Charles didn’t answer. He only quickened his lumbering steps and disappeared onto the balcony. It was empty.
The veil he’d insisted on buying for his young bride fluttered like a wounded bird on the stone floor. The muggy breeze brought it to life only for a moment. When the breeze passed, the veil, like a brief afterthought of the marriage that almost was, lay dead again.
Charles flexed his swollen fingers, put his plump hand to his brow, and scanned the distance. There was nothing at all out of the ordinary. The waves curled over the rocky shore. Seabirds swooped and called. There was a black dot far, far out on the sea. It sort of looked like a ship, sailing in fair winds, toward the horizon—or perhaps into a distant fog.
•
I pulled myself up the rope ladder. Muscles, tight and forgotten, sprang to life with the familiar movements I’d missed so much. Moments after leaving the rowboat that took us from the mainland to the side of The Black Otter, that bobbed, waiting, around a rocky outcropping, I caught up to my husband. I tapped the bottom of his boot to hurry him along.
“Somebody has missed climbing ratlines and ladders, I see.” I didn’t need to see Jack’s handsome face to know that he was smiling.
Jack pulled himself onto the deck and turned to offer me his hand. Ever playful and grateful to be home, I stared into his eyes and finished the climb myself. A wave of emotion rolled over me as I pushed up onto the black boards of the ship I so dearly loved and missed more with each memory that came rushing back.
The smell of the boards, like an old seaside library on a rainy day. Their achy creaks as they swayed with the ever-present ebb and flow of the tide. My heart quickened to a gallop, just as it had when I pulled myself up this ladder behind Russian Jack for the first time, so long ago.
Sully’s face flashed to mind without warning. His smug smile as he sat behind the wheel of The Scarlet Rose, as he carried with him to the islands a lost, hopeless bride and a boat loaded full of dirty secrets. Russian Jack and The Black Otter Fleet saved me from the hell that might have been.
Sully’s memories elicited no emotion from me other than gratitude to Jack, but seeing the side of The Black Otter certainly did. My nail marks in the wood, where I struggled to stay aboard after having cannon balls attached to my legs, were still there. Painted over black, but still there. I ran my finger over them and shuddered.
“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.”
