Ivan Tolliver was sitting at the double sided desk, arranging his materials, when Elizabeth entered the room. Although she knew he was the best tutor available in Port Royal, and performed his job exceeding well, she had an extreme distaste for the man. She could never decide if it was because his lack of a personality, his freely expressed, self righteous opinion of how he thought she should raise her son, or just the fact that he looked somewhat – odd. He was extremely tall and bone-thin. His salt and pepper hair formed a somewhat sparse wreath around his perfectly round head. His face was narrow and pinched with a few lonely hairs growing over his upper lip in a vague semblance of a mustache. His eyes were of an indiscriminate color and appeared quite owl like magnified behind his thick, round glasses. In short, he was both an unattractive and unpleasant man.

"Ah, Mrs. Turner. I need to speak to you about young Master Turner," the tutor said in his nasally voice.

Elizabeth gave him a pleasant, but forced smile. Mr. Tolliver always greeted her that way Never with, "Good morning," or, "How are you?" but always with some real or imagined complaint. She wondered what it was this time – something William had neglected to complete to his satisfaction? His perceived shortcomings of her parenting skills? What? Elizabeth released an audible sigh before she responded.

"I'm quite sure you do, but I have something I need to speak to you about first." That was sure to annoy him. In Ivan Tolliver's version of an ideal world, women took directions, they did not give them. "William and I have a prior engagement for tomorrow. I would like to cancel his morning lessons and reschedule them for Thursday afternoon if possible. I know you do not have another student then," she added for good measure, just in case the man balked at her request.

Mr. Tolliver blinked in astonishment several times. It always unsettled him when Elizabeth took charge of a conversation. It didn't matter that she always did when speaking to him; it still caused him great distress. "I, well, I," he stammered before regaining a soupçon of his composure. "I feel that would be most unwise under the circumstances. I'm afraid I cannot allow it," he said in a squeaky voice, with a vain attempt at sounding authoritative.

"Circumstances?" Elizabeth asked sharply. The man had already put her on the defensive and he had hardly just arrived. "What circumstances? I wasn't asking your opinion on the matter or for your permission. William will be unavailable for his lessons tomorrow. Your options are to either find the time to reschedule them or have your pay docked - your choice." The longer she talked the more clipped her voice became. If Mr. Tolliver was aware of her irritation and annoyance with him, he did not show it.

Mr. Tolliver pressed his thin lips together and looked at Elizabeth disapprovingly before answering. "This is exactly what I mean. A boy like that needs a firm hand to guide him through life and not coddle him. A woman such as yourself has no business raising such a strong-willed child on her own. It's long past time you stopped letting the boy believe he has an imaginary father somewhere who is coming back any day. And while you are far too head-strong for a woman, I'm sure you could find a husband if you tried. With your monetary assets and social connections, there must be some man who would have you and William - even with his questionable parentage."

Elizabeth's dark eyes flamed with anger, but she controlled her fiery temper. She had heard all this before, but it was getting more of a challenge to ignore. Her gaze bore into the tutor's eyes. He looked nervously away. When she began to speak the cold acrimony of her speech was undeniably evident. "Mr. Tolliver, I would expect that a man of your stature and reputation would know better than to offer parenting advice to one of his clients –particularly one of a higher social class, and most especially when you have no parenting experience yourself. And as for my son's father–my husband–William is telling the truth. He is merely away for an extended period and will return. Might I suggest that you keep any opinions to the contrary to yourself?" She stopped for a second and took a deep breath, she seldom ever made reference to her social stature and it had irritated her even more to do so now. "Now, will Thursday afternoon be acceptable for William's make up lessons, or not?"

"Does this mean I don't have any lessons today? Is this my surprise?" inquired a small voice from the doorway.

Elizabeth looked back at her son. "Yes, you still have lessons today. You just won't have any tomorrow. And no, that isn't your surprise either so the bath requirement still stands." She flashed her son a quick smile then turned back to his tutor. "I will be here at the house all day should you need to speak with me again, but I expect that this matter is settled," she asserted, clearly not giving the now flustered man any other options.

Back in the dining room, Elizabeth again settled in the seat at the head of the table. She picked up the pen and once more resumed tapping it mindlessly against the table top. Her mind was awhirl with all the plans, hopes and concerns she had neatly isolated away for the last ten years. Now that there were but a few hours left until Will's return, every thing came flooding to the forefront of her thoughts. The inability to focus or concentrate was a new and unpleasant experience for her. How hard is this going to be to bring Will back into our lives? Surely we've both changed over the last ten years. I certainly have. How could he not have? He's spent the past ten years ferrying the dead. By strictest definition, he is technically dead himself.

