Yearning, page 4
turned back to Darian. “I’m sorry. I’m overstepping.”
Darian gaped at her. “Are you psychic, Samantha?”
“What?” Samantha frowned, but then had to smile.
“What do you mean?”
“Camilla and I were talking about that yesterday.
Wallpaper, fabric texture, with wine red as the dominant
color.” Darian placed her hands on her hips. “So. Psychic.”
A new kind of warmth spread within Samantha. “Hardly,
but it’s a nice thought.”
Darian waved her along and showed her the rest of the
house that consisted of two parlors, the study, four
bedrooms, a kitchen, a vestibule, and two bathrooms—all in
various need of upgrades. And then there was the library,
but Darian shook her head no.
“If I let you up there now, I won’t get to pick your brain
about the basement. You’ll be stuck in the library and
abandon me for all those musty old books.” Darian pointed
to a narrow door in the mudroom. “There’s the staircase.”
Darian was right. Despite being intrigued earlier when
thinking of the books, Samantha wasn’t all that keen to
investigate a basement that might be dirty and spooky. As
Darian led the way down the stairs, Samantha followed and
tried to hide her reluctance. When they reached the end of
the stairs, she was relieved to see that it was well lit by
construction lamps and, if a bit dusty, not gross or spooky.
Wooden shelves held tools, baskets, crates, metal boxes,
and so on. A furnace that looked antique sat against the
center wall. Next to it, someone had spread a new tarp and
then a blanket.
Pointing to the old furnace, Darian said, “That
monstrosity will be exchanged for a new one next week.”
“Probably safer that way.” Samantha stepped closer to
the tarp. “This the wall?”
“Yes. Look here.” Darian waved her along. “I have the
relevant part of the blueprint here. I mean, I managed to
copy part of the one I got from you and blow it up on my
laptop. I printed this part of the basement, and the
measurement doesn’t make sense. This wall shouldn’t be so
massive.” She pointed at it. “It’s more than three feet deep.
And what the hell is it made of? It looks like it was carved
out in one big block of bedrock, and the surface is super
even. Or am I missing something?”
Kneeling carefully on the blanket, Samantha ran her
fingertips along the smooth wall. Darian was right. It was
not just one block. It was also glasslike smooth, more so,
even, than the modern granite counters that were all the
rage. “I don’t get this either.” Glancing down at the A4
paper Darian handed her, she held it closer to the light. On
the blueprint, the wall should be aligned with the furnace.
This was an old document, that was true, but if it was
accurate regarding the rest of Brynden 4…?
“What’s on the other side?” Samantha looked up at
Darian.
“I think it used to be a pantry or something. Want to
see?”
Fascinated now, Samantha followed Darian through
another doorway and into a smaller room with empty
shelves lining the walls. “I agree. It looks like a pantry.” In
here, the walls were made of thick planks. Samantha placed
a hand between two shelves against the wall that was
behind the furnace but yanked it back.
“What is it?” Darian stepped closer, placing a hand at the
small of Samantha’s back.
“Is the furnace on? I mean, are you running it?”
Samantha carefully touched the wall again. Darian did the
same, placing her hand next to Samantha’s. She jerked also.
“It’s warm. Not just warmer than the surrounding rock.
It’s warm.”
“You haven’t felt it before?” Samantha took a step back
and examined the wall.
“I’ve only tapped it with the hammer to try to determine
if it’s hollow. The wood is so thick, I couldn’t judge.”
“This is a mystery,” Samantha said. “Are you going to
take down part of the wall?”
“I hadn’t exactly planned to do it before I’ve gotten the
upstairs in good working order, but now…I’m damn
curious.”
“Me too.” Samantha carefully felt the wall again. This
time she moved her hand horizontally. “If I’m not imagining
things, it is cooler toward the outer wall. I suppose that
makes sense.” She shook her head. “What am I saying.
None of this makes sense.”
