En Route to Canada, United States of America, March 1814

True to her word, Amelia had not left her room once, during the final days of her sojourn at Fair Weather Heaths’. Jonathan had tried to see her. She had heard his stentorian voice right at her door on a few occasions, but Anna, her gatekeeper, had been resolute in her refusals. Like the true gentleman he was, Jonathan had relented in the end, deciding to leave Amelia be.

The day she left, he had not been there to say his farewells as she had bidden him to in writing the night before. However, he had done his utmost to make her travel a comfortable one. Jonathan had placed his best carriage at their disposal, his finest horses and a team of his most trustworthy slaves to guard them.

Jonathan was long gone now. It was the eighth day on the road. Already, they had passed New York and they were en route inland in the direction of Lake Champlain, bordering the state of Vermont, which would take a few more days, if not more – that was according to Jake, who led the party.

They had encountered other travelers with whom words were shared. American militiamen had given them information and warnings concerning the war that still raged on despite their preoccupation with other things less martial. Word was about that the British harassed American positions close to the frontier. It was a game of give and take with both antagonists advancing and retreating. However, their message had always been the same: stay away if you value your lives.

Most nights Amelia, Anna and Jake had spent in the inns in the villages close to their route. As of late, these had gotten somewhat sparing as the proof of war claimed the land the closer they got to Canada. People were afraid, and doors were closed as confusion and panic became more and more apparent.

The further Amelia got from Fair Weather Heaths’, the more she thought of Jonathan. The first day had been easy. Her desire for flight and the belief in her duty to her family and country had given her the strength she needed to endure. At night, sleep had come easily, aided by the ordeals of the day – she had been exhausted.

The second day, those same strengths and beliefs that had birthed the folly of her parting from Virginia and the man she loved had started to wane as the first turnpike had matured into the second. The notion that she was forever away truly started to sink in. That very same night, his face had been a constant companion in her dreams and the memory of his touch a boon and a curse all at once.

The constant sight of Anna and Jake holding hands or just sitting by the fire in the evenings in each other’s close proximity had allowed for her mind to wander further still. They were everywhere Amelia looked. It was beautiful love, so deliriously blatant and shameless. It showed itself with sweet glances and even sweeter caresses – love was all Anna wanted and Jake reciprocated this desire by his mere presence and behavior.

Amelia was so happy for them and at the same time she cursed herself for having been so cruel. Seeing her friend, she knew that love was beautiful and that not only in literature we read. That was of course time well spent but no way as potent as witnessing it in the flesh.

The more blatant love presented itself, did Amelia’s aching heart really start to burn in the course of the third day. Amelia had not eaten a bite of breakfast. Amelia blamed herself for having taken away all that was special from her friend. She had not insisted that she join her, but she had not opposed her forcefully enough. Her wishes had overshadowed that which was right. Anna should never have joined her on this foolhardiness.

On the fourth day, she asked herself whether she had made a terrible mistake - Jonathan was the one man who was right for her? She had thought as much on the night of their first kiss after she had refused him. While he held her, it had felt so right. How could something like that be wrong?

The mad and torrential feelings coursing through her ebbed and flowed, depending on Amelia’s mind and mood. If she was lucky, and the cold environs were worse than the day before, she lapsed into a sort of semi-lucid state. At nights, she would be visited by thoughts of him that would not abate until blackness claimed her. This also varied and was contingent on her level of tiredness. Amelia had never begged for exhaustion before. Now, it was a blessing when it finally arrived.

And that was how it went for Amelia day-by-day, making up a series of days linked together only by the alternating monotony of emotional pain. Anna said they should turn back but Amelia, still stubborn, refused. Anna had said that she would never recover from this lovesickness if she did not face the source of it. And true to form, Amelia even denied it was lovesickness. According to her, it was nerves concerning her uncertain fate.

On the seventh night, each bite of food she had taken had the taste of ash dissolving in her mouth. Water was as potent and as vile as wine that had turned to vinegar. Amelia had asked herself whether the pain was as bad for him? And if yes, why didn’t he follow? Deep down, in her heart and soul, she begged for him to do just that. Reason kicked in to counter this delusion – Jonathan Mitchell was a proud man; he would never run across the land in pursuit of a woman that had spurned him so.

Amelia had lain awake most of that night, thinking that maybe she had misinterpreted Shakespeare’s tragic love story. What if it was about love being so very special that one would even hanker after it when death was inevitable? Could it be that another person could awaken such sentiments? The Power to stare death in the eye and claim, “Take me for I have loved. There is nothing more for me here.”

If that was the case, Amelia knew that she had made a terrible mistake. A stupid blunder that was most probably irreversible. When everyone was sleeping, she had started to weep. At that moment, she had despised her stubbornness that always took center stage when she would convince herself that she was right even though she was so terribly wrong.

Currently, Amelia still suffered from the aftermath of a fitful night during which sleep had remained elusive until the dawn had broken in a series of blinding red lights. It had been too late then. Jake already started to rouse the camp and lit the fires for their breakfast and coffee. The journey would go on until her heart dissolved into a million tears.