Change is the only constant - Proverb
I had yet to open my eyes, but I could feel that the air was hot and sticky. My skin was already heating from the sun that beat down upon me.
I didn't want to rush my senses, so I inhaled to wake up my sense of smell without opening my eyes. The air was thick with the scent of dust, gun powder, and something that smelt like alcohol. There was also the pungent fragrance of horses and hay.
I finally let my eyes open to the bright sun that I had felt moments ago against my closed lids.
The sight I saw was a lot more comforting than the last time I had jumped. The sky was a clear, endless blue - nothing but the bright pulsing sun interrupted it.
The ground was a mix of reddish orange dust and dirt which flew up in the air when a slight breeze flitted over it.
I seemed to be standing on the outskirts of a town. Wooden buildings rose from the ground in varying heights. It wasn't quite the regimented structure of Chicago, but it still showed it was a town with a society of its own.
From where I stood I could see that the flat ground stretched out in all directions. It was interrupted now and then by trees, or patches of grass that seemed to act as fields. Farmland was dotted on the expanse of land a little outside of the town's outskirts.
However, it wasn't the fields or farm buildings that caught my attention. Out in the distance I could just about make out a large cluster of tents, hundreds of them situated on the flat ground in varying colours. That was the only detail I could distinguish, but I felt that they were more than just travellers' tents.
I pushed aside my pondering. I had to adapt to this place, and that would mean changing my clothes as soon as possible. Although my thin hessian smock dress from the asylum was ideal for the temperature here, it also had the name of Newalk Asylum printed on its fabric. I didn't want people seeing that and assuming I was an escaped lunatic.
I scurried quickly across the dusty, hard ground to an alley between two buildings. The faint smell of pine drifted off their wooden walls. My hair was still dirty, and I knew my skin was in no better shape. I quickly removed the soap I had in my bag and washed the skin that would be on show using water from a tin trough by the side of the building.
I scrubbed at my hair to clear it of some of the grease that had built since it was last washed. I swiftly rummaged through my travel sack for something suitable to wear. I found a sun dress Elizabeth had bought me. It was white cotton with a yellow sash that passed around the waist.
I removed my dress and switched it for the light cotton fabric. The sundress fell softly to just below my knees, and the collar was decorated with small yellow flowers. It made me feel feminine and exactly like the young girl I was.
My hair was wet, but I knew the heat of the sun would soon dry it into its natural form of blonde waves falling down past my shoulders. I packed my possessions back into the large sack and hauled it onto my back, creeping out of the alley way into what seemed like the main street of the town.
People passed by me on horses and in carriages. Some looked at me with curiosity, but others just ignored my presence. As I continued through the town, I noticed I wasn't the only one carrying my whole life in a bag. Families travelled around in clusters, chatting about where they were heading next, and where they would get their next meal.
I didn't know how long I walked, but I soon found myself at what seemed to be some kind of tavern or inn.
I entered the building and my footsteps caused creaks from the floor. It wasn't much cooler inside than out. The establishment wasn't deserted, but neither was it full. A long counter ran the length of the room whilst rickety wooden tables and chairs filled the remainder of the room.
Stairs led up the side of the room to a balcony which had doors coming off it. I assumed they were bedrooms of some kind. At least, that was what I hoped. I would need somewhere to stay while I was in this place.
A dark-haired, elderly man with tanned, leathery skin stood behind the counter cleaning a cash register. Bottles of amber and clear liquid were lined up behind him. A few men sat at the tables drinking, their expressions varied between jovial alertness to something close to a haze.
The elderly man looked up at me from what he was doing, his dark, honeyed eyes lighting with intrigue. I imagined he used to be a handsome man when he was younger, but now time had taken its toll on his features.
He gave me a grin that flashed his teeth and showed the glint of a gold filling. I smiled back and edged forward.
"Hello, sir, would it be possible for you to sell me a newspaper? I have been travelling for such a long time that I am unsure of the date." He nodded at my explanation and turned behind him.
"There's so many like you, folks who seem lost in their travels. It's a shame the war has forced people out of their homes. Don't worry 'bout the money, I'm done readin' it 'nyway." He sighed and handed me the paper before he went back to what he was doing. I looked for the date of this place and some kind of information on what was happening.
Daily Texas News
August 16th 1863
CIVIL WAR: FEDERAL ARMY ATTACKS, CONFEDERATES HOLD STRONG
Three simple pieces of information and yet they told so much.
I was in the state of Texas, America, and there was a war going on, a civil war, which to me seemed the worst of all. Carlisle and Andrew had said that the civil war in England had been brutal. According to their recounts, it had been a time of brothers killing brothers, all because they had a difference of opinion.
