-Little Miracles-

Disclaimer: It isn't mine. Never has been, never will be, unless I get filthy, stinking rich, and I doubt very much that that will happen

Chapter 11

The rain that had been falling when he woke up early that morning had finally stopped half an hour ago. The sky was clearing quickly and the sun and returning heat were already beginning to dry things out again. The streets were very muddy and James was glad for the horse Cecil had hired for him that morning. He wished, however—and not for the first time—that his father had had more sense than to buy a house sight unseen.

Many times he wished he hadn't moved into the house in the first place.

The property had no stables of its own.

He still didn't know what had possessed him to agree when that letter asking him to take care of the house had arrived. Perhaps it was the tiny hope that Charles Norrington I had changed in the fifteen years since he had last spoken with him in an actual conversation. That puzzled James as well. His parents had always had very little to do with him, yet they had asked him to look after their house.

Perhaps they thought it merely a matter of convenience.

It certainly wouldn't surprise him to find that convenience was the only reason behind contacting him. In fact, what truly surprised him was that they had remembered he existed at all and that he was in the Caribbean. Only his grandparents, Geoffrey and Henrietta Emerson, had ever really noticed him, and to this day, James wondered when his parents had finally noticed that his grandfather had moved him into his own house just before his fifth birthday.

He had visited his parents in London on occasion, but his favorite part of those trips had been the return trip to Portsmouth. Those visits proved worthwhile in some respects, however. He learned that his parents didn't change, and would probably always care only for themselves above all else. He also learned the difference between a well structured, disciplined home and one that had none at all.

Pulling the rented mare to a stop, he dismounted and tied the reins to the small hitching ring near the end of the front walk. He looked around, but Lily was nowhere in sight. Puzzled, he entered the house as Cecil came out to return the horse for him. Jacob greeted him in the foyer. "She's playing out by the backdoor," he said. "She's been quite absorbed in whatever it is she's doing."

James smiled. To his knowledge, this was the first time Lily had gone to play outside by herself. "She is? Does she appear to be enjoying herself?"

"That would be an understatement, I think. I was getting ready to go out and get her, though, so she could have a bath in time for her hair get good and dry before your guests arrive for dinner."

"I'll take care of that for you, if you like," James answered, moving passed Jacob.

The cook grabbed his arm and swung him back around toward the stairs, much to James' confusion. "Aye, you can do that, but I suggest you get some old clothes on before you do. And leave that wig upstairs."

James stopped. "Why? What is she doing?"

Jacob pushed him toward the stairs again. "Just do as you're told and go change. You'll see why when you come back down."

James hurried upstairs, though he paused halfway up and shot a puzzled look back down at his longtime friend. Shaking his head, he continued to his room. He shed his uniform quickly, setting his wig aside on its stand and pulled out his older clothes. As he dressed, he continued to try and puzzle it out. His heart rejoiced, knowing Lily felt secure enough to play outside without someone watching over her. He just couldn't think of a reason why Jacob pressed such precautions on him simply to call a child indoors.

Perhaps he was thinking about how wet his clothes might get while giving her her bath.

He pulled his stockings off in order to put an older set of those on as well. He wasn't certain she needed a bath, exactly. After all, how dirty could she get in such a short amount of time? She could only have been outside no more than twenty minutes as it had been raining… His eyes widened. Raining all day! He didn't even bother to try and hold back the laughter that rose and erupted. What a portrait she must make!

Thoroughly amused, he all but ran down the stairs and swinging himself around the banister post at the bottom. In his haste to see for himself, he forgot about stockings, shoes, and even a vest or wig. He was quickly halted, however, by Jacob, who was standing directly in his path with a laughing twinkle in his old hazel eyes. "She didn't," James said, though he knew she had.

"Oh, she did and she is."

"Show me."

Jacob turned and led him through the house. The stone tiles were pleasantly cool and refreshing on his feet. He then realized his current state of dress—or lack thereof—and resolved to be better dressed by the time his guests arrived for dinner. "Here we are," Jacob said, interrupting his thoughts as they came to a stop just beyond the back threshold.

Presented with the sight before him, James couldn't help but laugh all over again.

Lily was covered nearly head to toe in mud.

She looked up and her face lit up radiantly as she gave them both a big, toothy smile. "James!" She shot forward. Seconds later, his legs were covered in mud as well. She grabbed his hand and ran back. "Come see!"

"You're welcome," Jacob said.

James turned, puzzled, though Lily continued pulling him toward her large puddle. "For what?"

"For making you change first."

James laughed. "Yes, thank you."

Lily tugged on his hand, diverting his attention and caused him to miss Jacob's comment about preparing two baths instead. "Look at what I made!" James looked down to find four irregularly shaped, flat-topped mounds of mud. "Pies like Mister Jacob's!"

