Part XIII

The following morning, I write Will a very prettily worded note requesting he join me by the jetty at tea time. The stable boy is more than happy to deliver it for a tuppence and I am left to wait. When we were children, we used to skitter all about on the rocks of the jetty. I never once fell, though Will had the misfortune of ending up in the water on several occasions.

"I only wish a walk alone, Celeste," I lie as the time to leave nears, trying to work the knots out of my bonnet strings. "Papa is not here for tea, so why should I stay in alone? It's horribly dull. At least during a walk I can observe all sorts of people. It's quite exciting. Much more so than being cooped up indoors."

"It's not right, miss," Celeste protests. "You should have a chaperon."

"Don't fret, Celeste," I say. "I shall stay quite out in the open."

She opens her mouth to voice yet another protestation before thinking better of it. "Do you need me to assist in any way, miss?"

"Do not tell Papa if he asks where I've gone," I say, glancing at my reflection in my mirror as I tie my bonnet in place. I had selected another simple day dress – butter yellow in color -- for ease of movement and in the hopes that Will really did prefer simple fashion over more formal.

"Where are you really going, miss?"

"None of your concern," I say. "If I wanted you to know, I would tell you." I turn, hands behind my back. "Do this for me, Celeste, and I shall reward you handsomely. I promise. If you wish time off, I shall give you time off. If you wish a raise in wage, I shall speak to Papa on your behalf."

She considers my words before nodding slowly. "If your father asks after you, I shall say you are sick in bed with the headache."

"Perfect!" I beam, collecting my reticule and the small basket with sandwiches and jug of lemonade that I asked Cook to prepare. "I suppose I do not say so enough but, thank you, Celeste."

She blinks, shocked. "You're welcome, miss."

Will is waiting when I arrive. He is sitting on the shore facing the water, his hat, jacket, shoes, stockings and garters stacked in a neat pile beside him. His hair blows in the sea breeze and I remember quite unexpectedly what it feels like to tangle my fingers up in that dark hair. My stomach does a queer little flip-flop at the memory. Will turns, as if sensing my presence. He stands, coming to relieve me of the picnic basket, slipping his other hand into mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I left as soon as Brown fell asleep," he says, leading me to the spot next to his belongings. "I worried I may be late."

"Celeste was behaving like an Inquisitor," I reply. "It was horrid. I thought I'd never be free."

Following Will's lead I remove my hat, shoes, stockings, and garters, digging my toes into the warm sand. He laughs, rummaging through the basket for refreshments.

"I knew Cook would not forsake us."

"She mixes the best lemonade in all of Port Royale."

We eat in silence like strangers, an uncommon sense of awkwardness falling over us. I feel it at least. I cannot speak for Will.

"Elizabeth," Will begins once the picnic lunch is finished. He reaches for my hand again, expression very earnest. "We can play Pirates if you wish. Or Bandits. All your old favorites. I promise I shan't complain."

"I. . .I came intending to play our new game," I say. "But now I'm. . .now I'm afraid." I squint my eyes, studying him in silence. "I don't know why I feel so, Will. I know I have nothing to fear with you nearby."

"It is the unknown," he says, touching my cheek lightly with the back of his hand. "There is always something to fear in that."

"How very sensible," I say, crawling the short distance between us and arranging myself so I sit in front of Will, my back pressing against his chest. After a moment's hesitation, he wraps his arms low and loose around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder. I cover his hands with mine, content to watch the waves roll in. "I am glad we can have quiet moments such as these," I say. "It makes me appreciate you all the more."

"I am glad I do not have to play Pirates," he replies. "It makes me appreciate you all the more."

" For that remark, Will Turner, I shall think up a truly vile game!" I promise. "One you shall beg on hands and knees never to play again!"

I turn, somehow managing to tangle myself up in his arms and legs and toppling us both over backwards into the sand. I land heavily on Will's chest, knocking the breath from him.

"Oh, goodness, Will, I am so very sorry. Are you hurt?"

"I shall be. . .shall be fine," he wheezes. "Perhaps you shouldn't have eaten that third sandwich, Elizabeth."

I smack his chest, struggling to pull free from his grip. "Release me!"

Instead, Will pulls me closer till all parts of our bodies that can touch do. "I have a game to play."

"Since when do you invent games?"

"Since now."

"What do you call it?" I ask curiously.

"Picking Up Where We Left Off."