Sharp

Sitting on my bed looking at the journals that Tony had let me borrow. To read up on the history of two female ancestors. Two separate lines from his mother’s and father’s family tree. Dating all the way back in the 1720’s. The fact that these journals were still kept and in readable conditions was astounding. Not only that, but two separates lives lived at the same time.

I had a few hours before my mother would come home and discipline me for skipping school. Might as well make the time fly by some reading.

France, Bordeaux

February 20nd, 1720

Today, Art has gathered many supplies and food to keep us at bay for some time. I’m terribly worried that he will notice soon that I haven’t bleed yet. The fear of needing more food when our money is dwindling.

The plague spreading has drove him workless. Art tries to find work but there is none to be found. I stay home all day while he’s away, trying for me. For us.

Soon, us will be 3. I’m scared he will want to leave in knowledge of thee.

I’m no more than 2 moon cycles late.

He’s been worried a lot lately. Spending time with one another has been his only relief. Though I knew, when I was fertile. Yet, I didn’t express concern.

Is it wrong of me to want a baby? Art would be a great father. Timing isn’t certain and the plague isn’t preferred. We had wishes to move to the Colonial America. Since it was said to have more work, more crops, and more land. We wish for a land to set as home.

Currently, home is at the peasants quarters. As long as we use our food sparingly with the others. We are given a place to lay our heads, in a private corner so the owner’s guards won’t know.

10 days ago was the last of his work.

He even tried for the military a few days ago since we’re at war with England. They unfortantely told Art that they have just called truce since the plague is ravage. They have no spots to fill, Art did not receive the opportunity to apply.

Personally, I’ve asked several times if they have opening for the wealthy. Even underneath the nose’s of where we sleep. They aren’t eager for more ladies to work. Since the Madam Elizabeth is expecting, they are limiting access and limiting workers to prevent her from getting sick.

Art, has just come back. He has news. As do I.

France, Bordeaux

March 3rd, 1720

Art has been working a week now at the vineyard.

After I told him we are expecting a baby, he has tried even harder for our little family. Thankfully, the work he has been doing is plenty money. Some in which we have place in safe keeping. Since recently, we have discovered someone has been stealing from us. We have our money on our personal. I understand the need for money, but no ladies in the same room as us have been working harder than my husband has.

Art has been out in the vineyard all day and night pruning the vines himself. The vineyard where he got work, all of their workers have gotten sick. Some have even passed due to the plague.

Lucky for us, though my husband comes back with scrapes along his hands and forearms. The winter has been very frosty and cold, making the branch’s edges much sharper than usually. Though all he is needed to do is cut them. It makes for a difficult job when done solo.

He also helps around the home of the vineyard owners. Taking logs of wood to them for their warmth. As he chivers out in the cold. I was fortunate enough to receive some heavy, warm blankets from the ladies around us. Since they have heard of the news of our unborn child on the way. Even Madam Elizabeth has heard word. I’ve been told I could possible have a job towards the end of my pregnancy if I wish; taking care of her baby when she is away. I haven’t decided quite yet.

The guards have gifted us more scraps of food, even thicker blankets, and fresh water in small amounts. Which was not something they did normally.

The ladies have warned me that it’s so I feel guilty if I choose to say no to the offer. We will see that these extra items be used accordingly.

Besides that, I was able to hand sew my husband and I large, warm cloaks. A few of the ladies have asked for me to sew up a few for them, in return for some money. Which I’ve done happily.

We are only a few months away from making enough money to take sail across the ocean to Colonial America. And have enough money to settle ourselves into a land. Building a home from the ground up.

France, Bordeaux

April 15th, 1720

We have just enough money so travel! Art says we shall leave next week. Extra money he earns should keep us feed where we stay and ensure we have no problem buying land. The owner of the vineyard he works at, gave him a large sum for his hard work over the month. He confessed to Art that having many workers scared him of his health. Also adding that he worked harder than the five men he had employed and he has been forever grateful.