I stood trying to figure out what I would do next when the bell on the door rang out.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the man said as a pair of footsteps approached the bar.
"Business been good?" one of the new men asked.
"Yeah, busier than a two dollar whore on dime day." The three men chuckled at the phrase. I was shocked that they laughed about such an awful profession as prostitution, but perhaps people here weren't as cautious as those back in England.
"I read y'all held off those Federal bastards." The elderly man was smiling fondly at the two men who stood beside me. They were dressed in dark grey woollen uniforms; gold buttons decorated the front whilst two gold stripes were stitched onto the sides of their arms. They both carried large muskets and a leather satchel.
Just looking at them I felt hot and uncomfortable. How could they stand to be in that heat in those uniforms?
I sat on the bar stool with my bag at my side, quietly listening to their conversation as I pretended to read the newspaper in front of me.
"It was a great achievement, but we've learnt that they plan on sendin' another six hundred men to attack in the next few weeks. I'm havin' to rethink our plan of action. 'Cause like my momma said, the time to kill a snake is when he raises his head," the first man said, but to me it was as if he used riddles.
"I know you'll do what's best, Major Whitlock; you've out smart'd them so far." The elderly man seemed so sure of the statement that I had to turn to see the man he spoke of.
I was startled to see a man of no more than twenty years old. When Edward Senior and I had talked briefly of war, I had learnt that a Major was a very high rank. It shocked me that this man was so far up at such a young age.
He turned towards me, noticing me watching them. He had such a strong posture, and glorious curly, honey-blonde hair with highlights from the sun. His skin wasn't as tanned as the elderly man's, but it held a faint golden tone that made his navy blue eyes seem to stand out.
He smiled slightly at me, and I looked away, blushing at being caught staring at a stranger.
"Well, hey there, little lady. What is such a sweet little thing as yourself doing in a place like this?" His voice was soft but had a twang to it that made me blush further. I believed he was what Elizabeth would call a ''southern gentleman''.
I pulled my posture up and looked directly at him, mustering as much confidence as possible to fill my body. I held out my hand to him as I introduced myself. I may have only been an eleven-year-old girl, but I was more than able to hold myself as a young woman.
"Hello, sir, my name is Sarelle. I've just arrived in this place from travelling and hoped to find a place to stay whilst I was here."
He chuckled, maybe at my confidence, and bent to place a light kiss on my hand. I giggled as he smiled at me.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sarelle. My name is Major Jasper Whitlock n' this is my fellow comrade Lieutenant Ashton Powell Johnson."
The man beside him tipped his head as a greeting, and I smiled at him politely, taking in his near black hair and light hazel eyes. He was older than Jasper, probably about thirty, but he didn't seem bothered that the young man was ahead of him in the ranks. Something told me Jasper could charm anyone into liking him. I knew I already had a soft spot for him, and I had only known him for a matter of minutes.
"That'll be a purdy little accent you have there, Sarelle, where'bouts you comin' from?" Jasper tilted his head in curiosity.
"My parents and I are from London, England, but they died two years ago."
"So, how were you plannin' on stayin' here, Miss Sarelle? You hidin' a fortune in that bag of yours?" Jasper chuckled.
"No, sir, not a fortune, but hopefully enough to afford a room in this fine establishment," I said politely.
"Well, I guess you can't tell how deep a well is by measurin' the length of the pump handle." Major Whitlock grinned at me, but I had absolutely no understanding of what he'd said to me, so I just nodded and smiled before turning my gaze to the owner.
"Margaret!" his voice bellowed, and an elderly woman rushed down the stairs to stand next to us all. She had brilliant red hair and soft brown eyes that settled on me.
"Honestly, Sam, no need for shoutin'. You'll burst this here poor girl's eardrums." The three men chuckled and Margaret's strong laughter shook through the room. She seemed like a loud character.
"Come on, darlin', we'll get you settled upstairs. It's nice to see you again, Major Whitlock, Lieutenant Johnson." She turned swiftly, her long skirt swirling behind her. I reached for my large bag, but a firm hand on my shoulder stopped me.
"Please allow me, Miss." Jasper smiled at me, and I nodded my consent, following Margaret up the stairs.
"So you goin' to have company comin'?" Margaret asked, but I didn't understand what she meant by ''company''. The tone of her voice told me it wasn't merely family and friends she was talking about.
"No, I have no family or friends."
"Right, well, I guess a single room is best. I'm Margaret, by the way, as you probably heard. You can call me Maggie." She bumbled round the small room. It was simply decorated with a plain pine bed which had cream coloured bedding. A desk and cupboard sat against the cream painted wooden wall.
