Chapter 4 – Hidden Mysteries

"Where have you been? We've been worried sick about you!" my mother exclaimed within seconds of my return. The sun had set long ago and I realized that I had no conceivable clue as to what time it was. I knew very well that I couldn't tell her where I had been. After all, she was the governor's daughter. She was of high standing. As a matter of fact, I was supposed to be as well. There was no way she would approve of my love for Nicolas. He was a blacksmith. For quite some time he had been only a blacksmith's apprentice. He was a nobody in most eyes and my love would have been more than frowned upon. It would have been forbidden.

"Nowhere," I lied. "Mother, I'm really very tired. I'll retire for the night. We can talk in the morning." I couldn't stand lying to her, but I had few other options and fatigue had set in well over an hour earlier. I didn't have the energy to make up an elaborate story right then. "Good night, Mother." I hurried up the stairs and into my room. I shut the door and undressed. Within minutes, I was in my bed, ready to doze off. Then I heard the shouts.

Mother was shouting at Father about something, probably me. I didn't hear any responses from him, so I assumed he was being calm and coolheaded, as usual. I had never heard my father raise his voice. My mother shouted a lot, not because she was mean or short-tempered, but because she had to be heard. When she spoke to Grandfather or any of his colleagues, she was ignored, being the only woman in the conversation. It took a raised voice and persistence to be heard in those conversations and that habit tended to carry on to other discussions. Eventually, the noise subsided and I thought I would finally get some sleep. However, I had no such luck. There was a light tapping on my door. I considered ignoring it, but figured that if my mother were at my door, I wouldn't hear the end of her complaints the next morning.

"You may enter," I called. The door creaked open and my father poked his head in. His hair was a jumble and he looked as though he had been sleeping.

"Can we talk?" he asked innocently. I knew that he came by his own will. Mother had not sent him to investigate my day's whereabouts. I nodded.

"What about?" I asked him. He stepped into my room without a sound and sat down at the end of my bed.

"Has something been bothering you, sweetheart? You haven't been behaving like yourself lately. You know you can talk to me about anything." He honestly was very concerned. For some reason, I had always been able to relate to my father better than I could anyone else. I never could really figure out why.

"Have you ever had something that you couldn't share with anyone? Something that you knew could have serious consequences if anyone found out?" I began. I didn't want to tell him if he couldn't relate to my situation in the slightest. I knew I could trust him, but I didn't want sympathy. I wanted respect and acceptance for what I felt. I wanted my parents to accept my love for Nicolas as if he were Morris' son or another man of the same stature. Above all, I didn't want anyone to look down on Nick. He worked so hard for his respect and I didn't want to compromise that. My father surprised me then.

"Yes, I have." I stopped short. To tell the truth, I wasn't fully expecting him to answer as positively and as bluntly as he had.

"Really?" He nodded an affirmative.

"Yes," he replied. "Meg, what's bothering you? I really do want to help." I began to sob, burying my face in his lap. He held me tight and combed his rough fingers through my hair as he always did to soothe me. His embrace was reassuring, but I still didn't know what to say or how to say it.

"I know, Daddy. I just don't want to hurt anyone…"

"It's okay," he whispered calmly. "I won't tell anyone if you don't want. This can stay between us." I sat up and looked into his concerned face and sighed.

"Okay. Daddy." I paused, bracing myself for his reaction. "I'm in love." My father never ceased to amaze me and this was no exception. His face lit up as he grabbed me by the shoulders and hugged me tight.

"This is wonderful news!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you share this with us earlier? What were you afraid of?"

"Father, please," I interrupted, shoving him back. "There's more," I continued. He sat back and looked at me with a puzzled expression. "I'm not just in love…" I pulled the ring, newly engraved, from beneath my sleep gown and showed it to him. "I'm engaged. I have been for several months now." I couldn't be sure, but I think his heart skipped a beat as he read the inscription on the metal band. Forever never ends.

"Meg," he whispered, dumbfounded. I interrupted him before he could ask what I knew he would momentarily.

