"Oh my... Who are you? How do you know me?" Josie asked, pushing me away so that I stumbled onto the front porch again. "Josie, it's me Rose! Your childhood best friend." I said, and Josie shook her head, and too my dismay began closing the door. "This isn't funny. My friend Rose left years ago, and lives in England now." She said, and I knew I had to say something to convince her to let me in.

"I know you know how to read and write. The first book you ever read was Today is Tomorrow, in the willow tree by the creek." I said, prying the closing door open again. Josie turned and put a hand on her mouth, tears sprung to her eyes.

"Oh Rose! How did you get here? Why are you here? Is everything alright?" She said between sobs, and I hugged her, letting her warm body embrace me and taking in the scent of lavender that I'd missed so much. "Oh Josie, it's such a long story. I'll tell you, but can we go inside first?" I asked, shivering as the snow began to fall faster and faster.

Josie shook her head and seemed to come to her senses. "Oh yes, come in, come in!" Josie cried, beckoning me inside and taking my bags from me. Grateful to get out of the cold I stepped into the warm house and was welcomed by a wave of yelling and arguing that came from the dining room, (which to my delight I noticed had stayed the same) and when I peeked through the familiar doorway I saw a man slap his hand on the table, growling with frustration.

Josie tapped my shoulder and gently pulled me away, her soft eyes turned stormy. "Come Rose, we have to talk and listening to quarrels won't help." She said, and I nodded. "Josie, there's so much we have to catch up on." I said, grabbing her hands, studying the face I'd been longing to see for so long. Her face was still soft and innocent, her hair in the same braid that always hung over her shoulder, her cheeks still full of a rosy glow that I was forever jealous of.

But something was different about her; something that seemed to haunt her once so joyus expression, a thing that I couldn't put my finger on it, but knew it was there and needed to find. As I tried to discover what was new about my friend she grabbed my hand and pulled me up the stairs of the home, a finger on her lips. "We'll talk upstairs," she mouthed as a crash came from the dining room, and I let her lead me into her bedroom.

I creaked the door open and felt a rush of emotion as I sat on the same bed I had four years ago, stroking it as if it was my most prize possession. Everything was in exactly the same place it had been four years ago, the wooden rocking horse and rickety dresser still close to falling apart. Except the dresser was full of men's clothes as well as woman's, and cologne and cigars were mixed with the perfume and jewelry on Josie's dresser.

Was she married? I thought with delight, and went too make a sly comment about it when I heard a sob escape Josie's lips, and when I turned to her her face was buried in her hands. "Oh Josie, what's wrong? " I asked, and she looked at me with an expression full of so much drainage I would've believed she was carrying the world on her shoulders.

Josie's shoulder sagged and she rubbed her temples, and that was when I realized what was different about her. It was that she looked just like my mother; still beautiful but a fragment of what she once was. Purple eyebags displayed under her eyes, and gray hairs threatened to turn her hair gray. "Everything's wrong Rose..." Josie cried, looking older than I'd ever seen her. I pulled her close and stroked her head, like we did when we were kids. "Tell me everything," I said, pulling her closer. Josie sniffed, wiped her tears, and began her story with a hiccup.

"Rose when you left everything went south. It was like a giant build up, and soon after the war started and made things so difficult. Add rationing, shortage on goods, and the Homage Act to the mix of tension that rises in the streets and suddenly Virginia's a bloodbath.

I was cast away by society for being an unmarried woman, all of our childhood friends were gone, and no one there to comfort me but my parents, who were so busy cursing the British they had no time for me, not to mention the constant fighting in the streets, hangings every day and thousands dead.

You wouldn't believe the things I've seen... Have you ever seen a man beg on his knees for his life to be spared? Ever seen a woman sacrifice herself for her children? Watch does children cry as they died at their feet? See family's crumble to the ground at the news of their dead relatives? I've seen these all and so much worse Rose, and the images keep me up at night until I'm in tears and falling into depression.

I was so depressed I could barley get out of bed when we started writing letters. Those letters were the only things that kept me going, until I met Oliver. Oh Rose he's perfect in every way. He's Smart, funny, handsome, and values me as my own individual, as an equal to him, not a " house woman." And we're engaged. But he's extremely poor, and my parents refused to help us out with financials. We had this horrid fight Rose; ending with me swearing I'd never speak to my parents again and Oliver and I living in-in-in a shack for years.

Then Father died. It was so devastating Rose; I never got to apologize, and shortly after Mother died. I didn't have time too write it in a letter to you because I slipped into another depression soon after Oliver and I claimed the house. He tried to comfort me by telling tales of our future, of having children and loving one another, but it just reminded me of my parents and how they wouldn't be there to see it.

And it turns out they didn't take me out of the will after all, even after the horrid things I said. Then Oliver began too get involved in the army. He's actually a journalist, and soon he was gone on journey's and I was left alone with just our letters. And I always wondered what you were doing Rose; did you have the same struggles as me? I didn't know. Our letters were the only thing that kept me going."

