Forgotten Wars

Epilogue

Present Day. Early 1900s. . . . . .

A small child lays on her bed. She listens intently to what her father tells her. He has such an excitement when he talks about things from a different time. An excitement that always spurred adventure and happiness in the heart of the child. She lets her deep green eyes roam over the man. He was tall, standing close to 6'2. His brunette hair was cut close with enough length to it to allow it to drape over his ears. He had silver blue eyes that spoke more than he did. She glances down at the necklace wrapped around his neck. It was a woven type material. A wooden turtle hung from the end. It had such beautiful carvings that brought out much detail. A small rare turquoise color rock sat in the middle of it's back. It shone with fresh polish, the stain being recently reapplied. Her father has worn the necklace since she could remember, which was not very long being a child of only seven. He had a fondness for it that had him never taking it off unless it was to do repairs. When he told the stories he would absent-mindedly reach up, touching the small pedant, getting a far off look to his eyes. He had said multiple times that it is something that has been in the family for many generations, past on from times long ago. She had never fully understood what her father meant by it, but she was alway so captivated by the stories she was told.

"The end." Her father says.

"What?! No. That can't be it daddy. What happens to Joe? What happens next? Tell me please. Please, please." She gasps, begging him for answers.

"That, my queen, is for another time. It is late. You need your sleep." He softly encourages.

"But daddy!" She protests loudly.

"Martha." He warns, giving her a stern eye.

Martha deflates at the tone. She sinks back into her pillows, crossing her arms over her small chest. The want to go to bed just not present at the moment. She just wanted to hear more about the adventures of the woman. He has been telling her stories of her adventures before bed for many weeks now. She had to know what happened to her and her family. She knew that he would not leave her without answers completely. As her daddy had said that everyone learns from their past and these tells were a huge part of her own past. She just wanted to know right this second. She did not want to wait for it.

Her father sighs heavily, trying not to laugh at his daughter. He was very happy that she had a yearning to want to know more. To learn about her heritage. She was just so impatient at times. A trait she no doubt gets from him. He shakes his head fondly at the pouting child. He pulls the cover up to her chin, kissing her forehead gently. Martha reaches up, gliding her fingers over the smooth surface of the pendant. The older man smiles gently.

The necklace has been passed down from long ago. His great great grandfather Clinton gave it to his great grandfather who passed it on down the line until it reached him. It was a symbol to the family. A symbol of their honorable heritage. It was from a time long ago, when their name actually meant something to the people of the world. Now it is only a reminder. One that the family holds very dear.

"It will be yours soon." He reassures, pulling her fingers from the necklace. "Now sleep." He commands, giving her one final kiss before standing.

"Daddy?" Martha calls out stopping the man in the doorway, "Can we go visit some of the places in the story? I wanna see what they look like."

The man chuckles, "They look very different from when they were written, Mary."

"I know. But I'd still like to see them. Please?"

"We will see what can be done Mary. Maybe I can get a commission to take The Neptune's Queen that way." He reassures the curious young child.

"Okay. I can do that." She sasses, making the older man chuckle lightly. "Goodnight daddy."

"Goodnight my queen."

Martha rolls over onto her side, as the lights are turned off and the door snapped shut. She waits a beat, until her ears pick up the unmistakable sound of the front door shutting. Martha jumps out of bed, untangling herself from the covers. She runs over to the window. She can just make out her father in the moonlight near the edge of the water. The waves lapping at his feet. He stands with his hands in his pockets, his face towards the sea and wind. A soft breeze filters to her through the open window. It flutters around her, moving her reddish hair.

"My queen." A strong soft voice whispers.

The small girl smiles happily at the sound of the familiar tone. She jumps down from her spot near the window. She runs out, towards her father's study. She cracks the door open, slipping through and making sure not to cause too much noise for fear of her father coming in. She pads her way over to the massive desk. She pulls on the bottom draw, the old wood not budging from it's holdings. She firmly plants her feet, leaning back and pulling with all her might. It flies open, throwing her onto her backside. She huffs at the inanimate object, pulling a strand of hair out of her face, before crawling back over to it.

She reaches in, pulling out a heavy leather bound book from the bottom. Her nimble fingers and hands hold it with care. It was old. The leather was worn from age and sea spray. Some of the pages were brittle and cracking. It was tied loosely shut with rope that has been replaced over the many years. She gently places it upon the desk, before climbing up into the wooden chair. Her fingers glide down the engraving of a five prong trident on the front, before moving to untie the rope keeping it shut. Martha is careful about opening the book, as she does not want to mess up the many writings on the older pages in the front. She flips through it, certain sentences standing out to her among the pages.

"Fire!" Uncle John yells from the wheel.

She flips a few pages more, her eyes taking in all that was written on the pages. She stops as other sentences stand out to her. 

"I told you the old sea-dog would be alright." John says cheekily.

Josephine rolls her eyes at his poking. "Yeah. Burnt and Charlie can form a brotherhood now that they have something to bond over."

Albert sputters, his drink being spit back into his cup. He laughs deeply as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Charlie, scowls playfully from across the room. He picks up his sash he had just taken off and lobs it at Joe. John is overtaken with laughter as it smacks his niece in the face, wrapping around her head. Joe untangles herself from it, before throwing it onto the table. She laughs madly, as she rises to take on her husband. . . .

Martha giggles and laughs quietly at the small family. She quickly flips the book open all the way to the back. Many names were listed. She notices that the name, Mathew Carter, was bolden at the top. She scans through them. Seeing the names Richard Carter. Albert Carter. Clinton Carter. Josephine Carter-Austin. Clinton Austin. Her eyes roam down to the name at the end of the list, Jackson Charles Austin.

She smiles happily as it was her daddy's name. She reaches over, quickly grabbing the pen from its housing. She sticks her tongue out to the side as she gives all her attention on the writing. Martha steadies her hand, making sure it was neat and pretty looking like her daddy's. She blows on it carefully, drying the ink as best she can. She cocks her head, smiling happily as she gazes at her handy work. She squeals at the sight of the very new name added to the page. Martha Josephine Austin.