The Family Business

6

     When I woke up, the car had stopped. Jefferson got out and opened my door, lifting me once again into his arms. Sam slid out after me and Will came around the car and joined us. We were back at the docks. Jefferson carried me onto his ship and down the stairs. We went passed the room I had been in previously and entered a much more elaborate room. Jefferson's room, I assumed. It had a wooden desk, a red area rug, and a large, comfy looking bed. He set me down gently on the bed. I took off his coat and handed it back to him. It was much warmer here. Will and Sam had followed us into the room and now Will came over to me and gently started to feel my side. When he was done, he sat on the bed next to me and faced Jefferson.
     "No broken ribs," Will said, "but quite a bit of bruising." Jefferson turned sharply and punched the wall so hard I was surprised it didn't crack.
     "This was all my fault," he said, leaning his forehead on the wall he had just assaulted.
     "It wasn't anyone's fault," I said, trying to make him feel better. "Except maybe Nicholas'." Jefferson walked over to the bed and kneeled on the floor in front of me. An involuntary tear slid down my face, and Jefferson reached up and wiped it away.
     "It was my job to protect you, and I failed," he replied quietly.
     "Jefferson, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here," I countered. "If you had taken any longer to get to me, Nicholas would have killed me."
     "Aye, but I'm the one who kidnapped you in the first place. If it weren't for me, none of this would have happened to you."
     "And if I hadn't given you a false name, you never would have taken me back into Berkeley to look for, well, me, and Nicholas wouldn't have found us." He sputtered for a second, trying in vain to come up with another argument as to why it was his fault. "See?" I continued. "Not your fault." He sighed in defeat. Then we were both laughing at our pitiful argument. It hurt to laugh, but at the same time, it felt good. Jefferson stood, a crooked smile on his face.
     "I have to go make dinner," he said, turning toward the door.
     "I'll come help," I offered, attempting to stand up. That sent a jolt of pain through my body and Jefferson turned back and pushed me gently back down.
     "You need to rest," he said, "I'll bring you something to eat."
     "Thank you." I lay back down on the bed and watched him walk out the door, shutting it softly behind him. I listened for the click of a door lock that seemed to follow every closing door in my life, but for the first time, it never came. And aboard this ship, with my pirate captor, that lack of sound somehow made me feel more free than I had ever felt before.

     I don't know when I had fallen asleep, but when I woke up, there was a plate of spaghetti sitting on the small table next to the bed along with my cellphone. Accompanying the pasta, there was a piece of garlic bread and a bowl of grapes. My favorite meal. I wondered if Jefferson somehow knew it was my favorite, or if it just happened to be a coincidence that he made it after the most traumatic day of my life. I sat up on the bed, legs crossed, and pulled the plate of food closer. It was still warm, so it must have been brought recently. As I began to eat, I realized that it was the best spaghetti I had ever eaten. Jefferson was an amazing cook. I had no idea where he had learned to cook, between getting disowned by our parents and pillaging the seven seas. Perhaps he had hired a cook as part of his crew who had taught him a few things. Or maybe he just watched a lot of YouTube videos. There was a quiet knock on the door and Will entered the room, followed by Sam.
     "The Captain would like to see you," Will said. I quickly  finished my spaghetti and then followed him and Sam out of the room and up to the deck. I found Jefferson standing alone at the railing, hands clasped behind his back and walked over to him.
     "You wanted to see me?"
     "How are you feeling?" He asked, still looking out at the water.
     "Better," I answered.
     "Did you like the spaghetti?"
     "Yes. Spaghetti is my favorite," I replied, confused. I doubted that he had wanted to see me just to talk about my health and his cooking.
     "I know," he said. Finally, he turned and faced me. "Maddie told me."
     "Maddie?" I repeated, surprised. Maddie was my maid back home. In Aclea, she was the closest I had ever gotten to a true friendship, despite her being seven years older than me. But she had never said anything about Jefferson. "When did you talk to Maddie?"
     "We met up from time to time," Jefferson answered. "She was the closest I could get to keeping you in my life after..." He broke off, and looked back out at the water. After Father kicked him out, I thought.
     "Why didn't she tell me I had a brother?"
     "We couldn't risk Father finding out. I just wanted to hear about you. So I asked her to look out for you and let me know how you were every once in a while." We stood in silence for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say. Finally, I had to break the silence.
     "Are you taking me back home now?" I asked.
     "No." I don't know what answer I was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that one.
     "Why not?"
     "Lana, I missed thirteen years of your life. I missed thirteen birthdays. Thirteen Christmases. I don't want to miss any more. I can't miss any more." I could see tears forming in his eyes as he looked at me. Our father had kicked him out, disowned him, driven him to piracy, and taken away everything my brother loved. It was easier for me. I hadn't even known about him for those thirteen years. I can't imagine what it must have been like for him. Suddenly, I felt tears welling up in my own eyes. I looked at him and saw all the pain and sadness from those thirteen years. I pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around me and we held on, neither of us wanting to let go. At that moment I realized that I loved him. He was my big brother, and I had just met him, but I loved him.
     "Do you really want to go home?" He asked, still not letting go.
     "Our parents would worry if I didn't," I replied.
     "Okay," he said, backing up. "Aclea is about a three day's journey by boat. We'll have to find some way to pass the time."
     "I have an idea," I said.
     "Aye? And what would that be, Princess?" He hadn't called me that in a while. Before, I had hated the nickname, but now, I wasn't so sure.
     "Teach me to use a sword?" It was something my mother would never approve of. My father either. That made it all the more appealing. And now I had someone who could teach me.
     "Alright," Jefferson replied. "But be warned. I am quite good with a sword. I am, after all, a pirate."