"And what are these over here?" he asked, crouching to point at an irregular grid of smaller mounds.

"That's here."

"Here?"

"Mmhmm. This is our house, an' this is the road, an' this is the fort!"

Our house. James smiled and looked it all over again. "It looks very good, Lily. You've done a very good job."

He looked back over at Lily, who gave him a look of such candor that he knew if she should ask anything of him, he would do it in a heartbeat. "Will you help me make more pies?"

Immediately, memories of childhood moments with his grandfather surfaced. Particularly those of how his grandfather would annoy his cook, who he had thought to be far too serious. "I will, but…" He tapped his lips with his fingertips. "But something seems to be missing."

"What?" she asked.

"Let me think… Ah yes. Now I remember." He gave her a wink. "I shall return shortly." He snuck back into the kitchen, keeping a constant lookout for Jacob, and, seeing no sign of him, made his way to the cupboard. He studied the dishes, looking for three specific pieces. He finally found and removed them from the second shelf.

"What do you think you're doing tracking mud all through my kitchen?" James whirled around, looked at Jacob, then gazed at his own feet and the obvious path he had taken. Then Jacob apparently noticed the dishes clutched securely in his hands. "Oh no you don't. Not my good pie plates, you won't." James shot him an innocent look. "Tsk, tsk. You're getting a mite rusty there, James-lad. It's not as effective as it was when you were eight."

James shot him a wry look. "I am returning to Lily, now."

"You do that. Just don't forget that you'll have guests for dinner tonight. And at least rinse the mud out of those when you finish, yes?" James nodded and turned, but not before he caught the older man's muttering. "Just like his grandfather. Pah!" Then James heard him chuckling.

He retreated with his prizes. Lily eyed the plates curiously. "Now we can make proper pies," he told her. He sat down next to her, noticing that some of her skirts lay immersed in the mud puddle. He chuckled and set the dishes out; it would do no good to pull it out, since much of her dress had already been covered in it. Even her face hadn't escaped, as she had rubbed her hands on her cheeks and forehead. "Here," he said, pushing a plate toward her. "You work on filling this one."

"Will you fill the other two?"

"I will fill one, then we can both fill the other. How does that sound?"

"How do you do yours?"

"Well, my grandfather always told me the best way to make a mud pie is to get the slimiest mud you can find. The mud that looks like pudding."

Lily looked at him, then shifted closer to the puddle and scooped up a good amount of mud. "Like this?" she asked, looking up at him again.

James made a show of examining it thoroughly. It was thick, smooth, and glopped from her hands. It was what his grandfather had considered the perfect consistency. He smiled. "Yes. Exactly like that."

Lily beamed and dumped it into her pie plate. She filled hers quickly, and started on the third pan while James took his time, watching her. Once the plates were full, she looked up. "Now what?"

"Now you get to decorate them."

"You're not going to help?"

"You would likely do a much better job of it than I, Lily. Go right ahead."

She gave him a curious look, but gathered some pebbles. She gave some to him anyway. "You can put those on this one," she said, pointing at the one closest to him.

He was amused, then, when she began showing him how she thought was proper to decorate the pies. Her method involved placing the pebbles on top of the mud with no set pattern. He waited until she finished with her own pie to see what she would do. He couldn't help but smile, though, as he watched her. She had such a look of concentration on her face.

She looked up at him, then, and shot him a confused look. "I am simply watching you, Lily," he said, smiling.

"Are you going to decorate yours?"

"I will. How would you like it decorated?"

She gifted him with a look he could only describe as intrigue. "Can you make a flower like Mary Kate's?"

"Well, I am not entirely certain, but I can certainly try," he said, tapping the tip of her nose, leaving yet another spot of mud on her face. As he arranged the pebbles in the rough shape of a daisy, Lily came around and sat beside him. She moved her hand to scratch her arm, but it lightly brushed his shirt, which shifted against his skin with a feather-light touch.

To his partial embarrassment, he instinctively flinched away with a sound that was half-yelp, half-giggle.

It tickled.

Lily looked between her hand and him, as if trying to determine what she had just done. Then her gaze settled on him, before taking on an expression he had never seen before—not on her face, in any case. He'd seem similar variations of that particular expression many times before.

But on Gillette's face.

She crouched slightly, her expression intensifying. James' eyes widened as he realized what she was planning. Lily pounced on him, the suddenness of the action knocking him back onto the ground.

Commodore James Norrington, one of His Majesty's finest commanders in the West Indies, was rendered completely helpless with writhing laughter by wriggling three-year-old fingers.

Wriggling three-year-old fingers that somehow managed to find nearly every ticklish spot he possessed.

