Unexpectedly the stranger turned his gaze toward her and she caught a glimpse of dancing bright blue eyes. She shrank down. Has he seen me hiding here? Cautiously lifting her head, she glimpsed three other men. One was a veritable giant standing like a monolith, massive arms folded across the rippling muscles of his chest. His head was shaved and he wore full white canvas trousers and sea boots. Two other swarthy men flanked the giant, standing several yards behind the blond man, all with pistols thrust under their belts. They appeared dangerously fierce and decidedly unfriendly.
Gwendolyn strained to hear their conversation, but it was swept away by the winds. She grew alarmed, as the vigorous exchange between the men escalated. Aiming a thumb behind him at the growing throng of his pirate crew, Captain Jack threw back his head and bared his teeth as again, he roared with laughter. His crew milled about brandishing weapons in a show of force.
Apparently unconcerned, the tall man nodded and turning, gave some small signal to those behind him. At that, to Gwendolyn’s horror, she saw a line of men rise from the tall grass where they’d hidden. Dressed as sailors, they were more orderly than the pirates. Spaced evenly in a long row behind him, there were perhaps as many as thirty men and each of them held a musket at the ready. Sideling forward they took up positions to either side of the bald headed giant, who continued staring impassively at the pirates.
Hidden among the sand dunes, she feared that she was about to be caught in a crossfire between two bands of brigands. As the armed men faced each other across the rolling dunes beyond the beach, the tall well-dressed man broke away and strode toward her.
He must have seen me. Where can I go to escape? She huddled lower and looked about her franticly preparing to bolt, but the blond man reached her side first and approached her gently. Smiling, he inclined his head and spoke in oddly accented English as she shrank away from him.
“Fear not Mademoiselle, I am here to assist you. I am Peter DeWitt. I come from my sugar plantation on a nearby island. Those men you see are in my employ, and I assure you they have no love for these outlaw pirate blaggards. That big fellow there,” he said pointing to the man with no hair, who remained with his arms folded, “especially loathes them. His brother was slaughtered by pirates not one year ago. If need be, he will fight those murdering thieves single-handedly. Now come along with me and do not be anxious. We are endeavoring to affect the release of all women held captive here.”
Gently he took her arm and led the trembling girl over the sand, passing right before the pirate leader. When the Captain saw her approaching, a look of surprise crossed his visage, instantly supplanted by dark anger.
Locking eyes with Captain Jack, she hesitated. Visibly shaking she could feel his cold fury. Confusion and fear clouded her thoughts. She’d come to think of Captain Jack as her protector and there had been that glorious hour of love making beside the mountain pool. Hesitating she twisted to face him. Can I trust this tall, blond stranger, with the smiling blue eyes? Should I?
The pirate captain took a step toward her and in a commanding voice uttered but one word, “No!” As though by magic, a pistol appeared in the hand of the blond man and he pointed it directly at Jack’s heart. “Yes!” he said laughing. Turning away, he pulled her along behind him as she looked back with imploring eyes at her captor, retreating behind the band of armed men.
From “Caribbean Fire” by, Tori Baxter.
* * *
Satisfied with her mornings work, Vicky leaned back in her office chair and stretched, luxuriating in the warm sunlight that streamed in through the windows. At this point in the process, she knew the story’s outline and rarely needed to refer to her notes. Mentally reviewing Caribbean Fire, she began to consider her next scene, planning her characters moves and reactions. Today the words had flowed easily as she filled page after page. I just love writing on days like this, when the story practically writes itself. Maybe taking a day off to enjoy the Fourth cleared the cobwebs from my mind.
She couldn’t help grinning at the memory of Jack’s horrified face, watching her from the kitchen window. Joe had politely helped her up into the passenger seat of his big Ford pickup, but there was really no way to keep her short dress from riding way too far up her long, bare legs as she swung herself into the cab. While Joe walked around the truck to join her, she’d smiled and waved to Jack. Jaw hanging, he’d actually looked shocked.
