Life has a way of working around the best strategies, especially if there's unfinished business to contend with Unexpected.
The word that sums up how everything worked out where the "Herd" was concerned and the friendship I'd end up in.
Yes, not what I had expected as an outcome.
At first, I'd changed my routines for getting to class. Lunch took place in the court yard rather than in the overcrowded lunch room. Dad had been the first in line to pick me up five days straight. My active tactics to avoid 'Him" had been about as subtle as a category 5 hurricane in all it inglorious splendor.
Life will force you to deal with unfinished business, whether we want to or not.
The scent of the salt water floating on the breeze and the glimpse of the Jolly Rogers rolled up sails lured me from the refuge of my room.
Avoidance had come with the undeniable need to decompress.
Apparently, I hadn't been the only one who had answered the call of the beckoning breeze. Every shop's opened windows breathed in nature's offering. The light wind's invisible fingers toyed with the fabrics of splayed open curtains.
My hair fluttered in the breeze. The sunlight brought the red tint out in my bangs.
I had anticipated a mind-opening, relief-bringing conversation to help me better cope with the coming school week.
Killian's Irish lilt and a strong English accent captured my attention as I squeezed the hand break of my ten-speed.
So much for a one-on-one conversation.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when had caught a glimpse of the other man.
The same man that had been with "him" at Granny's.
Anybody but him!
Killian looked up had glanced up at me and smiled that irresistible smile.
No turning back now.
Killian's face shined as he leaned into another conversation. The way his hook gestured my direction implied that it had been about me in some way.
I put the kickstand down, chained my bike to the light post, and journeyed down the pier. I scanned the environment before me in search of any sign of the one person I had gone to great pains to not see.
Killian opened his arms and pulled me into a warm, temporarily-comforting hug.
"Lucy, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Killian turned his attention to me.
"It's too nice a day to spend in my room." I lied.
"That it is, love." Killian side hugged me.
The man looked at me, an odd smile on his face.
"You must be the young lady my son has been talking about." His eyes moved from me to the Jolly Roger.
Horrified.
Flattered.
Surprised.
All applied simultaneously.
"Lucy, this is James Hawkins, an old mate of mine from my pirate days." Killian cut in.
Killian turned to Mr. Hawkins.
"James, this is my lovely granddaughter Lucy Mills."
Mr. Hawkins' two finger whistle assailed my ears as it passed by me.
Footsteps followed the apparent signal.
I either blanched or I blushed when the identity of those footsteps materialized before me.
"Killian, this is my son Ian." Mr. Hawkins draped his arm around his son's shoulders.
Ian tried to turn around to go back aboard the Jolly Roger, to no avail.
"Son, tell him your real name." Mr. Hawkins pulled him closer to his side.
"Killian James Hawkins. May I please get back to work, dad?" Ian pleaded.
Killian's eye brow raised, an obvious gesture of pleasant surprise.
"Go on, my boy." Mr. Hawkins released his son.
"You named him after me." Killian turned his head away, redder than a bad sunburn.
"You saved my life. I was never able to return the favor, so I figured naming my son after you would be the next best thing to do. He prefers Ian, tells me that Killian makes him sound old." Mr. Hawkins gloated.
It had been my turn to save Ian this time.
Killian dismissed me with a gentle nod and understanding expression on his face.
I found Ian, paint brush gliding along the inside of the rails, focusing on the job at hand.
I'd wanted to say "Missed a spot" but that might not come out so well for the Jolly Roger or for Ian.
"I love my dad but that was embarrassing." Ian acknowledged my presence without looking back at me.
"I think you describe every dad. My dad does it to me too." I found the nearest place to sit.
He put the lid back on the paint and rested the brush on the lid.
He found a place next to me, unsure of what to say.
I wasn't sure myself.
"I apologize for being such a jerk last week. My dad raised me better than that." Ian broke the indecisive silence.
"Not forgiven" screamed in my head.
"You made up for it." I shoved my natural response aside.
Instead of a pompous jerk, I found myself talking to someone as storybrooke-normal as me.
"Do your buddies know about who your dad is?" I turned my head far enough to catch only glimpse of his face.
I knew the answer before he'd said it.
"No. My coach would think I had a concussion and my teammates would have made my life miserable. I just tell them that he's a contractor that works on boats. You know, something normal, lame." He studied a paint splotch on his coveralls.
"Now you know how I felt when Emma and Killian came to the school for the family history project. Emma, my grandmother, is smart. Everything you heard in my presentation was all her." I finally turned my head to get a better view of him.
