Norrington's Darling

Andrew's Idea

POV: Zuri Norrington

The funeral had happened a week ago, with many spilled tears and far too much pain. James was now buried in the yard space Theodore and Andrew had helped create. We planned to make it nicer and freshen it up a bit, once the dirt over James' grave had settled.

The casket had been beautiful in its simplicity. It was a bit more embellished than a regular casket, yes, and it had been lacquered. But it had been adorned only with a cross and a compass, a rose twining through that compass. Theodore had carved the compass and rose in honor of his friend.

But it was the gravestone itself that was beautiful, capturing James' essence. The same carving had been done in the stone, his name gilded. I spent a few minutes every day at the grave, running my fingers over his name. It brought me back to my days in the Pearl's crow's nest, carving his name and his initials, dragging my fingers over them as if I could bring him to me that way. 

I only allowed myself a few minutes to grieve. I had work to do, most of it having something to do with making James' townhouse my own, baby-proofing it, and settling Anamaria and Theodore into it as well.

One morning, I went through my usual morning ritual of throwing up, making myself a cup of soothing herbal tea, I found Andrew waiting in the foyer, Theodore by his side. They were both grinning like they were mad.

"You two are up to something," I decided.

"We have been, yes," Andrew admitted. "We would like you to come with us and see what we have been up to."

I sighed. "Oh, alright. Let me dress properly."

"The things from your old sailing days might be best," Theodore called.

"Old sailing days?" I cried, incredulous. "They'll be back! Once I am not pregnant!" But I dressed in breeches like they asked. However, the clothes I wore were not mine—they were James'. Both men noticed when I joined them again, each grinning. 

We went to the back of the house. Andrew was nearly bouncing he was so excited. "You'll recall I had an idea back at Shipwreck Cove? Theodore and I finally finished carrying out this idea."

I raised both brows, flicking my gaze between them. "Should I be worried?"

Theodore laughed. "Not at all," he said. And then they lead me to a very familiar path.

"My warehouse?"

"Hush and keep walking," Andrew instructed. "You are going to like your surprise." 

I remembered the path, remembered giggling as I dragged James to see the abandoned warehouse I'd found and made my favorite place in all of Port Royal. I remembered his amazed face when I showed him that I had spruced it up, brought books and paint and canvas and pages and brushes. And then I'd painted his portrait there.

When we got closer, Theodore tied a bandana over my eyes and they led me by the hands to the warehouse. The door had once creaked, but I didn't hear anything more than rustling over grass as they pulled it open. Again, they took my hands and led me into my warehouse.

Theodore untied the bandana and pulled it away. "Open your eyes now, Zuri," he instructed, giddy and beaming when I followed his instructions.

I very nearly stopped breathing.

When I had first discovered it, it was rundown and ramshackle. I'd started to fix it up as best I could and soon it had become my escape from Port Royal and Beckett. But it had been no place to live or stay for extended periods of time—it was worn down and falling to pieces. James had helped me fix it up enough to make sure books, paints, canvases, brushes, and paper did not suffer from mildew, mold, or the other effects of the weather, but the warehouse had always been a bit too dirty and on the bad side of rustic.

Theodore and Andrew had changed all of that. 

Though it still contained a bit of rustic charm, the warehouse had been scrubbed clean within an inch of its life. Not a speck of dust lingered on any surface. The books had been rearranged, canvases stacked in neat piles. Brushes were collected in glasses, new ones in amongst all my old ones. My jars of paint were stacked neatly on tables. New stools had replaced the broken ones. The paintings I had done for my own amusement were hung on the walls. Framed pieces of my poetry were scattered around amongst them. 

I turned in a slow circle, my hands lacing together atop my stomach. I blinked away the blurriness of my vision, a single tear escaping and slipping down my cheek. My eyes caught on a particular painting a mixture of happiness and pain cut though my heart like a knife. Hanging on the wall was the portrait of James I had insisted on doing. I took a few faltering steps toward it, drinking in James' face.

I truly had done a masterful job on it. I had always hated praising my own art, feeling far too vain if I did, but I had captured my husband's likeness nearly perfectly.

"Well," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "if my child cannot know their father, at least they know what he looked like."

Theodore put a hand on my shoulder. And I squeezed him tightly, needing a friendly embrace to keep me upright. 

"There's more, if you'd like to see it," Andrew said softly. I nodded quickly, wiping my few tears away. I squared my shoulders and nodded for him to lead me to the 'more' he spoke of.

What he showed me next was even better than the studio of the warehouse.

It was the loft.

James and I had often fallen asleep up here, reading to each other. My desk had been cleaned and painted. My papers and unfinished projects were filed and organized. Drawings I recognized as Theodore's had found places on my desk. A new upholstered chair sat in front of it. 

My bookshelves had been tidied. The couch had been reupholstered, but I was glad they hadn't sought to put in a new couch. That couch had many memories of James with it—he had loved lounging on it and driving me insane by putting his legs over mine. and refusing to move them. 

A rug and a low table had been move in. I stopped to admire them, but the two marines tugged me to the back of the loft. A gasp escaped me.

They had fashioned a window above a bed fit for the king, the window overlooking the forest, clear into a valley that led to the sea. The sun glittered on the water, dancing on the waves like mermaids and sirens. 

It was from that window I saw the ship three months later.