A big white house!. A dirt road bending and twisting!. A young girl sitting on the wide front steps!. A small town outside London!. And me standing at the end of the dirt road near the rusty mailbox, a suitcase in each hand, a book bag slung over my shoulder!. The girl was staring at me looking curious and angry at the same time!. There was a huge wrought iron gate separating us!. Something in her expression was glad about my standing on the other side of this gate!. I stood there, watching her not wanting to push the gate forward!. I slowly looked around myself!. There were woods on both sides of the road that led back towards the small old fashioned town!. I hated that this was my only choice of a home; a place where the shopping mall probably wasn’t closer than three hours and there wasn’t any cable; a town where everyone was behind the times; about twenty years behind the times to be exact!. Everyone here still acted as though it was the eighteen hundreds!. There was an old bakery in town, along with a blacksmith, sewing store, chimney cleaners, horse stables, cotton plantation, and a few other things!. But I guess I would have to get used it; I had no other place to go!. Not even the orphanage would take me!. They thought that a rich, spoiled girl, would never fit in, and they were right!. I had come from the heart of Italy!. I’d lived nearly my whole life there with my mom!. Before that we had lived in London, but moved to Italy to be close to my mother’s family after my father’s death, when I was seven!. My accent was a strong British one mixed with and Italian accent!. I thought it was very pretty!. My mother had died two weeks ago!. She was hit by a train in her car!. I stayed with our nanny for two weeks but once the funeral was over she was rushing to find a family member for me to move in with!. My grandpa was the only person who would take me!.
I sighed, and pushed open the gate!. The girl jumped up and disappeared into the house!. I stopped dead wondering why she had run away!. She had just been staring at me but then when I pushed open the gate separating us she ran!. I shrugged closing the gate back and continuing down the long dirt path!. The house was huge, the sort of house you see in old movies on a plantation!. I walked slowly taking my time!. The dirt crunched under my black simple heels!. I had worn a dark teal colored skirt, and a gray blouse with black heels!. I matched a black beaded necklace that hung down to my belly button!. I figured I better look nice, as to make a good impression!. My hair was pulled back from my face in a dark teal bow!. I went up the old steps carefully and stopped at the door!. I bent to set down a suitcase but the door swung open!.
“Look at you!” a voice rung from the hallway!. I stood up straight and looked into the face of a motherly looking woman!. She had curly brown hair pulled back in a bun and she was wearing an apron around her waist over her simple yellow sun dress!. I smiled and hesitated!.
“Oh now, come in dear, we don’t want to let the heat in!.” she gestured quickly for me to come in!. I stepped in the door and she closed it behind me!. She took my bags including the one on my shoulder and set them at the foot of a marvelous grand staircase to the right!. She led me down a hall calling over shoulder, “Get her things Martin; the butler!.” She added to me seeing my confused expression!. She steered me into a big kitchen, with all kinds of fancy cooking utensils and sat me down at a small table in the center!. I smiled up at her when she stood in front of me!.
“Well don’t you look just like your mother!.” She put her hand on my cheek!. “Such terrible news too!. But it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t meant to happen!.” She smiled weakly and turned to the counter!.
“Um, excuse me miss, but how do you know my mother!?” I asked!. She turned back to me whipping her hands on a cloth on her waist!.
“Well dear, I’m her sister!.” Her smiled faded some, seeing as I had no clue that she was!.
“Oh!.” Was all I could manage!.
“Yes, well I see just like the rest of my family she prefers not to mention me!.” She nodded thoughtfully!. I waited hoping she would speak again!. She did!. Her voice was worn and caring, and soft!. She smiled at me turning back to her work on the counter!.
“Excuse me, but why don’t they mention you!?” I asked slowly!. “Not that I’m trying to be rude you do understand!.” I assured her!. She sighed and turned to me then pulled out a chair and sat down next to me!.
“You may call me Aunt Honey!.” She smiled at me!. “Anyhoo, when I was very young, and our father died I became very ill!. My mother couldn’t care for me, and I got sicker and sicker!. My mother kept trying to care for me, but she grew sick too!. I became so ill that I should have died, but I didn’t!. My mother did!. It was my fault she died!. I never let her have one moment away from me while I was sick!. But I got over it!. Two years later my father died; I had gotten sick again and insisted that he care for me instead of takeWww@QuestionHome@Com