Emma leaned in to whisper in Killian's ear something well below my abilities. Whatever she had said to him had created a mixture of emotions that had crossed his face. At first, his eyes had stared a hole into the deck and his lips slackened. A clear indicator that anything she was about to share might cause Killian a degree of pain. He looked up after taking Emma's hand and kissed her lips in a soft affectionate way, instead of the way that must have been normal for them. I saw them both mouth "I love You" before turning their attention back to me.

"Write it the way I tell you. I know you're going to have questions. I'll answer them later." Emma's tone wavered between stern to motherly in just three sentences.

Nobody I have ever known would say such a thing if the explanation they were about to give was simple.

Complicated as usual.

"I was born in Bath, Maine on April 21, 1983. At the time, nobody had known who my parents were so no name is listed. Your father's father was born May 10, 1982. Your grandfather's name was Neal Cassidy. I gave birth to Henry in Tallahassee Florida on June 25, 2001. I had been young, alone, and in jail at the time. That is the straight-forward easy stuff to explain." Emma seemed to warn me.

Here came the confusing, mind boggling information that would test the power of poker face.

"My father is David Nolan, born in 1963 in Bath, ME, just like me. My mother is Mary Margaret Blanchard, born in Pine Hill, VT in 1964. He married her where the two states intersected, on a quirk. Your father's grandfather was Mr. Robert Gold, born 1950 in Scotland and immigrated here somewhere in the early 1960's with his wife Mila McGaren. Mila divorced him not long after Neal was born." Emma seemed to make up the imaginary details as she went along.

Killian seemed to wince when Mila had been mentioned.

"We can't leave out Killian or your Grandma Regina. Neither are blood family, but they have a part in your family tree. Killian was born Killian William Jones in Drogheda, Ireland in February 14, 1978. He served in Her Royal Majesty's Navy until he had to be discharged after losing his left hand in a freak training accident ten years ago. Grandma Regina Coraline Mills was born September 13, 1977 in Magic Springs, NY. She's been the mayor of Emerick, ME for over 20 years." Emma struggled more with Killian's and Regina's than she had with the first batch.

I read back all she had told me in the same tone that I would have to face my class with. I detested what I had been forced to do. I had been raised to tell the truth, even if it meant further trouble for me.

Emma took the paper from my hands and put them on the deck, my pencil rolled to a stop against the side of the open port the cabin.

"It's going to be hard. You're not looking forward to lying to the honesty police". Emma's mouth formed a smile-straight combination. "Sometimes a lie is required to protect those you love and care about. I've had to do it a time or two myself. I didn't enjoy it, by any stretch of the word. I did what I had to do."

The warming of Emma's hands on top of mind brought partial peace to my conflicted mind.

She'd been right.

I hadn't wanted to break my teacher's cardinal rule while in his classroom. He'd broken every student that had tried to pass off some quarter-baked excuse for missing homework or being late for class. I had a bad feeling that he'd break me before I even put my shoe into the classroom.

Maybe, in the back of my mind, I had been trying to protect my family more than my grade.

"Too bad that I won't have anything to back up this story. I wish I had proof to keep the questions down." I looked over to her.

Emma patted my hand.

"Tell the story, word-for-word, the way I told you. He'll believe you, without a second thought. I'm a human lie detector. That makes me an expert of producing credibility. Just trust me, kid." Emma reassured me.

I considered Emma's evaluation and apparent expertise, counting each of the facts on my fingers.

"Would you mind coming to my class for the presentation? They might not believe the lost hand story if they didn't see it for themselves." I cheered up.

Killian rose to his feet and disappeared down the wooden ladder into the darkened cabin below.

"Is he okay, Emma?" I looked into the dark entrance of the cabin.

A light switched on, revealing the grains of the wood on the cabin floor's deck.

The fluidity of a liquid falling into a glass blended with heavy foot falls on aged wood.

"He's fine." Emma looked down into the lit cabin.

He returned to us with three glasses of, from what I could detect, tea. Emma would have sent it away if it hadn't been.

"It's only sweet tea." Killian handed me a cool, sweating glass. "I gave up rum after Hope was born. I prefer to be sober when I'm around Hope. Becoming a father changes a man."

Emma accepted hers with a short, tender kiss.

Killian turned the conversation back to the proposal I'd thought he hadn't heard.

"I was once an officer in Her Majesty's Navy with my brother until he died. It isn't too much of a stretch." Killian took his seat next to Emma. "I became a pirate, or should I say a privateer, after my brother's last voyage."

"If he's in, I'm in." Emma slapped him on the back. "I don't' even have to act."

I had expected his eyes to darken at her gloating over his misfortune.

"That's where you're wrong, love." Killian countered, a smirk of satisfaction on his face. "You will be ACTING because you have extraordinary parents and an unbelievably handsome husband."

Killian kissed her hand.

Dad walked up the wooden plank brow with a greasy bag in hand.

"Granny sent these back for you." Dad handed the bag to Emma.

Steam rolled out of the bag. The aroma of onion rings, fresh from the deep fryer, escaped into the open air. Intermingled with it was Granny's famous grilled cheese.

The smile on Emma's face told me that I'd found something to use as leverage if I ever needed it.

"Granny figured you two had been …busy…while you were away from the house. She misses Hope and asked me to tell you to come back for breakfast in the morning." Dad's eyes never fell on Emma and Killian when he'd uttered the first sentence.

I would've done the same. Some thoughts are best left without recollection. I'm sure that dad hadn't wanted to envision the things that go on when Emma and Killian were alone.

"Thank you. We've been… preoccupied." Emma squeezed Killian's hand.

Time to go!

I wanted to say it but I could only think it. I respected them and my dad.

I sought an instant exit out of fear that it would escape my mouth.

"We need to get back to the house, Lucy." Dad saved me.

There was something about the way he'd said it that had raised suspicion as to the occasion.

"Your mom made your favorite. I'd like to enjoy it while it's still hot." Dad stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Curse or blessing?

Which of those awaited me?

Scratch that.

The word "curse" isn't a laughing matter for my family after surviving one myself.

Dread or excitement?

That's much better.

Out of my peripherals I watched Emma and Killian disappear back into the cabin, apparently laughing like to teenagers off to an underground hideaway.

The unwelcome scene popped back into my head, which I abruptly kicked out of my thoughts. I had to sleep.

"I know what you're thinking Lucy. Not something I care to imagine, either." Dad started the bug.