Author: Kristy Tate
Category: Young Adult
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/kristy-tate/page,13,583699-the_pirate_episode.html
“How did you get here?” Cami asked.
“Reckon the same way you did,” he said.
Cami turned to the frail old lady beside him. She looked somewhat familiar. “And who are you?”
“Claudette Fleur. Who are you?”
“Are you Joel’s grandmother?”
She batted her eyes in surprise. “Why yes! Do you know my Joel?”
Cami nodded. “He’s…my science teacher. Do you know where he is?”
“Why, I’m guessing he’s at school.” Something in Cami’s face made Claudette ask, “Isn’t he?”
“Dark-haired, handsome fella?” the jailer asked.
“Yes,” Cami and Claudette said at the same time.
“A few ticks of a tail ago he was in the Caribbean with this young lady.”
“Is that so?” A slow smile came to Claudette’s face. “How wonderful. Do you think he fell in love, too? Everyone who travels through the Witching Well falls in love,” she said.
“Even you?” The jailer elbowed her.
“Even me.” She smiled up at him, love lighting her eyes.
“Then why’d it take me so dang long to find you again?” he asked.
“You’re here now.”
“Wait,” Cami interrupted. “You time traveled?”
“I did,” Claudette said proudly. “And so did Jason and Celia, and Becca Martin and that cowboy fellow of hers, and now—you.” She winked at Cami. “Now tell me, who did you fall in love with?”
Cami climbed to her feet and gathered her skirts in one hand. “I have to go home. My mom is going to freak.”
“Why do you say that?” Claudette asked.
“I’ve been gone for months!”
Claudette shook her head. “If I know the Witching Well, that’s probably not true. In fact, I’m sure it’s not. If a child had been missing, it would have been on the news.”
“What day is it?”
“September twentieth.”
“That’s the same day I left.” Cami ran her fingers through her hair. “How is that possible?”
“Time is very fluid,” Claudette said. “We tend to think of it as being strictly linear, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”
“Can you help me get home?”
“Absolutely,” Claudette said. “But are you sure you don’t want to wait here for Joel? He could be coming along any minute now.”
Cami wavered for only a moment. “No. I owe it to my mom to go home.”
“Now, why would you say that, dear?” Claudette cocked her head at Cami. “Children don’t owe their parents.”
Cami sighed. “Can you please just tell me how to get home?”
Disappointment filled Claudette’s eyes. “All right, follow me.” Claudette looped her arm through the jailer’s and led him down a path through the woods. “Remember how I told you about cars and flying machines all those years ago? Well, now they have so much more! Satellites flying in the sky, spaceships going to Mars.”
“Mars?” the jailer repeated.
“Yes, Mars. And there’re supercomputers.”
“Super whats?”
“Supercomputers we carry in our pockets.” She fished out her phone. “With them we can talk to any person on the Earth.”
The jailer looked skeptical.
“It’s funny you can believe in time-travel, but not cell phones,” Cami said, trailing behind them.
“It is, isn’t it?” Claudette said, smiling.
“How and when did you two meet?” Cami asked.
“Oh, now that’s a thrilling story,” Claudette said. “And I’ve been waiting for so long for someone to tell it to. I was afraid people would think I was crazy if I ever tried to share it.” She let out a happy sigh. “But now I can talk about it to you, and Celia and Becca.” Giving the jailer’s arm a small squeeze, she said, “And now I can have a happily ever after, too!”
“But why did it have to take so long?” the jailer complained again.
“It shouldn’t matter. We’ll now have all our golden years together,” Claudette said.
“How did you know to look for me?” the jailer asked.
“I’ve been coming to the well almost every day for fifty years,” Claudette told him.
“So, how did you meet?” Cami asked again.
“Well, Hans here was on a British naval ship in the Caribbean Sea during the American Revolution, and I was a nurse in the Korean War. We were destined to meet!”
