Chapter Ten

St. Hallvard's

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I was woken at 7:00 the next morning by Mrs. Ashford, announcing that we were to go to church. We had done this every Sunday since I arrived in Port Royal. Mrs. Ashford and I would go to St. Hallvard's Catholic Church for the hour long mass, our rosaries and bibles in hand (mine were borrowed from her).

Many of the Catholic rituals were unfamiliar and awkward to me. My mother was Jewish, and had raised my sister and me to be ones. Crossing myself after each prayer and receiving communion – a piece of unleavened bread that symbolized the body of the Holy Spirit and wine, which symbolized the blood of the Holy Spirit – still seemed confusing to me. I didn't understand why we had to do these rituals. I did them, anyway, even though Mrs. Ashford had to help me the first few times. She kept her eye on me like a hawk through the mass, almost as if she couldn't believe I had never been in a Catholic environment and she had to make sure I didn't do anything to embarrass her.

The first time I got my rosary was at the bakery, right before I was about to go to St. Hallvard's for the first time. It looked like a necklace to me and was lovely enough to be one, and I wore it as one. Before we were about to leave the bakery, though, Mrs. Ashford saw what I had done and gaped at me, ordering me to take it off and said that I had "dishonored a devotion". I later found out that a rosary was used for praying.

The mass was long and the church was insanely hot. Heat seemed to be the only thing I had experienced in Port Royal: the heat between Mrs. Ashford and me, the heat between Will and myself, and, of course, the unbearable heat of summer.

As I went to sleep Sunday night, I started to dread Monday. I couldn't help but worry that things would be awkward between us. Twenty-four hours had passed since the kiss and he hadn't said anything to me. I understood that Sunday was the day of rest here, but Will lived next to me! I supposed that the only reason he didn't come was because the bakery was closed on Sunday, and he couldn't buy bread.

I would have to wait until tomorrow afternoon to see Will, where we would sit at our table, talking about our daily life over bread, hiding two secrets from Mrs. Ashford and the customers.

My heart began to pound in my chest at 11:30 on Monday morning. I tried so hard not to think of Will, but it was inevitable. I was constantly looking up at the door, trying to figure out when he would come and see me. Just the thought of seeing him the first time after our kiss made my heart pound.

Yet again, I was at a complete blank when I asked myself why I was so infatuated with him. He had never made me feel this way before. I wondered how I could be attracted to someone so deeply who walked the straight and narrow.

It was infatuation. Infatuations happened without explanation. It was love that needed substance, bonding, reason, and trust. That was how I knew I didn't love Will. I couldn't even explain why I was infatuated with him, not to mention the fact that we had nothing behind us except for chit-chat for fifteen minutes a day.

A while later, I heard the door open. Just like all the other times, my heart began to pound. I looked up, half-expecting to see a regular customer, and half-expecting to see Will.

I was so thankful it was the latter.

At the same time, my stomach churned, andI felt sick looking at him. Was my heart really beating that fast?

It wasn't long before I realized that I was having mixed emotions with him. I was angry at him for not giving me a kiss goodnight and just leaving me, but I was so ecstatic to see him at the same time.

Was that even possible?

I stopped taking the fresh loaf of bread out of the pan to look at him. Saturday night came back so quickly – the proper kiss, the way I had never felt when I had kissed someone...

"Good afternoon, Will," I said, keeping my tone as proper as I could.

"Good afternoon, Miss Werden."

I hated him for saying Miss Werden. I had heard him call me Christine for the first time. It felt like he was taking a step away from wanting a relationship, but I knew exactly why he was doing it. Why did he feel like he had to keep our relationship secret? I felt like pulling him into a kiss right now, even with Mrs. Ashford and another customer in the bakery. Did he feel the same way?

I went back to getting the bread out of the pan and cut two slices, putting it on a plate and going to our usual table. I set the plate down and we took our seats.

This is what I imagined for weeks: sitting across from him, knowing that my lips had been on his just two days ago. I knew I should be light-hearted and flirtatious, but Will was back to being the gentleman I had met, not the one who gave me a proper kiss in the bakery.