Then there was the issue of William. She had learned first hand the difference between the idea of being a parent and the reality of it. While her son was her pride and joy, she could quite clearly remember the extremes in emotions she had experienced when she first realized she was pregnant. Her initial reaction had been one of intense happiness – she was carrying a child they both very much wanted and yet had feared they would never have. Next had come the profound sadness at the realization that Will would not be there for the birth, and quite possibly not know of their child's existence until his return. Fear took over after that. How was she to raise a child alone? She had no idea where she was going to go, nor what she was going to do. The mere idea of giving birth terrified her. How many women died in childbirth? What would happen to Will if she were one of them? Would he be condemned to an eternity as the Captain of the Flying Dutchman if she was not there to meet him? Worse yet, what would happen to their child if she didn't survive the birth and he or she did? Anger followed that–anger at Will for leaving her alone and pregnant, anger at the heathen gods who had created the curse that separated them, anger at the pirates who had left in the care of strangers, and anger at herself for being angry at Will. Ultimately, what she had felt the strongest was a sense of contentment. Wasn't this child one of the things she wanted the most? Elizabeth believed that her son was a gift from God–a tiny part of Will for her to love and care for. A living, breathing promise that everything would be turn out as it should, if she just had faith.

Faith was one quality she had in abundance. If she had faith that Will would be returning that evening, then she should also have the faith to believe that father and son would overcome the fact that they were practically strangers to one another. Likewise, she had to have faith in the knowledge that, if they worked together, they would be able to adjust to any changes or problems they might encounter as they learned to live together as a family. The same must also be true of helping Will to once again adapt to life in Port Royal. Could it be any worse than the reaction they had received when it became known that the Governor's daughter was to marry the blacksmith's orphaned apprentice?

So lost in her meandering thoughts was Elizabeth that she did not hear Mrs. Lansford enter the room.

"Mrs. Turner?" she asked, the concern manifest in her voice. It was her habit to mother her mistress a bit. If Mrs. Turner minded, she certainly had never mentioned it. "Would there be something I might help you with? You look a might distracted."

Elizabeth blinked as she struggled to pull her thoughts back into the present. She looked at her housekeeper and then back at her still blank sheet of paper. She was obviously not making much progress on that front.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Lansford. I was just thinking about Will."

"He's a fine lad, he is," she commented and meant it.

It took Elizabeth a few seconds to comprehend that they were not talking about the same person.

"I'm sorry, I meant my husband, Will – not William."

Mary Lansford found her response odd. Her voice had sounded far away and detached as if she were someplace else entirely. She also had never heard Elizabeth refer to her husband by name before. She had always either said "my husband," "Captain Turner," or on occasion "Will's father." Had she not been told before, she would never have known that he and his son shared their name. Now that she thought about it, it had only been recently that Elizabeth had begun both referring to and addressing her son as William. He had always been just plain Will.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am. I didn't mean to intrude. You just had me worried is all."

"That's quite all right. I did need to talk to you anyway, and, since you're here, I suppose it would be as good a time as any. Please, have a seat."

The elderly matron gratefully sat down. It was apparent that she appreciated any chance to get off of her feet for a few minutes.

"I want to take William for a picnic this evening," Elizabeth began. "I would also like to give you tomorrow off. Do you think you could prepare something in advance for us to eat tomorrow? I would hate to imagine what William would say or do if I told him I was going to cook. We all know how that would go," she said with a resigned sigh.

"Of course, ma'am. Anything you need. Is this some sort of special occasion?"

Elizabeth had neglected to anticipate the staff's curiosity about an unexpected and seemingly unwarranted day off. She hated to lie, but the truth was something she was not ready to share.

"No, not really. I just thought it would be nice if we spend a day together as a family with no one else around. We haven't had that chance in quite some time. Besides, you yourself said that every day should be special! Isn't now as good a time as any to ensure that happens?" Elizabeth impressed herself with her answer. It was certainly one worthy of the Pirate King. Yet, it hadn't been the complete truth, but it also hadn't exactly been a lie either. Perhaps she hadn't lost her touch.

"That would be a nice change for the both of you," Mrs. Lansford agreed. She did not, however, believe a word of it. She also did not have a single clue as to what really could be going on. "If that will be all, I do believe it's nearly time for lunch. I would hate to keep that son of yours waiting for a meal."

Elizabeth started again. How long had she been sitting at the table daydreaming? "What time is it?" she asked.

"It's nigh on to half past twelve. I'm surprised the boy isn't already here complaining he's about to starve." Mrs. Lansford nodded her head as if agreeing with herselftas she turned and headed back out to the kitchen. It wasn't until then that Elizabethnoticed the breakfast dishes had been cleared. She was sure they had been there when she sat down. It wasn't like her to get so distracted that she didn't notice people around her. Had she completely ignored Mercedes while she cleared the table? Had she actually talked to her and now had no memory of it? If she kept at it like this much longer they were going to think she had become catatonic. She couldn't afford to stay this distracted. That would never do.

