This wasn't exactly where this story had begun. This story was started when French and British fought, yet again, for yet another reason. And a soldier left his wife to fought wars and battles.
The French and Indian War, which took place between 1754-1763, began due to a conflict between England and France over control of the Ohio River Valley.
But this story was not about the war, it was about love and loss and evilness and betrayals.
Yes, this wasn't when the story started, but this was the right time for it to start again.
Chapter 1: Beliefs
Ten years was a time when you believe in impossible. It was a time to dream and dare, to believe things one could not possibly imagine.
Cara did too. Beneath her innocence was a strong will and the acceptance for the unacceptable.
She believed in tales and magic and fairy people. She trusted.
Every night, Nanny Matilda told her stories -- she dreamed of them and then she shared them with her best friend, who lived in the farm outside theirs-- stories of impossible beings, waiting for their time to finally be free of the burdens of the world. To finally love again. To finally fly.
It was all so romantic for Cara, that she asked Nanny Matilda to tell her new stories every night.
It was one damp summer night and the air was moist and dank, and Cara couldn't sleep and Nanny Matilda was more than ready to tell her a story.
"A new story, this time, Nanny Matilda. Ivan says romantic stories are boring..."
"What a good girl and Ivan is such a naughty boy."
And that was when Nanny Matilda told her the story. The story of a pitiful Miss. Violet who was killed by her own lover.
"Their love was so intense. He loved her more than himself. It was a timeless love. But, he had to choose one or the other. Why? Because she was a spy from the land of France. Love or loyalty? Woman or country? He chose loyalty and country and as his fellow English soldiers watched and cheered, he killed her here, in this very ground. Sacrificing her blood for the land. Some say he was very dejected by the loss of her that he wandered and wandered and was lost in the storm, in the middle of ocean, some say that he remarried, moved on and never returned. It was also whispered that Miss. Violet was still here, walking the ground, waiting for her shackles to break"
"Here? As in grandmama's house?" Cara's eyes were round with curiosity. "A ghost."
"Yes. Ghost. Whatever." Nanny Matilda scoffed. "But, yes. Sir. Colin Wentworth, Miss. Violet's lover, he was your grandmama's great-great-great-uncle."
"Three great. Hah!" Cara clapped.
"Yes, darling girl. Now go to sleep."
"But," Cara whined. "I am not sleepy."
"Oh, no, you must sleep now or your mother will be very unhappy."
"Okay, but tomorrow night, you have to tell me more about Miss. Violet. Promise?"
When Cara was thirteen, she was slightly more skeptical, but still, somewhere in her young heart, she remembered all her magical stories and remembered them fondly. Nanny Matilda was long dead, but some nights, when mom and dad was fighting, Cara would wish she was here, telling her stories.
One story in particular. That of Miss. Violet. Though that story was heartwrenchingly sad, she just loved to hear how it was for Miss Violet and Sir Colin before, before all the bad things happened.
That Summer, her mom had agreed to let her go to grandmama's house alone. And she was happy to be finally free of her mom's and dad's constant battles.
The driver dropped her off at the estate in the car and when Cara stepped down the grass blanket, she felt like a celebrity.
The castle was tall and majestic and magical, even now, and when grandmama hugged her, Cara felt safe and comfortable.
"I missed you." Cara said as she rolled her pink kitty suitcase inside.
It was life. Cookies. Hot chocolate. Milk. Oreo. M and M's. Chocolates. More cookies. And Ivan.
Grandmama spoiled her senseless and she loved it. She loved the attention, the way grandmama put more broccoli in her plate, and scold her for being too thin, when she really was chubby. And even though she really disliked broccoli, she ate it all the way.
She loved how grandmama's cook asked her what to do for the evening, like she was the mistress of the house, and she loved answering 'cookies' every time in that strong voice that made both grandmama and Cook Lettice laugh.
She loved running and playing Football with Ivan, swinging muds at him, collecting eggs from the coop, and fighting with him and not talking with him and then getting back with him.
So it was one of that morning, and she was filled to the brim with pancakes and muffin, and she went for a stroll. She whistled and sang a song that came to her even before she was thinking of it.
High in the green meadow,
Where rare violets grow,
Love , i wait for the horns to ring,
From ships, for home, you, they bring.
Low in the tired brown valley
Where songs are of sad melancholy
Dear, my eyes are soggy wet, for
your touch they could never met .
And that was when she realized the song. It was one of Miss. Violet's song when she prayed for her lover to come back home. And when he came, he came to kill her.
'Poor Miss. Violet,' Cara thought and then shook her head. It was just a story.
When she walked enough, she stopped and stood at the end of the long pathway sewn with green grasses, staring at the majestc turret of her grandmama's house. Ivan joined her in the staring.
"Oi, coming for dinner? Mama says she will make cheesecakes." Ivan asked as he stood next to her.
"Yes. Of course." She could never say no to cheesecakes.
They never looked down. The turret looked like it was praying to the sky. Cara's neck ached, but she was so mesmerized by the beauty of it that she could not look down.
That was when she saw it. It. Her. She gripped Ivan's head.
A woman, wearing violet bonnet and a long purple gown. Her hair was like spun gold, floating down her front and it glittered in sunlight. But her face, her face was shrouded by shadows and her bonnet and her golden hair. But even in the shadows, they could see she was weeping. Feel it in their bones, her sorrow and sadness. It sparked around her, an electric fizz.
Cara blinked once and the woman was no more. It was like magic. Poof. The woman was gone.
"Hey, hey, did you... Did you see that?"
"I-I-n-" Ivan stuttered.
They were so sure that they had seen that woman that they stood at the exact place, the exact time for the next seven days and the woman was never there.
But she refused to believe it was trick of the light or her own mind or anything like that. It wasn't. Even though Ivan tried to convince her otherwise.
For Cara, that summer vacation ended with no answers she needed. And it was time to go home.
She hated to go back home.
"Come back soon." Ivan whispered as he tugged at her ponytail. "And we will have that adventure."
"Hunting for ghosts." Ivan said with a smile.
"Don't be silly, Ivan."
"No. We will have it. We will search for Miss. Violet."
"Okay. Do you promise to wait, then?"
"I promise." Ivan said and waved. "Bye."
"Bye. Miss you." She said as she sighed, a wistful sound.
She didn't want to go back.
It was seventeen when Cara got to go back to her grandmama's house, again. After four long years. Life had been hectic between her parent's impending divorce and family counselling and custodial suits.
And she wanted to be away, as far away from it as she could and so she fought with her mother --she didn't care if it made her mom very angry, she was angry, too-- and came to grandmama's house.
The moment her car rolled down the long stretch of paved ways and green trees, she could feel it. Serenity. Calmness. In her every bones.
It was like coming back home.
It was like her saving grace.
For, if she had been pulled between her mom and dad any longer, she would have been tattered and torn to impossible pieces.
She inhaled the cool and crisp air, closing her eyes for a moment. When she walked down the green grasses blanketed in the front, she felt calm.
She rolled her black suitcase inside and gave her grnadmama's paper thin cheek a small kiss. She smiled.
"Cookies?" Grandmama asked.
"Always." Cara pulled her leather jacket off and put it on the chair before she sat down. "Lettice , come now and give me a kiss. You can bake cookies tomorrow."
Cook Lettice laughed and walked out, a tray filled with chocolate chip cookies and milk. "Ah, you will make me fat." Cara said as she picked and snap a cookie. It made that fresh crunchy sound she loved very much.
It was going great, the vacation...