For what seemed an eternity, he felt nothing but Lily's fingers, and it wasn't until several moments later that he registered the cold, wet, slimy sensation seeping through the back of his shirt. It took several moments after that for him to realize that she'd caused him to maneuver right into the puddle itself. Eventually, he regained enough control to try and return the favor. She shrieked with laughter.

How long this new, all-out war with Lily lasted, he didn't know and didn't care. He was enjoying himself in a way that he hadn't in nearly twenty years. It was only when laughter in a voice that was neither his nor Lily's wormed its way into his awareness that he forced himself to stop and then to gently halt Lily as well.

He looked up to find they now had an audience.

Governor Weatherby Swann was clearly taken aback at seeing the man in charge of the local divisions of the Navy and Marines in such a position. Lieutenant Nathaniel Gillette was doubled over with laughter. Arthur Birch was simply amused, while the lovely Mary Katherine Birch was clearly struggling to contain the merry laughter threatening to erupt.

He sat up, water sliding from his back into the puddle as he did so. Lily had slid from her place on his stomach the instant she saw them and was now sitting beside him in the middle of the puddle. He exchanged a look with her, drawing his legs up in front of him slightly, and turned back to his guests with an inquiring eyebrow raised.

"I know some have said mud is good for one's skin, James, but I hadn't taken you to be the vain type," Mary Kate said, her laughter lurking just below the surface of her voice. Her eyes were dancing with mirth, but he noticed a new, slightly guarded look in their silvery-blue depths. He quickly dismissed it, though, as it didn't seem important. Gillette was still laughing.

"Is it really?" James asked. He looked at Lily. "Do you hear that, Lily? We've just improved our skin."

Lily giggled. "We missed a spot, then."

"Oh? Where?" he asked, switching his gaze to her.

"Here." Lily lifted a hand from the mud and planted it on his cheek.

Weatherby Swann snorted and without looking, James could just see him rolling his eyes indulgently. He refused to feel embarrassed or humiliated by his current state of dress. Especially since it was because of Lily that he was in such a state. "Why thank you, Lily," James said. Nathan, having just begun to calm himself, laughed all the harder.

"I must admit, Commodore, I don't believe I've ever seen you acting like this. So…" Swann trailed off, obviously searching for the right words that wouldn't offend.

"Childish?" James asked innocently.

"You've improved, Lad. Been practicing that look with Lily, have you?" Jacob asked from the doorway. James shot him a dry look. "Out of the puddle, you two. Your baths are ready."

James sighed as he had as a child and rose to his feet, then helped Lily up. "Come, Lily. Apparently Mister Jacob wishes us to sever our friendship with Mister Mud Puddle and form proper new acquaintances with Mister Bathtub and Mister Soap."

"Would you like some help with Lily?" Mary Kate asked. James raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'd offer to give her the bath entirely, but you certainly cannot take her up to dress as muddy as you are, and I cannot get my dress muddy," she laughed, finally giving into her mirth. "Well, I could, but I doubt very much that my uncle would be pleased."

"Well, when you say it like that," he said dryly. He led Lily indoors, noticing immediately that the corner holding the two tubs had been screened off with sheets. He guided Lily over and behind them. He managed to wash away all the mud on her fairly quickly—despite the fact that she was still in a rather playful mood and kept splashing water. He also managed to lift her out and dry her off without transferring any mud onto her or the cloth before passing her to Mary Kate. "Lily, show Mary Kate to your room. Take the back way, all right?" Lily simply nodded and began guiding Mary Kate from the woman's arms as Cecil arrived with his dress uniform, among other things.

Long after supper, James and his guests were found in the parlor. Lily, having apparently missed her nap today, had fallen asleep shortly after she'd finished eating. He'd carried her up and put her to bed, then returned to his guests, many of whom had arrived while he bathed. That had been nearly three hours ago. Conversation topics appropriate with ladies present, for some reason or other, seemed to have been exhausted.

"I just don't see why you should hang every single pirate you capture," Elizabeth Turner was saying to the few officers in attendance. "Surely many of them are good men."

"Mistress Turner, pirates steal, kill, and do many other horrible things to honest, innocent people and one who would willingly do such things cannot be considered a good man," Nathan said, though it was, perhaps, the fifth time tonight that very sentence had been said in some form or another. Both Mary Kate and her uncle, James noted, were oddly quiet.

"Yes, but Jack only serves to prove that others could be more noble like he is!" Elizabeth countered.

"And you have obviously never personally seen or been affected by a pirate at his worst," Arthur Birch finally said, his normally placid eyes flashing. "Until you have had a loved one attacked, violated and-or killed, I must politely ask you to never speak of pirates in my presence again." Mary Kate reached over and grasped her uncle's hand as his voice began to shake. "And if, God forbid, you should ever experience such a thing and still feel this way, I will kindly thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself."