Elizabeth looked at the bracket clock sitting on the sideboard. It was a relic of bygone days living in the governor's mansion. The dial of this particular one had been painted to celebrate her parent's wedding day. It was one of the few possessions she had linked to her mother. That fact, along with the one that she had no similar mementos from her own wedding day–either of them–made it a special heirloom for her. She sometimes wondered exactly what had happened to the multitude of gifts that had been sent to her and Will for their wedding. Elizabeth sighed and refused to let herself be drawn into thinking of what she didn't have and, instead, calculated the amount of time she had left before William finished his lessons. The slightly more than 40 minutes remaining should be plenty of time to take care of a couple of more of her tasks.

She stood up from the table and stretched. Her aching muscles told her exactly how long she had been seated unmoving at the table. She was not now, nor had ever been, accustomed to long stretches of idleness. Now she remembered why–it was seriously uncomfortable to someone who was normally quite active. She stood still for a moment and listened for any movement in the house, but heard nothing but the low voices of William and his tutor working diligently on today's lessons. There was never any doubt when Mercedes was working indoors. It never failed that she sang incessantly in her native Spanish. Elizabeth normally didn't mind, as the girl had a lovely voice. That it made her easy to find was an added bonus. The absence of a song filling the air meant the girl was working somewhere in one of the out buildings— but which one?

Elizabeth stepped outside into the bright sunshine. Maybe it was just her imagination, but the sky seemed bluer, the sunlight brighter and the air fresher than normal. It was a beautiful day – one that was surely to be one she remembered for the rest of her days. Looking around, she noticed the logs recently split by Evan neatly stacked in the rack between the kitchen and the house. Another stack was partially completed between the laundry and the bath house.

The bath house was one of many modifications that Elizabeth had done to the house. It was the one that the men doing the work had found the most peculiar. It was so much easier to have the oversized tub housed in its own room near the laundry, where hot water was frequently available, than to have to haul buckets of it in the house – not to mention the inconvenience of hauling it back out. However, it had been no problem to construct a French drain in the floor to dispose of and remove the used bath water. The same was true of the laundry.

Elizabeth didn't hear Mercedes familiar warbling, but chose to start in the laundry first. She had, after all, been assigned the task of changing bed linens. That meant the old ones should be being washed. The shuttered door and windows to the laundry were all standing wide open. This was common practice on wash day as it tended to get quite hot inside with all the fires and boiling water. Elizabeth peeked inside and saw the girl she was looking for standing on a stool next to a large vat, stirring the wash with what appeared to be an oar. Mercedes turned her head at the sound of footsteps entering the building. Seeing her mistress standing just inside the doorway, she leaned the oversized wooden utensil against the side of the vat, straightened up and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"Ma'am? Is there something you need?" the girl asked.

"Yes, actually, there is. I want William to have a bath this afternoon and I think I would very much like to have one myself. Are you too busy to heat some water for us?" Elizabeth asked sounding entirely sincere in her concern for Mercedes' schedule.

Mercedes smiled at Elizabeth. "Of course not, shall I go ask Evan to start filling the tub?" she sounded hopeful at the opportunity to once again seek out the young man in question.

"I would hate to disturb your other work. I need to talk to him too, so I can take care of that."

"Oh," came the dejected response.

Elizabeth noticed the girl's face fall and revised her plan of attack. "I suppose if you could spare the time, it would be much easier for me if you went to find him. Just tell him I need to see him before it gets too much later in the day."

"Thank you! I mean, yes ma'am." Mercedes' face lit up.

Elizabeth smiled at the memory of her own face lighting up like that at the prospect of seeing Will. That had been years before their engagement, back when she had no hope or idea that he returned her affections. She turned and started to leave, but stopped in the doorway.

"Mercedes, if you have time would you replace all the tapers in my bedroom?"

"Tabers?" The tone of her voice clearly told Elizabeth that this was a word she did not know.

"No, tapers," Elizabeth answered, taking care to correct Mercedes' pronunciation. "The candles, you know, the tall, thin ones," she supplied helpfully.

"Tapers," Mercedes repeated the word slowly and carefully in an effort to learn this new term and nodded. "Yes, ma'am, I can do that."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said and retreated from the building—the sound of Mercedes trying out her new word trailing behind her.

Back inside the house, Elizabeth went to the study and gently pushed open the closed door. Mr. Tolliver was seated with his back to her while William sat across from him. A large stack of books were piled on one end of the desk. A large globe occupied the other end. William looked up at his mother, a look of relief on his face. He was a bright child, but he did have a limit on how far he could be pushed. Mr. Tolliver tended to exceed that limit on a regular basis.

