"You are the worst boy, Theodore Laurence."
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For centuries, humankind has used the stars. Whether it be for navigating across unfamiliar oceans, for preserving myths and legends of great heroes who were bestowed a spot in the heavens by the gods...
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CHARLOTTE COULDN'T HELP but notice as Marmee wrung her hands as she and Charlotte cleaned up after breakfast.. The frown on her lips was unnatural, worrisome and anxious. Charlotte tried not to stare at the troubled look on her aunt's face, but every time she glanced up from soapy dishes, the fretful expression struck an inkling of fear into her own heart. "Is something the matter, Marmee?" Charlotte finally asked, dropping the sponge into the water and turning to her aunt with furrowed eyebrows.
Marmee sighed unhappily. "Beth is feverish again. This morning she looked so pale and weak, I sent her straight to bed after breakfast. Would you mind doing the shopping today instead, Charlie?" Marmee looked at her with such motherly tenderness that Charlotte nodded at once.
"Of course, Marmee. Anything to help Beth." Charlotte smiled as Marmee nodded thankfully.
In their bedroom, Beth was curled up under her covers, clutching her porcelain doll to her chest as she shivered and shook like a leaf at the end of autumn. Charlotte pushed open the door slowly, hoping not to wake the sickly girl. She tiptoed to her bedside and tucked the fallen covers over her shaking limbs, tucking it under her chin snuggly. She pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and stroked the sweaty curls from her forehead. It pained Charlotte to see Beth so sick. Charlotte had completely healed from her bout of scarlet fever, but Beth seemed to still be going through troubling waves of improvement and decline that wiped her off her feet and made her weak heart flutter.
"Charlie?" Beth murmured as she opened her bleary eyes.
"Rest, Beth." Charlotte gave her another quick kiss and a hug before bidding her goodbye.
Charlotte walked into town soon after, swinging the straw basket in her hands as the shops and stands of Concord got closer.
The end of the war meant the disorganized gaggles of bright-eyed soldiers in their shiny new boots and gleaming brass buttons were no longer milling about, boasting their bravery and courage with young faces not yet scarred by the horrors of war and violence. The few lucky ones to return— the wounded, clad in bandages and mud and blood-caked boots, no longer shivered under thin blankets, scanning the town square for invisible threats that would never come. No longer did the bitter scent of blood and lost childhood innocence taint the air as the town of Concord did away with the remnants of the war. Instead, chattering families and unsuspecting children walked past the defunct war depots and wounded stations on their way to the market with tender smiles and giddy eyes.
Charlotte took the list of groceries from her pocket and made her way through the list. Her straw basket was filling up quickly with fresh fruits and meats, and before she knew it she had ticked off every item on her list. Her arms were aching from the weight of the basket and she had turned to head home when a faint voice caught her ear.
"Charlotte?" A voice called out from behind her again, louder and more clear as the person approached.
"James?" Charlotte furrowed her brows together in confusion. She turned to find the source of the voice, before landing on a figure not too far from her.
