down her corset, the more Brianna felt her desire rise, making her forget where they were, but also with whom...
"Ewwwww…", Jeremiah said nearby, and Stephen chuckled against Bree's mouth, ending the kiss prematurely. The child had recently asked many questions about kisses and what they were for, and despite Brianna's explanations about the romantic value of the process, all he had remembered from it was the unappetizing exchange of saliva.
"Thank you, Jeremiah, for this highly scientific analysis…", Brianna sneered, discreetly wiping her lips, while Stephen put his arm around her waist and started walking again.
"He's just jealous because I'm Mommy's favorite", the Irishman said with a sly wink at his son.
"No, you're not! I am!"
"No, lad, I am!"
"I am! I am Mommy's favorite!"
Brianna rolled her eyes as both "children" bickered for a while before Jeremiah decided to settle the argument once and for all.
"Mama, who's your favorite?"
"It is you, angel", she replied without an hesitation, and Stephen immediately looked outraged.
"If I were you, I would think about a better answer, darlin'… The nights can be chilly on the beach at this time of year…"
Brianna clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with feigned terror. "Oh dear, Daddy is threatening me! Sorry, Jeremiah, but I have to change my favorite!"
The kid burst out laughing. "It's fine. I know it's a lie." And to put an end to their funny argument, he stuck his tongue out at Stephen, who narrowed his eyes, trying to look scary. But all he got was a great laugh from Jeremiah.
The era of the bloodthirsty pirate who terrorized the Atlantic was well and truly over.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Aren't they adorable? It's a pleasure to finally see Brianna at peace and Stephen as a happy father and husband… Let's hope it lasts!
**Come on, be honest: how many of you REALLY believed that I had killed Phaedre? ahahahah Our favorite nanny is doing well and has been taken in by the Catawba tribe. During my research on these Natives, I learned that they had somehow "integrated" the concept of slavery (let's NOT thank the settlers for setting that kind of example) and it was therefore not uncommon for them to have slaves for chores or simply to increase the population of the tribe. But from the few writings I've read on the subject, the Natives seemed to treat their slaves more like actual members of their society. Some marriages even took place between Natives and African slaves (although they were not really acknowledged by the English authorities).
Anyway, I hope you are relieved to know that Phaedre is alive. But this news also comes with a big question: what do you think she will do with the ledger (which is still in her possession)…? I also hope you enjoy the happy moments between Stephen, Brianna and Jeremiah. It's relaxing, isn't it? Well, enjoy it while you can! hahaha
The next chapter will be published on May 28th (next weekend being dedicated to my hubby's birthday)! Until then, I look forward to reading your comments and I send you lots of love!
Xérès