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“I was so mad at him, angry at the world,” she continued and shook her head, looking at him again. “And I feel like I am finally able to take a breath, that I don’t have this crushing weight on my chest… like I can be myself once more, and not ‘Jack’s poor widow’.”
“You’ve done very well and taken to the ship like…” he began lamely.
He felt he needed to point out a few positives like they had done for him when he was healing.Start with the small successes, they had told him, praising him that he could walk the corridor… and he could - so long as he didn’t look at his reflection in the hospital glass or a mirror. That used to send him screaming and crying because that disfigured man wasn’t the Will he remembered.
“I’m not looking for a sweeping romance,” Calista interrupted him, turning towards him. “I want my own story.”
Her words caught him off-guard as another lance of pain raced up his spine in another kind of sudden awareness.
She wasn’t looking for someone to help her heal, because she had already accepted this new reality. She was looking for something else… and that small voice inside of him said, ‘You! Ya’ big dummy!’
… But he wasn’t the old, smiling Will that loved adventure and being around friends, women, and carousing with his fellow brothers-at-arms.
“I understand,” Will said simply, unsure what else to say. Surely not… right? He wasn’t a romantic sort. He wasn’t one to bring flowers, write poems, or do other silly things.
“Do you?” she asked – and touched his hand, surprising him. He looked at their hands and then back at her, only to see her beautiful eyes glittering in the moonlight. “Do you? Because I’m not one hundred percent sure that I do, but I am positive that I wanted to come out here, to see you.”
“I’ve lived a full life, done things that would make others flinch, and probably am not the best guy deep down inside. I’m hard-headed, opinionated, and there are no soft edges to me – no romantic nonsense,” he explained almost bluntly, expecting her to pull away or withdraw from him.
Instead, Calista stepped forward, not looking away.
“Could you be a friend?” she whispered, her voice achingly soft. He almost didn’t hear her words as his heart hammered loudly in his chest with awareness that he felt deep within him.
“I could,” he replied in a hushed voice, and then marveled as she stepped closer, almost at his side. He adjusted slightly and pulled his hand from hers, putting it around her back, drawing her close - almost easily. He would comfort a friend… and pretend it was something more.
“Is this okay?”
“Very much so,” she said softly. “Can you tell me about you? Can we just talk for a bit? Get to know each other more?”
“If you’ll do the same,” he countered gently, still reeling from the fact that he was standing here, in the moonlight, on the ocean, with his arm around the woman that fascinated him.
She looked up at him and smiled.
“I would love that.”
10HANG THE JIB!
CALISTA
Her eyes flewopen as the sunlight streamed into her room through the porthole. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was certainly morning. The morning’s gunfire hadn’t woken her yet… or she missed it. Either way, she took a moment to reflect on her impromptu meeting last night – and the joy it brought to her.
They talked for hours… and Calista smiled softly, closing her eyes. She marveled at the differences between Will and Jack, relishing both in surprising ways. Jack had this easy charm that made her laugh as he skirted around issues with jokes, quips, and flirtatious comments. He reminded her of a beautiful butterfly – graceful, lovely, and… fragile.
Will was different. He was quiet, immovable… and a fighter. Surprisingly enough, he was also a talker. Once she hit upon a subject, they talked and talked – even challenging or arguing their points about whatever it was. It was nice to have someone to talk to her, someone that didn’t pity her or treat her like she was about to crack under pressure.
Will didn’t tiptoe around her status as a widow, but rather, he asked about Jack – giving her a chance to reflect on her memories, while sharing his own about his team and some of the battles they’d participated in. This man was remade in the fires of hell – and had come out stronger for it. That was something she could appreciate and understand… and didn’t hold back.
Wincing, she heard the shot… and chuckled.
She could practically picture him on the deck, in that scraggly outfit that made him look like a cheap Jack Sparrow, and that gnarled wig that was probably permanently deformed from the breeze and sea salt… hiding her friend from those that would reject him.
Getting up, she threw on her skirts, slipped into her corset that she was getting used to tying on her own, and hesitated. There, in the bottom of the trunk of costumes, were a few ribbons to help tie back a woman’s hair if needed… and she did - badly.
Finger-combing her hair that had to look atrocious now, she smoothed it back into a lose ponytail and tied it back. This would be much cooler off her neck and keep it from getting into her eyes… and paused.
She picked up another ribbon – a small red one – and smiled.
Opening her door, she started up the steps to hear the men giving each other orders, while Will ushered everyone along.