Cami tried to string that logic together and failed, but she was so tired, she let the story wash over her as she followed Claudette and Hans out of the woods and to a beat-up station wagon. It took some coaxing to get Hans to sit in the car. His face drained of color when Claudette started the engine.
“How are you going to explain Hans to your family?” Cami asked as they rattled down the highway toward Woodinville.
“I’ll tell them the truth, of course,” Claudette said over her shoulder to Cami in the back seat.
“Of course,” Cami repeated.
Claudette winked at her in the rearview mirror. “When you’re my age, no one really believes you anyway.”
CHAPTER 11
It felt strange to go home after such a long time and see nothing had changed. It was as if she hadn’t been gone at all. She didn’t have her school bag or books—those were still in the Biology room—so she couldn’t do her homework, but for once, she didn’t care. Passing through the kitchen, she glanced at the fridge, but she no longer wanted what she’d grown to consider artificial food. She didn’t want anything that came in a carton or tinfoil.
Her room looked exactly as she’d left it—a sweater on her bed, papers on her desk, books piled beside her bed. Sitting down on the bed, she slowly unbuttoned the front of her dress. How would she explain the clothes to her mom? She considered the boots. Maybe she could donate the outfit to the drama department.
She stepped into the shower. The clean, warm water pouring over her skin felt like heaven. Within minutes, the bathroom was filled with steamy lavender-scented air. She’d forgotten how good it felt to be clean. After a long time, she climbed out of the shower, toweled off, and slipped into a comfy pair of pajamas.
Lying against her pillows, she looked up at the ceiling. Her room was the same, but she was totally different. She fell asleep thinking about her future.
Sometime later, she woke when her mom pushed through the door. “Hi, sweetie,” Mags said. “I brought home Chinese. Sound good?”
No.
“No, thanks. I’ll just have an apple.”
Mags cocked her head at her. “You okay?”
“Sure. Just tired.” Cami rolled onto her side and faced her mom. “When did you know you were in love?”
Mags sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. “Not until I was much older than you…and even then I was too young and stupid to make a good choice.”
Cami sat up. “He’s my dad, Mom.”
Mags flushed. “I know…your father…” her voice trailed away.
“I know you don’t get along now, but what was it like in the beginning?” Cami swung her feet to the floor.
“It was like every other silly college romance. The rush of hormones, the infatuation…”
Cami didn’t want her mom to tarnish falling in love, so she interrupted her. “Do you think if you had stayed together it might have deepened?”
“No, I don’t.” Mags sat down on Cami’s bed and patted her knee. “What’s this all about? Do you miss your dad? I’m sure if you called him...”
“I’m not talking about him and me. I want to talk about the two of you.”
Mags focused her attention on something out the window. “There isn’t a two of us. Maybe there was once, but that all ended a long time ago.”
Cami blinked. If there was one thing she’d learned in 1782, it was that time was pretty much irrelevant.
Mags squeezed her leg. “Now come downstairs for dinner.” She gave a tight smile. “I’ll cu
t up an apple for you.”
#
Joel tramped through the Florida wetlands, swinging the machete the worshipping natives had given him and keeping his eye out for alligators, who would undoubtedly hold him with less respect and regard than his Indian friends. In his pocket, he carried his precious bottle with what little remained from the water from the Witching Well. He carried a satchel around his neck holding a flask with the water from the Fountain of Youth. He had no idea if it worked, and he hadn’t any desire to try it out. He didn’t aspire to immortality.
The more time he spent alone, the more he realized all he wanted was a quiet life spent with people he loved, pursuing a work he equally loved. He itched to study the water from both the Witching Well and the Fountain of Youth—not to share it with the world, but to understand their amazing properties and abilities. Was the world ready for immortality or time travel? Probably not.
