Author: Kristy Tate
Category: Young Adult
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/kristy-tate/page,7,583699-the_pirate_episode.html
“High school?” Phillip picked up his fork and gazed at her. “You wish an education? That can be arranged. We will employ a talented tutor.”
Cami wondered what an eighteenth-century tutor could tell her. She needed someone familiar with physics, quantum theory, and the Back to the Future movies.
Phillip continued. “We will find a music teacher, the best available, to help develop your gift.”
Cami softened and the tension in her back eased. “You think I have a gift?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
She stared at him. “But would you really marry me because of what your neighbors think?”
“I wish to marry you. Do you wish to marry me?”
“I don’t wish to marry anyone!” Her mind cast around for a better solution, but couldn’t find one. “I’m only eighteen. I want to backpack through Europe!”
“I’m unfamiliar with this backpack, but as soon as this war is over and it is safe, we can travel to Europe if you wish.” He loaded his fork with beans. “I would like my sister to be present.”
“Isn’t she in Jamestown?”
Phillip nodded. “It will be a dangerous undertaking but, I believe, well worth it. If you are amenable, I would like her to come and live here with us.”
“Does she want that?”
Phillip met her gaze and let the question hang in the air.
“I just know what it’s like to be shuttled around without anyone ever asking me my opinion,” Cami said.
“Yes. I know she wishes to return. This is her home. But when my mother died, I feared for her being here alone.”
“And now that I’m here…”
“Exactly,” Phillip said without waiting for her to finish her sentence.
“How old is she?”
“She’s twenty-five. We had thought in Jamestown she would have more prospects for meeting and marrying a suitable man, but now the opportunities for marriage have passed—”
“Wait. What? Why would you say that?”
“Say what?”
“That her opportunities for marriage have passed?”
Phillip put down his fork and met her gaze. “She is twenty-five,” he repeated as if Cami was mentally slow.
“So? You’re close to thirty.”
Phillip raised his eyebrows. “It matters not. She wishes to join me, and now that you are here, I hope you will make her welcome in our home.”
“I never said I would marry you,” Cami muttered.
“Will you marry me?”
Cami thought about her options before she said, “Yes.”
CHAPTER 6
Joel stared at Cami’s tennis racquet as if he expected it to offer up an explanation for its owner’s sudden disappearance. The water bottle at his feet spun in circles. It splashed onto the ugly gray and pink linoleum tile. Stooping, he picked up the racquet, but as he did, a wire that had probably broken in the racquet’s fall pricked him and drew blood.
“Double damn,” he muttered as he set the racquet down on a desk. After he inspected the small angry wound and red spot of blood on his thumb, he bent to pick up the water bottle. Water first splashed over his hand, and then over his head.
What the hell? Joel watched the pen, pencil and small notebook he kept in his breast pocket float past. Suddenly, his shoes felt like they were made of cement and they pulled at him, as did his belt. His pants pockets were filling up with water. If he didn’t do something, he would drown.
His rational brain assured him drowning in the science room was not only implausible but impossible, but his lungs told a different story. Joel kicked his heavy leather but now possibly destroyed penny loafers, and surfaced.
Coming face to face with a pelican, he screamed.
The bird eyed him with cold black eyes before spreading its wings and lifting into the air.
“That’s easy for you to do,” Joel said. “You know where you’re going. You might have a clue where you are.” Joel knew neither of those things, and he really hated it when he came up against something he couldn’t rationalize or understand.
He tread the warm, bath-like water and gazed around at the endless blue ocean.
Damn.
#
“It’s beautiful,” Cami said, staring at the newly repaired ship anchored in the crystal blue sea. “It looks brand new. I can’t believe you did that.”
“I did have help,” Phillip said, taking her hand.
They stood on the shore, waiting for Phillip’s men to load their trunks onto the dinghy. The largest trunk held all her dresses. Phillip seemed genuinely upset she didn’t have what he called a proper “trousseau,” but Cami felt nothing. Numb.
Her wedding, the one she’d have in Jamestown, was to be so unlike anything she’d ever imagined, that any pain or disappointed was completely swallowed up in disbelief. The only similarity between the actual impending wedding and her girlhood fantasies was the groom. True, Phillip La Fleur was not Joel Fleur, but he did look like him.
Did she love him? She was only eighteen, and was pretty sure she didn’t know what love really was, but the horrible truth was she couldn’t imagine her life in 1782 without Phillip. She desperately needed him, because without him she didn’t know how she could support herself. And that wasn’t love, but maybe she’d grow to love him.
Did he love her? Her gaze slid toward his strong jaw and lingered on his broad shoulders. Or was she just a good idea? She knew he was often lonely. She knew he enjoyed her company. But sometimes when she was with him, she felt a distance stretching between them, and she knew her secret would always hang between them. But he had his secrets, too. She didn’t know how she knew this, but she felt certain it was true.
“Ready, my dear?” Phillip lifted her hand to his lips, before helping her into the waiting dinghy.
How could she be ready? None of this was on her to-do list.
She settled onto the wooden bench while Phillip’s men dipped their oars into the water. Moments later, they were skimming across the bay, headed for the ship that would take Cami to her wedding.
