✲ .｡ ﾟ ﾟ｡. ✲ ❛ MIDSUMMERS ❜ ✲ .｡ ﾟ ﾟ｡. ✲ S 01 E 05
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"You sure you want me to drop you at school? In the middle of July?" Kenny, a friend of my brother, asked as I hopped out of the bed of his truck, laughing in response.
"Nah, this is the right place. Thanks, Ken, I'll let Chris know that you said hi."
"No problem Miller, be safe." I walked away and into the messy interior of my beloved high school, walking down the left side of the hall to room 112. I opened the door, a shit-eating grin jumping onto my face.
"Hell has frozen over." My favorite teacher in the world said in disbelief as I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest. "It has indeed." I grinned wider, looping my fingers under my backpack straps as I sauntered into the room. "Couldn't go a whole summer without stopping in, Mr. Sunn."
"You must need money."
"That's not the case, actually." I walked with him over to his desk. "I was going through some of my father's and the Routledge's things, and I found this letter."
I reached into my bag and pulled out the printed photo of the letter, unfolding it and handing it to him. "It's from a local landowner, but it's in Gullah. I never really mastered that unit, so I was wondering if you could translate it for me."
"Good to know that some of it sunk in at least."
"Yeah, some of it." I chuckled and leaned on the desk, brushing off the front of the new tank top that I had gotten. Sarah ended up lending me another outfit when I dropped her off at her house, and as much as I didn't like the whole cropped tank and ripped jeans look, it did the trick for the time being. "So, uh, the letter."
"Dated... 1844, 'To my beloved son Robert; I am awaiting the hour of my public murder..'" The man sighed, confused. "'With... great composure of mind and cheerfulness, knowing I am soon bound for glory.'"
"He was lynched," I mumbled as Mr. Sunn looked in my direction skeptically. "'Do not nurse grief to vengeance, but instead trust in God with all your heart, for he doeth all things well. Until we meet again in heaven, your loving father, Denmark Tammy.'" I walked away from the desk for a moment, running a hand through my hair.
"So that's it?" I said in disbelief.
"There's a postscript, but it's just a planters log." He shrugged, my brain igniting with an idea.
"That! Can you read that for me, actually?" I turned back around eagerly, walking around to his side of the desk and looking over his shoulder at the letter as he read it. "Please ?"
He shot me another concerned look but continued. "'Matters applicable to the property and the estate. Uh, 'Bacca, cotton, corn, tomato. But lastly, to Robert... harvest the wheat near the water in parcel nine, forthwith.' That's it."
I stared at the letter as the gears in my head spun wildly. "On the day that he dies, he writes a letter to his son telling him to harvest the wheat?"
"It's a little odd, to be honest, but look." He pointed to the script again, the picture on the footer immediately catching my eye. Realization clicked in my head, hope billowing in my chest.
"Mr. Sunn... I can't tell you how much this means to me. Like— you just helped me out, big time. Thank you, uh," I backed away with the letter in hand. "Thank you! I hope you have a great summer and I'll see you in the fall."
I practically ran out of that classroom, leaping for joy.