Remembering the day’s events, an amused smile spread over her face. She, Victoria Buonadies, had a certain power over men. She’d always known that some women had this ability, but assumed that she wasn’t one of them. Living her sheltered existence for the last ten years with Nanna, the realization was coming just a little late in life. It was nevertheless, a very satisfying realization. Too bad yesterday evening ended in chaos.
* * *
Jack wasn’t kidding when he’d told her that everyone turned out for the Pippen’s Grove Fourth of July celebration. As Joe drove into town, she saw that Main Street was closed and some of the side streets were blocked off with sawhorses draped with red, white, and blue bunting. Crowds of people moved through streets filled with venders offering everything from crafts to small American flags. Paulding’s Rest and a few other businesses were selling beer, soft drinks, and a variety of food from sidewalk tables.
“I’ll park in the Nursery lot, if you don’t mind a short walk. It’s close to the park where the fireworks will be tonight,” Joe said, pulling into an empty spot.
“Don’t worry about me, I came dressed for the weather, and I’m wearing comfortable shoes,” she said quickly.
“You look lovely,” he told her as his eyes moved slowly over her in obvious appreciation.
Blushing, she glanced away before blurting out, “Well let’s go then.” She struggled trying to find the door handle in her haste to leave the cab.
Joe seemed amused by her confusion as he leaned across to open the door for her. “I’ll come around to help you down. Don’t worry.” he said chuckling, “I won’t bite.”
The way the man was looking at her, she wasn’t sure about that. As Joe lifted her down to the ground, she saw Doc and Fred waving a greeting from the crowd.
She and Joe strolled up Main Street taking in the sights as they waited for the parade to begin. Everyone seemed to know Joe and wanted to stop and say hello. He proudly introduced her to all his friends. Ignoring the whispers and curious glances thrown her way, she tried to remember all the new names and faces. Thankfully, she knew many of them from her trips into town, her recent church attendance and other activities.
In the distance they could hear the band warming up. Excited young children were herded along the streets by attentive parents keeping them from straying into the path of the oncoming parade. Firecrackers popped from behind buildings, as others started their own small celebrations.
At the parade's head The Pippen’s Grove High School Marching Band was now playing a recognizable tune as they came on steadily. Little children waved small American flags, or their half-consumed pink cotton candy clouds perched on paper cones. Cheers rose from the crowd as the marching band wearing red and black uniforms came into sight, their shiny brass instruments flashing in the sunlight. As they came closer the tempo of the cheering increased.
When the band neared the spot where she and Joe stood, the thirty or so band members halted, and began marching in place. The director spun in an about-face to his students, baton flailing the air. The thrilling notes of the Stars And Stripes Forever, filled their ears, then two piccolo players stepped forward and tweeted away as though their lives depended on it. The band director spun on the ball of one foot, drumsticks descended onto drumheads, as the rest of the group joined in and they were off again marching in perfect unison as they continued up the street. The crowd erupted with a renewed burst of cheering and flag waving. They were very good. A patriotic flutter stirred her and she realized that she was cheering along with everyone else. Joe was yelling his enthusiasm as he slipped hi
s arm into hers, drawing her close.
Something brushed her side and she turned to see Jack, staring glumly at her. He wasn’t smiling. She barely heard his words over the cacophony of cheers, music, and tramping feet.
“Enjoying yourself?” was what she thought he said.
She nodded and smiled, but before she could answer, felt a hand on her shoulder and turning, saw Joe’s sister Diane and her friend Carol. They both worked at the Vandersmoot Nursery and she’d become friendly with them over the last month as she’d begun to restore the flower gardens. Carol had helped her the first day Jack had taken her to the nursery, when she was new to Pippen’s Grove.
“The high school band’s pretty sharp, don’t you think?” yelled Diane as she leaned in, her head between them, one hand over each of their shoulders. Diane kept talking about the band, and how she’d once played the flute in their ranks.
