The Grave

Sophie gasped at the sound of a real live voice piercing the silence of the cottage. She actually fell into the desk she was so startled by it. She hadn't realized how silent the cottage was until he spoke.

She looked up to see Thomas standing in the doorway. She was so involved in her discovery of the false drawer that she didn't hear him come in. She quickly hid the bag behind her back.

"Why the devil are you constantly sneaking up on me!"

"I knocked on the door," he said innocently. "I was just coming over to make sure you had found his stash," he explained knowing exactly what she was holding behind her back. He lifted an eyebrow at her and smiled crookedly. "I had a feeling," he shrugged. "That you might not find it and I didn't want it to be forgotten."

"Oh, well thank you," she said a little breathlessly. She eyed him curiously as she got up and hid the bag of silver deep into the bottom of the burlap sack.

"Don't worry, I won't take it. It is meant for you," he said with a sigh.

"I didn't think you would," she said a little too quickly.

"I thought you might be interested in seeing his grave," he said a little hesitantly.

"Oh, yes, that would be lovely," she said straightening her skirts. "Just let me put this back together."

She went back to the drawer. Inside the hidden cubby was also a wooden figurine. She pulled it out, eyeing it. It was a little carved frog.

"What a peculiar thing for him to keep hidden."

"His brother made it for him. I think it is less hidden and more protected," Thomas said.

"Oh. Well in that case that is pretty sweet that he would keep such a trinket."

"He was very fond of his brother."

"Has anyone written his family?"

"I was working on it. The governor thought it would be best coming from a friend. I'm supposed to send it out on the ship you came in on when it leaves. I'm not the greatest writer though." Thomas rubbed his face nervously.

��Would you like me to help?"

"You don't have to do that." Thomas protested only slightly.

"Oh now, come on. It's the least I can do."

"Right, well. Let me take you to the grave and then let's work on it when we get back. Give me some more time to consider what to say."

"Okay," Sophie agreed. "When does the ship leave?"

"In the morning,"

"Right, plenty of time."

Sophie tried to put the false bottom back in the drawer without success. She shoved and wiggled the block of wood but couldn't get it to slip in just right. Thomas took it from her and easily placed it back into the drawer expertly. Sophie placed the wood frog in the bottom of the bag as well and then followed Thomas out the door after pinning her hat to her hair.

Thomas walked her outside the gates of the city and to the cemetery located to the south of the town. There were several graves lined up in rows. It was easy to spot Jeremiah's; it had fresh dirt on top of it. Sophie stopped when she saw it and held her stomach. It was silly really, she thought she had been talking to him for two days, why should seeing his grave be upsetting? But it was. Knowing his body was just a few feet below made it feel, well, real.

"Did you help bury him?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yes," he said quietly. He folded his arms across his chest.

They stood in front of his grave silently for several minutes. She wanted to talk to Jeremiah again but she didn't want Thomas to know how completely insane she was.

"Thomas," she said softly.

"Yes Sophie," she liked the sound of her name on his lips.

"What, I mean how?" she fumbled for the words. "I heard he was killed but how? What happened to him?"

'Soph, don't ask questions you aren't ready for the answer to." It was Jeremiah's voice she heard. His voice was with her still. She felt relieved to hear it again. He was cautioning her this time. She shook the thought away.

"His throat had been slit." Thomas said.

Sophie shivered as the image of Jeremiah's throat bleeding and cut flashed through her mind. She grabbed Thomas' arm to stable herself.

"Oh Jeremiah, I'm so sorry," she knelt on the ground in front of the grave. Silent tears were falling from her eyes.

Thomas didn't hear Jeremiah's voice the same way Sophie did but looking at her crumbling to the ground, he knew his friend would want him to comfort her. He gingerly knelt beside her and laid a hand on her back.

"I'm sure he didn't suffer," he offered. "It would have been an instant death.

That only gave her a little comfort.

"Is slitting a throat common practice for Indians?" she asked in a whisper.

"It can be," he said. "Who knows?"

"Why would they do it? Is it normal for them to just slay people at random?"

"I don't think so," he said with a shrug. "There are a lot of questions surrounding his death. I don't have any answers. It is very peculiar."

"I don't like it Thomas," she admitted. "I feel like there is something very off about it."

"I do too," he agreed.

"What can we do about it?" she looked at him now.

"I don't know. But I'm all ears if you have any ideas," he held her gaze longer than he ever had before.

She wanted to tell him about the ledgers but she wasn't sure if she should yet. There was no voice in her head to guide her.

"Maybe I shouldn't have brought you here. I didn't think it would upset you so much."

"No, I am glad you did. I'm sorry," she ran her hand under her nose. "I know it is ridiculous to feel so much sorrow for a man I never met but I can't help it," she sniffled.

"I find it very endearing," Thomas admitted. "I am grateful for you. I think most other women would move on with their lives without a thought. It's nice to see that he is being remembered. His life deserves to be honored by someone. He did a lot of good things for the colony."

