The Pirate

by Kate Hoffmann

  "If not your work, then what?"

  "I-I can't tell you," she said. "It's just so crazy, even I don't believe it."

  "Damn it, Merrie, I have a right to know exactly how and why you've manipulated my life."

  She drew a deep breath. "You're my fantasy man," she said, the words coming out in a rush.

  He gasped. "What?"

  Meredith felt a blush creep up her cheeks and warm her skin. "I-I've had these dreams, these… sexual fantasies about a pirate. But they were just fantasies," she cried. "I didn't mean any harm. I didn't mean to bring you here, I swear it."

  Griffin laughed harshly. "I have been in your world long enough to know that many strange and unfathomable things are possible, but this I do not believe. I was not brought here to take you to bed! I would not have been taken from my task simply to satisfy some woman's erotic fantasies."

  "Then why?" she challenged. "Nothing else makes sense. I know more about Teach than you do. Nothing you've told me is new. At first I was afraid to talk to you about Blackbeard for fear you might be snatched back into your own time. Kelsey warned me that to do so might alter history in some way."

  "You've already altered history," he said. "You brought me here, and took me from my task."

  Meredith rubbed at the growing knot of tension in her temple. "If I was the cause of your coming here, I'm sorry. And if I could undo it, I would."

  "Then there has to be more," he muttered. "We have missed something. You have missed something." His voice was cold and accusatory.

  "If I knew how to send you back, don't you think I would?"

  "I don't know, Merrie. Would you?"

  "How can you even think that?" she asked.

  He cursed beneath his breath. "What, then? I am just left to live out my life in this time and place."

  She threw up her hands in frustration. "You make it sound so appealing," she said. "Do you find life here that objectionable?"

  "I had a life, in my owncentury," Griffin said, punctuating his words with a jab to his chest. "It is not so simple to forget that."

  She scoffed. "A life? You had an all-consuming plan for revenge. Is that what you call a life?" Meredith demanded.

  Her aim was true and her volley hit its mark. Griffin cursed, then turned away, bracing his hands on the mantel again. She could feel his anger all the way across the room, could see it in his tightly coiled body, could hear it in his harsh breathing.

  "Is this plan for revenge that important to you?" she asked, wanting to reach out and touch him, to soothe his anger. "If so, why didn't you kill Teach when you had the chance, on his ship, while he slept?"

  He refused to face her. "To murder him would make me no better than the criminal he is. Teach was responsible for my father's death. I will be sure he pays for his crime."

  "Tell me about that," she said. "I mean, if you've been brought here for my research then why don't we take advantage of it while we can. My research says that Black-beard was not a bloodthirsty murderer. Though I have read of his capture of the Betty, I have yet to find a record of him killing a man named Rourke."

  Griffin turned, his eyes hard with anger. "He did not kill him by his hand," he said. "Teach killed him by his deeds."

  "And what does that mean? Explain it to me. Make me understand."

  Griffin's expression softened slightly and he drew a deep, steadying breath. "When Teach attacked the Betty, he put everyone on board ashore. My father watched as the pirates scuttled the ship and it sank off Cape Charles. When he returned home, my father wasn't… right. Over the next several months, he grew very sad and quiet, the same as when he lost my mother. The doctors came and bled him, doused him with calomel, but it did no good. He died soon after."

  Meredith's heart twisted in her chest. "Calomel? Are you sure of this?"

  "Yes. What of it?"

  She winced, then bit her bottom lip. Oh, Lord, she'd have to tell him. He needed to know. She drew a shaky breath. "Griffin, no matter how much you want to, you cannot blame your father's death on Teach." Her voice filled with sympathy for him, for she knew what she was -about to say would hurt him deeply.

  "My father was a fine and healthy man until he ran afoul of the devil."

