I tried to hide my rolling eyes and cast my gaze to the window. The second she left I planned on turning Mom’s office upside down for a ticket back to Henry.
“And feed that poor boy downstairs, would ya?” she added as she exited my bedroom.
I couldn’t suppress the groan that climbed out of my gut. I’d forgotten about John. The eager beaver, ready and waiting to help me tie my shoes and lift my spoon. But the thought quickly turned into an idea.
If he wanted to help, I knew the perfect job for him.
Chapter Four
“So, what is it exactly that I’m looking for?” John asked as he handed me another ancient parchment to add to the growing pile. He’d been so eager to help that when I asked him, he didn’t even let me finish speaking. Just stopped preparing food for me and hopped on it like an obedient boy scout.
“I told you,” I answered, already annoyed with him, and pointed to the chalkboard on the wall. “Anything that has those names, objects, or places on it.”
The list consisted of the possible names Henry, Finn, Gus, and Charlie would have gone by, Cupers Cove before it was known as Cupid’s, The Cobhams, plus the names of two ships; The Devil’s Heart and The Burning Ghost. We’d found numerous things that mentioned The Cobhams, but mostly historical documents that told the earlier stories of her piracy; hide outs, conquests, her ties back to England, etc. Nothing about her whereabouts post-1707.
“Okay,” John replied, still unsure, “And why are we doing this?”
I didn’t even bother to look up from the document I was reading. “Because it’s important that I know what happened to those people.”
He opened another box and began rifling through its contents. “Are they ancestors of yours, or something?”
“You could say that.”
“Those sound like pirate ship names,” he continued. “Were your ancestors pirates?”
I finished another document and added it to the discard pile. “No,” I shook my head, “I mean, yes. Sort of.”
“So, why do you suddenly need to find out what happened to them?”
I grabbed the last box and slammed it down on the table, the force sending a bolt of pain up through my shoulder. “Jesus, John. Enough with the questions! Just help me or get out.”
He coiled back, stunned, his feelings clearly hurt. I immediately felt a tinge of regret, but I smashed it down, refusing to feel bad for the man who’d cheated on me. It may have felt like a lifetime ago, but hardly a month had passed since that fateful text came through.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I’ll shut up.”
He turned his back to me and continued reading an old book he’d found among the mess. I just stood there and stared at him, unable to truly squashed the anger I harbored for him. There was something to be said about second chances, wasn’t there? It’s what my mother would have done. John was here, had been here in my absence, helping. Doing what he could. And now, here he remained, eager to make amends.
I stole a glance at the clock on the wall. “Hey, we’ve been at this all afternoon,” I told him. “Let’s take a break and head to my aunt’s for supper.”
He turned to face me, excited and hopeful. “Yeah?”
“Sure, why not?” I replied and grabbed my jacket, giving him a quick grin as I carefully slipped it on. “She told me to feed you, anyway.”
***
Mary was far too delighted to have us show up at her door. I sat at her massive oak table with its miss-matched chairs and fiddled with the quirky trinkets on the ledge next to me. She scuttled around the kitchen, tending to the stove, slicing some homemade bread, grabbing dishes from the cupboards.
“Here,” John said and jumped up from his chair, “Let me set the table, Mary.”
He grabbed the old-fashioned, amber-colored glass plates from her hands and placed them on the table before going back and fetching some silverware. He maneuvered around so comfortably, and I had to remind myself that he’d been there the whole time I was gone. He looked more at home at my aunt’s than I did.
We sat around and ate seven-layer dinner until our bellies couldn’t hold another bite. Mary told crude jokes and John turned red in the face from laughing at her. It didn’t take long for me to melt into the comfortable scene and join in on the laughter. It was hard to be anything but happy around Mary.
“So, what did you two do all afternoon?” she asked, taking a sip of her tea.
My eyes flitted to John’s, trying to warn him not to say anything, but what would he know? He had no idea the connection my aunt would make.
“We were going through stuff in Dianna’s mom’s office.”
Mary quirked an eyebrow in my direction. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” John continued, “She’s trying to find something to do with her ancestors and some pirate ships.”
Mary turned her full attention to me. “What exactly are you looking for, Dianna?” she asked, challenging me.
“I just wanted to know more about Mom’s side of the family,” I told her with a shrug. “When I was in the hospital, the doctors were prodding me with questions about my family’s medical history, and I only really knew dad’s. It just sparked a curiosity, that’s all.”
I looked at John and his brow furrowed in confusion. “Then, why are you looking back so far?” he asked. “The medical history of your three-hundred-year-old ancestors wouldn’t really matter that much, would it?” then he added, “Man, would they even have records like that back then?”
I cringed and slouched down into my chair.
“No,” Mary replied and sipped her tea, her accusing eyes searching my face, “they wouldn’t.”
John stood and began collecting the empty dishes, the silent fight between my aunt and I completely washing over his head. “Well, wouldn’t matter, anyway. We didn’t find what she was looking for.” He turned then and headed toward the bathroom.
I found it strange that John’s words seemed to make Mary relax. “Well, I still have one more box,” I told her.
