"You are the worst boy, Theodore Laurence."
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For centuries, humankind has used the stars. Whether it be for navigating across unfamiliar oceans, for preserving myths and legends of great heroes who were bestowed a spot in the heavens by the gods...
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THE SPRING OF 1865 was a happy one for Charlotte Kohler. The stubborn remains of wintery snow had melted into puddles that were perfect for causing mischief, and each of the girls took part in the joy that came from splashing in them until their socks were wet and their feet were clammy with cold. Gardens had been cleared to make way for new little sprouts and seeds that would soon bloom into bright patches of aromatic flowers, and the dreary uncertainty of war had come to a conclusive end. For the first time in many years, the dreadful fear that plagued the air had turned to one of flourishing peace. The earth thawed and turned green again, and all was good with the world.
Three years had ticked by quicker than Charlotte could have imagined. It had passed through her in flashes of warm summers and cool winters, and in scattered images of tea parties and withering pages of old books. Kittery was a distant memory, kept alive by the sketches in her notebooks and the memories of her father and mother, who now rested together under the shade of the churchyard oak tree. She had moved in with the Marches permanently not long after her mother's funeral and had settled into her new life splendidly. She still shared a room with Amy and Beth and she had decorated one of the walls with trinkets from her own bedroom and star charts. Every morning she woke with Amy's fists against her back or Beth's quiet snoring, Charlotte would smile at the ceiling gratefully. She was home.
Charlotte plucked a sunflower from the basket in her hands and added it to the bouquets decorating the fence of the garden. Meg had accepted Mr. Brooke's proposal and the day of their wedding had come upon them before they knew it. The front lawn had been transformed into a wonderful picnic reception, with rows of chairs angled towards a garden bower covered with flowering ivy. Tables had been moved outside and covered with lacy tablecloths that billowed in the soft breeze. The skies had rid themselves of pesky, clingy clouds and the faint breeze was ripe with the smell of blossoms and new beginnings. It was the perfect day for a wedding.
Amy and Beth had baskets of their own and were busy attaching sunflowers and fern leaves to the fence posts. Charlotte's eyes landed on them as they looked at something behind her and laughed.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Charlotte scrunched her eyebrows together as Beth tried to suppress her laughter. Amy giggled without restraint and clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from shouting out. Charlotte took a step back and began to turn her head to look at what was making them giggle. "Wha—"
Hands pinched her sides and lifted her off her feet before she could finish her sentence. Charlotte screamed in a stunned terror as she was twirled around. Laurie's laughter rang in her ears as she tried to pry his hands from around her waist. When he finally put her back down on solid ground, she swatted his arm and sent him a playful but disapproving look.
"You are the worst boy, Theodore Laurence." She shook the bouquet of flowers in his face until the wildflowers began to shed their petals and the daisies bowed limply by the middle of their stems, but despite the vexation in her voice, her face had lit up at the appearance of her friend. "When did you get back?" She asked as she twirled the stem of a red rose between her fingers.