  Meredith slowly crossed the room and took his hand in hers. He stiffened at her touch. "Your father became ill afterthis incident. And maybe his condition was brought on by his upsetting experience with Blackbeard," she said softly. "Or maybe he wasn't even sick, but simply depressed. The fact is, the medicine the doctors administered probably killed your father."

  "No," Griffin said, shaking his head, suspicion clouding his blue eyes. "That cannot be so. They were the best physicians in Williamsburg. I made certain of that."

  She squeezed his hand. "Calomel was made with mercury chloride. And mercury chloride is poisonous. George Washington, the first president of the United States, died from the effects of the same treatments your father probably received."

  "Are-are you saying it was myfault?"

  "Of course not," she cried. "You did what you thought was best for your father. You can't be blamed for the state of medicine at that time. I'm just saying that you might want to rethink your determination to bring down Blackbeard."

  "Rethink?" Griffin asked, snatching his hand from hers. "What does that mean? That you don't agree with what I'm trying to do? The man is evil incarnate, Merrie, and someone has to put an end to his plague of piracy."

  She clutched his arm. "I believe Teach needs to be stopped, too. But I don't believe you're the one to do it."

  "And why is that? Because your history books tell a different story? Or because it soothes your conscience to think as much?"

  She sighed and shook her head. "Consider for a moment that you were brought here for another reason."

  "What might that be?"

  "Maybe you were brought here for your own good. To protect you." She stalked over to the desk and pulled a file folder off a tall stack, then snatched a paper from inside. "Here," she said, holding it out to him. "This is a copy of a letter to the British Admiralty. It relates that at the end of the battle with Teach, Lieutenant Robert Maynard's men advanced on the few members of Blackbeard's crew who had retreated onto the pirate ship. During this time, one of Maynard's men was shot and killed by another member of the Royal Navy, when the man was mistaken for one of the pirates."

  Griffin leaned back against the mantel and crossed his arms over his chest. "And what does this have to do with me?"

  "That man could be you!" Meredith cried. "I've searched all my sources, but can find no reference to this man's name. If he were an official member of Maynard's crew, he would have been listed by name, but he's not. And he was mistaken for a pirate. You were a pirate on Teach's ship."

  He shrugged. "But then, it may not be me," Griffin said. "How can you be sure?"

  Meredith cursed beneath her breath and balled her fists at her side. "What more proof do you need? You were sent here to save your fool life!" she cried.

  "I don't need anyone to save me," he countered. "Especially not you."

  "Why, because I'm a woman? Because your stubborn male pride would not allow it?"

  Griffin pushed off the mantel. "Because I can take care of my own affairs," he replied evenly, an arrogant glint in his eyes. "And I would not burden anyone else, not even you, with my problems."

  "And damn anyone who cares about you, is that it?" Meredith said.

  "That is not what I meant," he replied. "The habit of putting words into my mouth does not become you, Merrie."

  "How can I help it?" she said. "You never explain yourself, so I'm left to do it for you."

  "I do not need to explain myself to you or anyone else."

  Meredith shook her head. "Just because you allow yourself to need someone, to heed someone else's advice, doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're human." She paused, then asked him the question she knew would decide their future together. "Tell me the truth, Griffin. If you could go back, right this i
nstant, would you?"

  He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. The silence hung between them. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke, gazing directly into her eyes. "Yes," he said. "I would."

  Meredith laughed bitterly. "Then I guess I was right not to take your marriage proposal too seriously."

  Griffin stalked across the room and grabbed her upper arms. "That has nothing at all to do with my desire to go back and finish what I began. Just because I want to return, does not mean that I expect to return."

  "So I am merely part of your contingency plan?"

  "Damn it, Merrie, you test my patience!" he snapped, giving her a gentle shake. "And you put words in my mouth again. What do you want me to tell you? You ask for the truth, but when I speak it, you don't like what you hear. I care for you, more than I've ever cared about a woman in my life. Is that not enough?"

  "Then why do you want to go back?"