Art said he planned on leaving soon to Colonial America, he blessed us his well wishes. Since the vineyard is well caught up and is awaiting now for August, when the grapes begin to grow. He wouldn’t need workers for awhile after he leaves until then.

We mutually haven’t told the ladies in the peasant quarters, in fear of them spreading the news of us leaving. We have gathered our things closely to keep us organized, but secretly to be able to leave quickly when the time comes.

Madam Elizabeth has been eager for me to offer myself a servant to her when her baby is born. She had a guard speak to me about the requirements that I would need to bestow when accepting the job.

I would have to feed her baby when the baby is hungry. Even when I am in the midst of feeding my own, I have to leave my baby behind in order to ensure the Madam’s baby is well taken care of. I would sleep and bath with glory until the baby turns one year of age. Though once done, my work would be no longer needed. I asked him several times if I would be able to bring my baby. He repeatedly said no. The baby would have to remain down here.

The knowledge of my baby being taken care of by these awful ladies, frightened me out of the job. Since they have kept me fed and warm during the winter. I’ve been ‘thinking on it’. Though the thought was clear and I had to refuse the job entirely. Yet our place was to not say a word and go according to their plan. Even though we were fooling them.

I’m starting to show and Art has been delighted to feel the baby kicking. He truly thinks the baby will be a little boy. I naturally sense it as well. We will be able to grow until to the new land. Build a home for the 3 of us. Maybe more in the future as well. Enough rooms for the 4 children that we have dreamed about having.

Next week we will silently leave in the middle of the night. Travel east to the coast and wait for the next sailing boat to travel. We will have to walk by feet. Since my belly is still small and early in my

pregnancy. Traveling won’t be such a hassle.

France, Bordeaux

April 20th, 1720

Art told me in secret that we will be leaving tomorrow. He’s got more than enough money. He also told the owner, of the vineyard, that today was his last day. Graciously, he gave a few more than he should have earned. In hopes that we can catch a ride west, instead of walking.

None of the ladies suspect a thing. They have expressed true joy in knowing that they will be able to take care of a young infant. Most of them are much older than I am. Assuming a baby will brighten their dull lives.

Leaving will break their hearts, yet I couldn’t care less of how they will feel. At least one of them has consistently been stealing from us when we are both away. Clothing I have sewn for the baby have disappeared. Jerky I have made, to feed myself during the nights, gone. Even food I had set aside for Artois when he arrives home, vanished.

My patience at this dwelling has been thin and I can’t be ever more grateful of our adventure that lies ahead. Though I am scared of retaliation, Art has assured me that we will leave as quietly as possible.

The man at the vineyard has even given us packs to carrying belonging, which has been greatly needed. Also provided us walking shoes, if carriages aren’t available. All items he had laying around and have been no longer needed. He has truly been a great friend to us in our time of need.

Tomorrow night will be the night we will leave. Art has told me to also get as much sleep during the day. Fool the ladies on thinking I am fatigue from the baby. Which has been true, but it shall work in my favor.

I recommended leaving things we aren’t in dire need of. To leave a possibility of reappearing, so not to cause sudden worry.

Art will pretend to be off to work and take some belongings with him. He prepared a stash at the vineyard and we will be able to retrieve it all once we’ve official have left the quarters. Which has luckily been given permission to do so, since the man has been so helpful and encouraged our decision to leave.

I will pass him my journal, leftover food that’s easy to travel with, a few blankets, baby clothes I have left, and a small collection of clothes. Slowly we have collected other items, but the last few will be tomorrow. The rest will have to be riddance.

France, Bordeaux

April 21st, 1720

We have finally left. No ringing bells, no guards chasing us, no hounds sent to finds us. All of which I feared and had terrible nightmares about.

Certainly, they will figure out our disappearance. Until then, it will give us plenty of time to run away.

We changed the plans at last minute as well. In case anyone peeked at my journal. While I went on my daily walks through town, instead I traveled to the vineyard. My surprise to how long the trip took, since walking has been our main source of travel. The pregnancy has been good to me thus far, yet walking long periods of time left me heavily fatigued.

