By the Potomac

Chapter Five

I stood tall, straight, and still. Aunt Susan was giving me my final year of lessons, and then I could be done with my schooling career. It has been two years since she came to stay with us. Mother had always hired a tutor, but Aunt Susan was determined to teach us on her own.

"All right Liesel, you're dismissed now. We'll work more on posture tomorrow. Now go find your sister and bring her into the kitchen. I need some help with cooking," she said. I nodded and headed out the door to find Annalise. She had already finished her schooling, so she had plenty of free time.

It didn't take long at all to find her, as she was always in the same spot: in our flower garden with Jack. "Aunt Susan wants you in the kitchen," I said.

"Of course she does. Did you finish your lessons?" she replied.

"Yes."

"Why don't you go into town? At least smile a little, you've been so serious ever since..."

"Aunt Susan is waiting for you."

"Oh all right I'll go. Bye, Jack," she said affectionately. I left, not caring to hear their ridiculous goodbyes.

Once in the kitchen, I took out a rolling pin and started rolling out the dough. "Well, hello Liesel!" Aunt Susan said. "Why don't you change into something more colorful? All you've worn is black since..."

"I'm fine, thank you," I replied.

"You know, why don't you go into town and buy me some eggs. The fresh air would be good for you."

"Yes ma'am." I sighed. I hated town. Grabbing my coat, I began my journey there. The birds sang a cheerful song. It used to make me smile, but now I was an adult. I couldn't waste my time on foolish things like that.

I scurried across the brick road, anxious to get back home. Just as I reached the other end, a young man rammed into me, causing my purse to fly out of my hand.

"Oh! I'm so terribly sorry! I can be quite clumsy sometimes," he said, flustered. "My names James, and yours is..."

"Liesel,"I mumbled, embarrassed.

"Oh! Are you Mary's daughter?"

"Yes."

"Ah. Your mother told me you like writing."

"Yes?"

"I know someone you can talk to. His name is Peter Hathway. Here, I'll write down his address. He's a pretty talented author. And he has a daughter that you might like," he chuckled.

"Well, thank you, but if you'll excuse me..." I turned around and hastily walked to the market. I did not like writing anymore.

Once I arrived home, I rushed to my room. A good nap would do me good. So I absorbed myself in thoughts. Nice, peaceful thoughts. Thoughts of the past. Yet the slip burned in my apron pocket, waiting to be noticed.