This was not the way her story was supposed to go. Sure, she’d often thought of her mother as smothering and overbearing, but she’d never, ever considered getting married without her mom at least being there. A sudden tear trickled down her face.
Phillip noticed and caught the tear on his finger. “Sad?”
“I miss my mom,” Cami admitted. “I never thought I would ever say that, but I do.”
“Then she must come to the wedding.”
“I don’t know how to find her.”
“I have associates in Connecticut. Perhaps they will help us locate her.”
Cami shook her head. “I don’t think so…she’s not alive.”
Phillip started. “She’s dead?”
“I guess you could say that.” She hadn’t been born yet. Was that the same thing?
“You never told me. How did she die?”
“I…it pains me to talk of it.” She really hated lying to him. At some point, maybe, she’d tell him the truth, but she couldn’t risk having him think she was loony, because where would she be without him?
Phillip took both her hands in his. “My family will be your family. And we will start a family of our own. I know I alone can never fill the loss of your mother, but I promise you our future lives will be filled with love.”
She blinked at him. “You’re so sweet. I don’t deserve you.”
He ducked his head and lifted her hands to his lips. “And I do not deserve you.”
#
The next day, Cami sat on a wooden crate on the ship’s deck with a violin tucked beneath her chin. Phillip had tried to teach her how to use the bow to coax music from the strings, but so far all of her efforts sounded like screaming cats. Seagulls swooped around her, adding their song to the whine of the violin. But then another sound broke the air.
“Man overboard!” a sailor called.
Cami lowered her instrument a
nd watched Phillip’s men abandon their posts and run to the ship’s rails. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to see over the men’s backs, and not wanting to push through them as they tended to be stinky and unwashed, Cami climbed onto her wooden crate and craned her neck, but she still couldn’t see.
“Ahoy!” a sailor called.
“A what?” A voice floated up from the water below.
“State thy name!” another soldier demanded.
“Led Zeppelin,” a familiar voice answered. “Who are you?”
“Led Zeppelin,” the men muttered among themselves. “What sort of name is that?”
Led Zeppelin? Cami’s thoughts raced. She jumped off her box just as a wave rocked the ship. Pitching forward, she hit her forehead on a mast. Her thoughts swirled. She knew that voice. Stunned, she tried to catch herself as she fell, but the back of her head struck the wooden crate, and soon she knew nothing at all.
#
Joel paddled in the warm water, gazing up at the motley collection of men staring down at him. Their beards swayed in the breeze, and curiosity filled their eyes.
“Art thou British?” This man wore a long, scruffy beard, large silver hoop earrings and a tricorne hat. He looked like he belonged in a Pirates of the Caribbean movie.
“Huh, no.”
“Where hailest thou?”
Joel’s thoughts scrambled. These people not only looked weird, they also talked weird. Were they actors in a reenactment? And if so, what were they doing in the middle of this warm sea where no one could watch them? Maybe they were filming a movie, or maybe Joel had hit his head and become delusional.
But how? He didn’t remember hitting his head. And he hadn’t drunk the Witching Well’s water, as Cami had. But he did have a cut on his finger. The salt water stung his wound. He held his hand up to inspect it.
Above him, the men tossed over a fat rope and it splashed beside his head.
“Hold on,” someone called out to him.
Seconds before he took the rope, he noticed the water bottle bobbing just beyond his reach. He grabbed it.
#
Cami woke on the Captain’s bed. She tried to sit up, but her vision swam and her head ached. Sinking back among the pillows, she saw the violin and bow propped in the corner of the small room.
On deck, men shouted, and scuffling feet rattled the planks above her.
Another British attack? she wondered. Then she remembered the voice. Led Zeppelin. But wasn’t Led Zeppelin dead? She didn’t know a lot about classic rock, but her dad was a fan of seventies music. Led Zeppelin wasn’t a person, a long-ago memory reminded her, but a band.
But no one in 1782 could possibly know that.
Ignoring the thundering pain in her head, Cami sat up. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she tried to stand. The ship rocked, knocking her back down. She grabbed onto a bed post and hauled herself up. Bracing her feet, she fought the pitching ship and her throbbing head and stumbled for the upper deck.
#
The scruffy, smelly men tied Joel to a mast with ropes as big as his wrists. He wiggled and squirmed, but he couldn’t work his hands free. The men gathered around him and watched, their lips twitching beneath their rat-nest beards. He kicked anyone who came within his range, but the men seemed to find this more amusing than painful.
So, this is what people did for entertainment before television, Joel thought. But then a man in a billowing white shirt and dark breeches came into view. He looked so much like Joel’s dad Joel thought it was him…until he spoke with a funky accent.
“Who are you?” Joel and the stranger said at the same time.
“You first,” they both said.
Joel sighed. “I am Dr. Joel Fleur, and you are obviously a figment of my imagination.”
The man cocked his head. “Why would you suppose such a thing?”
“You look like my dad.”
The man stepped closer—close enough to kick—but Joel didn’t even try.
“And you look like my mirror,” the man said.
“Yeah, that, too.”
“Why is this?”
