Letters to Izaak

8. Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, 1752

I never brought up Izaak's true identity again. His last letter made it very clear just how serious he was about remaining in anonymity. I suppose it didn't matter when he revealed he was Markel. He could tell me in his own time.

The decision to put the issue of his name to rest made the next month and a half much more pleasant. I could go on easy dates with Markel in person and then write to him about whatever was on my mind. We wrote about things that we never spoke of in person. I confided in him about everything, from my mother's death and what my plans were once we arrived. He told me about his life as a boy in Ittlingen and what it was like to leave behind everything he'd ever known. Markel never said any of this to my face, so I assumed that he felt safer sharing his life when he didn't have to look me in the eye. This didn't bother me as long as he shared with me in some way.

I thought about this as I walked into the dining area. Things were good. I was happy.

When I spotted Markel sitting alone, this happiness flickered. He looked troubled and was absently pushing his food around his plate. I approached him carefully.

"Markel, what's wrong?" I asked as I sat down next to him, placing a gentle hand on his forearm.

He didn't look at me, but he said, "Selik is sick."

My pulse jumped in my chest, but I tried to keep my voice steady. "How sick?"

"The doctor says it's typhus."

"Oh no," I breathed. A typhus diagnosis was practically a death sentence. I'd never met a person with typhus who had recovered. It was a miserable disease that took weeks to finally kill you and it made you suffer the whole damn time. "Markel, I am so sorry."

He laughed bitterly. "Don't be. He is going to be alright. Selik has always been overdramatic. He'll be fine in a day or two, just you wait. The little bastard is probably just seeking attention."

I knew he was worried and he was trying to cover it with humor. He was pushing his emotions as far down as they would go so he didn't have to face them. That wasn't healthy, though. Markel couldn't pretend this wasn't happening.

"It is okay, Markel. I know you're upset. Talk to me, please."

H pulled his arm away and stood from the table abruptly. "Dina, you mean well, but just leave me alone."

Markel stormed out, leaving me aghast in his wake. I was only trying to help. I wasn't trying to offend him. Was he really so reticent that he wouldn't even talk to someone offering to help him?

The most I could hope for was a letter later when he felt ready to talk.

~~~~

Apparently, even that was too much to hope for. A week passed without a word from him. Again, Markel left me in the dark about his thoughts. The difference this time, though, was that he didn't even talk to me in person. Markel avoided me like the plague and left nearly every time I entered a room he was in. If he was eating with his family, he would pointedly ignore my attempts to catch his eyes.

I wasn't angry with him this time. I knew that he was probably worried sick about Selik and it was the only thing he cared about right now. That made complete sense. If it had been Cheryl or Karlee, I would be an utter mess. They would be the only thing that mattered to me. If I felt anything right now, it was concern for the Fischer boys. Neither of them deserved this. Selik deserved a healthy life and Markel deserved to have a healthy brother.

Nordica and I were sitting on my cot and talking things through.

"Oh, that poor boy," she lamented.