Wow, never did I ever think it would be possible to make people mad at Captain Jack Sparrow. Smiles Glad I could be one of the first to do so. Haha, I honestly didn't expect that big of a reaction toward it. I'm still laughing over it! I'm glad you guys liked the chapter despite my negativities toward it, and thank you for those of you who reviewed! I have gotten over one hundred reviews and I can't thank all of you enough. One of my friend's and I have a bet going that I can get more reviews than she has, and at this rate, I know I'll beat her! Haha, I'm good, but you guys are even better. Without you this story would be nowhere!
((BTW, does anyone know whatever happened to Toucan Crazy, Like A Sparrow?? Haven't heard from her in forever… hm.))
Secrets of the CaribbeanWritten By: Riley Barton
[Chapter Nineteen]
Scarlett brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as the cool ocean breeze tugged at her long, loose hair and yanked it every which way. She sighed in annoyance, wishing she had a ribbon or something to pull her hair back with. As it was, she had left anything of that means in her room back in the mansion.
She had left for a walk around an hour ago, leaving Carver in the careful hands of Aubrianna. Elizabeth and Will had left with Jack a few minutes before she did, the young couple promising to return with their things. Jack had reported that he would return in the morning after giving out orders to his crew and 'other important things', which she knew meant get drunk on rum and have fun with the whore that caught his eye. She knew both the old Jack and this new persona of his well enough to be able to read between the lines.
In the sky above the half-moon shone brightly, its reflection glittering and wavering on the ever-moving blue ocean below. Scarlett stepped lightly into the small waves lapping onto the beach, shivering as the cold salty water washed over her toes and around her ankles. The ocean spray clung to her tan coloured pants that had been rolled up to her knees, and slimy green seaweed wound their way around her ankles. She smiled, remembering back to when she used to spend most of her nights sitting on the beach, relishing in the soothing lapping of the ocean waves on the wet, sandy beach and of the sea gulls squawking in the dark sky above. The beach had been her home, filling the small empty place her drunken father had left behind.
Scarlett turned and walked further up the beach to the dry areas of sand. She sat down and pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She closed her eyes, imagining that all her worries, anger, and heartache had gone away, roughly tossed into the ocean never to be seen again. But the moment she opened her eyes again, she knew that could not be. They were still there, and she was still being forced to face her past head-on with no back up. Her eyes caught on the tattoo branded into her right arm just above her wrist. Her breath caught. It was the letter P, the brand of a pirate. She may be able to hide that fact mentally and verbally by refusing the knowledge that she had, indeed, been a rogue of the sea -a pirate- but that one tattoo was proof of her lies. She had always been careful to hide it when she was around Carver, adamant that he would never find out the truth.
Damn you, Jack, she thought, angry tears forming in the corner of her eyes. Damn you to Hell.
Scarlett stumbled to her feet, sliding in the shifting sand, and ran for the mansion above the rocky cliff. She clambered up the man-made pathway carved into the rock to the grassy hill above. She sighed in relief as the mansion came into view, and she slowed her pace. She quietly walked across the grass and cobblestone path to the front door, listening for the sound of anyone inside, for the sound of a child. Hearing none, she frowned and opened one of the front doors. She was well aware of the fact that she was leaving sandy footprints in the marble hallway, but that had never bothered anyone before. She closed the door, wiped the sand from her bare feet as best she could, and ascended the staircase to the second floor.
As she reached the landing, she could hear the gentle voice of Aubrianna as she sang one of the many lullabies she had learned as a child. Scarlett found Aubrianna sitting in Carver's bedroom, gently rocking back and forth in the wooden rocking chair. Carver lay sleeping on his bed, his mouth hanging slightly open. She smiled despite her tormented thoughts.
Aubrianna echoed Scarlett's smile when she noticed the woman was standing in the room. "Have a nice walk?" she whispered so as not to wake Carver.
Scarlett shrugged, kneeling down beside the bed. She brushed her son's dark brown hair aside, brushing his cheek in a motherly gesture. Carver yawned, cracked open his dark brown eyes for a brief moment, and closed them again, lapsing into a deep sleep. Scarlett hid the shiver that had gone up her spine as she had glimpsed her son's dark eyes. She kissed his forehead and turned away, mentally placing her back to the memories that wanted to overrun her.