Art have everything ready for us to go.

Luckily, we didn’t contract the plague. Thank the heavens. Though I worry, on a boat with many other travels, we will contract it. We have been told stories of pregnant mothers-to-be, having the plague and either closing their life or the baby being born dead. I fear greatly and become easily upset when I think of it too long.

We will leave soon to Colonial America. We aren’t sure where exactly the boat will guard us. God will set out path for us. Art spoke to me of his dreams the night before. He ensured me, that we will be safe. My heart want to wish it to be true. Though the plague has only shown me things or uncertainty.

Only way to find out, is to try. We will try!

A knock at my door took my eyes of the journal and back into reality.

“Hey, Becca?” Andrew cracks the door open and sticks his head in the room.

My body is laying on it stomach on the bed while the dusty journal sits in my arms. Leaning my arms on the bed to support me enough to read.

“Hi?”

He walks in slowly, cautiously examining me from head to toe.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt today? I know you asked for my help, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t involve myself. I hope you understand.” He said with apologetic tone.

My face become expressionless. He didn’t care and there was no way he could fool me. Actions speak louder than words.

“I ditched since no one cared enough to save me. So yes, I’m fine.” Andrew stood straighter and squinted his eyebrows in disbelief.

“You ditched?” A disgusted face became present on his face. “Mom is going to be pissed with you.”

I took my hands off the journal and shrugged them.

“At least I didn’t get beaten up. Better yet, at least I’m not dead.”

Andrew was caught off guard. From his eyes, I could tell the word ‘dead’ spoke loudest to him. Comparing our dad to me. I’m sure if he had to pick one life other another, sadly I would be the loser. Though not offended, but secretly didn’t want such an obvious pick.

“Okay.” He slumped to my door and out he went. Even remembered to shut the door behind him.

I unlocked my phone to see what time it was. Mom would be expected to be home any mintue now. That knowledge let butterflies roam loose inside of my body. There was no way I could confidently approach my mom. Leaving me to hide in my room until she started to stomp into my room.

Though that time wasn’t near, my muscles were tense and ready. Fight or flight instincts. Yet, those two options weren’t the proper ones for a teenager under their parents roof. Especially not for me.

Since it will be some time still before she comes home, I will be able to read through a few more enteries. Deep down I need to know more.

I hold the journal softly into my palms again and I begin to read.

France, Pessac

April 22nd, 1720

Though we have travelled far, we are still making progress. My feet will begin to get used to this long journey, since traveling yesterday was more difficult than anticipated.

Art has been patient with my lack of steady. I grow hungry much faster and feel my bladder urging more often. The walks around we’re practice for the miles we must overcome, even when it wasn’t enough.

I fear my lack of speed with make for a longer journey or place us in unsafe places when it’s time to settle for sleep.

Luckily, spring rain hasn’t been in our forecast. Leaving us to sleep well outside, with the warmth of one another. Our devotion to one another keeps us warmer while giving us relaxation to fall asleep faster.

We have limited our contact with others and keeping ourselves on the outskirts of the town. Heavily traveling through rural parts to keep our distances and remaining anonymous.

Art has we will need to collect more food tomorrow. With our luck, we will find a farmer that is harvesting. Ask for food in exchange of money and be on our way. Though this time isn’t harvest season, at least not for anything substantial. My pregnancy has drove me away from meats and solely on other foods. Making it much harder to stay satisfied.

We will be off when the sun has brought more light and we can see where we are headed. Until then, I will rest my feet and enjoy whatever massages are offered.

France, Le Barp

April 23th, 1720

We travelled all day yesterday, leaving much less room for settling down to eat. From all the walking, my feet are in dire need of rest. I asked Art if it is possible to rest for another night longer to ensure I don’t keep us from falling behind. He declined it. Reassuring me that any progress is better than no progress. We need to make use of every night and everyday accordingly. Not to sleep in one place more than once. Even when we reach the coast, we have to switch our nightly stays. Ensuring me don’t look like beggars and that people view us with purpose.