“Well, I for one am going to get a stronger circular saw
and cut some of this down. Have you seen the size of these
planks?” She pointed at the end wood. “At least eight by
ten, or so. More logs than planks, really. How the hell can
heat permeate that barrier?”
Thrilled at the complete mystery, Samantha pulled up
her cell phone. “May I take some photos?”
Darian nodded. “Sure. I’m going to do the same. I love a
mystery.” She produced her own cell phone and tapped the
screen a few times.
“I’d think that loving mysteries is a requisite for being in
law enforcement.” Samantha took several pictures of the
shelves, the end wood, and walked around the corner to
photograph the old furnace and the amazing wall next to it.
When she was done, she placed her hand on the smooth
surface and leaned into it. A faint hum against her palm
made her take several steps back, right into Darian.
“Whoa. Easy there.” Darian placed a hand against
Samantha’s back again. “You all right?”
“Not sure.” Samantha pushed her shoulders back and felt
the wall once more, annoyed at being so skittish. And why
the hell could she still feel Darian’s hand through her shirt?
Touching the wall again, she clearly felt the hum. “Touch
this. Press hard.” Samantha tapped her perfectly rounded
and painted nail against it.
“What? Oh, okay.” Darian stepped closer and mimicked
Samantha’s movements. She yanked her hand back. “What
the fuck?”
“Exactly. What did it feel like to you?”
Darian grimaced as she tucked her phone back into her
pocket. This time she pressed both palms against the wall,
leaning in with her entire weight. “Like someone trapped a
massive hive of bees. Buzzing, rather than vibrating. I didn’t
feel that on the other side. Then again, I didn’t press this
hard.” Darian let go and hurried around to the pantry side of
whatever was making the sound. She repeated the
maneuver and closed her eyes. Her hair lay in soft waves
around her shoulders, and for a brief moment, Samantha
forgot about anything else but how stunning she found this
woman. “It’s not as clear, but I don’t think I’m imagining it.”
Darian surprised Samantha by taking her hand and placing
it under her own, pressing it against the wooden wall. “You
feel it?”
It was hard to say at first, since Samantha’s heartbeat
was so fast all of a sudden. She forced herself to calm down
and, like Darian, closed her eyes. And yes, there it was. A
very fine, but unmistakable, hum.
“This is crazy,” Samantha said and opened her eyes. “I’m
glad you’re going to take down part of the wall. I hope
Camilla won’t mind.”
“Are you kidding? I’ll have to restrain her to keep her
from getting her hands on an ax.” Darian grinned and let go
of Samantha’s hand, quickly, as if she just realized she was
trapping it. “Sorry.”
Samantha dismissed the apology with a flick of her
fingertips. “I would love to be in the loop with how it goes. If
you’ll agree to that, I can in turn share a few interesting
discrepancies that I’ve found in old Town Hall records.” She
gazed hopefully at Darian, praying that the lure of more
mystery would be enough.
Darian didn’t disappoint her. “That’d be cool. I mean, I
love being here with Gran, but my brain will need more than
being the unofficial contractor for restoring this house. Gran
realizes this and has been after me to check in with the local
law enforcement to see if they have an opening. I still
might, but first I’m going to get to the bottom, or should I
say, behind, this thing.” She motioned toward the log wall.
“I won’t interject myself into your quest uninvited—”
“Whoa. Please do. I don’t want to do this alone.” Darian
touched Samantha’s arm. “I mean, where’s the fun in that?”
Samantha knew her cheeks reddened again as they
warmed. She cursed inwardly and could only hope that the
construction lights didn’t show her reaction. “I appreciate it.
I’ll extend the same courtesy, of course. It’ll be a welcome
change to have someone actually interested in my research.
Normally the people around here don’t care or downright
discourage me.” Feeling awkward for sharing too much
information, because it was a touchy subject with her,
Samantha smoothed down her hair and tucked her cell
phone back into her pocket.
“Ah. Well, screw them. I’ll read through your stuff, and
though I’m no scholar, I have a good nose for when
something doesn’t add up. And this,” Darian pointed at the
wall again, “is beyond not adding up. Now, how about a
peek at the library before we have dinner?”