Sophie stood back up and dabbed at her eyes. "Well," she said finally. "Let's get all the crying out of the way and go write that letter."

Sophie and Thomas sat at Jeremiah's table to compose the worst letter Sophie had ever had to write. Sophie wrote a lovely introduction in her loopy script. Thomas admired her hand as she wrote.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Singer,

My name is Sophie Collins. I am the intended bride of your brilliant son, Jeremiah Singer. I arrived in the colonies two days ago with great anticipation to meet your son and marry him. The following is from Jeremiah's good friend Thomas Donaland, whom I am acting as his scribe for.

Okay Thomas, what would you like me to say next. Thomas rubbed his strong chin as he considered it. "This is impossible," he said in frustration. "How on earth do I phrase this? I am no good at this."

"No one is Thomas and there is no good way to say it. We need to come right out and do it."

"By all means then," he motioned for her to continue. They painstakingly worked their way through the next difficult lines.

Mr. and Mrs. Singer,

It is with great regret to inform you that your son Jeremiah was found dead on the morning of August 19th, 1619. We do not know what or who is responsible for his death, but he was killed. We suspect it was from an Indian attack but we can not be sure. His body was recovered, dressed and buried in the Jamestown cemetery.

Jeremiah was an asset to our colony, a tremendous friend and is already sorely missed. He brought light and life to the colony and was friends to everyone. He worked hard and helped others. He spoke highly of all of you. He loved his family. He looked forward to the arrival of his bride and one of the greatest sadness is that he did not get to meet her. She has proved herself to be every bit as lovely as he thought she would be. She is honoring his name, mourning his death and taking care of his personal items. You can rest assured that his name is being held in honorable remembrance by myself, the governor, the clerk, the priest, the townspeople and his widowed bride.

"I think that covers it. Don't you?"

Sophie thought about it a moment.

'The portrait, of my family,' Jeremiah's soft voice entered her mind. Sophie got up and retrieved the portrait from the stack of papers. 'The journal,' the voice prompted.

"But I wanted to read it," she said under her breath. Thomas heard her say something but he didn't question her.

"I think I need to send these," she said in explanation. "I want to read his final entry though,"

Thomas nodded in agreement. She flipped to the last entry. Thomas read it over her shoulder.

August 18, 1619,

Reviewed the ledgers with the Governor this evening. He did not appear to be upset by the inaccuracies I revealed to him. I told him I suspected the clerk of recording the shipping numbers inaccurately. He said he would confront him about it.

Sophie arrives in one week. Oh the joy I feel when I think about her arrival.

"Thomas, would it be prudent of us to keep this last entry?" she asked. She wanted to keep the whole thing. What if there were more clues throughout it? She listened for Jeremiah's voice but she heard nothing."

"Yes," he said gravely. "Perhaps we take just that last entry out. Did you see any other entries like that?"

"No," she shook her head. "I only skimmed it but I didn't see anything suspicious."

Thomas took the journal from her and skimmed it himself looking for any key words or phrases that stood out as unusual. He noticed the amount of Sophie entries. It made him a little nauseous honestly. Jeremiah practically worshiped her. Most of the entries would be comforting to his family and provide them with a glimpse of his life here.

"I don't think there is anything else," he concluded. He gingerly tore the last entry out of the book. "Where should we keep it?"

"I have a place," Sophie said, taking it from him. "I am collecting evidence��"

He lifted an eyebrow at her. "And do I get to know what all you have collected?"

She shrugged. "Most likely, but not just yet. I don't know what to make of it all but I will piece it together."

She didn't conceal where she hid it deep within her burlap sack. He watched her tuck it away. She was a peculiar thing, he thought, but he also thought he liked her peculiarities.

"Okay, I will add a little tag at the end of the letter explaining I am sending his journal and the frog and then you sign it."

He nodded. She felt sad that she had to give up the journal and the little frog bobble. She wanted to keep those parts of him but she also knew his family deserved them. She shouldn't be keeping everything of his.

'You will have to let me go eventually, but they will not.' Jeremiah's voice said reassuringly.

"Whatever," she grumbled under her breath.

Thomas signed his name in his jagged broken script. They wrapped the letter, frog and journal in brown packaging.

"There you go, all set." she said, handing him the package.

"Thank you for your help."

She smiled, "Of course. Anytime."

"I will take this to the ship."

"His poor parents. I can't imagine receiving that package."

He nodded solemnly and walked to the door. He stopped in the doorway and slapped the frame twice.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

"Oh well, you know. Big plans." She looked around the cottage knowing she would have to go back to the governor's house.

"Why don't you come with me. I have some work to do around the farms. I could show you around and you could meet some of the people."

"That sounds great! Do you think I can see some of my friends too? I mean, how much space do you have to give a newly married couple?"

Thomas laughed. "Well, if it were me it would be weeks. But maybe these guys are different. If they are out in public you can see them."

"Well, what else would they be doing?" Sophie asked innocently.

Thomas chuckled. "I will see you tomorrow."