Chapter 13 – An Abysmal First Impression

I sat in the dark, dusty common room with Jack and Nick. Where is he? I wondered. The sun was setting in the window. Just as I moved to look out at the street again, the door flew open abruptly.

"Oh," my father started, obviously very surprised to find us all waiting in the dark. "Hello, everyone." He had a peculiar look on his face, as if he had a secret and the world would cave in on itself if he didn't pass the message along. His hair was tousled and his face was dark with black soot. The sleeves of his white shirt were scorched around the edges and he smelt of smoke. I jumped up from where I sat and ran to him.

"Where have you been? What happened to you?" He wrapped his arms around me. I took little comfort from the embrace. He smelt faintly of burnt flesh.

"It's alright. Maggie. I'm okay. Nothing happened." The light that filtered in through the open door danced through the dusty air, casting strange shadows across the dark room.

Looking past him into the haze, I noticed the silhouette of a woman just beyond the doorway. She shifted her weight, allowing a sliver of light to reflect on her face. She was about my father's age, give or take a few years. She wore tattered black clothing and a red bandana over her raven hair. She, too, looked a bit singed.

"Father," I asked. "Who is she?" He took a step back and followed my gaze to the doorway. A wave of realization passed over him, as if remembering an essential clue to a puzzle. He beckoned the woman into the room. Now, with her standing such a short distance from me, I was able to inspect her with a bit more accuracy. She was definitely younger than my father. The soot and probably painful burns that riddled her face did not hide that. She was tall and beautiful. She had the complexion and build of the Spanish sailors that I had seen come through Port Royale many times in my childhood. However, I didn't trust people who wore black, especially not in a place as dark as that one. My gaze did not leave her for a second.

"Everyone," my father said, addressing Jack, Nick, and myself. "This is Lyn. I…er…met her, that is, we met each other…on my, well…on my walk this afternoon." His stammered introduction told us very little about this woman and why she was now standing in our midst. For several seconds, we all sat in an awkward silence.

Lyn was the first to move. Her eyes grew wide and she moved swiftly to the other side of the room where Jack sat on a stool. As she drew close to him, her eyes suddenly squinted tight. She appeared to inspect him carefully, first from the left, then the right, all the while scurrying back and forth, moving her lips as though working out a difficult problem in her mind. Suddenly, she jumped back and exclaimed,

"You're Jack Sparrow!" Started, Jack jumped back, momentarily forgetting that he was seated and falling hard on his buttocks. When he had righted himself and regained his composure, he replied, correcting her as he always did.

"Right you are, love. But that's Captain Jack Sparrow, and you needn't forget it." My father shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Lyn. Where are my manners? Jacqueline DeToe, meet my good friend, Captain Jack Sparrow, my daughter, Margaret Turner, and her fiancé, Nicolas Kingston," he said, gesturing to us all in turn.

"Dios mio," she muttered, turning to me. "She looks just like you, Will." Ignoring Lyn, I turned to my father.

"Father, what happened? Tell me the truth." At that, we all sat around the table in the center of the room and my father told us what had happened, Lyn adding her own tidbits along the way, constantly reassuring us that the fire in question was not her fault.

Sensing how uncomfortable I was, Nick nudged Jack, pushing him to end the story quickly.

"Well, my lad, you've had quite the day, now, haven't you?" Jack asked, putting his hand on my father's shoulder. He gasped and pulled away from the touch. I jumped up and pulled his shirt away from his skin, revealing black, charred flesh from his collarbone to his shoulder blade.

"Father," I exclaimed.

"It's nothing, Maggie," he insisted. "I'm fine."

Back in our room, I treated my father's burns and put him to bed. When the whole ordeal was over, he was tiered and sore. I fell asleep before I closed the door. I passed by the common room on my way down the hall and saw Jack and Nick talking over a couple of mugs of the thick brown liquid that the owner had provided. I stepped outside to breathe in the fresh air, amused by the fact that Nick and Jack got along so splendidly, as different as they were. As I sat myself down on the step in front of the inn, I noticed Lyn seated on the curb, twirling a long knife between her fingers.

"Lyn," I called. She turned around, started.

"Meg, right?" she asked.

"Yeah. Do you want to sit down?"

For the next hour, we sat on the step and talked. She told me about her family. Her parents had disappeared years ago. No one really knew what happened, but they were in the pirating business, so it could have been any number of things. She also had a brother who was a few years older than her. Antonio was following after his parents. He had even taken Lyn's own ship without her knowledge. He did write to he occasionally, though, promising to return it. Lyn herself was a rogue. She had fended for herself for a long time and I respected her for that. I had decided that, although I agreed with my father in that Lyn bore a strange resemblance to my mother, the two women were nothing alike. Mother liked to be taken care of. It sounded like the most Lyn would allow would be for a man to buy her a drink or two. Beyond that, she made her own living.

When she had finished telling me about her family and lifestyle, I told her about mine. I described what it was like growing up in Port Royale in the Governor's house. I told her all about Nick's and mine secret engagement and showed her the beautiful ring. I told her about the price on our heads, or rather, my father's, and our run from the British Navy. Finally, I told her about my mother. She must have told me a hundred times how horrible it was and how sorry she was for my father and I.

When dark had fallen over the inn and we could scarcely see each other anymore, we decided to turn in for the night. Lyn rapped on the innkeeper's door and asked for a room. When he griped and complained, she paid him extra. No sooner had the coins hit the counter than the innkeeper handed Lyn a key to the room beside ours. As she opened the door to the room, she turned to me.

"I think you may be the firs' person I ever talked to like that, ya know? It was nice."

"Yes," I said, smiling. "It was."