"Why don't you go to sleep, dear," Aubrianna suggested as she came up behind Scarlett. She placed a comforting hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "It's been a trying day and you need your sleep. We can confront our troubles in the morning when things are clearer."
Scarlett reached up to rub her forehead, shaking her head. "What am I going to do, Aubri?" she whispered, letting herself be led out of her son's bedroom and into the corridor. "I've tried to keep my past history from him but Jack's come and ruined everything. For just this one time I wish he could have been his old self and-"
"Hush, child." Aubrianna caught Scarlett's gaze in her own. "Wishing for the past will not help the present or future. We both know that."
"I still can't help wishing," Scarlett replied. "Things would be so different if he hadn't become such a pure-blooded pirate, drinking every second of the day and getting himself screwed in every situation imaginable." She sighed and shook her head, looking down the corridor. "I'm going to bed, Aubri. I'll see you in the morning."
"Good night, Scarlett," Aubrianna said. "Your two friends are sleeping just across the hall from you. I'll be going to sleep in just a moment. Sweet dreams."
"Sweat dreams," Scarlett echoed, and waited until the older woman disappeared down the staircase.
Aubrianna gently lowered her weary body into one of the two overstuffed chairs by the glowing fireplace, letting the warmth calm her into a peaceful mood. Today had been wearying and troubling. She had dreamt of the day her son would return home to visit, but never had she wanted it to be in this manner. Everything had gone so wrong, and now Scarlett had been severely burnt and Carver's young life had taken a turn for what he considered the best, whereas Scarlett deemed it to be the worst. She knew her adopted daughter's reasoning for not telling Jack about their son, and she accepted it without a single doubt in her mind. She could see where the younger woman was coming from and she couldn't contradict her for it.
She found herself thinking of her deceased husband, Carver, whom Scarlett's son had been named after. Her husband had died a year after their grandson had been born, and his last words had been a request to see his small grandchild's face. Scarlett had brought her son forward and placed him in the dying man's arms with a sad, tender smile. He had died shortly after, perfectly content as he held the baby boy in his arms. With tears in her eyes Scarlett had taken the baby Carver away, holding him close as the physician rushed forward to the bed.
That day had been carved into Aubrianna's mind, as was the funeral. She had written a letter to her only son Jack, letting him know that his father had died happily. Scarlett had promised she would make certain the letter got to him. Whether it had neither of them ever found out, but what they did know was that the infamous pirate captain had not been at the funeral.
Aubrianna's eyes flew open as she heard the sound of a heavy knock on the front doors, followed shortly after by the creaking of the door opening and heavy, booted footsteps on the marble flooring. She gasped, getting to her small feet and turning around. A shadowed figure stepped into view through the archway leading into the parlour where Aubrianna stood. The faint chinking of beads bumping against each other could be heard, and she found herself sighing in relief. "Jack, is that you?" she called softly.
The man spun around in a drunken way. "Aye," came a slurred reply. He swaggered into the room, his boots leaving distinct muddy footprints on the floor. He drew nearer, and Aubrianna almost choked on the smell of alcohol. She placed a hand to her forehead and dropped back into her chair.
"Take a seat, son," she said, waving a hand in the direction of the seat beside her own. "We need to talk."
Jack hesitated, his dark eyes scanning the room cautiously, before letting himself flop ungracefully into the chair. He let his arms hang over the arms of the chair and his legs kicked out in front of him.
Aubrianna bit back a retort of disapproval at his posture, but quickly reminded herself that bringing up past etiquette would only make matters worse. She cleared her throat feebly and looked into her son's eyes. She felt sad at the mixed emotions she found there. "I thought you weren't to return until the morning," she said.
Jack shrugged. "So I came back b'fore that." His eyes narrowed. "Is it a problem?"
"No, I was just wondering." She looked into the flames, trying to find the right words to say, to make him understand the circumstances. He beat her to it.
"So ye've known I've 'ad a son all these years," he said, "yet ye never thought t' tell me?"
His mother sighed. "Jack, you must understand where Scarlett is coming from."
