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**************BOOK ONE****************
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~CHAPTER ONE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Philadelphia, June, 1939
Summer. Nothing can feel better than walking out of that God forbidden school and into your own brief freedom for twelve weeks of summer holidays. Going for trips to the beach, feeling the warm sand tickle your feet and salty waves push and pull you back in the current. Or for people closer to home prefer to jump from rope-swings into the cool streams and rivers outside of Philadelphia. All to just keep your body heat at bay from the blistering heat.
But me? I don’t get to have a holiday. No picnics on the banks of the river, or celebrating at the town’s carnival, because for me, whom my mother believes she is doing for, I am to grace my own presence at my own personal schooling, where four days a week I attend private ballet classes, two days a week I practice my German and French, and then on Sundays it usually rotates from ballroom dancing to still life painting. Mostly, it is Sundays that I manage to escape for a few hours, without mother’s awareness of course, rather I explain how I wish to go paint down near the river, or pay a visit to my dear friend Gwen.
See, as much as my mother thinks that dancing is the art of the human body, and should be embraced to a personal barrier to which we must grasp the beauty of it; I would rather beat my head against the wall than listen to Miss Dawn’s analysis on how my figure is not slim enough to be a professional dancer, and how she’ll never find someone to fit my curves into a leotard for the end of year production. She always contradicts herself, however. Usually I’m the first to have my costume for the production out of all the girls, and as for my figure; the only time that Miss Dawn agrees that someone is slim enough is when he can wrap her hands around their waist and find that her fingers are touching. Only then does she approve, despite the fact that possibly the girls ribs are the only thing I’m able to perceive.
I’ve been dancing since I could first walk, and started dancing en Pointe when I was nine-years old. Yet, despite my frustration and hatred for it, I hardly believe I could ever quit. I’m merely a size four, possibly smaller at the tiny portions of food Mother gives me. Some day, just so I can see her reaction, I hope to go on an eating spree, and try to put my dress size up to a size fourteen, and then see how Miss Dawn and Mother thinks about my weight.
Most people would think that rich people like us would travel to the beaches of New Jersey like all my friends’ families are heading, or even with the money we’ve got, escape to Florida for the real sunshine. But no, not this year. This year my father’s gone to Europe with his business, and my mother thinks it’s best if we have one year at home. Not like we’ve already seen enough of home already.
Today is the first Sunday of summer vacation. Before Mother bargains me with painting or ballroom practice, I skip out, telling her I’m going to the river with Gwen. Not that she’d know that Gwen has left to travel across the country too. However, it is the only excuse I have for freedom, and Mother hardly notices a thing, warning me to be back at home before dark.
As soon as I’m out of sight of the house, I pull my bicycle off the road, hiding it behind the familiar bushes of the woods. To no one’s knowledge, I’ve escaped to these woods many a time. Though I’ve never gone too far in, fearing I may get lost, but rather I find my familiar sanctuary where no one suspects it.
The recognizable crunch of dead leaves and twigs beneath my shoes bring me further calmness, and I watch carelessly as the bees and insects flutter unknowingly around me. A soft breeze rolls through the trees, sending strands of my light hair in a flurry. I comb my hair behind my ears and I continue to stroll along the familiar unnoticeable trail further and further into the thin woods.
All too soon, I come across the small hidden river to which I’ve found no one has yet discovered it other than myself. My own secret river. I smile to myself at my miniature vacation. The river itself was calm and nearly unmoving, and filtered by the rocks upstream, the water is almost clear – fresh.
I look around unconsciously, making sure no one seems to be sneaking up on me before I begin to take off my shoes and strip off all my clothes. The heat today is nearly uncomfortable, and already the sweat that has beaded up on my forehead begins to stream down the sides of my face. It feels unusual to be standing nude in the middle of the woods, yet some rebellious part of me lets out a tiny giggle at the feeling of my slight freedom.
I drape my clothes on a nearby tree, and without hesitation, I dive into the deep river, letting out bubbles which rise in the water from my giggles. I immediately feel the heat on my skin melt off as I am lost in the cool waters of the river. The soft ripples caress my bare skin, and after I can no longer hold my breath for any longer, I begin to float up. As I break the surface, I draw a small breath, running my hands through my hair and stand up in the waist deep water.