At this point Josie was a puddle of tears, sobbing uncontrollably. "And then you just showed up Rose! Like a figment of my imagination. You can imagine my shock when I saw you on the doorstep. It took all of my self control not to yell what the heck you were doing, which is why, before you respond to anything I just said, I want you to explain your story."

I desperately wanted to comfort her and ask a thousand questions; why she didn't tell me these things, why she didn't tell me sooner that she was depressed? Why didn't she tell me so I could help her? But I obeyed Josie's wishes and began with my story and told her everything, starting from the very day we left to seeing the city for the first time. And it felt so good to tell her how I felt, and when I was finished we were both crying, taking out all our pain on one another.

As our tears flowed onto the bedspread I thought about how far this situation was from the images of Josie and I reuniting that used to play in my head over and over in England. I always thought of us meeting as a joyous event; happy tears and maybe even a party in the parlor. How naive I was, how stupid.

I knew that the world was chaotic when I was in England; but I never experienced half the things Josie mentioned, let alone the heartbreak that seemed to have really broke my friend. How could I expect her too be happy?

And I felt as guilty as ever; I'd been pining for Virginia, complaining about my life, while Josie desperately tried to find an excuse for hers, letting her youth slip away. She never experienced the wealth or the happiness I had, even with Charlie and Sophia and all the British. "Oh Josie, I've missed you so much. Since the moment I got off the boat too England I dreamed of coming back." I confessed, wiping my tears as Josie wiped hers, nodding her head.

"I understand Rose, but do you know how dangerous it is coming here? What even is your objective for this Shadow Group? Have you even brought any supplies with you?" She asked bewilderedly, and I let out a weary sigh. It was all so complicated to explain and so hard to break her heart and tell her I wouldn't be staying in Virginia forever, that I had to get to New York, but I knew that Josie deserved a real explanation and the truth.

"Yes, my trunk is full of supplies. My mission is too take these supplies to General Washington in New York and gather information and help the US until I'm called back, or possibly when the wars over. So unfortunately I'll only be staying in Virginia for a little while, until I can figure out how I can get to New York. And I'll only stay here if it's okay with you." I said, and Josie rolled her eyes, a little bit like her old self.

"No Rose, I'm going to turn my practically sister away. But your British accent is slightly annoying," She said teasingly, and I swatted her arm and we both laughed. An awkward silence then fell, and Josie nodded and we sat in silence, lost in our thoughts, when a few moments later my stomach let out an ominous growl. We both laughed and glad for the excuse to end the silence Josie stood up, smoothing her dress.

"Why don't we go downstairs and I'll fix you some food. Then we can come up with a plan." She said warmly, sounding more and more like the old Josie I knew. But then her eyes faded into their newfound guarded state, and my heart seemed to sink. It was so hard seeing Josie like this, seeing my once so spirited and happy friend heartbroken and upset. But my mother always used to say time changes people, and I guess it does.

"Sounds great," I replied cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood, and we walked down the stairs, past the group of shouting men and into the kitchen. My curiosity sparking I stopped Josie from turning and pointed to the guests. "Who are those men?" I asked keenly, and she rolled her eyes in their direction.

"Oliver convinced me to let some of Washington's soldiers come over and discuss battle plans in our house since it's safe. Just ignore them." She said, and I nodded, but as we walked into the kitchen one of the men had caught my eye.

He was in the middle of a passionate speech, his voice full of emotion, blowing his curly chestnut hair out of his eyes, his hazel eyes blazing. He wasn't half as handsome as Charlie is, but he was handsome in his own sort of way. He had a scar on his bottom left chin and full cheeks, and he looked so invested in his speech it made me intrigued.

The man paused in his conversation and caught my eye for a second, and I felt my cheeks heat up at being caught staring and eavesdropping on their conversation.

But the man wouldn't look away, and that's when I realized he was staring at me with a confused expression, and I looked down at my dress and horrified I quickly left the room and padded ran the wooden floor and into the kitchen, remembering my wretched state. No wonder they were staring; I looked like a beggar on the street, with my wild hair and disgusting dress.

"Oh Josie, why didn't you tell me I looked like a filthy animal?" I cried, and Josie looked me up and down, her mouth forming into a small o shape. "Well, I didn't really realize it until now." She said slowly. "Did the men see you?" She asked, and I nodded tenderly, squeezing my eyes shut. "Oh dear." Josie said, gesturing to the stairs. "Go upstairs and wash up while I make dinner. It's where it always is," Josie said, and I raced upstairs, noticing the cloud of dirt that seeped from my slippers.

I might be a feminist and not believe in dressing just to impress men, but I was still a woman, and it was more embarrassing than falling on your face to be seen dressing as a gypsy. I quickly grabbed my new clothes and then turned into the bathroom, where the metal tub from my childhood still lay. A bucket of cold water and a bar of soap stood beside it, and I quickly undressed and filled the tub before jumping in, shivering against the water.