He knew the discovery and marketing of either the well or fountain could make him rich beyond his imagination, but he didn’t know if he wanted that, either. As he slogged through what would one day be known as the Florida Everglades, he decided all he really wanted was Cami. He kept her image in his mind, and flashed through his memories of her—Cami as a kindergartener, Cami as a freshman, wide-eyed, braced-up teeth, and yet sassy, Cami as a senior, her braces gone, her face clear, beautiful and sassier than ever. He wondered if he’d ever see her again, but he knew even if he had to camp out at the Witching Well and drink gallons of its magic water, he’d find her again. Somehow.
He reached the Indian village by nightfall. They greeted him warmly, hailing him welcome in their indecipherable tongue. Cherise, emerged from a hut, followed by a smiling Captain Phillip.
The Captain looked thinner but healthier than Joel would have thought possible. Joel fell into his arms, embracing him with love and relief.
Captain Phillip held him close. “My debt to you knows no bounds,” he said.
Joel drew away but ran his gaze over him.
Phillip draped his arm around Cherise’s shoulders and pulled her close. The affection between the two was so palpable, it made Joel ache with loneliness, and he knew then he’d do whatever he had to, make whatever changes needed to be made, to create such a marriage. He knew Phillip and Cherise probably wouldn’t be allowed to marry in a legal sense in their day and age, but they were married never-the-less, tethered by bonds, invisible, and yet imperishable.
“But where is Miss Brandt?” Phillip asked, worry clouding his expression.
“She’s safe,” Joel said, fervently hoping it true. “I sent her home. I hope to join her soon.”
“Please, join us for a meal before you go,” Phillip said. “Tell us of what has happened these many weeks.”
And so Joel sat on a mat in the Florida jungle, eating a meal of roasted chicken and vegetables, regaling his ancestors with his adventures with the natives and his travels to the Fountain of Youth.
“Only to find you have completely healed and returned to health on your own,” Joel said. The futility of his journey stung him.
“Your time was not wasted,” Cherise said. “There’s a lesson to be learned in every journey.”
#
On Monday, Tessa banged her lunch tray down on the cafeteria table. “They say Dr. Fleur has been missing since Friday!”
Maisie shook her head. “I heard he’s taken a position at a University in France. He’s been emailing his mom.”
Cami glanced up at both her friends before returning her attention to her plate and moving her green beans around with her fork.
“How can he just quit?” Tessa wailed. “The school year has just barely started!”
“You’re still hot and heavy with Jackson, right?” Cami asked.
Tessa flushed. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
Cami returned to rearranging her beans. When she noticed Dr. Doors, the choir teacher, she stood and excused herself from the table.
“What’s with her?” Tessa whispered to Maisie.
Cami didn’t wait to hear Maisie’s response. “Dr. Doors,” she called.
He was a small man with a thin mustache and the frame of a pencil. He oozed with energy and when he conducted the choir he tended to bounce, making his hair fly around his head, despite his generous use of hair gel.
Cami introduced herself as they walked through the busy cafeteria. “Your former pianist, Megan Hartmann, told me you were looking for a new accompanist.”
Mr. Doors looked her up and down as if he could measure her musical ability with his eyes. “That’s right. Auditions are today after school. We pay fifty dollars an hour.”
When they reached the quieter, nearly deserted hall, Cami said, “I was wondering if you’d be interested in swapping. I could play for you in exchange for lessons.” She read the hesitation in his face. “If you don’t have the time…”
“It’s not that.” He squinted at her through his glasses. “I’m just wondering why you think you have the skills to accompany the choir and still feel the need for lessons.”
“I know I’m as good as Megan Hartmann,” Cami said. “But I want to be so good I can get a scholarship to St. Martine’s University.”
“I see,” he said slowly. After clearing his throat, he said, “Well, come by the music room today after school. We’ll see just how good you are.”
“Thank you, Mr. Doors!” Cami felt her future getting brighter.
As the little man walked away, Cami pulled her phone from her bag and sent her dad a text. Can we get together this weekend? I want to talk to you about college.
