gender and my true name out of it, I sealed the envelope with no return address and planned to ship it off in the morning.
With memories of home fluttering around in my mind, I lit another candle and attempted to draw the shoreline of Barbados. Replicating the crests of the beach I remembered so well, my mind wandered through the memories I’d made there. Beautiful, wonderful memories. Well aware that hours were passing as the candles melted low, I couldn’t seem to pull myself away from that shoreline that held my sweetest dreams.
Clear as day, I saw my father walking barefoot in the water with me. Collecting shells and feeding birds, we’d talk and talk and laugh as the hours passed. Sunset always seemed to come too soon on those days…
With tears filling my eyes, I let my hand shift to my drawing of the southern end of the shore. Though I knew it would hurt to do so, I sketched the canopy tree where I’d spent my first day with Thomas. During that terrible attack on the Spanish, my chest of goods was destroyed. With the loss of my favorite painting aching painfully in my heart, I began drawing the way the roots of the beautiful tree twisted into the earth. Adding the shape of the canopy to my piece, I remembered what it was like sitting in the shade with Thomas. I was so young then. So innocent. My heartache at the time was real, but it was so small in comparison to what I had endured since then.
It had been months since I’d had a dream about Thomas. I missed the way I would see his face so clearly in my slumber, but as I added to my drawing the image I had carved into the sand that day, his awestricken expression lit up in my mind. His presence became so vivid, it was as though he was standing with me again. I could see him. I could smell him, and I could feel the warmth of his hand on mine. The love in his beautiful brown eyes overwhelmed me. Feeling like his ghost was staring at me, I felt a shiver run down my spine.
Sitting up quickly, I took a deep breath and looked around. I was in my chartroom with my cat, and I could hear Mason talking to someone in his cabin. It sounded like Reid. Apparently he had made it to Tortuga before us.
“Feather,” I petted his head. “That was so strange. It felt so real. Like Thomas was still alive. What if…somehow…No. He is gone. And I just have to face that.”
Realizing how late it had gotten, I decided to get on my way to bed. Before I put my work away, I poked my finger with my knife, and with my dripping blood, I painted a heart under that tree. That canopy tree on the southern shore of Barbados. The place I first fell in love.
Crossing the hall to my bunkroom, I heard Mason and Reid laughing their heads off. With no interest in such joyful activities, I went to my room, shutting the door behind me. The moment I set Feather down, Mason did his usual knock. I told him I was fine, wished him goodnight, and then I lay down with my cat.
After the ghostly encounter I had with Thomas’ spirit, I could not stop thinking about him. Hugging Feather like a little baby, I stroked his head and whispered, “Thomas was my husband, Feather. He was my first love, and though I love Mason, too, it’s just different.” And then it dawned on me. “It’s different because we are not married. Thomas loved me so much he left his family and all his wealth to make me his wife, but Mason has never said one single thing about marriage. I am sure it is simply not common practice for buccaneers to take wives, but common practice for the noble class was the least of Thomas’ concerns when he ran away with me.”
My thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sound of girlish laughter coming down the gangway. There were at least five women giggling amongst the crowd of men who were practically tumbling down the stairs. Pinching and tickling was all too apparent in the sounds that passed by my door. As Ziare kicked Mason’s door open, he wailed, “You take my arm, I bring you whores.