His light blue eyes only enhanced the darkness of the dark brown stubble on his head. Unlike some of the jocks at the school, he still had all his teeth. At least three members of the football team had lost one of their front teeth for various reasons. A slight five o'clock shadow had darkened his square jaw.
"Dad doesn't know this, but I'd always thought my dad made up the story about Killian Jones saving his life." Ian turned his gaze to Killian.
"Would you believe me if I told you that there's two of him? Killian, my grandfather, talking to your dad on the pier, of course. The other lives in Hyperion Heights as a detective for the police department there."
Ian's confused expression transformed into one of understanding.
"I believe that. Ever since we moved here, I'm learning nothing is impossible."
He sat back up, a low chuckle escaped his lips.
"Let's hope that dad never has to see them in the same place. He might get confused."
I had to laugh at the image myself. I have been told that it had confused Emma, up on meeting him in the wish realm.
"What's it like to be the granddaughter of two of the most respected women in town?" Ian turned the conversation back to me.
Nobody had ever asked me that, not even my parents.
"You're the first to ask."
Ian just watched the waves roll in, not pushing for a response.
The invisible pressure stepped out of the shadows along with the pride.
"Come to think of it, terrifying, at times. Something I can be proud of, others. I hadn't considered it until now."
I wondered about him.
"How about you? What's it like to be the son of a famed cabin boy and the friend of your namesake?"
It had been his turn to look my way and for me to turn away.
"My father expects me to take over the family business. I don't want to. He says if he has salt water in his veins, so should I. As for being named after the infamous, yet celebrated Killian Jones, I share your same feelings. It comes with lots of impossible expectations but I'm proud of it now that I've met him."
The one question that had been bothering me all week had retreated and then returned to the forefront of my thoughts.
"I haven't seen the…football team lately."
Ian frowned at first and then looked up at me.
"The freshman who dented the locker ended up with a concussion. He didn't return to the frosh team for the rest of the season. Coach dropped a surprise drug test, which a number of the varsity apparently failed, and sent everyone else to third string."
Ah, the sweet sound of justice at its swiftest best.
"The seniors rode the second-string bus to the state playoff games and the second stringers got to start. We lost state but we won our conference. I know this because I've been the backup kicker for a long time. We might have lost state but I have never seen a more thrilled coach."
The way he smiled up at me grabbed my attention and refused to let go.
"I'm glad."
The guilt of instant judgment nagged at me, in that moment. I'd thought him to be exact replica of the "Herd's" oldest members.
Emma had been right, AS USUAL. Ian had been a normal guy that had been seeking shelter within a group, wrong or right. I couldn't blame him.
"Can I make a confession? You'll never have to talk to me again if you don't like what I am about to say."
He stood up, casting an ominous shadow over me.
"I guess."
I fixed my eyes on anything but his.
"I misjudged you that day. I marked you off as one of those immature jerks that found it funny. If you'd been any kind of decent, you would've come back for the poor guy who flew into my locker."
Ian nodded his head, threaded his fingers together behind his neck.
"I'd have thought the same thing, if I had been in your place. I wanted to at the time, but I hadn't want to deal with the ribbing I'd get later."
Killian's prediction had been dead-on.
Ian dropped his arms to his side like two anchors.
"I have a secret of my own."
A guilty, sad grin darkened his eyes.
I might be able to hold my own in the weight room, but I'm not as strong as you when it comes to being who I am. I've been faking it for a long time. It gets tiring."
AGAIN, Emma!
"The guys kept trying to fix me up with cheerleaders that were either shallow, mindless robots or ones that had questionable attachments to the team. I'm not into that kind of thing. I don't see what they see in any of them, if you want my opinion."
Emma the Wise.
He helped me to my feet.
"Let's start over again."
It made sense to me. Emma had always been one to tell me to give others a second chance.
"I'm Ian."
Killian had been watching the scene from the pier.
"I'm Lucy."
Both of us had our hand shoved into our pockets.
"It's almost lunchtime. Would you like to get a burger with me?"
A date?
"It isn't a date or anything. Maybe we can be friends, you know?"
My loud roar of my empty stomach provided the answer.
"I'd like that."
I can tell you that the "Herd" never again terrorized the school. Rumor had it that the seniors with the hopes of full ride scholarships lost them because of a near lawsuit. The mother of the freshman had settled for an strict, punitive punishment with the star players that had cost them their NCAA dreams. Ian told me that they had transferred for that reason.
As for Ian and I, he's been the shadow I've been able to count on.
In the words of Killian, we've made each other better.