#
The months dragged by. The semester ended. Joel Fleur didn’t return to school. Christmas came, and Cami heard through the grapevine Joel had sent a Christmas card to his family. She told her mom that for the first time ever she would spend the holidays with her dad and his family. That caused some tension, but it was nothing compared to her mom’s reaction when Cami was accepted to St. Martine’s in the spring.
“St. Martine’s! They don’t even have a business program!” Mags huffed when Cami showed her the acceptance letter at the dinner table. Mags threw the letter down. It sat among the nearly empty cartons of Chinese food and half-full cans of Coke, looking like it was waiting to also be scooped up and thrown in the trash.
“That’s okay,” Cami said calmly, picking up the letter, carefully refolding it, and placing it in her notebook. She intended to keep it. It validated not only her talent but also her independence. “I’m not majoring in business.”
“Then what are you doing?” Mags’ fork froze midair.
“I got a scholarship to their music program.” Cami couldn’t look at her mom.
Mags dropped her fork. “Music? You can’t make a living with music!”
“Sure I can.”
“Honey, please. There are so many dogs chasing after that bone. Do you really want to be a performer?”
“No, I don’t. I want to be a music teacher.”
“You’ll have to learn to live very modestly.” Mags picked up her fork and poked at her orange chicken.
“I’m okay with that.”
“You don’t even know what that means.”
Cami opened her mouth to argue but closed it without saying anything. As far as her mom knew, Cami had always lived in a glitzy townhome.
Mags tried to smooth over the frustration and disbelief on her face. “Where did all this come from? Is it your dad? I knew nothing good would come from your spending so much time at his house.”
“This has nothing to do with Dad,” Cami said.
Mags sucked in a deep breath. “You know I don’t believe that for one moment. He has to be footing at least part of the bill. You’d never be able to get a full scholarship to St. Martine’s.”
“Okay, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just really hurt my feelings.” Cami pushed away her carton of broccoli and beef.
Mags backpedaled. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re talented
, sweetie, but—”
“Mom, no offense, but you wouldn’t know talented if it bit you in the butt.”
“Excuse me?”
Cami rolled her eyes. “You’re not musical. That’s okay. I’m not interested in law, and that’s okay, too.”
“No. It’s not okay!”
“Yes, it is. I’m not you, Mom. I never will be. You have to stop trying to make me into a Mini-Me.” Cami set down her fork, picked up her hoodie and headed for the kitchen door.
“Where are you going?” Mags demanded. “This conversation isn’t over!”
“Yeah, I think it pretty much is.” Cami slammed out of the house.
The early spring chill hit her as she reached the sidewalk. Her feet led her down Elm Street, past the street corner where she’d first met Joel when she was just in kindergarten, and to the house where Joel had once lived with his mom and grandmother. She’d heard that Joel regularly emailed his family from France, but she didn’t believe it. She guessed Claudette was emailing to keep Joel’s mom from worrying. She’d also heard Joel’s mom’s cancer was in remission. She wished Joel could be here, for so many reasons.
Twilight was falling, and a pink haze filled the air. She paused on the sidewalk. Through the large picture window, she watched Claudette and Hans the jailer waltzing to silent music. She tried to remember their story but found she couldn’t. She realized that the only love stories that really matter are your own.
She needed Joel to come back so they could finish their incredible story. She often thought of going to the Witching Well, drinking the water, and trying to find him. But fear held her back. What if he’d died trying to rescue her from the cannibals? What if he’d been caught in the Revolutionary War crossfire? What if he’d gotten a scratch and died of gangrene? A thousand things could have killed him, and she’d never have any way of knowing.
#
TWO YEARS LATER
Cami stood on a busy street corner, waiting for her turn to cross. She carried an umbrella, a backpack full of sheet music, and a heart full of hope. Today she would audition for an internship at St. Marie’s in Paris. The drizzly rain couldn’t dampen her spirits. Her professor, Dr. Young, had called her his most musical student, and had highly recommended her for the post.