I padded across the wooden floor and sighed when I sat on the bedding. It wasn't as soft as the bed at the Masens', but it was luxurious compared to my sack at the asylum.
"Thank you so much, Maggie. How much does the room cost?" I knew I only had 120 dollars, but as I had landed further into the past, I was hopeful that it would be enough.
"Well, it's five cent per night, that'll include meals. You can get food at eight till nine in the morning and six till eight at night, downstairs. Just be careful in the bar later in the night. It tends to get a little busy, and some of those men are 'bout friendly as fire ants." Maggie was wrestling with the blinds to get them open and flood the room with fresh air and light.
"Please allow me, Maggie." Jasper stepped forward and soon had the blind open. I went to my bag and rifled through to find my purse.
"Thank you, Jasper. Always handy to have a strappin' young man as yourself around."
I took out a dollar bill and held it out to Maggie, seemingly distracting her from hers and Jasper's conversation.
"Would you be able to take this as payment for the next month?" Maggie gawped at me as I held out the dollar bill.
"S-sure, one month it is. It will be a pleasure havin' you here, Sarelle. I'm sorry but you never told me your last name." Her statement made my mind whirl furiously. I couldn't remember my last name, that little thing that told me where I came from.
I stroked over the locket on my chest, and Maggie eyed it, probably amazed that I had such a pretty possession.
"I... I can't remember." She seemed surprised I didn't know such a basic piece of information.
"Well, I guess that doesn't really matter. It'll be nice to have such a purdy young girl as yourself aroun' here. I'll have to introduce you to my daughter Katelyn, she'll like havin' another girl here. Perhaps you can talk some sense into her. I tell you that girl has diarrhoea of words and constipation of thoughts. Wouldn't you say, Jasper?" Maggie chuckled, her large frame shaking with her laughter.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Maggie," he replied.
"No, 'course not, 'cause your momma raised a perfect gentleman." Maggie grinned before she left the room.
"Thank you very much, Major Whitlock, you really didn't have to." I lugged my bag from where he was standing to prop it against the desk leg. I glanced out the window at the view down onto Main Street and then out to where the cluster of tents was situated.
"It was my pleasure, Miss. Are you sure you'll be OK alone?" He was probably concerned that I was a young girl alone in this town. It didn't seem so dangerous to me. Not compared to some of the things I'd experienced.
"I will be perfectly fine, Major Whitlock, but thank you for your concern. I've been without my parents for two years now, it's not so bad." He looked at me with concern but also respect. As if somehow he knew I was strong enough to survive. He nodded goodbye to me and left me to admire my new home.
I spent the rest of the day relaxing in my room, looking through the book Aslo had given me. It was fascinating; the sketches were full of detail and looked as if they would leap from the pages.
There were many drawings of beautiful landscapes, such as beaches in the moonlight, the view from the top of a mountain, a town from afar. It was clear from the sketches that Aslo had seen a lot of the world and stayed in many exquisite places. Parts of the world I could only dream of visiting.
Along with the landscapes there were people. Women who looked worthy of being goddesses, every one of their features defined as if they were sculpted. It surprised me that Aslo had met these women and never fallen for them. That instead he chose Mary, a fifteen-year-old girl from an asylum. Then again, I shouldn't have been surprised. The sketches of the women didn't show the same love of life as Mary's eyes did.
There were many pages, so I chose to only flick through them rather than look at every page. Near the end I discovered an image which I found both heart wrenching and thrilling in equal measure.
It gave me hope but also scared me at what it could mean.
I stared a little longer at the picture before me. It was him, captured perfectly with lead pencil and paper.
Carlisle.
There wasn't a fully detailed explanation of Aslo's meeting with him, just a short passage.
Carlisle Cullen, 1832. Compassionate and kind. A visionary.
I stared at the man on the page. He was definitely Carlisle. Every feature matched perfectly with the man I had stayed with when I was just a nine-year-old girl. His eyes still looked soft and gentle even drawn on the page.
However, if this was the same man, then the idea that he was still alive and the same age, nearly two hundred years after I had watched him in agony on the floor, pointed to only one thing. He was a vampire.
He drank other people's blood to survive.
He wouldn't have the same soft blue eyes anymore; instead, they would be an unnerving ruby red.
I knew Aslo was a vampire as well, and I knew he killed people to survive, but for some reason I had never really thought of it. Maybe it was because I wasn't in the real world when I was in the asylum. Everything was distorted either by the drugs Mrs. Mills pumped into us, or the odd behaviour the other patients displayed.
In that place, Aslo may have been a vampire but he acted so human, it was easy to forget he murdered on a regular basis.
