Free Beyond All Dreams by Elizabeth Camden Page A

she could make no sense of it.
    Was it possible he had written a similar letter to Aunt Ruth? He always enclosed separate messages to her aunt and uncle, and if those letters still existed, there might be more clues to begin piecing this puzzle together.
    Anna’s monthly dinner with Aunt Ruth was due this weekend. The visits were a halfhearted attempt to preserve the only familial relationship Anna had left in the world, although she suspected her aunt only welcomed them because Anna handed over a portion of her salary during those visits. Aunt Ruth had countless techniques to make Anna feel guilty for Uncle Henry’s death, but she tended to keep her claws sheathed in front of others, which was why Anna dragged Neville along for the visits.Anna always used some excuse for Neville’s presence, like checking to be sure Ruth’s stove was in good working order. Since it was October, they could say he’d come to clear the gutters in preparation for winter.
    With any luck, this week’s visit would reveal another letter from her father that Neville could later help her decipher.

5

    A unt Ruth’s town house was nestled into the close-knit seafaring community just a few blocks from the Potomac River. Elm and oak trees sheltered cobblestone streets worn from a century of foot traffic. The cold air smelled of autumn and woodsmoke as she and Neville walked toward Ruth’s house, their feet crunching over scattered acorns and leaves.
    â€œI’ll have to be careful asking about my father’s letters,” Anna said. “Aunt Ruth blamed him for my mother’s death. He’s never been her favorite subject.”
    â€œYour mother died in childbirth . How was that your father’s fault?”
    Anna tried not to laugh. “Do you really need me to explain it to you?”
    â€œMaybe we can skip that part,” he said with a grin, but then he sobered quickly. “Anna, why are you doing this? Maybe the Culpeper was farther south when it sank, but it’s not such an important detail, is it?”
    Anna paused. Overlooking any error in the historical record was aggravating to her, but it was much more than a fussy needfor accuracy. “My father explained it to me once. He said that in 1707, a tiny navigational error steered an entire fleet of ships off course as they approached the English Channel. In the middle of the night, the HMS Association smashed into the rocks because of that tiny error, and eight hundred sailors died. Our maps and reports can’t merely be good, they need to be flawless. And I think the Culpeper report is full of errors.”
    â€œYes, but we’re not talking about a map sailors rely on for navigation. That old naval report is only a historical curiosity—”
    â€œStop right there,” Anna said, turning to block Neville from walking any farther on the cobblestone path. “We don’t know how people in the future will use that report, but because it was written by the navy within a few months of the disaster, it will always be the most important record people will rely on. Who knows how people in the future might use that report. I know it is full of errors, and they must be fixed. If Aunt Ruth still has any of my father’s old letters, I need to see them.”
    â€œOkay, I get it,” Neville conceded.
    They had arrived at Ruth’s house, a two-story Colonial of ruddy brick with shiny black shutters that had once belonged to her father. After her mother died, Aunt Ruth and Uncle Henry moved in so they could look after Anna while her father was at sea. The house now belonged to Anna since inheriting it after her father died. It contained terrible memories, though, and Anna never wanted to live here again. Still, she could hardly evict her widowed aunt just so she could sell the home.
    Aunt Ruth opened the front door wearing a threadbare work smock, her faded hair twisted into a loose bun. “Oh, you’ve brought