James looked to the side as Cecil's entrance with a tray of various beverages caught his attention. Cecil set the tray on a small table as the conversation continued. James had already voiced his apparently unimportant opinion on the matter nearly an hour ago and was now content enough to listen. "But you've never met Jack Sp—"

The tortured scream of a child pierced the air.

James was instantly on his feet and sprinting toward the stairs. Behind him, several others rose as well, and the distinct sound of swords being unsheathed could be heard. He ignored them and charged up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. Ahead of him, he could hear Lily crying in shrieking wails. "Elizabeth, stay here! Let them handle the intruder!" he heard Governor Swann say.

If only it were that simple.

He came to Lily's door in moments and pushed it open as he rushed to the bed. Lily had apparently worked her way to the other side of the bed during the course of her nightmare, however, and he was forced to take up precious time to get to her. In the dim light, he could also see her arch her back in a vaguely familiar rhythm, sharp cries of pain punctuating each movement.

He knew by that where her nightmare had taken her—the moment she was scarred.

He half-knelt on the bed beside her. "Lily!" he called, gently shaking her. "Lily, wake up!" Shaking her was doing no good at all, so he began stroking her face and hair. "Lily, please, I need you to open your eyes," he begged. "It's just a nightmare." Lily continued shrieking and sobbing and wailing.

"Come on, Lily-bit, open your eyes for us," Nathan said as he knelt beside them, rubbing her arm. Lily moved her other arm, bringing it up to her mouth.

James grabbed it before she could clamp down on it. "Come now, Lily, open your eyes. You're safe here," he murmured.

"What are you doing to her?" Will Turner cried out in shock. "Stop that!" He ran forward with his sword in hand.

James looked up, annoyed, to say the least, at this distraction. "Mister Turner, kindly put that thing away before you make the situation worse!" Thankfully, Lieutenant Stone stepped forward and pulled the blacksmith back to the doorway where several others watched. "Nathan, the water!" he said, desperate to end Lily's torment. "In the pitcher and bowl on the table. I need some, if you please."

"Of course!" He stood to run around to fetch a bowl of water.

"Let me, I'm closer," Mary Kate said, quickly bringing a small amount of water around in the bowl.

James released Lily momentarily to pull a handkerchief and throw it in the bowl. He wrung it out loosely, then gently dabbed at Lily's eyes, wiping away tears as well. She gasped as her eyes flew open. "I'm here, Lily. You're safe," he soothed as she leapt into his arms and clung to him with all her might. She started shaking with violent tremors almost immediately. He automatically began rocking her back and forth. "Shh. I've got you now."

Unlike the other nightmares, she simply cried; long, tortured, lung-emptying howls that could easily rival a banshee. They left her breathless and gasping through the first few seconds of each new wail. She said nothing of what it had been about, though he could well imagine what exactly happened, and all he could do was hold her tight, rock her and rub her back.

All he wanted and cared to know was why—why her father had felt the need to beat her so.

At the door, Lieutenant Stone was ushering the small crowd back downstairs. James gave him a look of gratitude, which was returned with a short nod and a slight smile. He turned his attention back to Lily, who continued to cry. "Shh. It's all right now. It's over. You're safe."

Lily abruptly stopped crying; coughing and a gagging sound taking over. Eyes widening, he immediately twisted her around toward the bowl Mary Kate already had moving. Nathan helped him hold her up and rubbed her back while James pulled her hair back as best he could. It tore at his heart to see her so distressed. Especially after the afternoon they had.

Once she finished, she seemed to calm down considerably, though she was obviously distressed anew at having vomited her supper up. He wiped her face off with the damp handkerchief, then pulled out a clean one for her nose. Jacob entered, then, with a small cup of tea. "Mary Kate, would you mind getting a light blanket from her wardrobe please?" As was her wont, Lily was clutching his vest with a fierce grip. The tea helped calm her further, as well as get rid of the foul taste in her mouth.

He wrapped Lily in the blanket Mary Kate handed him, knowing she would be joining them in the parlor. Mary Kate gripped his shoulder sympathetically. He looked up at her. "You wanted to know what her dreams were like," he said quietly. James stood, Lily already fast on her way to the realm of slumber, and turned to walk back downstairs.

Love it? Hate it? I'd really like to know!

Once again, I thank you all for the very lovely comments and reviews! I'm afraid I really don't have time to respond to everyone individually again this week, though I truly wish I did. Things are simply getting a bit hectic for me lately. I loved every one of your reviews!

Welcome, jigglykat, and myself!

As to the question of romance, you'll just have to wait and see.

Gûr nín linnatha i-lû govadim ad.

(My heart shall sing the hour we meet again.)

Until next Saturday.

- Gaeruil