“Sounds great.” Relaxing again, Samantha followed
Darian as they made their way up the stairs.
* * *
Darian knew she would never forget the look on
Samantha’s face when she saw the library upstairs. She
propped her hip against the doorframe and pushed her
hands into her back pockets. It was fascinating to watch
how reverently Samantha placed a gentle index finger along
the spine of a book every now and then.
“These are…treasures,” Samantha said, sounding
breathless, which in turn sent shivers through Darian. “I
think some, and perhaps more than some, might
complement our older books at the library. I have only
skimmed through two shelves so far, and I see so many
books that I’m dying to peruse.” Turning to look at Darian,
Samantha smiled broadly. “Not to mention catalogue.”
“You’re welcome here anytime, as Gran said.” Darian
tried to not sound too eager. The idea of having Samantha
as a frequent visitor made her prolonged stay in Dennamore
more promising. “I can be your secretary when I’m not
overseeing the contractors.”
“Now there’s a tempting offer.” Samantha walked slowly
among the shelves, stopping every now and then to tilt her
head sideways to read the spines of the books. The loose
tresses around her face that had escaped the soft twist
caressed her cheeks and neck, which made Darian’s
stomach clench. Samantha moved with an innate grace and
as if she had no idea how effortlessly elegant she came
across. How old could she be? Thirty? Thirty-five? Her
demeanor could add to her years, as it was more stylish
than youthful, but these days it was impossible to judge a
person’s age.
“Oh, wow,” Samantha gushed, pulling Darian out of her
reverie.
“What?” Pushing off the doorframe, Darian joined
Samantha, who had climbed up on one of the small ladders
to check out the top shelf by the window. “Careful. I can’t
swear these steps aren’t centuries old.” She wanted to
place her hand on Samantha’s hip to steady the clearly
excited woman but thought better of it.
“Never mind that. May I pull this one out?” Samantha
tapped a fingernail against the spine of a large leather-
bound book.
“Of course. Hand it to me. It looks heavy, and I’d rather
you didn’t break your neck stepping down.”
“All right.” Samantha carefully coaxed the book out. “Oh,
good. I was afraid that it might have gotten stuck against
the other books or the shelf.” She handed the large volume
to Darian and descended the ladder.
Darian placed the book on the desk in the center of the
room. “There you go.”
“Oh, this is absolutely astonishing. I wish I had cotton
gloves…I should have brought some.” Samantha sat down
on the leather-clad desk chair. “I could have used the
sleeves of my cardigan, but I left it downstairs.”
“Take my shirt.” Without really considering the
appropriateness of taking off her long-sleeve shirt and
ending up in just a tank top, Darian pulled the garment over
her head.
“Oh. Eh…thank you.” Samantha blinked and gazed up at
Darian for a prolonged moment. “It might get a bit dusty.”
“The ancient washing machine works remarkably well.”
Darian grinned and went to stand just behind Samantha as
she pushed her hand into one of the sleeves of her shirt to
use as a makeshift glove.
“Let’s see.” Pulling gently at the hard cover, Samantha
moved it as if she were handling a broken limb, gently
setting it down in an open position. The first page was sepia
colored and blank. Expertly, Samantha turned it, stopping
when they heard a soft creak. “I don’t think it’ll break,” she
murmured, and Darian was about to answer something,
when she realized that Samantha was probably talking to
herself. The idea of this stunning woman spending hours
among musty books in a strange basement at Town Hall,
talking to herself, made Darian wonder if Samantha felt
lonely having this type of job.
After moving the page with so much patience that Darian
almost cried out twice in frustration, Samantha revealed
another sepia-colored page. However, this page wasn’t
blank. The entire spread was filled with letters and…Darian
squinted. Symbols?
“What is that?” Darian asked and pulled up a wooden
stool. Sitting down close to Samantha’s right side to not be
in the way of her turning any pages, she absentmindedly
registered Samantha’s perfume, a vanilla-bergamot scent,
mixed with something fresh…lemongrass?