I looked over to Mrs. Ashford to see if she was still working with her customer. She was, and was currently taking out some bread out of a pan for him.

"Meet me at St. Hallvard's at 9:15," I said softly, locking eyes with him.

He frowned. "Christine," he said softly.

Christine. It sounded so wonderful the way he said it.

"I would love to be with you any way I can, but I don't believe that a church is the most appropriate place," he finished.

I sighed. "Will, I'm not going to make out with you in a church. I just need to talk to you, and a church is the only place that I can think of. The priests and nuns won't have a problem with it, will they? We'll sit in the back, we'll be quiet... Really, the only ones who would be there would be them, and I really don't think that they would judge."

It was the only place I could think of that would satisfy both of us. Will would maintain the secret that he wanted, and I could get my time with him that I wanted.

Will nodded. "St. Hallvard's at 9:15."

When closing time approached at 9:00, customers were still eager to get what was left of the bread at Mrs. Ashford's Bakery. I was in a rush to get out of there, and I knew I looked antsy.

Even at 9:00, the customers were still in the shop. The final ones left at 9:03, and that was with me rushing with their orders. I knew that I would need to hurry to St. Hallvard's if I was going to be there at 9:15. I wished that I could hit myself for not making it 9:30 to have Will and I meet up.

"Christine, start cleaning those pans for me," Mrs. Ashford said.

Shit. I would never make it there in time. There had to have been fifteen pans!

I did as I was told, picking up one of the pans and scrubbing it in a pail of water. The bakery became gradually quieter the longer I scrubbed.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Mrs. Ashford asked. "If I didn't know better, I think you'd promised a boy you'd meet him."

I blanched. Did she know? No, she couldn't! She was busy with a customer when we were talking – quietly – and had been out getting supplies when we kissed!

"I need to pray!" I said, turning around, sopping wet rag in hand.

Mrs. Ashford looked befuddled, and put her hands on her hip.

"I need religion. Bad. I need to pray and confess!"

Mrs. Ashford looked at me blankly. I wondered if she bought my religious excuse.

"Right now," I added, looking her in her blank brown eyes. Her expression (or, lack thereof) was rather frightening.

"Go," she said. "Who am I to stop you from talking to Jesus about your sins?"

Thankful that I could go, I ran into the parlor, up the stairs to my room and grabbed the rosary that was hidden in my clutch in my bedside drawer, then ran back down the stairs to the bakery.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Ashford!" I said.

For the first time in weeks, Mrs. Ashford broke her cold, stony facade and gave a genuine, albeit small, smile.

"You pray your little heart out, Christine."

I smiled, then left the bakery. I gathered the skirts in my hands and ran down the streets of Port Royal, apologizing to those that I nearly ran into.

The rosary was getting hard to hold on to. I slipped it over my head, tucking it inside my dress. I was sure that passerbys thought I was going to some sort of hell for doing that, but I hardly cared.

Five minutes later, I arrived at the church. My lungs burned from the running, and my legs felt wobbly. I walked into the church slowly, partly because of my legs, and partly to catch my breath. As I walked into the church, a nun, all in black, walked past me, eying my rosary that I had around me.

You're so going to hell now, I thought to myself, taking it off and holding it in my hands, going up the aisle.

St. Hallvard's really was a beautiful church. It reminded me of something that I would see in Rome or England, only smaller. Stained glass windows of saints cast a rainbow glow over the altar, due to the setting sun. Grey stone covered the floor and walls, leaving a medium brown wood for the pews.

I saw Will sitting in the third pew to the back. I walked to it, my shoes softly click-clacking on the stones below me. Will turned his head to see if it was me. I gave a small smile and sat next to him, smoothing my dress.

"Thank you for coming," I said.

"It's my pleasure, Christine," Will said softly, looking me in the eye.

I had to look away for a moment – the beating in my chest was too rapid. I looked down at my rosary and fingered the white beads.

"I didn't think you were that religious," Will said, commenting on my rosary.

"I'm not," I said. "Honestly, I don't even know who Saint Hallvard is."

"He defended a woman who was falsely accused of theft and feared for her life. He was killed trying to keep her on board a ship. Saint Hallvard's patronage is for the innocence and virtuous.

