Chapter: Twenty-eight

Author: Iwillsoaronthewingsofeagles...aka...MLBL

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original characters in The Patriot. I do own Emily Brandon, her family, and any other characters I might incorporate in this story.

It had been a week since I'd "come back". I'd gotten caught up in school. I also hadn't been up to the attic. Not even once. And that had once been my hiding place.

I now sat at my desk, immersed in my homework..

"Em!" My mother called up.

"Be right there." I closed my math book,

"Oh, stay up there. I need you to go up in the attic for me. I need you to get me another cooking pot."

"Can't someone else do it? I'm doing my homework." That wasn't the real reason, but I couldn't go up there.

"Honey, your brother is outside playing. Just do it for me please."

"All right." I made my way to the attic. And searched for the pot mom had asked for. I banged in to one of the boxes and it fell on the floor. A bunch of things scattered all over the floor. As I put it back, I found a letter. With my name on it. I opened it, and began to read.

Dear Emily,

I don't know if this will ever reach you, but I wanted you to know how much you meant to me in a time of war and suffering. Also know that I've never forgotten you.

I am now quite old. I got married, and I have two sons and three daughters. They are all adults, and married, and they have given me many grandchildren. I am happy and grateful.

I hope you live or have lived your life to the fullest, and I also hope you never forget me. I don't know how you came to me, but I've never questioned it. And never will.

Thomas

Tears trickled down my cheeks and stained the paper. I closed it, and finished putting the stuff in the box, got the pot, and went back downstairs. When I gave my mom the pot, she gave me a worried look.

"I'm fine." I ran back to my room, and read the letter again. I must have read that letter more than a hundred times, because eventually I had every word memorized. It hadn't been a dream. It had been real! I started laughing through my tears. I just couldn't believe it.

The next day I went to school, feeling better than I had, since I'd "come back". I was getting ready for my next class, when I heard his voice. I whirled around, and I could swear, that if it hadn't been for that letter, I would think that Thomas stood in front of me.

"Excuse me? Have I seen you before?" I couldn't believe I'd actually said anything, but I had.

"I don't think so. I'm new here. I just moved from a county near by."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Excuse me." I turned around, and was about to make my way to my next class, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"What's your name?"

I turned back to face him. He had Thomas' eyes. "Emily. Emily Brandon."

"I'm Thomas. Thomas Martin. It's nice to meet you."

"That a nice name. I'd love to talk more, but I'm gonna be late for class." I said reluctantly.

"Oh, so am I." He frowned. "I have History next."

"Really? Me too." I smiled.

"Oh, well then let's go."

Three months have passed. I think of my time in the colonial era, with Thomas at times. I have not forgotten him, as he feared in his letter. I see his great-great-great, and so on and so forth, grand son, Thomas. He was named after Benjamin Martin's Thomas. I've gotten to know him, and we've become very good friends. I find myself caring about him, and thinking about him a lot. Sometimes I wonder if it's wrong to Thomas. Then I remember what he said in his letter. "Live your life to the fullest." And that is just what I intend to do.

The End

A/N: I have finally finished it. I hope you enjoyed the story. Even though it's over, PLEASE review. I'd love to know what ya'll think of it.