The Story of Abigail Whitney, a daughter of the revolution who becomes more than confused when a handsome British soldier walks into her home, and her life. She struggles with feelings of love and loyalty, and doesn't quite know how to honor both between the lines of the war .
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Chapter 1
The darkness lifted and a faint whisper of light broke the horizon. Dew covered the freshly cut grass, filling the air with a unique aroma, and horse hooves could be heard traveling down the narrow cobble stone streets, making their way to the market place for a day of business. Philadelphia could prove to be a loud city after day break, but at the dawn it was peaceful and serene, the soft waves of the Atlantic crashing against the hard docks calling to all those that listened. That was the important thing, listening to all the peace that nature offered.
Abigail Whitney loved to do just that, listen to the sounds of the morning. She pulled her pale blue muslin dress on and braided her dark curly hair and crept out of her bedroom. Her bare feet tread quietly on the cool hardwood floor, careful to stay away from the spots that seemed to make the whole house groan. Abby was the only member of the Whitney family that woke so early, so she was careful to be absolutely silent as she made her way downstairs. She grabbed a shaw and her book and made her final stop in the kitchen.
Melli was just pouring a hot cup of coffee as Abby entered. With two spoonfuls of sugar and a bit of cream it was every bit as good as a cup of tea. Next to the mug sat an apple cinnamon muffin, her favorite. The heat of both took the chill off the early summer morning. Abby gathered everything carefully and walked through the screen door. The cool wet grass felt good between her toes as she made her way to her favorite place. She lifted the branch and found herself in a small grove. A single swing with coarse rope and a slatted seat hung from a tall sycamore tree. Despite it's rough materials, it looked delicate amongst the other trees. Next to it sat a small white table, where Abby quickly placed her mug and muffin.
The rope felt rough as she ran her hands down it and eased herself onto the hard plank. Her feet lifted off the ground and she curled them up under her. The swing fell into a gentle rhythm and Abby opened her book. Within the first couple of sentences Abby was lost, captivated by the world created. She spent her morning silently turning the crisp pages, drinking every word of the story that took her away from the troubled times of 1774. Her mind stayed in the world created by the book as she took bites of her muffin or sips of her quickly cooling coffee, not even realizing the soft whistle accompanied by heavy footsteps that were coming toward her.
Abby's brother, Jacob Whitney, appeared in the small grove, unnoticed. He was twenty years old, the eldest of the three children. He stood tall and lean with chestnut brown hair that always seemed to fall into his bright green eyes. He was clean shaven, which showed off his chisled features, making him one of the most handsome young men in Philadelphia. He stood, hands on his hips and stared at his younger sister with a smile on his face. She was curled up on the wide seat of the swing, her back resting on the rope. Her shaw was wrapped tightly around her small shoulders, her gaze fixed on her book. She tilted her head to one side, twirling a small piece of long dark hair around her fingers ...
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