A/N: Due to me doing whatever the heck I feel like, here's the sequal to "A Civil War Tale" which introduced the stubborn, ignorant former Confederate States of America, Jason G. Jones. But y'all can call him J.G. To give a synopsis to new readers, J.G. grew up in the atmosphere of the pre-civil war south, and didn't know he represented a nation until America found him right after the war. He married Belarus, whom he met at his first UN conferance, and they have a six-year-old daughter, named Maribel. At the end of "A Civil War Tale," the family decided to move to New York because of the better schools there, as opposed to the one in South Carolina that tried to tell Maribel evolution was a lie.

This will likely be an ongoing story, which I upddate when I have the motivation and time to do so. With my Juinor year in high school coming to an end in June and senior year on my doorstep, I don't know how much time I will have. I received many great reviews on "A Civil War Tale," and I hope those followers enjoy this just as much.

With regards,

CutelittleMouseygirl


Country roads

Take me home

To the place...

I belong

I'd been tellin' the whole story of the Civil War and the school and Fredrickson Plantation and everything the whole car ride across the country from Palmito. Of course, we didn't start there, we lived in Allan, South Carolina for a while, but that's a long story in itself, how I happened to end up with my wife and kid in Texas, when we're movin' to New York.

My story takes Maribel and Nat through the next week we're drivin'. Lil' six-year-old Maribel loves the stories of the brave soldiers marchin' through the south to fight for their rights and beautiful Belarus-born Natasha loves to hear things she didn't know I'd done. We stop at a bridge in Pennsylvania and I point out the guardrail that's been patched up a while.

"Maribel, there's where yer mama and me got into a car wreck before you were born. It was icy and we went right over the side into the water."

"Were ya scared?" She asks. I just laugh.

"Maybe a bit, but I've been through worse."

"Like when the yankee boys shot yer leg off with their cannon?"

"Exactly. Smart girl, rememberin' that." I say, rufflin' her hair. She's wearin' a pink dress with a shiny pink headband and shiny black shoes and stockings with little ruffles at the tops. Her hair, pale blond, straight and shiny like Nat's comes down to about her chin in a neat cut all around her head. She's got my eyes, though. A real pale sky blue, like a wintery color. She's also got freckles specklin' her cheekbones just like mine. She ain't got my golden blond hair, though, which I find a bit of a shame, not that her mama's hair ain't beautiful.

"Hey, Maribel... when we git back to the car, y'wanna hear how I met yer mama?" I ask her.

"Yeah!" She cheers. Maribel really likes hearin' stories, I notice. Maybe I'm just a good storyteller. Or maybe she's just an excitable six-year-old with an interestin' daddy.


Soon, we're pullin' into the small trailer park. I don't much trust those places, but I hear they got a good sense of home, once you're used to it. The trailer we now own is small, but it's got two bedrooms, and the water is clean, so I'm real happy.

"Wowie, Nat, we even get a picnic table!" I say, pointin' at the thing in the back area.

"I thought you did not want to be thought of as hillbilly." Nat observes.

"We ain't hillbilly, we're redneck!" Maribel chirps. Nat sighs.

Soon, we've got the movin' men unloadin' everything into the house and even unpackin' it for us, as Alfred paid 'em to do. I decide to take Maribel around the city for a walk. We're pretty close to a subway station and a park, so I take her by there. There's only one other kid on the playground and she's real familiar, with her brown hair down to her chin and her light blue dress.

"Hey, I think I know her," I tell Maribel.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's a nation, like us." Bein' a nation means that you're a special kind'a person. Nations like me and Nat and Maribel live forever. I'm only about a hundred-fifty, which is like a baby as far as most of the others like me. Nat is over a thousand years. We both look the same age, though, that bein' about nineteen. Another thing about nations is we heal from most any injury we ever get. We also re-grow our arms and legs, which made me think I'd died back before I knew anything of nations and my leg, blasted off by a cannon, was back good as new when I woke up.

Almost good as new. I still got a thick scar all around my thigh 'bout halfway up it, and probably some damage to the nerves, as the leg will up and quit workin' on me if I strain too hard for too long. It only took me one time of gettin' trapped under a heavy metal beam to stop doin' that when I work on construction sites. Maribel, one day, went to bed as a lil' four-year-old, and woke up havin' jumped to six, as some nations do. Alfred, had jumps in his age, even if I didn't and grew up steadily my whole life.

Alfred's the entire country of America, and I came about durin' the time before the Civil War, in which the southern states se-ceded and made their own country- the Confederate States of America, which was me. Even if my poor lil' country got beat up and re-cons'ructed, Alfred thinks I ain't faded away yet 'cuz I won't as long as there's people who proudly claim they got confederate heritage and therefore must be rebels by blood. I'm one such people, and even if Nat says I shouldn't, at least not in New York, I'm intendin' to put my confederate flag outside our trailer in the yard, just like back on the farm in Allan.