  He loosened his grip, then rubbed her arms with his palms. "I would not be a man if I did not finish this fight with Teach. These are two different issues, you and Teach. How can you speak of them as if they are one?"

  She shook her head. "If you don't know, then we have nothing more to discuss," she said in a quiet voice.

  Griffin raked his hands through his hair. "On this one point, I will concede you may be right," he said. "We will speak of this no longer. I must get to work." He strode toward the door.

  "We will speak of this again," she corrected. "We'll continue this discussion when you get home."

  He froze for an instant, his hand on the knob. But then he shook his head, opened the door and pulled it closed behind him.

  "Stubborn fool," Meredith muttered.

  "Stubborn fool, stubborn fool," Ben repeated.

  Griffin strode through the chill morning air, his breath visible in icy puffs in front of his face. But he barely noticed the cold, so intent was he on his thoughts.

  "Stubborn wench," he muttered. "I vow, I have never met a woman like her!"

  Always, she had an opinion, and always, she believed shewas right! What had happened to the fair sex over the past three centuries? The women in his world were quiet, complacent, always happy to defer to a man's greater experience and authority. Thiswas what he'd been brought up to believe was the paragon of womanhood.

  "Instead, I am forced to live with an acid-tongued virago who insists on knowing my every thought and feeling," he added. And to make matters worse, after he'd been forced to reveal himself, she wanted to discuss it all at great and detailed length! Was he to keep nothing to himself in this world of hers?

  But the worst was not her prying, but her meddling in his life. A man was supposed to make the decisions where his own life was concerned. She acted as if she had a say in the choices he made and the course he set for himself.

  Jane had not expected-Griffin stopped himself. Merrie was not Jane and to compare the two would be unfair to both. Merrie was a woman living in a world so changed from his, it was barely recognizable. How could she help but be different from Jane? He cursed himself roundly. And how could he blame her for simply being herself? And for caring about him?

  He should be happy that someone did care. After all, he had no one left in this world, not a single person who gave a damn whether he lived or died. But she cared. She showed it in every little thing she did for him, every kind gesture and sweet smile and gentle touch.

  Truth be told, he loved her exactly the way she was. Merrie would not be Merrie with a timid smile and a yielding nature. He loved her fire and her passion and her inquisitive spirit. He loved her intelligence and quick wit. He loved…

  Griffin stopped at the side of the road and frowned. Damn, was that it? Did he love her? He groaned, then cursed softly. No, he wouldn't allow himself such foolishness. But then…

  Perhaps he did love her. Yet how could he be certain of his feelings? He'd never been in love before. In fact, he had never even considered the notion. Love was meant for sentimental poets and blushing virgins.

  But his feelings for Merrie ran as deep and as strong as an ocean current, drawing him toward her against all will. It mattered not that he steered away from her, her pull was ever present and impossible to fight.

  Then why was he still determined to return to his own time? Was it because of Teach? Or was it because he couldn't bear to open his life to another woman, to risk the pain that it might cause? He had cared deeply about Jane and it had nearly killed him when he lost her. He couldn't imagine living if he ever lost Merrie.

  Perhaps that was part of it. But there was more…much more. Here, in her world, he felt as if he was incomplete in some way. As if part of his being had been left behind in his own time. Teach was waiting for him. But to be honest, the pirate was not the objective, but simply a means to an end. A way to finally say goodbye to his father.

  With Jane and the baby, there had been a reason for their deaths, a reason he couldn't fight. But with his father, he'd just watched him fade before his very eyes, unable to understand why he had chosen to abandon his life and unable to do anything to bring him back. To destroy Teach might somehow give meaning to his father's death.

  How could he explain this to Merrie in a way that she would understand? She would never comprehend the sense of family duty his father had instilled in him, the strong moral fiber and uncompromising honor by which he lived his life. These were things a man did not speak of, for they were the fabric of his very soul.