“Let me see.” Samantha bent over the pages. “I’ve seen
this before. I mean, this lettering. It’s not cursive, nor is it
block letters. See?” She pointed to the precise lines. “And
the lines are entirely straight even if they’re not lined. Such
perfection.” Giving a sigh that conveyed admiration,
Samantha let the nail of her index finger follow the first line
without touching the page and began to read.
“Within these pages I will commit treason, and though I
may forfeit my life because of it, I cannot let the truth
remain in the hands of those who seek to hide it. This, my
journal, will be kept well away from the eyes of my fellow
travelers. My intention is to pass this information on to my
children, should…”
Samantha frowned and leaned in closer to the book.
“What does that say? G-a-i apostrophe u-s-t-o?”
Moving her head in next to Samantha’s, Darian followed
the perfect, pink-varnished nail as Samantha pointed to the
word—or name. “Gai’usto? A name?”
“It’s written in such an intricate way, it’s hard to make
out…but, as the rest is in English, albeit quite formal, it’s
puzzling how it could be a name. From which country could
they be? Sounds almost Slavic.” Samantha leaned forward
again.
“Should Gai’usto and I be awarded sons or daughters.
This land is rich with resources, and once we have gathered
enough information to blend in with our neighbors, I have
hope we can co-exist until we one day might return to our
distant home.”
She looked up at Darian. “They must have traveled far to
get to the US. Do you see a date?”
Darian scanned the margins. “I see some symbols, but
that has to be an alphabet from their old country, because I
can’t make it out at all.”
Samantha nodded. “It reminds me of the Cyrillic letters,
but not quite. I’ll have to look into that.” She kept reading.
“‘Rei’tien’—another name?”
“Rei’tien is our only true confidante. It is thanks to her
that we manage to assimilate the tongue with which the
inhabitants of this world speak so quickly.”
“Now, that’s damn weird.” Darian straightened.
“Assimilate the tongue? Inhabitants of this world? North
America was called the New World, of course.”
Darian gaped at her. “Are you psychic, Samantha?”
“What?” Samantha frowned, but then had to smile.
“What do you mean?”
“Camilla and I were talking about that yesterday.
Wallpaper, fabric texture, with wine red as the dominant
color.” Darian placed her hands on her hips. “So. Psychic.”
A new kind of warmth spread within Samantha. “Hardly,
but it’s a nice thought.”
Darian waved her along and showed her the rest of the
house that consisted of two parlors, the study, four
bedrooms, a kitchen, a vestibule, and two bathrooms—all in
various need of upgrades. And then there was the library,
but Darian shook her head no.
“If I let you up there now, I won’t get to pick your brain
about the basement. You’ll be stuck in the library and
abandon me for all those musty old books.” Darian pointed
to a narrow door in the mudroom. “There’s the staircase.”
Darian was right. Despite being intrigued earlier when
thinking of the books, Samantha wasn’t all that keen to
investigate a basement that might be dirty and spooky. As
Darian led the way down the stairs, Samantha followed and
tried to hide her reluctance. When they reached the end of
the stairs, she was relieved to see that it was well lit by
construction lamps and, if a bit dusty, not gross or spooky.
Wooden shelves held tools, baskets, crates, metal boxes,
and so on. A furnace that looked antique sat against the
center wall. Next to it, someone had spread a new tarp and
then a blanket.
Pointing to the old furnace, Darian said, “That
monstrosity will be exchanged for a new one next week.”
“Probably safer that way.” Samantha stepped closer to
the tarp. “This the wall?”
“Yes. Look here.” Darian waved her along. “I have the
relevant part of the blueprint here. I mean, I managed to
copy part of the one I got from you and blow it up on my
laptop. I printed this part of the basement, and the
measurement doesn’t make sense. This wall shouldn’t be so
massive.” She pointed at it. “It’s more than three feet deep.
And what the hell is it made of? It looks like it was carved
out in one big block of bedrock, and the surface is super
even. Or am I missing something?”