The bright dash of red and black band uniforms and sparkling brass was followed by the local Boy Scouts marching proudly in uniform following their color guard carrying the American flag. They were followed by the Girl Scout troops. Rows of young girls in green skirts, white blouses with merit badge sashes draped from their shoulders marched in step. Cub Scouts and Brownies followed.
The next participant in the parade drew laughter as well as more cheering. Waving a tri-corn hat at the crowd, John Van Wart came trotting into view. Riding an enormous white horse, he was costumed in colonial garb, complete with long coat, knee britches and buckled shoes. Pausing for effect, he pulled on his reins, brought the horse up to rear and paw the air with its hooves. Waving at the crowd, a grinning Van Wart yelled, “The British are coming, the British are coming!” and then trotted on after the scouts.
Following this present day Paul Revere, the volunteer fire department and rescue squad vehicles came slowly rolling along in line. There were several floats representing local organizations such as the rotary club passing in quick succession. Bringing up the rear, a group of Pippen’s Grove veterans marched proudly, the oldest obviously able to claim service in World War II.
At the tail end of the parade, four horses drew the Civil War era cannon that decorated the town square in front of the municipal building, beside the Veterans memorial. Hooves and iron-rimmed wheels clattered on the pavement as spectators finally became subdued, watching reverently.
The crowds of people on Main Street began to break apart, chatting and laughing, moving towards the food and drink in the side streets.
She noticed that Joe was still holding her arm close to his side. She turned to Jack who was about to say something, but he didn’t get a chance. Carol was at his side, tugging at his arm.
“Jack; buy me a beer, please! It’s so hot, I’m dying of thirst.” She grabbed his hand and began to lead him away. “Come on. I can’t believe how they all manage to march and play instruments in this heat.”
Vicky smiled at Jack as he was led helplessly off by the other girl. His eyes implored her, as he looked back over his shoulder. As Carol tugged, he tripped over his own foot and stumbled. Laughing, she thought he resembled a lamb being led away to slaughter.
“Let’s go get something to eat Vicky,” Joe said trying to get her attention. “What would you like? There’s a great hot dog cart, or maybe an Italian sub? I definitely want a beer.” She didn’t fail to notice that, as he talked, he was leading her off in the opposite direction taken by Carol and Jack.
The smell of grilling hot dogs drew Joe. "Are you hungry?”
“Famished!” she said, still holding his arm.
Joe looked down at her and smiled. “You’re going to love these hotdogs! They’re terrific! I’ll be right back.” He brushed her cheek with a kiss before leaving to thread his way through the crowd around the hot dog cart.
While she waited for Joe, she chatted with his sister, Diane, about her plans to start a book club. “I think it’s a great idea. I try to read a book a week, unless I get busy. I do a little writing of my own,” she said hesitantly. Not wanting to pursue that subject, wondering why she’d even mentioned it,”
“I thought you might enjoy getting out of the house to spend time with friends.
She nodded her assent. “What about meeting places?”
“We haven’t decided, but I thought we could start meeting this fall in our homes. If the club gets too large, the library has a common room we can use. Well, here comes Joe, I’m going to find Carol and split one of those incredible huge Italian heroes with her. See you.” Diane waved to her brother as she left.
“Tell me she’s not divulging stories about me wetting the bed or showing you embarrassing pictures of me,” Joe said as he handed her a red plastic cup of ice-cold beer and a hot dog topped with mustard and sauerkraut.
“Of course not!” Vicky grinned. “Did you really wet the bed until you were twelve?”
“Man! I’ll get her for that,” Joe said laughing as he bit into his lunch.
She looked down at her cup of cold beer and hot dog in alarm. What do I do now? I hate beer! Mustard and sauerkraut, yuck! Spill the beer? Wipe all that nasty mustard and kraut into a napkin?
Jack approached them as she considered her options. “Hey.” He said smiling. “Victoria, I want you to try this." He quickly relieved her of the beer and replaced it with his own cup. "I know you don’t really like beer, so why not take my cup of Chardonnay, and let me have your beer?”
