Once Upon a War

Chapter 1

April 20, 1860

Georgia is beautiful this time of year, dear diary, and with it's rolling plains and hills full of flowers, it's no wonder the Cherokee were so fond of it.

I get a nice view of a sky dotted with fluffy wisps of clouds and rolling hills with seas of flowers out here on my patio. To my left and right are endless fields of cotton, looking a bit barren with all of the little sprouts, just poking their tiny faces up to the spring sunshine.

Life here is so heavenly, so perfect, just like one of those fairy tales my mother used to read to me back home in Paris. Home...just the thought of it makes me wishful for the comfort of my family's warm embrace. I mean, just thinking about it... I can't go on, it'll just make me burst into tears again.

Anyway, back to what matters the most.

Life in the outskirts of the famed Atlanta, Georgia, is quite peaceful. It's just us plantation farmers out here, with our slaves, crops, and servants. Living just a few miles from town gives us an advantage; it allows us to market and ship our produce off to customers without having to travel far from home.

Just being able to earn enough money from these cash crops is a gift from the Lord! I've heard that most of the Southern farmers are moderately well off to extremely poor. Tenants, the ones that are extremely poor, are often in debt to us planters. Poor things! I can't imagine what they go through everyday, or even how they can stand to be so poor!

Then there are the Yeomen, farmers that are in the middle class. They don't own a lot of slaves or make as much as we do, but they are farmers none the less. They make enough to make a decent living, and own a little bit of land. I've also heard that they're houses are like grander versions of cottages. It's so cute!

I guess I should stop for now, since I can here my mother-in-law calling for me to practice playing the piano. She wants me to be as graceful and lady-like as I can, but it's a bit tiring. Writing in you is getting very addicting, dear diary. Hopefully I can find some other time to compose myself with you again.

"Colette!!" She hollered, jolting me back into reality, "It's time for your piano lessons!"

Gingerly I closed my diary and tucked it safely inside a little hole in the floor board I had found days ago. I would retrieve it after I was done with my duties.

"Coming Mama!" I yelled back. On my way in, I paused a bit to check my reflection in a mirror and to smooth out any creases on my dress. Long, dark brown curls rested on my shoulders, and a defiant, small, angular face with blue eyes stared right back at me. I made a face at the small mole resting beside my lip. 'Ugly', I thought, touching it with disdain, 'well, at least it isn't that noticeable....' Brief memories coursed through me, and pictures of my grandfather flashed before my eyes. Mother would always tease me about my resemblance to her father-in-law. The small angular face, the curly, chocolate brown mop of hair. I was his female counterpart.

Shaking my head to snap myself out of it, I continued making my way to the grand living room. It was lavishly furnished, with satin curtains and couches with ivory legs that were delicately carved to look like a lion's paws. By one of the large windows sat a grand piano, accompanied by a little velvet stool for the musician to sit on. The afternoon light made it appear as if it was made out of glass. Spotting my mother-in-law waiting by it, I straightened my posture and tried my best to glide across the room gracefully.

Margaret, as she is known by her friends and husband, was a small lady. She had that no-nonsense air to her and was very haughty at times. In her mid 40s, she had graying blonde hair usually, if not always, in a tight bun that made itself comfortable at the back of her head. She was tapping her foot impatiently as I approached, and looked at me with her steely, blue gaze. A long thin stick that fit in her hand only made her look more intimidating.

I sat on the stool and prepared for a scolding. "Five minutes!" Her voice was shrill, "it took you FIVE MINUTES to come inside and into the living room when it should of only taken you one!"

Wincing, I assembled my apology speech, "I'm sorry ma'am, I was only checking my reflection so that I could look my best when I came in. I didn't want to look unladylike."

She sniffed in reply, "Just don't let it happen again, Colette. Now, play what we went through yesterday." She pointed her stick at a thin stack of music. I sighed.

Sometimes I truly did envy the men in this world...

April 24, 1860

Finally I have the time to sit down, and relax, dear diary. The men will be returning soon from their search for a new steel plow. We recently broke ours planting the new cotton, and the nearby city just ran out, so they had to go a bit up north to a factory that produced the tool.

Mama and I nearly killed ourselves redecorating the whole house. Even with twenty servants helping us, it was still a pain. She insisted that we completely rearrange the furniture, and repaint the outside of the house pristine white. So I spent the next few days either covered in paint or sweating from heaving the furniture around.

Mama has prepared a feast for the men, making a quarter of our servants run around frantically trying to prepare all of the fancy dishes she has picked out. My personal servant, a twelve year old mulatto girl named Rosie, would alert me when they drew close to home. This would allow me to get ready for their arrival. It'll be any minute now, hopefully soon.

A hand clamped down on my shoulder, startling me from my thoughts. "Ma'ser" said Rosie, "they come."

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