Diary Entry 5 -- May 20, 1778

This entry will be kept brief, as I'm unsure when Mr. Smee will arrive to meet me. 

I paid a visit to my Rosie early this morning, just to inform her of my whereabouts. I tried with all I had to stress to her that I am trying to get my life back on the correct track, for her and for Frederick. I assumed, or hoped, she would understand that in order for me to tend to my family the way a man should, I would be forced to work a few odd jobs here and there. Once I told her I was leaving, though, she turned from me and wouldn't face me for several minutes. Although I never saw her face, I know she was crying.

I did not understand. I had left for months at a time during my years of service, but she never acted like this. No, something else was wrong. I attempted to pick her thoughts from her head, but all I managed to get from her was her faint voice muttering "Frederick" repeatedly. As the boy's father, this of course worried me. After the fourth or fifth time she spoke his name, I dashed up to my son's room to find him asleep in his bed. Nothing was amiss. Everything was as it should be, I believe. I tried asking Rosie what was wrong with Frederick, but her lips would not allow her to say what her eyes seemed to be screaming. She just stood there, silent, still, and finally shook her head. 

I turned to walk out the door, but before I closed it behind me, I looked into Rose's eyes and told her "I will be back one day, and you will be proud of me."

Right on cue, Mr. Smee.