“And if you don’t find what you’re looking for?” Mary asked. A tinge of sadness in her voice.
I realized then, what she was worried about. Everything I was doing, looking through my mother’s things like a madwoman, searching for something… it’s exactly what my dad had been doing in his final days. Mary must have watched him descend into madness, trying to find answers, trying to find… my mother.
My eyes glossed over with tears, but I forced them down and looked away. “I don’t know,” I replied quietly, “But I’m not going to find it, am I?”
Mary reached across the table and took my hands in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “No, dear, I don’t think you will. So, I suggest you make peace with whatever happened to you and move on. You have a life, Dianna. A life worth living. Your father, in those last months, that wasn’t living. He was a ghost.” She waited for me to answer and, when I failed, she squeezed my hand again. “Ya hear me?”
I nodded, the only answer I could afford because keeping the tears at bay was almost impossible. Aunt Mary scooted her chair over to mine and wrapped her arms around me. I laid my head against her shoulder and let go of the thin wall that held my emotions down.
“There, there,” she said with a soft coo and smoothed my hair. “Let it out, m’love. It’ll help you heal.”
John entered the room then. “Jesus!” he squawked, “What’s the matter? What happened?” He came over to my side and crouched down so he could look at my tear-stained face against Mary’s shoulder. “Dianna, are you okay?”
I broke free of my aunt’s embrace and leaned back in my chair, wiping my face. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I assured them both. “Just take me home.”
Hesitant, he offered his hand for me to take and I slowly slipped mine into it. I felt his body relax and fill with delight at the gesture. I’m sure, to him, it seemed I was giving in, softening to his eagerness to make amends. But, really, I just wanted to go home and wallow in the pri
vacy of my bedroom. I needed to truly mourn the loss of Henry and my family aboard The Devil’s Heart, so I could move on and try to create a life for the child I held inside me.
Absentmindedly, I brushed my other hand over my belly and fought back more tears. But Mary caught it and I watched as the cogs of her brain clicked into place as she finally realized the true source of my sorrow. Our eyes caught one another, and I gave a quick, discreet shake of my head to tell her not to say anything in front of John.
He walked me to the door and bent down to grab my shoes, placing them at my feet. All the while, I couldn’t tear my gaze from Aunt Mary as she stood next to the table and tried to contain her emotions. One arm wrapped tightly around her torso, her other reached up and placed a hand over her trembling mouth and her eyes glossed over with tears of joy or pity… I wasn’t really sure. John opened the door for me and gave Mary a wave after saying thank you for supper. When his backed turned, she mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry’ to me and I just nodded.
I know. Me, too.
***
I awoke the next morning, groggy and dry-mouthed from crying all night. After John and I returned the night before, I headed up to my room with the last box, worried about the way it felt almost empty in my arms. I sat on my bed and lifted the cardboard lid, not surprised to find only a few random documents, most of which were just certificates of authentication for artifacts I knew were downstairs. I shoved the box aside and cried myself to sleep.
That was it. That was the last of… everything. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I’d been wasting my time. My mother had spent years collecting those things, secretly looking for a way back to the past. Years later, my father had gone through it all and driven himself mad with the lack of answers it produced. Why did I think I could magically see something they didn’t? But that wasn’t the only question that crossed my mind as I descended the stairs to the smell of coffee brewing.
Why, so many years after my mother’s death, did my dad suddenly get the idea to look? And what exactly was he searching for? Did he know my mother’s time-traveling secret all those years, or did he suddenly figure it out?
I poured myself a cup of coffee and turned to the dining room to see John, tool belt around his waist, outside cutting lumber on a table saw through the giant hole in my house covered with clear poly. He straightened and turned to find me standing there and I raised my cup. He smiled and set down his stuff before coming inside.
“Good morning,” he greeted and came into the kitchen.
“Morning,” I replied and handed him a cup of coffee.
He graciously accepted it and nervously looked away, driving his attention to the milk jug. “Did you, uh, sleep well? After…”
I sighed and cringed inwardly. He’d heard me crying the night before. “Yeah, sorry,” I said and scooped up a muffin, “I’m okay if that’s what you’re thinking. I just… there’s a lot going on that I have to deal with emotionally.”
John set his coffee down on the island and stepped closer, forcing me to tear my gaze from my cup and look at his glistening blue eyes. In them, I saw sympathy, a bit of regret, and an eagerness for redemption. I knew John truly felt sorry for cheating on me, and he’s more than proved his willingness to make amends. I could easily give up my mission of returning to the past and stay here, with John. Build a life. Raise the baby as ours. I had a house and an established business to take over. We had everything needed to live a happy, comfortable life here in Newfoundland.
But would I truly be happy?
I continued to stare at the man before me, so open and ready for me to accept him back, and I knew I could be content. Someday. But would that be enough for me? I smiled and slid my hand across the island top and covered his hand with mine.
“I know you’re sorry, John,” I told him. “And I forgive you. I really do.” He visibly relaxed, as if a great weight had been extracted from his body. “But, what about your job? What about–” I motioned to myself, “all of this? I’ve got some… stuff going on. Demons I’d have to put to rest. I’m not even sure I can do that, I’m not sure what I can offer you.”