“Jack! Stop it.” she hissed at him, frowning. Taking a sip she was startled to find the plastic cup actually contained ginger ale. “Stop that,” she whispered franticly as he took a large bite of her hotdog. “What are you doing?” Her eyes rolled in frustration as he gave a shrug, smiling down at her, chewing. Thankfully, Joe’s attention was on a neighbor asking his advice on lawn care.
A beaming Jimmy with his wife Penny beside him walked towards them holding the new baby.
From out of the milling crowd, Doc and Elvira emerged as well, and everyone commented on how spectacular this year’s parade had been. Joe and Doc slipped back to obtain more beer and soft drinks for everyone.
Jack took the opportunity to snatch Vicky’s hot dog and take another large bite.
“Are you out of your mind? What are you doing? Joe bought that for me,” she hissed.
Grinning, he handed her something wrapped in white butcher’s paper.
Peeling back the wrapping, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes in appreciation. “This is one of those big awesome Italian heroes with everything on it, dripping with oil and vinegar, isn’t it?” She pulled out the sandwich unwrapping it carefully. "Oh Jack! This is so great. Thank you," she squealed.
“There are four different Italian meats and three cheeses, hot cherry peppers....” He stopped to stare at her as she took a man sized bite and groaned with pleasure.
“This is sooo good!”
Joe slowly walked up, watching the moaning girl in admiration and remarked, “You really were hungry! Nudging Jack, he winked and asked, “What happens when she eats chocolate cake?”
Vicky gave him a weak smile, but continued nibbling and licking the dripping roll.
Diane, Vicky, and Elvira all wanted their turn holding the Smith’s new baby girl, Charlotte. Elvira proudly produced her new digital camera and insisted on taking pictures of everyone, directing them into various group shots so that memories of the day would be preserved.
She found herself holding the baby sandwiched between Joe and Jimmy. Elvira entreated them to smile, urging them this way and that for a better angle. The two men draped their arms over her shoulders grinning at Elvira. With the baby in her arms and the two men holding onto her, Vicky had to smile. When she recognized another figure up the street a little way, her smile vanished. A sour looking Jonathan Van Winkle eyed them maliciously over the rim of his beer cup. She turned away, not wanting to meet his gaze
Then she caught sight of Jack standing just behind Mrs. Sweeney, watching the picture taking session with a smiling Carol Barrett hanging on his
arm.
When the pictures were over, Jack maneuvered his way through the crowd until he was beside her. “Listen, Victoria, I want…. Can we talk?”
Puzzled, Vicky turned to look at him, but they were all interrupted by a new arrival. John Van Wart, Continental tricorn hat pushed back on his head at a jaunty angle was there elbowing Jack aside. He tipped his hat, thrust one foot forward “making a leg” as a proper eighteenth century gentleman would do, and addressed Vicky.
“Miss Buonadies, this is indeed a pleasure. I’m delighted that our newest citizen has graced us with her presence at this little celebration in our humble grove. Permit me to say, my dear lady, that you are even more beautiful than when last I saw you.” Holding his hat over his heart, he turned his smile on Diane next, raving of her beauty and charm. Finally to Jack he said, “You my friend, it appears as though you have need of a pint of ale. It would indeed be my pleasure to offer you one. We’ll drink to confusion and death to the British. What say you?”
John led a protesting Jack Conner away, unwilling to take no for an answer, with Carol trailing behind.
Diane watched them leave. “John always likes to ham it up on the fourth. He’s a little goofy, but harmless. Last year he dressed up as Nathan Hale and went around with a rope tied in a hangman’s noose over his shoulder, regretting that he had ‘but one life to give for his country’. He’s a member of the ‘Sons of the American Revolution’ and takes it pretty seriously.”
“You seem to know a lot about him,” Vicky said thoughtfully.
“Yeah, well.” Diane shrugged before wandering away following John and Jack.
That evening, to the relief of everyone, a cooling breeze sprang up, just as the sun went down. Hot and tired families began migrating toward the town park with their blankets and lawn chairs, anticipating the fireworks display.
Keeping Victoria's Secret Page 17