Then I open my eyes to see that I’m not as alone as I’d thought.
“Oh!” says the boy, turning away immediately, a slight smile playing on his lips.
I yelp as I turn in the opposite direction, my hands flying up to cover my chest, feeling my entire face burn with embarrassment.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize someone else was here.” He exclaims apologetically, yet I hear a slight hint of amusement in his voice.
“Just hand me that dress, will you?” I yell, sinking down in the water. I wish I could just drown.
I hear him shuffle slightly, and then a splash comes from behind me. I turn reluctantly to see him standing knee deep in the water, deliberately turning his head away from me, holding out my dress and undergarments.
I rise unenthusiastically and snatch my clothes to cover myself. “Well, stand over there and don’t look, then.” I order him, pointing off towards a few trees some twenty yards away from me.
He ambles off to where I suggested, leaving his back facing deliberately towards me.
“You better not peek,” I grumble.
“I’m not going to look, Charlotte.” He says with half a laugh.
I hesitate for a moment, shocked that he knows my name. Turning my body away from him, just to be safe, I hurriedly pull on my underwear and dress, ignoring the way the clothes stick to my wet skin. I begin to turn, but remember myself quickly. I brush my fingers through my long hair, trying to style it as best as possible, and quickly pinch my cheeks to bring out the color.
“Okay,” I call, turning, “you may…hey! I thought I told you not to peek!”
He looks slightly abashed, color flooding his cheeks, but quickly his face turns cocky. “Well, I couldn’t help it.”
I put my hands on my hips, pouting my lips in a scowl. “How lovely, you’re arrogant and you’re a pervert.”
“Arrogant, maybe. But a pervert, I beg to differ.”
I decide not to argue, but my scowl continues to grow. “Well then, how do you know my name?”
A smile creeps onto his lips. “We go to the same school, but we’re in different grades. I just graduated this year.”
“Oh, and I bet that’s just all too convenient for you.” I say sarcastically.
“Touchy, aren’t you?”
“Are you kidding? I just got walked in on while I’m swimming naked! Don’t you think I might be a little irritable at the guy who thinks this is all a joke?”
“Well, then, let’s start over.”
I raise one eyebrow at him.
He holds out his hand with a smile. “Hi, I’m Elijah Mackenzie.”
After some due hesitation, I sigh and shake his hand. “Charlotte Rhodes.”
“What a beautiful name you have there, Miss Rhodes.”
I snatch my hand back. “Oh, so now you’re a charmer as well?”
“I’m doing my best,” he chuckles.
I give him a slight glare, staring at his deep blue and green flecked eyes. Then recognition settles in and my face falls slightly. “I remember you.”
He looks at me questioningly. “Thought you forgot me?”
I ignore his comment. “You were known as ‘Macka’ at school. I remember now. You were that popular asshole, right?”
His face shows amusement, but I was watching his eyes closely – some part of him flinched at the insult. Yet, he continues to look unaffected. “Yeah, I guess I am, aren’t I?”
I give him my best fake smile and begin to walk off.
“Hey, wait…” He calls.
I turn, clearly frustrated.
“Do you mind if I take you out?”
“Excuse me?” I ask incredulously.
“Do you mind if I take you out?” he repeats.
“You’re asking if I mind?” I ask sarcastically.
He shrugs.
“Where exactly?”
He shrugs again. “The town’s summer carnival is here this week, do you want to go?”
I pretend to think about it. “Hmmm, sorry, but no.”
“Why not?” He asks.
“I have ballet practice.”
“You dance all through the night?”
“And my mother wouldn’t let me.”
“Your own mother wouldn’t let you out for one night?” He gives me a questioning look.
“And, I don’t want to go out with you.” I answer simply, quickly turning away from him, before he can reply and jogging along the familiar trail towards where I left my bicycle. It’s not until I reach it that I realize I’d left my shoes back at the river.
“Damn it.” I curse, not wanting to go back and face him again. I step lively onto my bike instead, planning on going back later to grab them, when hopefully he’s no longer there.