Briar Point

Caroline started her day out like any other day, up before dawn. It was her duty to fetch water from the village well in order for Lucille, her mother of forty, to start breakfast. Caroline bundled up in thick wool socks, leather boots that laced half way up to her knees. Her stockings were a thick nylon and her dress was made of several layer of cotton with a heavy velvet overlay. Her winter coat was made from wool and leather, exquisitely crafted in France and shipped into the port in Virginia. Her father had always supplied his family with exotic riches, and doted especially on his daughter.

On her way to the well, Caroline spotted something ruffling in the bushes just next to the great wall. The entire village was enclosed with a stone wall, for protection. Her father always told her that bears lived in the woods and even mountain lions. She thought it very generous of her father to fund the wall project. It was completed just about three years ago. Of course, children would scale the wall and play in the woods, and their parents never really minded as long as they were home before dusk. The thought of it forced an image of nine-year-old Betsy. The air seemed heavier, just then.



But Caroline, naively fearless, left her bucket near the well and walked toward that bush. Something was in there, maybe a kitten. But just as she approached the bush, the rustling stopped. She looked over and under that bush, and saw nothing. It was a few moments later, that she noticed a few feet away, the stone wall had cracked, and the crack was significant. Quickly, she filled her bucket and ran back home, as quickly as anyone could run with a bucket full of water, to alert her father. The last thing she wanted was a puma attacking their village.



Her father seemed pleased that she had found the crack, and he and August were off to the church to start the repairs with the other council members. And after breakfast, Caroline had to get to the little school room for her lessons. Her father said that Briar Point was the only village he knew of that let little girls learn to read and write and young ladies learn about philosophy and art. He claimed it was for his sweet daughter, Caroline, that he suggested that girls get their education as well as the young men. Caroline didn't believe it, really. But she liked the idea.

Class was was dismissed for the weekend thirty minutes ago, and in those thirty minutes Caroline found herself sitting under the single maple tree to the east of the school house, enjoying the cold, crispy air the winds brought in from the west. It wasn't too cold but the ground was frozen hard, and she was starting to feel uncomfortable. The children were playing on the old rope swing hanging from one of the lower branches on the great, noble tree. Little feet padded the ground and their bright red noses sniffled and sneezed. Caroline's pinkish white fingers gripped on the closed leather bound book she'd been reading, now too distracted to glance at the printed pages.



Suddenly the pounding hammers over by the eastern wall flooded her senses. She stood to her feet and patted her dress- it would be so embarrassing to run across Mr. Marcos with dried grass stuck to your bum! Caroline took much care in dressing herself this morning, as she had every morning since catching sight of Mr. Marcos.



I haven't seen Elsie in a while, I should find her and see what sort of adventure we can get ourselves in today. She thought to herself with a sly smile. Younger girls would be home with their families, but girls at courting age should be out socializing. Caroline ran off to leave her school books at home, but she had to be swift about it. She couldn't leave time for anyone to ask questions. She decided to just leave the books on the covered porch and dash off quickly to find Elsie. She happened to know that the eastern wall was off limits today, so logically she headed west, her boots thudding on the frozen ground and her skirt whipping in the wind. In the summer no one wanted to be near the fields, God only knew what kind of fertilizer Farmer Johnston was using and who wanted to get that on their boots? But winter was a different story. Farmer Johnston was busy patching that stupid hole, and hopefully his wife was at home- the barn should be abandoned for the day. The perfect place for temporary privacy in this wide open town.



Caroline's naive disposition and childish fantasies made her superficially brave, bravery that came from the ignorance of thinking oneself superior to danger, that nothing terrible could ever befall before them. She reached the old barn hearing only the sound of her own short breaths. Her throat stung with ice cold dry air and her heart raced inside of her chest. "Elsie! Elsie! Are you here?" She said in a loud wisper. A familiar sound flooded her ears, a rustle, rustle, woosh crept its way into her consciousness. "Elsie! Come out here this instant!" She demanded softly. rustle, rustle, woosh. The memory of the stupid hole in the wall rushed back- the white faced fear that overtook her father's face seemed more reasonable in this moment than it had at breakfast. rustle, rustle, woosh. Her already fast heartbeat sped up. Beads of sweat formed on her brow and everything in her told her that if Father was afraid, much more she should be. But that superficial bravery took hold and she took a few steps toward the noise- and it stopped.



This was the second time today the sound had escaped her and she just wouldn't have it. "Hello? Who's there?" She asked stupidly hoping it would or even could answer her back. There was a pile of leaves by the south-western wall, just to the side of the wall- they were wet and black and half frozen. She inspected it, determining that the rustling sounded like leaves- and there had been leaves by the hole in the wall. rustle. rustle. woosh. A small furry gray creature shot out of the leaves. Caroline betrayed herself and let out a scream.



A second look at the scurrying creature made her laugh at herself. How foolish of me, to be scared by something so insignificant as a cat. A silly little cat. Hahaha. Ohh.. whew. How foolish. She laughed and rested her back against the barn sliding down and sitting with her knees clutched to her chest. "Lucky no one was here to see that." She said softly to herself, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Eleanora finally chirped up. "Callie, I'm over here!" Caroline followed the distant voice to the far back corner of the large barn. Her steps made the tired wood beneath cry out. And just as she saw Eleanora's shadow in the back, another voice caught her ears. "Miss Cole? What are you doing here."



The icy voice sent chills down her spine. She spun quickly and saw the chest and a well dressed man. Looking up, she instantly recognized him as Mr. Marcos. He seemed to be only slightly older than August, but far more handsome and glorious. "Mr.. Mr. Marcos... I.." Caroline couldn't form words gracefully but thankfully Marcos interrupted.



"Follow me." He simply said. And a strange sensation came over Caroline. She knew, even if she wanted to, she couldn't refuse.