I then dunked my head until my head and hair was clean and then scrubbed until the water was full of dirt. When I was satisfied that I was clean I dried myself off with my old clothes and slipped into my new ones, feeling like a new woman. I then put on my new clothes and walked back downstairs, where Josie was stirring a pot that smelled absolutely delicious, and that's when my hunger returned.

It was like a beast, clawing my insides out and making me sink to me knees. "Rose! Are you alright?" Josie exclaimed, rushing to my side and helping me up. The room began to spin, and I took a deep breath before sinking into the small wooden chairs that surrounded a tiny corner table. "No... I need food..." I moaned, and Josie began to furiously cut some vegetables before handing them to me, which I gobbled up like it was liquid gold.

"There. That should hold you until dinner." Josie said, and I thanked for, feeling slightly better. Josie returned to her cooking, and I nonchalantly leaned against my chair, trying to seem completely at ease so that Josie wouldn't assume what she always did with my next question. Whenever I asked about a man Josie always assumed I was interested in him, even if it was her own love interest. It drove me crazy, especially when I didn't have any remote interest in the man, and I wondered if she still did it.

Well, I was about too find out.

"Josie, do you know who that is?" I said, pointing at the man who'd captured my attention. He was now wearing round-shaped glasses, the kind that slipped over your nose, and scratching at some paper with a quill, and Josie laughed and glanced over at the man admiringly. "Well I should know the man, he is my soon-to-be-husband after all." She said, I spun my head in her direction, a look of complete and utter shock on my face.

"That's Oliver? He seems wonderful," I said, disbelief coating my words. For a second Josie's haunted look faded and her lips pursed into a giggly smile I haven't seen her do since we were young girls. "He really is," she said quietly, her eyes lighting up, and I then knew how much Josie loved this man. "Well I'm very happy for you." I said, still surprised.

"When's the wedding?" I asked, and Josie's eyes fell into darkness once more. She sighed and bit her lip, and I knew this was a touchy subject. "Oliver wanted the wedding right away. But I wanted to wait until after the war, so that we could invite friends and..." she swallowed. "Family." I nodded, not pushing it. It was obvious she was thinking of her parents and how they wouldn't be able to attend, and I didn't want to make Josie cry over their death more than she already has.

Diverting the subject, Josie and I then talked and caught up about life until dinner was ready, and after we ate (I had almost the entire meal) we chatted farther into the night, until the men had gone home and Oliver was alone at the huge dining room table, still scribbling notes onto his piece of parchment.

When we'd talked so much our throats were dry and our eyes were drooping and the snow was a swirling mess outside Josie made us a nightly cup of tea and brought Oliver into the kitchen. "Come darling, it's time for dinner." She called tenderly, and Oliver walked into the room. "Hello honey," he said, kissing Josie's cheek. "I'm sorry we didn't get to spend much time today, but the colonists aren't doing so well." He sighed, sounding stressed.

Josie handed him a cup of tea, which he thanked her for and took a long sip from. "It's fine Oliver, you've been working hard. Enjoy the tea and unwind. While you relax, I want you to meet my good friend Rose here. She'll be staying with us for a while." Josie said, continuing on to tell my whole story. When she finished I curtsied and bowed my head.

"It's nice to meet you Oliver. I've heard such good things, and you don't know how much I appreciate staying here." I said, and Oliver smiled warmly. "Of course Rose; anything for a friend of Josie's and anything to help the colonies." He said, and I found myself getting caught up in his hazel gaze. He didn't hold it for long though, for his eyes then wandered too Josie's, and he curled his free hand around hers, their eyes locked in a loving gaze.

A few seconds later Josie let out an "ahem," and smiled as she pulled away from Oliver and led me towards the stairs. "You really should be getting to bed Rose; I bet your exhausted." She said, and she led me into the old guest bedroom. I thanked her for her hospitality, hugged her goodnight, changed clothes and then collapsed into the bed before I could even think about the day I'd had.

That night I dreamed of when Josie and I used to play in the snow in the winter time. We were about seven and climbing a snowbank, squealing with joy as the snow collapsed over us when Josie let out a scream. She scrambled away from the bank, leaving me isolated and alone.

I turned to see what she was running from and let out a screech as the ice beneath me began to crack. Suddenly I was falling into the ice, scrambling for the surface as my breath grew shallower and shallower when I was pulled out by strong arms.

When I looked up to meet my rescuer it was Greg, his eyes haunted. "I'm sorry Rose." He said as gunshots fired in the background. Suddenly a man grabbed my hand, and ship emerged from the ice, Charlie standing on deck as he kissed a woman I didn't recognize lip's, Joseph and Sophia jumping into the icy water together, and my Mother screaming as my Father hit her.

I then woke up in cold sweat, the darkness pulsing around me like a heartbeat. It's just a dream. I told myself as I calmed down and slipped into sleep again. Just a crazy dream.

I guess moving across oceans don't stop bad dreams.