  No, these things were not meant to be said aloud. Griffin picked up his pace until he was nearly running. She would never understand.

  The harbor was already bustling with activity when he arrived at Early Jackson's dock. The shrimp boat sat in its cradle at the edge of the water, the hull nearly scraped bare. He circled the boat, admiring the practical lines and sturdy construction. The shrimper had been built by hand, the same way boats of his time had. He knocked his fist on the hull and listened to the solid, dependable sound.

  "Morning, Griff."

  Griffin glanced up to see Early Jackson ten feet above him, hanging over the side of the boat with a bucket in his hand. He smiled. "Morning, Early. I didn't see you up there."

  The spritely old man crawled over the side and scrambled down the ladder. "You're a little slow getting in this morning."

  Griffin shrugged. "Sorry. I'll work later tonight."

  "Naw, I don't care if you take some time for yourself. You've been working so hard these past few days, I'm sure Meredith would like to keep you at home a little longer."

  Griffin nodded and peered inside the bucket, then pulled out his favorite scraper. Without a word, he set to work, scraping the wood with strong, sure strokes. Early watched him with a bemused expression.

  "Is everything all right between you and Meredith?" he asked.

  "Why do you ask?" Griffin replied.

  "Because, if you scrape much harder, you're going to scrape a hole right through the hull. You might feel better if you talk about it."

  Griffin stood up. Why was every facet of his personal life open for discussion in this century? He braced his fists on his hips, ready to tell Early it was none of his business. But then he thought better of it, and replaced his retort with a question. "Are you married, Early?"

  The old man rubbed his whiskered chin. "Yep. Nearly forty years… and to the same gal, I might add."

  "May I pose a question to you?"

  Early shrugged. "Sure. Pose away."

  "Who has the last word in your household? You or your wife?"

  "She does," Early said without a moment's thought.

  Griffin frowned, certain that he had not made himself clear. "What I mean to ask is, who is in command?"

  "She is," Early said.

  Griffin cleared his throat. "I don't believe you understand my question. Let me restate it. Do you consider her opinion in all that you do?"

  Early snorted, then chuckled. "Are you crazy?"

  He smiled, relieved that he'd finally gotten the answer h
e wanted. Things were not so different here.

  "Of course I do," Early continued. "I'm no fool, boy."

  Griffin opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, considering Early's answer for a moment. "This is common then," he finally asked, "this bowing to your wife's will?"

  "Me and Millie just figured that marriage should be an equal partnership. I give a little, she gives a little. It keeps things interesting and on a nice even keel."

  "An equal partnership?"

  "When we got married, most folks didn't think that way. But Millie made it clear she wouldn't marry me unless I respected her as an individual. Then came the women's movement, and now everybody pretty much thinks this way. I like to tell Millie we were ahead of our time."

  "And this does not bother you… to give up control? Isn't it a bit like a ship with two captains?"

  "I never really wanted control in the first place," Early said with a chuckle. "Not since I figured out that I loved the lady. After that, it didn't much matter. Besides, we usually take turns at the wheel, one of us steering while the other navigates. It makes the trip easier for the both of us." Early paused, then slapped Griffin on the shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll work it out. Meredith can be as stubborn as a cross-eyed mule. She gets that from her daddy. But she's got a good heart, something her mama had in spades."

  "Yes," Griffin said quietly, "that she does." He smiled. "That she does."

  "Now, seeing as how you're going to make up with Meredith, I suspect you'll be staying on the island for a while longer. I was wondering if you might want some more work. Me and the boys found two more shrimpers, but we don't have time to work on them both. We figured we'd give one to you to fix up. When we sell it, we'll split the profits right down the middle. Does that sound good?"

  Griffin hesitated before he answered. To agree would be to admit that he would spend the rest of his life in this time and place. Was he really ready to do that, to give up on the past and go on with his future? "That sounds fair," he finally replied. "But I'd like to have a few days to consider your proposal, if you don't mind."