There was no flaw with his plan, just my pregnant body wanted to stay still and keep resting. Which I gave him my perspective. Though he reminded me, once we set sail, there will only time to rest and time to settle until our next adventure. That all this traveling will be to get out of France sooner than later. Which leads my heart.

Art also assured me that it would be only a few more days until we reach the coast. Letting me know we did a fantastic job traveling the past 2 days. Also that we kept better pace after the first day. He says he’s proud of my strength to move forward. Even though it’s just embarrassment of treading behind, so I’ve forced my feet to move the same speed as him. Leaving me more exhausted and weary.

The door opened without a welcoming knock. I quickly get up to the sit of my bed to face my mom.

Her face proves to be angry and not happy with the knowledge she knows. I can feel myself ready to cry or match my anger to hers.

“What the hell happened today? I got a call from the school saying you didn’t go to any of your classes. What makes you think you have the option to do that?” My mom spoke in a loud tone. Both of her hands were on her hips and blocking the doorway from anyone coming in or out.

“You won’t understand. People hate me at school.” My voice was shaky as my hands. I wasn’t one for being confrontational. I easy did what people asked of me. This time, I disobeyed and feel like any way she will punish me won’t be enough for my actions.

“That isn’t an excuse to ditch school entirely. What did you even do all day?” She glanced down at the journal laying open beside me, her anger towards me reading seemed unusual. Since she constantly preachs my brother to read more like me. “Read all day, huh? Well what happens if I take all of your books. Will you go to school then?” She came over to my bed and tried to grab the journal before I clentched it to my chest.

“Mom, no! This isn’t even mine. It’s, the library’s.” I lied.

“Give it to me or else you’re grounded.” She stood her hand out proudly for the book.

“I don’t even go anywhere, so grounding me will show no use.” Which spoke truth, and my mom nodded in agreement.

“Fine, you will see that all your books be gone today. As well as your computer. And let’s add that you get no privacy. I will make sure that your door gets taken off.” She stood tall in front of me as I still sat on the bed.

“Fine, not like that’s worse than having a dead sentence.” I blurted in her face.

My mom’s face seemed confused and caught of guard.

“Now what the hell is that suppose to mean?”

“If I had went to school today, I would have gotten beaten up. The girl who beat me up on Monday, she had plans to do it again.” I gestured my hand towards the wall referencing to my brother’s room. “Even Andrew and Kevin knew all about it and I begged for their help. Since no one is ever on my side. I ditched school because I was scared for my life. They chanted ‘dead beat Becca’. I’ve received countless messages saying horrible things to me, since I could even remember. Mom, take the computer. I could live more freely without it honestly.

“Yet, when I asked to be homeschooled or stay home. You never asked why. You didn’t care to know. You’re too settled in your own life that none of us mean anything to you when it doesn’t fit your agenda. Better yet, when we need you, you aren’t there. I’m tired of it! What’s the point of having a parent that doesn’t even try to listen to us. Or even when something wrong is going on and you pretend that it’s fine.”

She stood blank. The energy her body was giving off wasn’t as strong as she came in the room with. The truth hurts, yet she finally got to hear my side for once. Though it still probably wouldn’t make a difference.

“What did you do to want to beat you up?” I’m pissed now.

“Seriously? I didn’t I do anything! I did nothing! Some boy comes into town that isn’t interested in her. Instead, he has feelings for me. That’s why she’s pissed off at me. Some ugly beast I am, has a guy she wants. I’m so weirdo to her that deserve no bit of happiness. And from the likes your pushing, your the same as her.”

“Was this boy the reason you ditched today?” Only hearing what she wants to hear, typical.

I heavily rolled my eyes as I felt like I wasn’t being listened to.

“I wish dad was here, your are proving yourself to be so unhelpful, especially when I actually need someone.” I crawled further into by bed and sat against the headboard of the bed.

Her angry face was enraged.

