The Purity of Blood: Volume I (15 page)

Daniel walked up
and vaulted over it with no problem.
 
Stopping on the other side, he turned back towards me with a wary
eye.
 
I approached the wall with some
trepidation only because I figured if I were a fox, I’d probably dig my burrow
in the shelter of the base of the wall.
 
I paused on my side and closely inspected the rickety old wall for
stability before attempting to traverse it.
 
Deciding to give it a shot, I looked up.
 
After a pause, Daniel hesitantly offered me his arm as if he was
wondering if I’d accept it.
 
Taking it, I
swung one leg over the wall and then the other.
 
His arm felt muscular under his sleeve, and even though I was sweating
now that we were no longer in the shade of the forest, he didn’t appear to be
perspiring at all.
 
He looked … perfect.

Of course he looks fresh as a daisy
I
thought to myself.
 
He’s the best looking man you’ve ever seen.
 
How could he ever not look this way
?

As we got
farther into the field, I spotted what looked like the remains of a few
structures.
 

“Did there used
to be a farm here?” I asked curiously.

“Yes – a long
time ago.
 
Over there is where the barn
was.”
 
He pointed off to the right.
 
“And over there is what remains of the house,”
he said, his voice suddenly sounding sad as he pointed off in the opposite
direction.

“Can we go take
a look?” I asked, indicating toward the position of the house.

“If you
like.”
 

His voice was
laced with a sadness now that I didn’t understand.
 
What could be so sad about a field and a few
half gone wooden beams sticking out of the ground?

The area
surrounding the remains of the house was nothing but barren dirt now.
 
Only part of a large stone fireplace remained
along with a few scattered stones and rotted pieces of wood that suggested the
outline of the exterior walls.
 

As I walked
around the perimeter, I tried to reconstruct the house in my imagination.
 

“I wonder who
lived here,” I mused aloud

“Farmers… I
guess.”

“They seem to
have settled pretty far from town.”

“That wasn’t
unusual back then.
 
They were probably
some of the early white settlers in this valley.
  
Sometimes, if you don’t want to have
problems with neighbors, it’s best not to have any nearby.
 
And if they were friendly with the local
natives, all the better.”

“You sound like
you know a lot about it.”

He turned and
smiled my way with that smile that melted my spine.
  

“History
teacher.
 
Remember?”
 

Then he
shepherded me over to a shady spot under a nearby tree where I took a seat and
pulled out one of my sandwiches for lunch.
 
I was starving.
 
Daniel dropped
down on the ground beside me but didn’t produce anything to eat.

“Are you
hungry?” I asked.
 
“I have an extra
sandwich if you’d like one.”

“That’s kind of
you, but no.”

“Well, if you
change your mind, it will still be there.
 
I packed an extra one just in case.”

“In case of
what?
 
In case I left you alone in the
woods to find your way out by yourself?” He smiled an arch smile.

“It’s in my
nature to be as prepared for all possible eventualities,” I replied trying to
appear impassive.
 
If only he understood
the true depth and breadth of that sentence.

“Smart
girl.
 
So, you’ve asked me a lot of
questions today.
 
Can I ask you some
now?”

“Sure,” I
answered, taking a bite of my sandwich and wondering what he could possibly
want to know about me.

He looked me
over for a long moment as if searching for words to form the questions in his
head.

“Where were you
born?”

All that and this is the best he can do?

“Port
Jefferson.
 
That’s out on Long Island.”

“Yes, I’ve heard
of it.
 
Did you grow up there?”

“No.
 
We live in Wading River, a small town about
twenty minutes east of there.”

“Who is we?”

“My family.
 
My parents and myself.”

“Do you have any
siblings?”

“Yes, an older
brother, but he moved out and lives with his wife and kids in Connecticut now.”

I took another
bite of my sandwich followed by a handful of chips I’d brought along.

“So you’re a
freshman?”

“Yes, – but I
sort of took a year off so I’m actually a little older than most of the rest of
my class.”

“Why did you
take a year off?”

“I wasn’t sure
what I wanted to do with my life – career wise.”

“And now you
know?”

“No.”

“But you decided
to start school anyway?”

“Well, I wasn’t
finding any answers at home.
 
I figured
maybe a change of scenery would help.
 
More life experience.”

“Probably true,”
he replied as he stroked his chin with his long fingers.
 
He was looking at me as if sizing me up for
something.
 
The question was, what?

While he
continued to nonverbally appraise me, I finished what remained of my sandwich,
then stowed the empty containers away in my backpack.
 

“Shall we
continue?” Daniel asked as he stood.
 

“Where are we
off to now?
 
Aren’t you hungry?
 
You didn’t eat anything.”

“No, I had a big
breakfast.”
 

It was obvious
he was lying, but I had no idea why.
 
Deciding I should probably try not to care, I let it drop.

“It’s time to
start back, but I want to make a little detour on the way.
 
There’s something I think you might like to
see.”

Normally I’d have asked what, but at this point I strangely
trusted him enough not to.
 

We walked back across the field
only to take a different route up into the hills that wasn’t quite as steep as
the way down had been.
 

“So how long has
genealogy been a hobby of yours?”

“About ten years
or so.
 
I had to do a family tree as an
elementary school project in social studies one year and got hooked.”