“I have no idea,” Joel said. “But since you’re most likely a character in my dream, I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“But perhaps you are a character in my dream.”
The circle of men parted, allowing a young woman to pass through.
“Cambria!”
“Dr. Fleur! What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? A few moments ago we were in the science room.”
Cambria shook her head and winced as if it pained her. “A few moments ago? Methinks not.”
“Methinks?” Joel echoed.
“I have been under Captain Phillip La Fleur’s protection for several months now.”
“Phillip La Fleur?” Joel nodded at the stiff, unsmiling man staring at him with his father’s eyes. “Like the blockade runner?”
“You know him?” Cambria asked.
“Phillip La Fleur was my grandfather’s grandfather.”
“That’s complicated,” Cambria said.
“Not at all,” Joel said. “Obviously I’m in the throes of some sort of delusion…”
“You know, I used to think that, too. But after a few months—”
“Months?” Joel’s head swam, but he was pretty sure his confusion had nothing to do with hitting his head. In fact, he thought about hitting it again, over and over, to see if he could wake himself up.
Cami glanced at La Fleur. “How long has it been?”
He cut her a sideways glance and fleeting smile. “Long enough for me to know you are meant to be my bride.”
“No! Not possible.” Joel fought the cords around his wrists. They bit into his skin, drawing blood, but he ignored the pain. “Cami, you can’t marry this guy, not even in this nightmare.”
Cami stepped up to him so her face was just inches from his. “You think this is a nightmare? No, the real nightmare was trying to measure up to my mom’s expectations. The nightmare was high school with its thugs, posers, and prom queens. Not to mention the exams.”
“But…” Joel’s thoughts sputtered. “You’re an amazing student. You’re popular. No one bullies you.”
“You don’t think I was bullied? Did I want to be there?” Cami grimaced, turned away from him and laid her hand on La Fleur’s chest in a familiar way that sent Joel’s adrenaline racing. “This man is harmless,” she said to La Fleur. “You don’t need to tie him up.”
La Fleur cocked an arrogant eyebrow. “Harmless? You should tell that to Bloody Jack.”
“Why? What happened to him?”
La Fleur smirked. “Let’s just say he’s a little bloodier than he was before.”
“Then he should probably change his name,” Joel said. “He’s a walking self-fulfilling prophecy.”
Cami shot him a look that read you are not helping.
Joel pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, and offered up a prayer even though he hadn’t an ounce of faith.
La Fleur waved his hand and a burly man holding a gleaming knife with a ten-inch blade sprang from the crowd. The knife sliced the ropes and nicked Joel’s skin.
Joel’s knees buckled and he sank to the deck. He hadn’t even been aware the ropes and mast had been supporting him. Rubbing his chafed and bloody skin, he considered his options. Throwing himself into the sea seemed the best course of action, but he didn’t want to leave Cami. She was the only thing in this fantasy-flight that made sense. Sort of.
La Fleur flicked his hand again. “Take him below. Find him a berth and make him comfortable. We’ll dispose of him when we reach Kingston.”
“Dispose of him?” Cami squeaked.
“Leave him,” La Fleur clarified. “He is a liability.”
#
Cami watched the men grab Dr. Fleur by the arms, haul him to his feet, and lead him away. A small part of her heart went with him.
“Who is this man to you?�
� Phillip demanded.
“I knew him in Connecticut,” she answered truthfully, knowing some of the following questions would be much more difficult to answer with the same measure of honesty.
“Why did he claim I am his ancestor?”
Cami shook her head. “You will have to ask him. But he sort of answered it already when he said he was in a delusion.”
“But his delusion is curiously similar to how I first found you.”
Cami smiled up at him and fluttered her eyelashes. “But you did find me. That’s what’s important, right?”
He gazed down at her, his eyes full of questions and suspicion flickering in the twitch of his lips.
Cami picked up his hand and raised it to her lips. After the kiss, she pulled him close. “We found each other, and it’s been an adventure, one I don’t want to end anytime soon.”
Phillip smiled. “Nor I.”
Cami’s gaze went over the deck, touching on the violin and then the clear blue sky. “Maybe I should speak to Joel.”
“Should I accompany you?”
Cami patted his chest. “No. You go and do your captainy-thing. Joel won’t hurt me. I’ve known him most of my life.”
“And of this I am jealous.”
“No need,” Cami said, with a laugh that made her wonder if she was being less honest with Phillip or herself.
Cami tried to avoid the lower deck in the daytime. Although the Captain’s quarters where she stayed were much nicer than the rest of the lower deck, she disliked the stale closed feel, the smell of the men mingled with the tangy sea air, and the murky light.
“Joel?” she called out, searching for him. “Dr. Fleur?”
She found him in a bunkroom of sorts. Never having been in this part of the ship, she cast her gaze around to the rows of bunks with neatly folded linens at the foot of each. Trunks of various sizes sat below each cot. She wondered how they kept the trunks from sliding about until she spotted hooks that secured them to the floor planks.
Joel lay on a cot, staring at the ceiling and tossing something in the air. He had taken off his wet shirt and draped it over a chair. She had never seen him like this—partially clad and lounging. It occurred to her he probably thought none of this was real, including her.