“This might help with those less than idyllic memories.” Jack held out my sword—his sword—and belt. “Solo found these stashed in our cabin stairs. Why did you choose not to bring them when you left on the row boat?”

“I dared not risk losing them. That sword is much too precious.”

Jack covered my hand in his. Still, I felt the marks from my fingernails. “My darling girl, you are what’s precious.”

I smiled up at him, but a tremble shook me.

“Red?”

“The fear, when China Joe—” My voice refused to rise above a whisper. Still, the words strangled in my throat. “I don’t know how to explain it, Jack.”

Jack simply nodded. He seemed to follow my reminiscent train of thought. “He was a bad one, wasn’t he?”

I nodded and closed my eyes. “Because of him, Monica Joan never reached her love.”

Emotions I hadn’t anticipated washed over me like a rogue wave. Tears sprang to my eyes and my throat clenched tight. “Oh Jack, Monica Joan.”

“I know, my love. I know.” He took me in his arms. “If not for her beloved, I would be resting at the bottom of the sea right now.”

“Speaking of Monica Joan—” A man’s voice I didn’t recognize came from somewhere. I looked around.

“Jack, who—”

A tall man in an even taller black hat stepped forward. He was dressed as though he’d just stepped freshly off a London street, or right out of Buckingham Palace. “Thank you for being such a true friend to her.”

He extended his hand.

“You must be Captain Daniel Johnstone.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for saving my husband, Captain.”

“Thank you, my dear girl. For loving Monica Joan when she needed someone most.” He hugged me back, with quivering arms. “You were her angel, you know.”

An angel.

Captain Johnstone released me from our embrace. When he stepped back, he had tears on his salt-and-pepper bearded cheek. It was enchanting to look into the face that Monica Joan loved. His face showed no expression apart from the tears as he disappeared into the throng of our crewmates.

“Our daughter.” The tears ran freely down my cheeks as I whispered to my husband. My insides ached with a righteous, empty ache. A mourning ache. An ache that would never, could never be filled, ever again, even if I had a thousand more children. “She’s not here.”

Jack cupped my face and slid his thumb along the blade scar on my cheek. “And her absence is sorely felt. By all.”

“She was an angel, Jack.” Destined to be ever empty, my arms yearned for my beautiful baby girl. “Our angel.”

“We’ll see her again, Red.” The tone of sincerity in Jack’s voice made me believe that would be true.

Someday.

“In the meantime, somebody else can’t wait to see you.”

Rusty, big with child, waved. Her wide, bright smile was colored in relief.

“Rusty!” With her auburn hair flowing and her face glowing, she had never looked prettier. “I have so much to catch up on!”

“Red Legs married me!” She grasped her little baby bump and beamed. “It was killing me to not be able to tell you.”

I sniffled and opened my arms wide. “Pregnancy agrees with you, Rusty.”

She rushed into my arms. “Mama,” she whispered into my shoulder. “Thank God you’re home. I could not have this baby without you.”

“Yes you could.” I gave her a squeeze. She made no move to let me go. “You can do anything.”

Her sweet voice, one I thought I’d never hear again, was quiet so that only I could hear. “I prayed that you’d come back. Every night and all the day. Sometimes, Red Legs even prayed with me.”

I gave her shoulders a final squeeze and held her at arm’s length. Her hazel eyes matched the color of the Welsh sea. “Tell me something. Is Red Legs treating you well?”

“Yes, he is.” She wiped her nose across the back of her hand. “Sorry Mama, I just get so emotional.”

“Never apologize, Rusty. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

She wrapped me in a hug again. “Thank God you’re home.”

Red Legs joined us. For the first time since I’d come to know him, he was smiling. “Welcome home, Back from the Dead Red.”

Rusty grabbed his hand.

“Such a difference in this girl,” I said.

Rusty blushed as I sang her praises. “When she came aboard The Black Otter, she was a scared captive. I never dreamed she’d beg to stay aboard as mine and Jack’s daughter. Only to become wife to the most unlikely pirate.”

Like his wife, Red Legs flushed as red as Rusty’s hair.

“Thank you, Red Legs.”

He is smile widened.

Behind Rusty and Red Legs, Solo and Poison Lightning’s movements caught my eye. “Hey,” I began, “what are they—”

I cut off my thought and slapped my hands over my eyes. “Lord above!”

Poison Lightning pretended to nail Solo’s feet to the deck with an imaginary hammer. Solo flailed his arms and cried, just as Charles Swan had the night I truly took control of The Black Otter. In tandem, both Solo and Poison Lightning stopped and looked at me with mischievous grins.

“Why, it’s a reenactment, just for you. Of your bloodiest moment.” Jack spoke from beside me. “When they retire from pirating, I believe the two of them could make a go of it in a theatre troupe.”

I shook my head and howled. “I can’t—” Tears, this time of a different sort, streamed down my face as I watched Solo and Poison Lightning go back to their nailing.

“Over here, over here,” Tommy cried from beside the rope that, that fateful night, doubled as the keelhaul rope for Dark Water William. He jumped up and down, and his paunchy belly bounced over his britches. “Tie me up and push me over!”

I buried my face in Jack’s shoulder as a rabid flush burned in my neck and face. “Seeing everything you missed, Jack, from your brutal killer of a wife?”

“I’ve heard about and these things and more, my love.”