Dearest Josephine

I said I didn’t want to get engaged or buy a house in Jersey. Everything I’d been thinking just came out, and the next thing I knew we were breaking up.
He walked me to the subway on Fourth Avenue. We kissed good-bye, and then we parted ways. I got on a train, and he returned to his apartment.
I couldn’t give him an explanation, maybe because I didn’t have one. Like, whenever I look at my parents, I see the future they want for me—the husband and kids, stable job, all things normal. Then I look at Noah. His future seems laid out for him too. He wants me to be a part of it. Everyone expects me to be a part of it. And that’s what freaks me out. The expectations.
Noah supports my fashion career, but he doesn’t know about the online boutique I launched a few months ago. Heck, I didn’t even tell him about this opportunity I got to intern in Milan next fall. Now you are the only one who knows, because you know everything, and I’ve never felt the need to change myself for you. But with him . . . I can’t really describe it. I’m just not me all the time.
At this point I’m not sure how to make amends or if I should try. Noah won’t talk to me, and I’m fine with his silence. How is it possible to love someone and not mind their absence?
Maybe time apart will help us mature, figure out whether we’re right for each other. Messy sometimes needs messy, but when two messy people are together, who cleans them up? Do they spend the rest of their lives in cluttered, mismatched pieces?
Yikes, my professor just walked into the lecture hall. He made eye contact with me.
NO! I’d be the worst romcom protagonist, like, Ryan Gosling would run through the airport but never find me because I went to the bathroom.
Professor yelled at me. Gotta run.
Faith
From: Josie De Clare <JDeClare@mailbox.com>
Sent: Tuesday, June 28, 4:26 PM
To: Faith Moretti <Kardashian_4Life@mailbox.com>
Subject: The Hunt for Elias Roch
Hi Faith,
The weather resembled summertime this morning. I woke up to warmth. Sunlight cascaded through the manor’s windows and flooded the hallways. Birds performed outside, singing at high volume. Such a pleasant surprise!
Elias mentioned various locations in his writing. I decided to take advantage of the clear skies and go on a scavenger hunt. I drew a map based on Elias’s descriptions. Then I put on my daisy socks and work boots—the ones I borrowed. My chosen destinations: the stable loft, gorse alcove, studio, kitchen yard, herb garden, and the stream bank.
When I left the house, I tripped over Norman’s sheepdog, Nan, who often naps on the front stoop. The Shetland must’ve felt sorry, because she followed me around all day. You would like her. She has a thick salt-and-pepper coat and copper streaks around her face. Maybe I’ll persuade Norman to let me borrow her at night. I doubt he’d mind. He only needs her in the mornings and late afternoons. The manor would seem less eerie if I had a dog.
Nan escorted me to the stable. I’d hoped to climb into its loft and peer through the roof slats, but the structure was rebuilt years ago. So much for my hunt.
After that, I went around the east wing, to the ruins of a smokehouse. There I discovered the spot described in Elias’s letters, a place where rubble merged with a stone fence. At first glance I didn’t see the alcove, just rocks and gorse. But I crawled between the shrubs.
I found it, Faith.
Yellow flowers encircled the recess. Blue sky gazed down between the branches. And the air smelled like moss and wood. I almost cried at the sight. I relaxed against the fence, my toes pressed into cold sod, the sun hot on my cheeks. A breath caught in my throat because, for a moment, while Nan dozed beside me, I got the sense Elias was there too.
We sat on the same ground, centuries apart.
How could anyone hear about my situation and consider it a coincidence? Dad happened to purchase Cadwallader Manor. I happened to discover letters with my name on them. Elias happened to meet someone like me. No, this wasn’t an accident. Life guided me to the estate for a reason. What if I was meant to find Elias Roch?
Once I left the alcove, I managed to visit the herb garden and kitchen yard before rain ended my hunt. Summer faded with the storm. Gone in a flash. Now I sprawl on my bedroom floor with Nan and a cup of Earl Grey. Norman and Martha invited me to eat dinner with them, so I need to bathe and detangle my hair.
Josie
From: Josie De Clare <JDeClare@mailbox.com>
Sent: Tuesday, June28, 10:03 PM
To: Faith Moretti <Kardashian_4Life@mailbox.com>
Subject: Re: The Hunt for Elias Roch
A quick update! Norman and Martha took me into Atteberry for dinner. We ate sausages at a place called White Horse Pub, then walked to Sassenach Bakery for dessert. They bought my food and wanted to hear me talk. Gracious, nobody had listened—like, really listened—since Dad died. I asked why they cared about me, and they gushed about Dad’s kindness. Apparently he made sure they wouldn’t lose their house or farming privileges after his death. What if Dad kept the manor a secret to lure me here so I’d meet them?
What if he planned for this place to become my new home?
The village grows on me. It has the quaintest shops. On my way to the bakery, I passed Atteberry Tea Room & Café and the Knitting Emporium. (I added a sketch of the town to my Cadwallader map so you’ll understand my references. Photo is attached.)
Oh, I enquired about Elias Roch. Martha told me to visit the local historical society—they have records