"'Fraid I don't see where she's comin' from, hidin' such a large piece of information from me." He leaned forward, gently swaying. "She should'a told me."
"I think we should start at the beginning," she said in a resigned voice. "Jack, do you know why she strongly dislikes you?"
Jack gave her a dumb look. "She hates me fer dumpin' her and leavin' her b'hind. Why else?"
"That was a main reason, but also because, as she puts it, you turned your back on her." It was easy to see that saying this was not easy for the old woman. "Sometime before you left her behind she says you began to ignore her, leave her out of certain things. She said she couldn't depend on you anymore." She paused. "She was planning on telling you about your son that same night that you left her. You can imagine how she felt to be betrayed by you, her best friend."
Jack frowned. "Stop tryin' t' guilt-trip me int' this."
"I'm trying to help you understand." She took a calming breath. "After you left her she did not know where to go or where to turn. She was afraid for her life and the baby she was carrying; she thought her child had died in the fall. She somehow managed to find a kind fisherman who promised to bring her here where your father and I could care for her. She's been with us ever since, and I must say that she has held a deep resentment to you since then. I think the fact that you didn't kill her son softened the hurt a bit, but not by much."
"That still doesn't explain why she didn't tell me th' moment we met again."
Aubrianna looked into her son's eyes, searching for a sign that he felt guilty for what he had done. She didn't. "She didn't tell you for fear of you trying to take him away from her," she finally answered. "She didn't want Carver to be like you, to live the same life she had had under the watchful eye of a…" Aubrianna hesitated. "Of a drunken father," she finished lamely.
Jack's eyes widened. A drunken father? What the hell, he thought. I'm not close to being as dangerous as her father was. How can she be comparing me to him! "Did she say that?" he asked. He shook his head. "I'm not a drunk." His slurred voice was going against him.
"But you are, Jack. You may not be a violent drunk like her father was, but you are a drunk all the same. You have liquor on your breath at this very moment, boy. You can't say that you are not, and that does not go to show that you may not become violent. Scarlett's father had been a good man once, but when he got too submerged in his drink he became the man you knew him to be. She is afraid you will turn out the same way, and she doesn't want her son to live in fear for his life."
Jack stumbled to his feet, shaking his head. "I'm not hearin' this." He turned and swaggered out of the parlour and up the stairs. He was not going to sit there and listen to his mother blame him like she was. He was not half the drunk Scarlett's father had been, and how dare she even suggest that he was! He paused at the top of the landing to catch his breath, and he halted, the smell of alcohol hovering in the air around him. Could what his mother had said be true? Was he sometimes drunk enough to harm someone?
"No," he growled angrily, and started down the corridor again, swaying every which way in an even worse fashion than normal. He came to the door that had once been his bedroom and stepped inside. He froze in the doorway, the sound of his heavy breathing drowning out the even tone of the small boy's breathing in the bed beyond. His old bedroom had become Carver's. He turned to leave, feeling as if he was being suffocated, but he stopped, an image forming in his mind of what could be.
He was walking along the beach in his usual, swaggering gait, and Scarlett stood to his left with a tear in her eye and a frown on her face. He jerked to a stop and looked over his shoulder to see what she was staring at. He felt as if the air had been knocked out of him when he saw Carver walking along behind him, walking in the exact same manner that he normally did. The small boy was swaying side to side with each step he took. He looked up at Jack and smiled. "I'm gonna be just like you," the boy said.
Jack jerked, stumbling into the corridor. He caught his breath, roughly shaking the mental image aside. He looked over his shoulder, thankful to find that the boy was asleep in his bed.
Walk a little straighter, Daddy
You're swaying side to side
Your footsteps make me dizzy
And no matter how I try
I keep trippin' and stumblin'
If you'd look down here you'd see
Walk a little straighter, Daddy
You're leading me.
Author's Note: If any of you listen to country, you might realize that the last part of this chapter is similar to the song called 'Walk A Little Straighter', which is where I got the name for this chapter. The song was just so much like my story that I had to put them together. Anyway, for Louis Reade, I tried to do what you had asked for and I told some of this chapter from Jack's point of view. At least now I am listening to what you guys say!! Read and review guys, and I'll be forever grateful! I would love your feedback for this chapter!