Lettin' go of Maribel's hand, I call out to the brown-haired girl playin' on the swingset, "Elise! Elise DeBoer!" She turns and looks at me, startled. She don't recognize me at first, but then she grins,

"South-Mister? I haven't seen you in forever!" She notices Maribel soon after, "Who are you?"

"I'm Maribel and he's my daddy!" She says, pointin' at me.

"Well, I'm Elise, and my daddy's gone at the market right now, so I'm playin' in the park!"

"What kinda market? Like a farmer's market?" Maribel asks.

"I'm not s'posed to tell you, 'cuz you might tell the policemen and they'll take me away from daddy and put me in the foster home." Elise replies. I just sigh.

"Say, Elise, where do you live?" I ask her.

"East 109th street station." She says.

"Hmm, that's right near us. Hey Maribel, I think you just found a new friend." I tell her. Strange that Elise would name the subway station nearest to her when asked for her address. I brush it off as a lil' kid bein' a lil' kid and move on. Another dad and his kid are comin' our way, and it's pretty clear from the "Danger: Too awesome for you" shirt and messy silver-white hair that it's Gilbert Beilschmidt, the pervert who tried to get me drunk and take advantage of me back at the very first UN conference I went to, in 2001, right after the terrorist attack here in New York. I decide to sit on a bench nearby and keep an eye on Maribel and the unsupervised Elise.

"Marina! Marina!" Elise calls out, and the girl Gilbert's with takes off over there, with her own silver-white hair flyin' behind her just like the blue button-down shirt she's wearin' as a sorta jacket. Marina's also wearin' khaki cargo shorts and blue and red rainboots, and under her jacket she's got a yellow t-shirt on.

"What is it?" She asks. Gilbert's headin' for a bench. Always the perfect example, he's got a beer bottle in hand.

"New girl. Her name's Maribel. She's southern." Elise says.

"Hi." Maribel says to the newcomer.

"Hi! I'm Marina, and my Vati over there is the most awesomest Vati in the world!" She talks a little bit like Gilbert, but like she also grew up talkin' English too. The way a Mexi-can kid'll have a lil' accent from listenin' to their parents talk and talkin' Spanish, but they mostly talk English 'cuz they're at school all the time.

"How awesome is he?" Maribel asks. "What's he do? My daddy's a con-s'ruc-shun worker."

"He's so awesome he doesn't even need to work for money! He just sits around and talks to strange girls all day, and makes me go to Onkel Ludwig's house to pick up money!" Marina says proudly. I just snort. Silly girl, don't know nothin' yet. Soon she'll learn her daddy's nothin' but a disgustin' deadbeat. Bet lil' Miss Marina got dumped on Gilbert by one of those "strange girls" when she was a baby, too.

"My daddy sells things I'm not allowed to talk about." Elise says.

"What's yer bunny's name, Elise?" Maribel asks. Elise holds up the raggedy stuffed rabbit.

"Her name's 'nent-yey.' but it's spelled N-E-N-T-J-E. It's a Dutch name, like mine is, and like Daddy's too." She says. "What about your dolly, Maribel?"

"Her name's Sarah-Anne. I guess it's a southern name, 'cuz that's where I'm from." Maribel replies.

"My birdie's called 'An-keh' which is spelled like A-N-K-E which is one letter away from German for 'thank you'." Marina says, holdin' up the dirty stuffed duckling.

Just then Gilbert finds me and sits on the bench next to me and puts his arm around my shoulder, makin' me get close to him. I don't like it and glare in front of me and tense up to make him stop, but he ain't gettin' the hint.

"Heyyy! I haven't seen you in forever, kleiner Amerikaner."

"There's probably a good reason fer that." I tell him, shovin' his arm away. He just puts it right back.

"So, the pretty little girl in pink yours? I bet Antonio'd love to have her at his daycare!" Gilbert says.

"Are you advertisin' yer friend to me?" I ask.

"Not really, but he does watch nation-kids for free!" He says, pullin' me closer.

"Gilbert, git off'a me." I growl at him.

"Hmm... Nein." He says, his hand gettin' too low on my back for , he freezes.

"Gilbert, you really were not goink to mess with my husband, were you?" Nat asks him.

"No, of course not!" He squeaks.

"Good, because if you were, I would have had to call my big brother and tell him all about it, and you know he does not like it when his sisters' lovers are messed with by scum like you." She says, her face dark and threatnin'. I scoot away in a hurry and so does he, and that's how we stay, Gilbert and I, on opposite sides of the bench. I dunno why Gilbert follows what Nat says so well, but I'm glad he does.