He took our embracing hands and held them to his chest as he moved closer to me, the familiar feeling of his beating heart pulsing heavily under my touch.
“I don’t want anything from you, Dianna,” he told me. “I swear. I just want to be here for you. Maybe, in time, you’ll open back up to me. Maybe you won’t. But I won’t go anywhere, not unless you want me to.” John took a deep and nervous breath as he inched even closer. “I can’t believe it took you becoming a missing person for me to realize what I could lose. I never want to feel that way again. I don’t want to lose you.” He leaned down, then, and placed a gentle kiss on the side of my mouth.
John pulled away and released my hand from his. “I’m fixing the patio door,” he told me and cleared his throat. “The window and door arrived this morning and I’m just putting in the last of the framing right now. Should be done this afternoon.”
“Thank you,” I replied, “Let me know how much it cost, I’ll pay you back.”
He waved his hand. “No need.”
“No, seriously,” I insisted, “Insurance will pay for it.”
“Oh, sure,” John replied awkwardly, “yeah that works.”
“I’m going to make some breakfast,” I changed the topic, attempting to cut the weird tension in the air. “Want some?”
He brightened, probably remembering how much he loved my cooking. “Yeah! That would be awesome.” Happily, he scooped up his work gloves and gave me a wink before slipping out the small opening that led outside.
It didn’t take long for me to settle back into the thing I loved so much; cooking. While the omelets fried on the stove, I popped some homemade bread in the toaster and then stood at the island where I could stare out at the open house before me. My eyes scanned the gorgeous interior, the built-in shelving, the gorgeous beach rock hearth that surrounded the wood stove, the weathered and slightly warped farmhouse wooden floor that touched every corner of the house.
I loved this place. So did Mom. I remembered then, a secret little nook Mom had made over by the woodstove. One of the stones came loose and she turned it into a hiding place for me to stash my beach glass.
I left the kitchen and strolled over, knowing exactly which stone it was. My fingers grasp the edges and gave a slight tug. It resisted at first, but I could feel that it was loose, the grout surrounding it long crumbled away. With a bit of force, the stone came out, and there was my beach glass. Green, white, and brown shards softened by the tumbling waters.
As a kid, I was convinced they were jewels and Mom told me that I had to keep them safely hidden. I scooped the tiny pieces into my hand and returned the stone to its nook. Then, as I turned around to face the house, something dawned on me. Nooks and crannies. Hidden cupboards. Secret panels.
Mom loved that stuff.
The house had to be full of them. If there was something worth hiding, like the key to time travel, she’d never have kept it out in the open in her office. A new hope washed over me then and I came alive with purpose. I began frantically searching the house, every inch, every ledge, pushing on panelboard, picking at the seams of moldings, and knocking on walls.
Eventually, after finding nothing more than a few toys, more beach glass, and some old books, I planted myself on the stairs, ridden with defeat. What was I doing? Did I really want to waste my life searching for something that possibly didn’t exist? Did I want to become my parents, both lost down two different roads in life?
“Dianna!” John shouted from the kitchen, “Jesus!”
I descend the stairs into a cloud of smoke and suddenly remembered the omelets.
“Shit!” I yelled and grabbed a towel to help fan the smoke out the opening in the dining room. “I’m sorry! I was looking for something. I got distracted.”
After tossing the burnt frying pan into the sink, I expected John to snap.
To yell at me and tell me to get my crap together. But I was surprised when he turned, fanning the smoke, and began to laugh. “Guess we’re just having toast.”
I couldn’t help the smile that spread to my lips and let out a laugh. Together, neither of us unable to stop laughing, we grabbed the cold toast and headed out to the front porch to sit down with our cups of coffee. I could see then how easy it would be to just… be with John. Memories washed over me of all the different reasons why I fell for him in the first place.
The sparkling blue eyes, his infectious laugh and the warmth that always radiated from him. John was like the center of gravity and people easily fell into a comfortable rotation around him. I let him throw an arm around my shoulders and we both sat in silence as we sipped coffee and chewed the dry toast. It was a tiny taste of what my life could be like if I ever decided to let go of the past.
Just then, a car came down the gravel road toward us and I saw that it was Aunt Mary’s. She pulled to a stop and got out, waving before ducking back in to grab something. As she walked up to the front steps, I saw that it was a book.
“Good afternoon, you two,” she greeted and took off her over-sized sunglasses, noting our unexpected embrace. “Dianna, dear, can I speak to you for a second?”
“Uh, sure,” I replied, breaking free of John’s arm and standing up. “Is everything okay?”
Mary gripped the book tight and smiled. “Yes, everything’s fine. Just have something to show you.”
John sensed the strange air between us and stood to meet our faces, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I’ll head out and grab some real food.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
As I watched him drive off down the old gravel, I turned to Mary. “So, what’s up? What’s with the book?”
Mary reached into her pocket and pulled out a large bottle of pills. “These are prenatal vitamins,” she told me and handed the bottle over. “Take them, it’ll give the baby all the stuff it needs.”
The Pirate Queen Page 3