Divided.

I thought about that word for weeks.

I was divided. There were pieces of me scattered from West End all the way to heaven. Some pieces I’d left in the past. Others I guarded even from myself.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized I’d been divided since the day I had donned Miss Coates’s gown.

I was two people living in one body.

And neither was whole.

April 23, 1780

My dear Emmeline,

I apologize for not writing more often. Our siege against Charles Town has begun and we are faring very well. The rebel commander has asked for quarter for his troops, but we have refused to give it. We will not give these liberty lovers any clemency; their defeat is imminent!

I confess my eagerness for this war’s end grows daily, and not only from love of king and country. To be parted from you has only showed me the intensity of my feelings for you, feelings which I hope are present in your heart as well.

I am told you have been at Judge Latimer’s house for some weeks. I hope it has been an agreeable stay with the judge, and his nephew, if he is still there, though I believe he was meant to sail in spring and must have done by now.

Major André is over my shoulder telling me that my insecurities are coming to light. Perhaps I do worry you forget me in my absence. Thankfully Major André has come to my aid like a true friend and made the enclosed drawing so you might have a remembrance of me as I have cherished the one I have of you.

Tell me my nose is not really so broad as he makes it? But you can see, I hope, that in my eyes are warmest thoughts of you.

With esteem and admiration,

Your most humble and obedient

James

May 5, 1780

Dear James,

Duncan,

The drawing is a good likeness of you, though André has shown you leaning away, and now I am remembering that you lean in and over, too. You are a human parasol and I don’t know why I only now see that.

I was at Judge Latimer’s for a time with Asa. He is gone now. But your insecurities were well founded.

Asa took my heart with him when he left. That part of me will never be yours.

The spying is not going well. Townsend is no longer helping. He had become a trusted friend and confidant. And you are not here.

Where you are, can you see the ocean? Is the water greener than it is blue? When you stand in it, is it clear enough to see your toes? I have never seen your toes, Duncan, but last night I dreamt you were missing three.

What’s past is prologue. Shakespeare wrote that.

I do not think you will become like Sewel.

Will you?

My thoughts ramble. They don’t stick anywhere anymore. I don’t know what I’ve done. I don’t know who I am. But things will be better when General Clinton returns, and André, and you, of course. For now, I can only wait. And wait.

You are only men, Duncan. You shouldn’t turn the world, and yet you do.

I must destroy this now and write you a real letter.

Your

Emmeline