“What kind of
information have you been able to learn about your family’s history?”

“Lots of
stuff.
 
They’re a pretty interesting
bunch.
 
Mostly European.
 
Lots of German, English, Irish, Slovakian.”

“A mutt huh?”

“I prefer to
think of myself more as a melting pot, but that works as well.”

“Donnelly.
 
That’s Irish isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I’m more
German than anything.
 
Both of my
grandmother’s families were mainly German.
 
I’ve been able to trace the families over to Germany.
 
I even have distant cousins that I’ve become
friendly with that live in Bavaria.
 
I’m
hoping to be able to visit them someday.
 
Those sides of the family are my more recent immigrant ancestors.
 
My maternal grandfather’s family is the old
American branch of the family.
 
They came
to America back in the 1600’s and have lived in the same area of Rhode Island
ever since.
 
My mom was born there. –
I’ll stop now.
 
I could go on for hours,
but people’s eyes tend to glass over when I start talking about my fifth and
sixth cousins.”

“I don’t mind,”
he said as he kept walking ahead of me.
 
“I find it interesting.”

We had never
stopped walking, we’d just been chatting as I continued steadily behind
him.
 
Every now and then he’d glance over
his shoulder to check on me, but other than that, we soldiered on.

“It’s nice that
the younger generation has an interest in their personal histories.
 
So much is lost over time.
 
We all think our lives are so important, that
who we are and how we lived will never be forgotten.
 
But the truth is much different.
 
One day you die, and once that happens the
memory of who you were starts to fade until one day no one remembers what your
face looked like.
 
Then no one remembers
you at all because everyone you ever knew is dead as well.
 
Perhaps a stray letter you once wrote is tucked
into an old desk drawer in some forgotten attic.
 
But will anyone ever find it?”

“That’s really
depressing.”

He stopped and
turned to face me.

“I suppose it
is.”
 
He smiled in spite of himself then
continued up the hill.

“So teaching –
is that what you ultimately want to do with your life?” I asked, looking to
change the subject.

“Well, maybe. I
suppose I haven’t figured out what I want to be when I grow up either.
 
But it will do for now.”

Again, he’d found a way to avoid answering my question.
 

When we reached the crest of the
hill, it leveled off for a while.
 
There
wasn’t much low brush in this area.
 
The
trees formed such a thick canopy of leaves over our heads, that when the breeze
blew strong enough, it caused the leaves to flutter down on us like
confetti.
 

“We’re almost
there,” he said, as he turned to smile over his shoulder at me.
 
It gave me pause to wonder … were we becoming
friends?
 
I’ll be honest and say I wasn’t
sure I wanted to be.
 
Something about him
still made me uncomfortable, uneasy even when he flashed those incredible baby
blues at me.

Five minutes
later we came across an old picket fence in the middle of a small clearing of
trees.
 
Inside the enclosure was a neatly
kept cemetery containing about ten or fifteen headstones.
 
There was a little gate at the front, and as
we approached he opened it allowing me to enter first.

“Wow,” I said
quietly.
 
“How did you know about this
place?”

“Well, it’s been
here for a long time.”

I walked from
stone to stone examining the carvings.
 
They
were beautifully done.
 
Simple, but
higher quality than one would have expected for such an isolated area.
 
From their immaculate condition, I could tell
they’d been dutifully looked after for a long period of time.

“Any idea who
they are?”

“A family … I
assume.
 
There are a lot with the same
names.”

“I wonder if
they knew the people who lived on that farm.” I mused aloud, but he didn’t
answer.

I walked up to the largest, best preserved stone to read the inscription.

Sophronia Hood

Beloved Wife and Mother, Gone but Never Forgotten

1824 – 1899

1 Thessalonians 4:13-17

“Sophronia, what
a great name,” I said.
 
“I’m amazed these
stones aren’t more weather beaten.
 
I
wonder who’s been coming up here and looking after them.”

Daniel paused
for a few moments then said “Our house isn’t terribly far from here.
 
We’re on our land, so the Professor and I
make sure it stays in good condition.
 
He
feels that when you own the land, you take on the position of caretaker of
these sorts of things.”

“You own this
land?”

“Yes.
 
Our house is about a mile or two in that
direction,” and he pointed off into the woods.

“I thought you
only moved here a few years ago.
 
You
seem to know the area pretty well for having lived here for such a short period
of time.”

He looked a
little taken aback, like I’d figured out something he clearly hadn’t meant to
give away.

“We built the
house a couple of years ago, but we’ve owned the land a lot longer.
 
You must be getting tired.
 
We’ve been out here a long time now.
 
I think we should be getting back to the
car.”

Without another
word, he opened the gate for me and Sensing he wanted to get rid of me, I
strode past him in the direction he indicated to go.
 

I’d walked for a
few moments before I realized I didn’t hear his footsteps crunching in the
leaves behind me.
 
Stopping, I turned
around just in time to see him place his hand on top of Sophronia’s stone.
 
He eyes wore a sad expression, like a lost
little boy.
 
He mouthed something as he
patted the stone softly.
 
A slight breeze
blew at that moment and I would have sworn what he said sounded like
I love you
something, but the breeze
carried only a fraction of the sound necessary to make it out exactly.