Kneeling carefully on the blanket, Samantha ran her
fingertips along the smooth wall. Darian was right. It was
not just one block. It was also glasslike smooth, more so,
even, than the modern granite counters that were all the
rage. “I don’t get this either.” Glancing down at the A4
paper Darian handed her, she held it closer to the light. On
the blueprint, the wall should be aligned with the furnace.
This was an old document, that was true, but if it was
accurate regarding the rest of Brynden 4…?
“What’s on the other side?” Samantha looked up at
Darian.
“I think it used to be a pantry or something. Want to
see?”
Fascinated now, Samantha followed Darian through
another doorway and into a smaller room with empty
shelves lining the walls. “I agree. It looks like a pantry.” In
here, the walls were made of thick planks. Samantha placed
a hand between two shelves against the wall that was
behind the furnace but yanked it back.
“What is it?” Darian stepped closer, placing a hand at the
small of Samantha’s back.
“Is the furnace on? I mean, are you running it?”
Samantha carefully touched the wall again. Darian did the
same, placing her hand next to Samantha’s. She jerked also.
“It’s warm. Not just warmer than the surrounding rock.
It’s warm.”
“You haven’t felt it before?” Samantha took a step back
and examined the wall.
“I’ve only tapped it with the hammer to try to determine
if it’s hollow. The wood is so thick, I couldn’t judge.”
“This is a mystery,” Samantha said. “Are you going to
take down part of the wall?”
“I hadn’t exactly planned to do it before I’ve gotten the
upstairs in good working order, but now…I’m damn
curious.”
“Me too.” Samantha carefully felt the wall again. This
time she moved her hand horizontally. “If I’m not imagining
things, it is cooler toward the outer wall. I suppose that
makes sense.” She shook her head. “What am I saying.
None of this makes sense.”
“Well, I for one am going to get a stronger circular saw
and cut some of this down. Have you seen the size of these
planks?” She pointed at the end wood. “At least eight by
ten, or so. More logs than planks, really. How the hell can
heat permeate that barrier?”
Thrilled at the complete mystery, Samantha pulled up
her cell phone. “May I take some photos?”
Darian nodded. “Sure. I’m going to do the same. I love a
mystery.” She produced her own cell phone and tapped the
screen a few times.
“I’d think that loving mysteries is a requisite for being in
law enforcement.” Samantha took several pictures of the
shelves, the end wood, and walked around the corner to
photograph the old furnace and the amazing wall next to it.
When she was done, she placed her hand on the smooth
surface and leaned into it. A faint hum against her palm
made her take several steps back, right into Darian.
“Whoa. Easy there.” Darian placed a hand against
Samantha’s back again. “You all right?”
“Not sure.” Samantha pushed her shoulders back and felt
the wall once more, annoyed at being so skittish. And why
the hell could she still feel Darian’s hand through her shirt?
Touching the wall again, she clearly felt the hum. “Touch
this. Press hard.” Samantha tapped her perfectly rounded
and painted nail against it.
“What? Oh, okay.” Darian stepped closer and mimicked
Samantha’s movements. She yanked her hand back. “What
the fuck?”
“Exactly. What did it feel like to you?”
Darian grimaced as she tucked her phone back into her
pocket. This time she pressed both palms against the wall,
leaning in with her entire weight. “Like someone trapped a
massive hive of bees. Buzzing, rather than vibrating. I didn’t
feel that on the other side. Then again, I didn’t press this
hard.” Darian let go and hurried around to the pantry side of
whatever was making the sound. She repeated the
maneuver and closed her eyes. Her hair lay in soft waves
around her shoulders, and for a brief moment, Samantha
forgot about anything else but how stunning she found this
woman. “It’s not as clear, but I don’t think I’m imagining it.”
Darian surprised Samantha by taking her hand and placing
it under her own, pressing it against the wooden wall. “You
feel it?”
