Reborn (Sequel to Wilting Roses)

Lesson on History

Chapter Nine

~Dathan~

Closing the door to my study I settled the large chest over my desk. The large dark red box was coated in dust as I blew at the lock before putting the key inside.

"Are you sure you didn't find it in your files?" Mom asked.

"No, the deed is missing and this is the only place the original could possibly be found." I lied.

"How could you lose the deed to this house Dathan?" She asked. The deed was or more so the copy was very much safe. But I had plenty of questions I needed answered. I was beginning to dream of the past again. I wasn't a big believer in the higher power or magical folk tales, but I knew something was a mist here. It was beginning to eat away at me that I had nothing to go by.

"When did you notice it was missing?" My mother asked.

I looked to her and watched as her eyes studied me for a long moment. "Are you gambling?" She said. The question came out of her a tad harsh. I knew how much this mansion meant to my entire family, I wasn't dumb enough the gamble away my families fortune.

"For the last time, No. I don't gamble." I replied, returning to my rummaging. When I settled the lid back I stared into the box. Thousands upon thousands of papers stared back at me. Somethings where wrapped in leather and others where still sealed with wax.

"Might I have a moment alone?" I asked her.

She hesitated to leave but in the end gave into the battle to watch me rummage trough my families history. "Please, be very careful with all of those documents, they are precious to this family." She said, before walking out of the room. When the door clicked shut I settled in my chair with a large amount of papers in my hands. Amongst the many envelopes and pictures there laid a leather bound journal. The spine was in terrible condition as I gently took it out and placed it before me. There was a small clasp on the side, but it terrified me to even try to open it. It looked worn and fragile. There were two initials indented in the center. D.H.

Suddenly my fingers itched to see inside. I scooted closer in my chair and with such gentle ease I unclasped the small journal and opened it to the first page.

"The personal journal and property of Dathan Balthazar Heart." I read. My fingers touched down on the worn yellow page. The calligraphy was elegant and beautifully written. This was my great grandfathers personal journal. I grew intrigued to read on as I turned the page and gently settled it down smoothly.

January 1, 1791

Dear journal,

It feels silly that a grown man writes such words. I feel a bit childish in truth to find myself doing so, yet part of me finds peace knowing I can place my thought's here. I can leave my worries and despair in this leather bound book and forget them for the day or night. It helps me clear my mind of trouble or anger.

Today winter seems to be bestowing us with its treacherous cold. I see the bits of ice build against my window and wonder when will this forsaken blizzard depart? I hate days like these. I would much rather enjoy a stroll through the fields, where I can feel the sun against my skin and the thirst for fresh water on my tongue. So many ideas gather in my head. I plan to alter my plantation this year, make it so that my fortune can grown and be a well respected man in Harland. The city's wealth grows by the minute and I as a man with ambition desire a piece of that fortune.

Father has send word that he has important business to discuss. What else could he possibly want other than to tell me how to run my life? He will never see the hard work I have put into building my own plantation. I think it's best to avoid meeting with him, for what could he possibly want to discuss? My wealth is beginning to grow, I have a beautiful fiancee that I will soon marry, and a grand home to raise a family. Am I missing anything else?

My brows furrowed as I carefully skimmed through the pages. He rarely wrote in this journal, some of the entry's on this book were months apart. I flipped several pages and read an another.

October 26, 1795

Her absence in this home has left me hollow. I crave to touch her skin, to feel her close. Had I not been such a blind fool she would still be here. My ambition and my vanity for riches and wealth has doomed me. Now it seems even food has lost it's taste. I do not crave the need to eat nor sleep, my eyes search the dirt road for any sign of her. Will she ever return? I spend endless hours in her garden in hopes of finding the refuge she once did. Nothing seems to help the ache I feel inside. Without her touch I am left lifeless. How could such a mere timid woman bewitch me so?

I hear the ticking of the hands, find myself wanting to scream from the desperation eating away at me. I crave her presence in this home. The mansion itself has grown cold although the fire burns. I feel much like a ghost. I have tried forcing myself to keep moving forward to keep living yet I am surprised at the lack of will and strength to do it.

Forgive me Scarlett, I love you more than life itself, I know that now. I hope and pray that one day you can find it in you to forgive my foolish pride.

An ache formed at the center of my chest as I closed the journal. His words had hit me, the rawness of his loneliness enveloped me as I shook my head and pushed from my chair. I was feeling light headed as I tried to take deep breaths. Bending forward a little I held unto my desk forcing myself to regain my posture yet the written words in this journal made my stomach turn. It almost felt like I had lived this before.

"What the hell is happening to me." I whispered. Sweat build all over me, my skin was prickling as my mind tried to push something forward from the far back. I cleared my throat and closed my eyes. It was then that I could see it, the memory slowly coming to me as I watched myself stand by a window looking out to that familiar dirt road.

"Please, come back." The words lingered in my head as I came too. I blinked feeling a single tear slip from my eye. The tightness in my chest slowly faded as I placed both hands flat against the desk.

With shaky hands I settled back into my chair determined to read the entire journal. I was desperate for answers and I was more than certain that this held the key.