Ancestral

Voices From the Past

I spent most of the day immersed in the journal. It seems Captain Foster started out in the south, working on ships involved in the triangle trade. At first he had no problem with transporting slaves as a form of cargo. But with successive journeys he grew less and less able to tolerate the brutality of trading in human lives. By the 1840's he was beginning to take jobs that were ancillary to the main trade routes. He started working on ships that transported molasses and sugar to New England. At least he wasn't directly participating in the slave trade, but his livelihood was still dependent on it, so he looked for other options. He had heard of a booming trade in lumber from the great forests in the north and looked for opportunities there. By the time he was starting a family he had connected himself with these trade routes and had decided to settle here.

He chronicled the building of this house and the birth of his children. He also mentioned the death of Emma and the others. Throughout there were scattered references to “My beloved D.” but no name was given. I started to grow anxious to hear what the others had found in the letters, perhaps they could identify this mysterious person that seemed to have had a lifelong hold over Captain Foster. Finally, near the end he lamented that all of his children were either dead or had abandoned him, all but one, Mariah. I imagined this must be the Miss Foster who ran the inn after his death. He described her as “An old maid who had grown bitter with the years,” and thought of her as self centered and narcissistic, needing the approval of those around her or else she would plunge into the depths of despair.

By mid-afternoon I had managed to at least skim through the journal, but knew a more in-depth reading would be necessary to mine all the historical gems it contained. I took a break, realizing I had forgotten all about lunch, and headed to the kitchen for a snack. Andi and Mr. P. were sitting at the breakfast table pouring over the letters. Mr. P. was in tears. He looked up at me as I entered and sniffled, “Heartbreaking, it's just too tragic for words.”

Andi nodded, “Indeed. A tale of great love and great sorrow.”

“Tell me her name began with D.” I couldn't wait to hear.

“It did,” Mr. P. looked up in amazement. “How did you know?”

“The journal has constant references to 'my beloved D.” so I figured...”

“Well, you're partially correct,” Andi interrupted. “The first letter of the beloved's name was D, but the beloved's name was Delmar, or Del. The beloved was a he.”

My jaw dropped. “No shit!” I caught myself, “I mean...umm...”

Andi laughed, “That was my response too.”

“I love it, so why is it such a tragedy? What happened?”

Mr. P. began, “There are two sets of letters here, it wasn't obvious at first, but One set are from Del to Capt. Foster, and the others are from Capt, Foster to Del. It was perplexing why both sets of letters were here until we got to the last letter from Del.” He pulled out one of the envelopes and handed it to me. “It seems they met on board a ship when they were both young and fell in love. But while their relationship was tolerated on the ship, it had no place in polite society, so they both married and had families. But they kept in touch over the years.” He sniffed, “So romantic. Anyways, the last letter explains it all. Read.”

I pulled a single sheet of paper from the envelope and unfolded it. The message was brief and to the point.

My beloved Josh,

It is with a heavy heart that I must return these witnesses to our love. The odious woman with whom I share a home and who bore my precious children discovered them yesterday evening. She is threatening to expose our love to public ridicule and estrange me from my own babes if I do not sever all ties with you instantly. I have no desire to remain in her good graces, as you know. Once her position was secured by bearing an heir she became insufferable. I care nothing for her, but the good opinions of my neighbors and clients remain vital to my livelihood and I cannot risk that, as I'm sure you are keenly aware yourself. She tried to burn your letters but the thought of it was unbearable, and I wrestled them from her with the promise that I would return them. It will be a comfort to know they still exist, even if I can no longer touch the paper that holds the remnants of your touch or read the words that have brought me such joy. I have retained the lock of hair you gave to me upon our parting and, despite the damned woman's threats, carry it on my person always. I do not know how I shall bear the bleak life that holds no nope of word from you.

Know I will always cherish you in my heart and will always be your most devoted,

Del

I looked at Mr. P. with moist eyes. “I see what you mean. I'll have to look closer at the references to D. and see what I can find.”