It was hard to say at first, since Samantha’s heartbeat
was so fast all of a sudden. She forced herself to calm down
and, like Darian, closed her eyes. And yes, there it was. A
very fine, but unmistakable, hum.
“This is crazy,” Samantha said and opened her eyes. “I’m
glad you’re going to take down part of the wall. I hope
Camilla won’t mind.”
“Are you kidding? I’ll have to restrain her to keep her
from getting her hands on an ax.” Darian grinned and let go
of Samantha’s hand, quickly, as if she just realized she was
trapping it. “Sorry.”
Samantha dismissed the apology with a flick of her
fingertips. “I would love to be in the loop with how it goes. If
you’ll agree to that, I can in turn share a few interesting
discrepancies that I’ve found in old Town Hall records.” She
gazed hopefully at Darian, praying that the lure of more
mystery would be enough.
Darian didn’t disappoint her. “That’d be cool. I mean, I
love being here with Gran, but my brain will need more than
being the unofficial contractor for restoring this house. Gran
realizes this and has been after me to check in with the local
law enforcement to see if they have an opening. I still
might, but first I’m going to get to the bottom, or should I
say, behind, this thing.” She motioned toward the log wall.
“I won’t interject myself into your quest uninvited—”
“Whoa. Please do. I don’t want to do this alone.” Darian
touched Samantha’s arm. “I mean, where’s the fun in that?”
Samantha knew her cheeks reddened again as they
warmed. She cursed inwardly and could only hope that the
construction lights didn’t show her reaction. “I appreciate it.
I’ll extend the same courtesy, of course. It’ll be a welcome
change to have someone actually interested in my research.
Normally the people around here don’t care or downright
discourage me.” Feeling awkward for sharing too much
information, because it was a touchy subject with her,
Samantha smoothed down her hair and tucked her cell
phone back into her pocket.
“Ah. Well, screw them. I’ll read through your stuff, and
though I’m no scholar, I have a good nose for when
something doesn’t add up. And this,” Darian pointed at the
wall again, “is beyond not adding up. Now, how about a
peek at the library before we have dinner?”
“Sounds great.” Relaxing again, Samantha followed
Darian as they made their way up the stairs.
* * *
Darian knew she would never forget the look on
Samantha’s face when she saw the library upstairs. She
propped her hip against the doorframe and pushed her
hands into her back pockets. It was fascinating to watch
how reverently Samantha placed a gentle index finger along
the spine of a book every now and then.
“These are…treasures,” Samantha said, sounding
breathless, which in turn sent shivers through Darian. “I
think some, and perhaps more than some, might
complement our older books at the library. I have only
skimmed through two shelves so far, and I see so many
books that I’m dying to peruse.” Turning to look at Darian,
Samantha smiled broadly. “Not to mention catalogue.”
“You’re welcome here anytime, as Gran said.” Darian
tried to not sound too eager. The idea of having Samantha
as a frequent visitor made her prolonged stay in Dennamore
more promising. “I can be your secretary when I’m not
overseeing the contractors.”
“Now there’s a tempting offer.” Samantha walked slowly
among the shelves, stopping every now and then to tilt her
head sideways to read the spines of the books. The loose
tresses around her face that had escaped the soft twist
caressed her cheeks and neck, which made Darian’s
stomach clench. Samantha moved with an innate grace and
as if she had no idea how effortlessly elegant she came
across. How old could she be? Thirty? Thirty-five? Her
demeanor could add to her years, as it was more stylish
than youthful, but these days it was impossible to judge a
person’s age.
“Oh, wow,” Samantha gushed, pulling Darian out of her
reverie.
“What?” Pushing off the doorframe, Darian joined
Samantha, who had climbed up on one of the small ladders
to check out the top shelf by the window. “Careful. I can’t
swear these steps aren’t centuries old.” She wanted to
place her hand on Samantha’s hip to steady the clearly
excited woman but thought better of it.
“Never mind that. May I pull this one out?” Samantha
tapped a fingernail against the spine of a large leather-
bound book.
