Off to their right on a high rise stood
the crumbling fort, settled like a patient bovine on its haunches. Another partial brick building stood closer
to the woods, thought to be either a barracks or a powder house. Down a gentle slope, closer to the shore, lay
a jumble of granite rocks. These were
supposed to be the foundation for additional battlements connected to
underground tunnels from which guns could be fired without being seen. The project was abandoned sometime after the
Civil War and the granite stood untouched; seemingly forgotten and definitely
too heavy to be taken.
It
was to these rocks that Aubrey led Alison.
He went to the one farthest from the fort and brought her around to see
its end.
“Look,”
he said, grinning and pointing.
Alison
peered at the rock and gasped. Chipped
away from its end was the clearly defined head and shoulders of a man. She could see the rock chips and dust
scattered around its base on the grass, attesting to the hours of time spent
here. “Oh my, Aubrey!” she
exclaimed. “It’s…it’s amazing!” Kneeling down she examined it more
closely. Despite its rough surface, the
head was rounded and shapely. She could
make out features; the eyes downcast, the mouth unsmiling but somehow
determined, the jaw strong. “When did
you do this? Where did you learn how to
do this?”
He
shrugged. “I’ve done it since I was a
kid. Just takes a hammer and chisel and
some good stone.”
“But
this must have taken months!”
“Oh,
aye. Granite’s hard,” he nodded. He was studying her as she ran her hand over
the shape of it. “I tried to make it
look like Sam, but his face seems kinda distant in my mind.” He smiled apologetically.
Alison rose, stepped back from it
and brought her hands to her heart in a stricken gesture. She turned to Aubrey, searching his face and
whispering, “You did this for me?”
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