We gathered up the letters and Mr. P. jumped when he looked at the clock. “Good heavens! How will I ever...” Turning to us he announced, “Dinner may be a little late tonight, the face can't be rushed.” With that he ran up the stairs, cursing himself for losing track of time.

Andi chuckled and looked at me, “So I haven't asked. How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” I said, “Although the wound under the bandage looks pretty gruesome. I wonder how long it will take to heal.”

“As long as it takes and not a moment less.” She smiled and patted my cheek. “And the boys, are they leaving you alone still?”

“Remarkably, yes. I have only heard them once and that was last night when Helmut...”

“Yes, well, there's no need to go into detail there. We all know what he gets up to in the basement.”

“Still, I can't help but feel that there is more to their story, like they haven't finished telling us what we need to know. Plus I still need to find that stone room in the basement, I'm sure it's important I'm just not sure why.”

“I'm more interested in the arch you saw under the stairs.” She became lost in thought and I decided to get that snack I had come down for.

Ben returned home, distracted by the cares of the day. I suggested we go for a walk. After working on the journal all day I felt I could use some fresh air. I chose a path that led us to the edge of town, not really planning anything, but wanting the silence of the woods. To one side I noticed an overgrown path and said I wanted to explore it.

“What is it with you and long forgotten driveways?” he joked. “We all know what happened the last time you found one of those.” Despite his misgivings he humored me and we headed into the woods.

The path didn't seem to lead anywhere in particular, although there were a couple of thinner spots in the trees that may have been clearings once. If so, they had clearly been abandoned for many decades. A large boulder sat on the edge of one of these areas, so we decided to sit for a moment before heading back for dinner.

Leaning over to kiss him, I finally asked, “How was your day?”

“Nothing special,” he sighed. Then leaning forward to kiss me back, “But that's about to change.” I leaned back, welcoming his tongue as it found its way into my mouth. While he kissed me, I moved my hands along his torso, unbuttoning his shirt to gain access to his chest and belly. I loved touching his body, and I loved having his tongue inside me, but I needed more. I ran one hand along his crotch and felt the excitement that was straining to be freed. Squeezing it, I made him moan as he kissed me, then pulling away for a moment, and giving me a mischievous look, he asked, “Here?”

Undoing his pants, I responded, “And now.” The moment his dick sprang free I swallowed it whole. His head fell backward as a louder moan escaped from his wide open mouth. He placed one hand on my head and the other on a rock behind him to steady himself so he could lift his hips and start fucking my face. He did his best to be gentle, but as he grew nearer to cumming his thrusts became more forceful and erratic, until with a final powerful thrust and an extended moan he buried his dick deep in my throat and fed me the load I had been waiting for.

A breeze stirred the still unfolding leaves on the surrounding trees and caused the dried remnants of last years leaves to dance along the ground. Spent, he leaned himself back against the rock we had been sitting on, and noticed the stone he had rested his hand on while I was sucking him off. It was a light gray, different from the other darker stones, and instead of being round or oval like the other rocks, it seemed to be rectangular. While I was still kneeling between his thighs, cleaning him off, he reached over and brushed the dried leaves away to see it better.

He suddenly jumped to his feet, knocking me over. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” He had a look of terror on his face and was pointing at the ground. I looked where he was pointing and saw a stone simply inscribed with the name Maggie. I recognized it immediately even though it was worn and darkened. We stood there for a moment, he frantically putting his clothes back together and I surveying the scene. I noticed a few other stones peeking discretely from the leaf litter. The wooden crosses were all gone and none of the metal plaques were visible, though I was sure that some of them must have survived. By now he was voicing his distaste more directly, “Ewww! I can't believe we just...icky icky.” He was shaking his body as if trying to rid himself of some sort of contamination.

I laughed and said. “Don't you see? It's Maggie.” I knelt down and cleaned the stone off properly. Looking back at him I assured him, “I don't think she would mind. I think love would be the best way to honor her.”

He was unconvinced. Turning, he strode down the path and said, “Well you go ahead and honor her all you want. I'll be waiting at the road.