“Of course. Hand it to me. It looks heavy, and I’d rather
you didn’t break your neck stepping down.”
“All right.” Samantha carefully coaxed the book out. “Oh,
good. I was afraid that it might have gotten stuck against
the other books or the shelf.” She handed the large volume
to Darian and descended the ladder.
Darian placed the book on the desk in the center of the
room. “There you go.”
“Oh, this is absolutely astonishing. I wish I had cotton
gloves…I should have brought some.” Samantha sat down
on the leather-clad desk chair. “I could have used the
sleeves of my cardigan, but I left it downstairs.”
“Take my shirt.” Without really considering the
appropriateness of taking off her long-sleeve shirt and
ending up in just a tank top, Darian pulled the garment over
her head.
“Oh. Eh…thank you.” Samantha blinked and gazed up at
Darian for a prolonged moment. “It might get a bit dusty.”
“The ancient washing machine works remarkably well.”
Darian grinned and went to stand just behind Samantha as
she pushed her hand into one of the sleeves of her shirt to
use as a makeshift glove.
“Let’s see.” Pulling gently at the hard cover, Samantha
moved it as if she were handling a broken limb, gently
setting it down in an open position. The first page was sepia
colored and blank. Expertly, Samantha turned it, stopping
when they heard a soft creak. “I don’t think it’ll break,” she
murmured, and Darian was about to answer something,
when she realized that Samantha was probably talking to
herself. The idea of this stunning woman spending hours
among musty books in a strange basement at Town Hall,
talking to herself, made Darian wonder if Samantha felt
lonely having this type of job.
After moving the page with so much patience that Darian
almost cried out twice in frustration, Samantha revealed
another sepia-colored page. However, this page wasn’t
blank. The entire spread was filled with letters and…Darian
squinted. Symbols?
“What is that?” Darian asked and pulled up a wooden
stool. Sitting down close to Samantha’s right side to not be
in the way of her turning any pages, she absentmindedly
registered Samantha’s perfume, a vanilla-bergamot scent,
mixed with something fresh…lemongrass?
“Let me see.” Samantha bent over the pages. “I’ve seen
this before. I mean, this lettering. It’s not cursive, nor is it
block letters. See?” She pointed to the precise lines. “And
the lines are entirely straight even if they’re not lined. Such
perfection.” Giving a sigh that conveyed admiration,
Samantha let the nail of her index finger follow the first line
without touching the page and began to read.
“Within these pages I will commit treason, and though I
may forfeit my life because of it, I cannot let the truth
remain in the hands of those who seek to hide it. This, my
journal, will be kept well away from the eyes of my fellow
travelers. My intention is to pass this information on to my
children, should…”
Samantha frowned and leaned in closer to the book.
“What does that say? G-a-i apostrophe u-s-t-o?”
Moving her head in next to Samantha’s, Darian followed
the perfect, pink-varnished nail as Samantha pointed to the
word—or name. “Gai’usto? A name?”
“It’s written in such an intricate way, it’s hard to make
out…but, as the rest is in English, albeit quite formal, it’s
puzzling how it could be a name. From which country could
they be? Sounds almost Slavic.” Samantha leaned forward
again.
“Should Gai’usto and I be awarded sons or daughters.
This land is rich with resources, and once we have gathered
enough information to blend in with our neighbors, I have
hope we can co-exist until we one day might return to our
distant home.”
She looked up at Darian. “They must have traveled far to
get to the US. Do you see a date?”
Darian scanned the margins. “I see some symbols, but
that has to be an alphabet from their old country, because I
can’t make it out at all.”
Samantha nodded. “It reminds me of the Cyrillic letters,
but not quite. I’ll have to look into that.” She kept reading.
“‘Rei’tien’—another name?”
“Rei’tien is our only true confidante. It is thanks to her
that we manage to assimilate the tongue with which the
inhabitants of this world speak so quickly.”
“Now, that’s damn weird.” Darian straightened.
“Assimilate the tongue? Inhabitants of this world? North
America was called the New World, of course.”