I couldn't imagine Carlisle ever doing that, but if he really was a vampire then surely he would have no other option.
I felt a tear fall down my cheek at the thought that Carlisle was now the thing he had once hunted. He would have lost everything.
I heard a faint knock on the door.
Before I could reach it, it opened just a crack and a girl about my age peeked around. She had dark auburn hair and chocolate brown eyes.
"Hello, you must be Sarelle, I'm Katelyn." The girl stepped boldly into the room, and I took in her appearance properly. Her hair was the perfect blend of her father's chocolate brown and her mother's vivid red. Her skin wasn't the same shade as her mother's, not the same fair skin that would burn so easily in the sun. Instead, this girl seemed to have a faint tan that set off her hair wonderfully. Her outfit was a simple green sun dress decorated with white lace on the collar and around the ends of short sleeves.
"It's nice to meet you, Katelyn." I quickly swept the tear away from my face. She didn't need to see me cry. She would only try to give me sympathy but it would be empty. She didn't know me well enough to feel any real pity for me.
"My momma told me to come fetch you for dinner. She said you needed fattenin' up." Katelyn grinned and came forward to grasp my hand before pulling me with confidence out the room. I didn't bother protesting. The smell that hit me as soon as we left the room sent my stomach twisting in starvation. I had gotten used to not eating very often, but the smell of roast meat and fresh vegetables made me ravenous.
Katelyn led me to a small wooden table in the middle of the room, which was definitely busier than this morning. Soldiers, farmers, and labourers sat at the tables and along the bar, laughing and talking. Some were playing cards while others were just relaxing after the day's events.
Katelyn soon arrived back at the table with a full plate of roast chicken, peas, and sweet corn. I dove into the meal, devouring it as fast as I could. It tasted heavenly: the chicken was moist and the vegetables were full of flavour that lit up my taste buds.
"Someone's hungry!" Katelyn giggled next to me, slowly making her way through her meal whilst I finished off mine.
"I'm sorry, that was very rude of me. But the food is delicious." I shifted shyly at my behaviour. She probably thought I was some kind of barbarian after the way I had eaten.
As Katelyn finished next to me, I looked around at the men who were here. I didn't like the way some of them looked at me. Their eyes were blurry and their gazes fixed on me longer than I thought acceptable.
Katelyn noticed my discomfort.
"Don't you be worryin' 'bout them, they won't do anythin'. Pops makes sure no one bothers his guests." I nodded and sat quietly at the table, fiddling with my hands as they rested in front of me.
"You're not one for talkin' now, are you?" Katelyn was watching me with her chocolate eyes. She was blunt, but I knew she meant well. Obviously in these times etiquette wasn't as big of an issue.
"I'm sorry. I'm just trying to get used to this place, being around so many people. I haven't really had a lot of people to talk to the past few months." I had only had Aslo, Emily, and Mary. Emily had eventually left me in favour of insanity, Aslo would only see me at night for a few short hours, and Mary's company was taken from me by Mrs. Mills. I hadn't realised, but I really had been lonely.
"Well, you're here now, plenty of people to talk to. Momma says you met Mr. Whitlock and Mr. Johnson today. They're fine fellows. I'm goin' to marry Mr Whitlock when I'm older and the war's over. Don't you think we would be a fine couple? Momma said she would be thrilled at such an event. What do you think?"
I sat a little stunned once Katelyn had finished. I had never heard someone talk so fast and about so much in one moment. She didn't even seem bothered by the usual social etiquette since she called Major Whitlock Mr. instead of Major.
"I think Major Whitlock is a true gentleman and clearly he is a good soldier. I'm sure he would make any girl happy."
"He really would. I can't help but blush whenever he speaks to me. He's so handsome in his uniform, and he's always so kind. I mean, Mr Johnson is very nice, but there really is somethin' 'bout Mr Whitlock. Momma says I have to be fourteen before I can get married, but I have told her if I must wait two years before I can get married I might run the risk of losin' my Jasper. It's not like he doesn't have many admirers here, and the war is so dangerous.
What if one day he goes to fight and never comes back? I would never have the chance to marry him and that'd truly be an awful thing. Don't you think?" Her hands waved around in the air as she spoke, and I suppressed my giggle when she finally stopped talking.
"Yes, I would think that would be a great shame." Although Katelyn talked a lot and her fast speech made my mind dizzy, I decided I liked her. She was unlike anyone I had ever met, and I found that refreshing. It was nice to meet a girl near my age in a time that seemed to hold no real danger to me.
I knew the war was raging just a few miles out, but this little town seemed safe enough for me to relax for as long as the tingle let me stay here, whether that was days, weeks, months, or dare I dream it, years.