I was surprised he knew that. I kept my eyes down at my rosary.

"I just brought this as a cover for Mrs. Ashford," I said. "She thought I was meeting a boy."

I laughed softly and soon realized I was the only one laughing. Will didn't see any humor in it.

"I'm Jewish, actually," I said, regarding the rosary.

I looked up at Will to see that he was somewhat surprised.

"You are?" he asked.

"Mmhmm," I replied. "The first time I saw this rosary, I thought it was a necklace. Mrs. Ashford looked like she was about to kill me. I could swear I was going to hell, with her expression."

Was it bad to say "hell" in church?

There was a short silence.

"My mom was the one behind me being Jewish," I continued. "My dad was Presbyterian. My dad just wanted my mom to be happy, and he wanted my sister and I to be comfortable with whatever sort of god we worshiped. I guess that answers the question of why I mistook a rosary for a necklace," I chuckled.

"Your family," Will said. "You've never told me about them."

"You've never told me about your family, either."

"My mother passed when I was twelve, and I came looking for my father shortly thereafter."

Will began looking for his dad when he was twelve... that must have been when he met Elizabeth. I knew that his father was dead, too, thanks to Barbossa.

"I'm so sorry, Will," I said.

"It's fine, Christine," he dismissed.

There was a pained silence between us. I fingered the rosary beads some more, wondering what to say.

"Tell me about your family," he said. "You already know about mine."

I sighed. "I have an older sister, Irene. She's twenty-years-old and looks exactly like me... just aged four years."

I wondered what else to give away. Would saying that she was tan from playing tennis on the University of Michigan's tennis team be too confusing?

"There's nothing to say about my parents, really. Their names are Alexis and Brandon. They're just... parents."

This was the first time since I arrived in Port Royal that I talked about my family. A lump began to form in my throat, but I tried my hardest to push it aside.

"May I ask why they aren't here?" Will asked.

I froze at that answer, just like I used to freeze when the question of where I was from came up. I said nothing.

"Christine, I remember Mrs. Ashford saying something about you being found in the water... were they killed by pirates?"

I couldn't say anything. The very thought of my family made me want to start crying.

"I don't want to talk about this," I said.

I wanted so badly to cry on Will's shoulder, saying how much I missed them and that I wanted to go back home. I almost told him that I wasn't from the time period. I needed so badly to get it off my chest, just like he had told me everything about the pirate attack. I knew that my secret was much more dangerous. Even if a nun heard what I had to say, I would be locked up in an insane asylum!

I trusted Will, but I knew that he wasn't ready for my secret. I would tell him when I knew he was ready.

Will pulled me into a hug, which I couldn't refuse. I placed my hand on his chest, closing my eyes, keeping the tears back with everything that I had.

I felt Will kiss my forehead, and I felt even more guilty. I wasn't telling him everything, and it was beginning to eat at me. He would want to know.

I hated how vulnerable I became around him.

With Will walking me back to the bakery, I was back at 10:15. I loved being with him, our time in St. Hallvard's, and the walk home. It managed to distract me from slipping out the truth about me and kept me talking about my life in the bakery and Will's life in the blacksmith's shop.

Will gave me a kiss goodnight, which left me smiling as I let myself into the dark bakery and up to my room. The night had been better than I planned, but I supposed that by now, I should be used to Will making me happy just by being with him.

I shut the door to my room and walked over to the edge of my bed and took my shoes off, putting them by my bed. I opened the drawer to my nightstand to find my clutch to put my rosary in. To my horror, it was gone.

My life from the twenty-first century had been in that bag. I couldn't afford to lose it!

In a frantic search for my clutch, I looked under my bed, then in the drawers at my vanity. Blood drained from my face when I realized I couldn't find it.

I knew that Mrs. Ashford had it. She had the clutch that had my passport and drivers license. Those things had my date of birth and location. She would soon know that I wasn't on a ship that was attacked coming here.

Tomorrow she would be questioning me. I could imagine her waking me up tomorrow as usual, only demanding an explanation for my passport.

I cringed at the very thought.

Mrs. Ashford knew.

"Shit," I said, my voice tight.