“Fine, I’ll just take the door now.” She ran off to what seemed like the hall closet. The spot where tools were held. I could hear her shuffling through the tools to find whatever she was looking for.

Sitting there as I watched her vigorously take my door down and head down stairs to put it somewhere. From the sounds, it was probably in her room. To remind her that she ‘took control’ of the situation.

I sat as she took every book off my cheap black bookshelf. Treating them as if they were junk. Placing them in garbage bags to be easily carried out.

I made sure to leave her no satisfaction with how I showed my emotions. I became numb, I was numb. My body was trying to force me to defend, though it was in flight mode. Seeing her carry every bag out of the room and grunting to the heavy garbage bags. If anything, I’m glad book were heavy when put together. Making her have a hard time doing what she had set out to do.

The last thing on her list was the computer. As she was finding the outlet in which the power cord was attached to, I secretly led the bruised pink journal under my blanket. In hopes that her rage will make her forget about the existence of the book. When she finished unhooking everything, she announced, “This thing is going in the trash. If you want one, you can earn it now.”

As she took the computer down the stairs, I heard a loud crash. If I would imagine anything, the sound of the monitor would be what had broke. Which didn’t unsettle me. The computer showed me no use anyways. It was old and I only got it because my brothers already had laptops and my mom was kind enough to give it to me when she got a new computer. Since then, it’s been useless.

All I wanted to do was go back to Tony’s hold. He held within his arms. Why did home not feel safe? A place I knew since I was born. Instead, a handsome stranger’s arms felt safer than any place I’ve ever been.

After my mom took all the belonging she intended to grab, she looked around for anything she missed. That, or anything else she thought would be of importants.

Gladly the journal hid very well under the blanket, leaving no visiable sign that it even existed. Out of all things in this room, the journals Tony let me borrow would hold highest value to me. I can’t have her take something that isn’t even rightfully mine. As well as it being someone history. That was no place for her to extend her power.

“Monday, I expect you to go to school.” And off she went.

No door, no books, no computer, no love.

She didn’t care that no one liked me. In fact, she didn’t care herself. The fact that someone wanting me dead didn’t speak to her. That’s was made me upset. My life meant so little to her. Ever since my dad died, she become more angered.

Her helpful, gracious, loving personality wasn’t available for me. Only for my siblings and their friends. Which has been unsettling since I’m still her daughter.

She comes back in the room and heads to my bed. Her hand is open to retrieve something. In my mind I beg of it not to be the journal. Anything but the journal.

“And your phone. Practically a small computer, you don’t need it.” She continued to hold her hand out until she got what she came for.

I reached over to the side of my bed where the phone was unintentionally hidden. Pulling the blanket only enough to retrieve the phone without disrupting the integrity of the blanket above the journal. I clicked the unlock/lock button of the phone to see if Tony had decided to text me, in which he didnt. Deeply thankful he didn’t leave me a temptation for my phone. Since I didn’t know when the next to I’d be able to see it again.

Giving her the phone was simple, yet she grasped it as if it meant everything to me.

“Hidding it. Ha!” Storming out of my room as if she had won a battle.

Had she only realized that the journal was hidden as well. Yet satisfied that it didn’t catch on to her.

For safety measure, I wouldn’t be able to read it at home. Since having a door shows useful privacy. Especially how I get when I read a book, I get lost in a whole other dimension. Which would have given me no way to keep an eye out for myself.

This weekend was going to be brutal, since I had nothing to pass time. Also, I wouldn’t be able to see

Tony. There was going to be no date, which is what I owed him for trying to sneak off into the basement. The date I actually wanted to attend. I wouldn’t be able to notify him of the change in plans.

Hopefully he sees my absents as a sign for help, instead of trying to run away from him.

The truth being, I wanted to run to him. Run away from here. The date would have been a perfect time to do so. I’m unwanted her anyways. No one cares for me her. My mother wouldn’t care. She would only care that she wouldn’t be able to control my anymore, which will hold no limits once I reach the age of 18. Which was only a year and a half away. Which seemed to be more time than I could handle.