"Father, I'm not marrying one of grandfather's suitors. They are boring and insolent and far too stuck up. I am marrying Nicolas…I love Nicolas." He continued to stare for a moment, then began to smile.

"Nicolas Kingston?" he asked. I nodded in reply. Then he began to laugh. Right there in front of me, he laughed! He laughed so hard that I saw tears in his eyes. I wanted to run from the room and cry until I could cry no more. "He's the blacksmith, right?" he asked, making sure he was thinking of the right man. I could tell that he was. "Oh, Meg," he said, trying to control his laughter. "You remind me so much of your mother."

"What?" I wondered out loud. My father settled himself down and began to tell me a story.

"When I was a boy," he began, "I was a passenger on a ship to the Caribbean with my mother. Our ship was attacked and most of the passengers drowned. I was saved, though, by a girl my age named Elizabeth." He paused for a moment.

"Mother?" I inquired. He smiled, as if remembering the first time he saw her.

"I was taken to her island, this island, where her father was governor. I ended up working as an apprentice in a shop in town…the blacksmith shop. The old man who owned the business didn't do much other than drink and collect money, taking credit for every horseshoe, every tool, every weapon that came out of the shop. None of the townspeople knew that it was I that made their treasured swords and repaired their machinery. I was their messenger boy to my master, letting him know how much his work was appreciated." He paused, tears in his eyes. "I always loved your mother, but it was improper for me to say so." I was astonished. I watched as he gathered himself, wiping away the tears conjured by the old memories that he had obviously tried so hard to forget.

"What happened?" I encouraged. He shook his head.

"That is a whole story in and of itself. Am I correct in assuming that you know the legend of the Black Pearl?" I was confused as to why he was asking me this, but I went along with his strange behavior.

"Yes, the Pearl was a pirate's ship. The legend says that the ship and its crew of cursed pirates attacked our island many years ago. The captain was said to have kidnapped a girl and her lover and a pirate friend rescued her. They reversed the curse on the pirates and then killed their evil captain."

"That is a fairly accurate version of the tale. I can only see two problems with your rendition. First, it wasn't many years ago. It was only twenty. Secondly, all of the characters have names. The kidnapped girl was Elizabeth Swann. The pirate friend was a rogue called Captain Jack Sparrow, and the lover that you mentioned had the name Will Turner…me. After the raid, I realized that Elizabeth was taken by the ghastly pirates, so I snuck to the jail, released Jack, and followed him to the Black Pearl." Now it was my turn to sit in gaping shock. My father never lied to me. I didn't think he was even capable of telling such an extraordinary tale. He was creative, of course, but truth be told, he never could lie very well. That was what confused me most. I didn't know if he was trying too hard to comfort me or if he had finally lost his mind after years of banter from my grandfather.

"Father," I started. He cut it quickly.

"You don't believe me, do you?" I didn't know what to say. "Tell me then. What does…um…legend…say about how the evil pirate captain Barbosa was defeated?" I searched my memory for the end of the story that I had learned so long ago.

"The good pirate shot him as the hero cut hit hand and put the bloody medallion in the cursed chest. The curse was reversed and the evil pirate died." My father grinned as he held out his left hand, palm up. A thin white scar traced its way along his palm. I gasped.

"Daddy?" He nodded.

"Its true, Meg. It's all right. I'm not some kind of rogue like Sparrow, using our family as a disguise. I gave up my short career in piracy when I married your mother." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay with all of this?" I was still astounded, but surprisingly, I was okay with it.

"Yes, Father, I am. I have to admit, some of this is a little hard to swallow, but I really am fine. In fact, I am better than fine. I just don't understand why you never told me all of this before."

"Your grandfather's idea. Who else would ask for all of that to be kept secret?" We both began to laugh. I embraced him and stayed in his arms, laughing, for several long minutes. Just then, a thought came to my mind.

"Father, what did you say the good pirate's name was?"

"Jack Sparrow…Captain Jack Sparrow, that is. Why do you ask?" I shook my head as I began to laugh again.

"Uncle Jack isn't really my uncle, is he?"