Three-Hundred Years From Then

Chapter Two.

         WHEN I WOKE, Jamie had already left. No surprise to it; he was a soldier. He had duties and priorities other than me. A young man, no older twenty-five, suddenly came in.

     "Jamie, it's nearly nine o'clock, ge- Oh. Oh.... Sorry, ma'am..." He looked down at his hands, and embarassed blush upon his cheeks. He shifted nervously, his green eyes looking around the room restlessly.

     "Don't worry abou it, dear," I answered, forcing a smile onto my lips. "You're not intruding on anything."     "R-right... Uh, have you seen Jamie?"     "As far as I know, he's already left. Why?"     "Well... because he's late."     "Well-"     "No, you don't get it. He's never late. He's a half hour late today," he interrupted. A half hour? That was really late, and Jamie did not strike me as one to skip a day of work to wander around. I checked to see if I was decent, and then understood why the young male standing in front of me was so embarassed.     "Do I even have any clothes in here?"     "There's some on that table over there," he answered for me, pointing at a table in the corner. "I'm Jesiah, by the way. Jesiah Moore-"

     "Asa Jane Marchand. Well, as nice as it is to meet you, Jesiah, I need to get some clothes on."

     "Oh! Right, sorry," Jesiah mumbled in embarassement, leaving the small cabin. Sighing, I stood and strode over to the table that Jesiah had pointed out, and examined the clothes; it was a plain, earthy colored dress and heeled shoes, standard 1775 clothes. I took my time dressing and double checking in the mirror to make sure the clothes were on right. Jamie could probably wait a bit.

❧

     Jesiah had been waiting for me outside the cabin, looking quite awkward standing quietly in the midst of the bustle and noise of the village's every day life. He must have been waiting for at least ten minutes.

     "Ah... Sorry to keep you waiting. It's a bit cold, don't you think?"

     "Well, it is December, ma'am."

     "Right. Is there any reason Jamie would be late?" I asked, trying to get straight to the point, and started walking on the side of the road.

     "Not a reason at all. Either he's run off into the woods and gotten lost, or... or he's dead."

     "No way. He's not dead. Where could he be?"
     "The pub?"

     "We'll go check. Right now," I stated, my voice firm and determined. We would find Jamie. He wasn't dead. I shivered. Jesiah must've noticed, because he, as dumb as it may sound, draped his coat onto my shoulders − it was warm from his wearing it for so long, and smelled of pine and camp fire. Jamie smelled of sweat and dirt. I musch preferred Jesiah's smell.

     "Better?"
     "Yes, quite. Thank you," I answered. As we approached the pub, Jesiah placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder; neither of us had any idea what to expect.