"Mr. Tolliver? I believe time is up for today," Elizabeth said, clearly dismissing the man. "William, go wash up for lunch. I'll join you momentarily."

William popped up from his chair, straightened his books and papers, bid good day to his tutor and fled the room as quickly as civility would allow.

"I trust you have taken into consideration our earlier conversation and will no longer offer your advice where it is neither wanted nor warranted?" Elizabeth asked. Although posed as a question, she had no expectation of an answer–one was not needed. It was no accident that she had managed to become a well respected business woman throughout the Caribbean and the Colonies. People quickly learned to do things her way or suffer the consequences.

The weasely man nodded in agreement as he packed his materials. The sooner he could escape the Turner house the better. He should have known better than to cross Mrs. Turner. No one ever won an argument with her, particularly one that concerned her son or, as he believed, her non-existent husband. "Good day, Mrs. Turner," he mumbled almost incoherently "I believe I can show myself out."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she watched the man slink out of the house. She really wished she could find someone else. Perhaps when Will came back she could send William to school with the other children of Port Royal. It had been a difficult adjustment for him to move from a place where everyone just accepted his father's absence as temporary, to a place where few people believed the man even existed. The boy had bravely toughed it out for several weeks before Elizabeth relented and hired a private tutor for him. She had never regretted the decision, just the dearth of choices to suit their needs.

She returned to the dining room to find the afternoon meal on the table and William waiting on her. He was standing perfectly straight beside her chair with his hands neatly folded behind his back almost as if he were a miniature solider at attention. Clearly the boy had spent too much time observing officers of the Royal Navy in a similar stance. Not only had he washed his face and hands, but he had also brushed his hair again. Elizabeth recognized the unquestionable signs of a small boy trying to butter up his mother for something. As she approached the chair at the head of the table, he bowed slightly and pulled it out from the table for her. When she sat, he just as graciously offered his help in moving the chair back in. Elizabeth thanked him, but he remained silent. He then sat himself in his own chair, to the right of his mother's, neatly folded his hands in his lap, and stared down at them. He made no effort to speak to his mother.

This was not the behavior Elizabeth expected. She had entirely anticipated the gentlemanly behavior to be immediately followed by an elaborate dissertation fraught with nine-year-old boy logic on why he shouldn't have to do something he felt unnecessary. Today's obvious choice would be the bath she had mentioned earlier.

"William? Is something bothering you?"

"Are you angry with me?" he asked in a hushed tone, his head still bowed.

"No, why would you think that?" Elizabeth asked, definitely baffled by his question.

"Because you keep calling me, 'William,'" he responded, finally looking up at his mother. His eyes were missing the ever present hint of mischief that normally shone within them.

"It is your name, in case you forgot." Elizabeth reached out with her right hand and placed it under his chin.

"But you only call me that when I'm in trouble." he pointed out.

"Do I?" surprise sounded in her reply.

"Yes, ma'am. Have I done something wrong?" he again asked. This time he looked directly at his mother, his self confidence starting to return.

"Of course not! Unless, that is, there's something you feel the need to confess?" she said only half jokingly. "I didn't realize you didn't like being called William and I most certainly didn't realize I had been doing it quite so much lately." When did I start doing that?

"You've been calling me that for days now. I want to be just Will again–like my father," he pleaded. The impish gleam was beginning to return to his eyes.

"Won't that be confusing when he comes home? What am I going to do with two Wills?"

The boy contemplated his answer for a few seconds. A huge grin split his face before he answered.

"Keep us."

Elizabeth laughed out loud. She stood part way up from her seat, leaned forward and kissed her son on the forehead.

"I have no intention of doing otherwise. Now eat." She removed her hand from his face and sat back down.

"Will you promise to not call me William again?"

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at her son.

"Can you at least try to remember I want to be Will?" he suggested.

Elizabeth sighed. "I'll do my best, but I'm not making any promises. And if I forget, I expect you to just learn to live with it," she said sternly, but winked as she did. "Now eat, I want you to take a nap after lunch."

William looked appalled at his mother's request. "You mean I have to have a bath and anap today? What kind of surprise is this anyway?"

"It's the kind that requires you to do exactly as I say. We'll be out late tonight. I expect that it will be way past your bedtime when we get home. You'll just have to trust me that it will be worth all the sacrifices you have to make today," she told him with just a hint of mock sarcasm in her voice.

William stared at her for a moment, wrinkled his nose, and cocked his head to one side, as he pondered her answer. "I suppose," he relented with a heavy sigh. His mind began to whirl with all the possibilities of what his mother could have in store for him today. He was far too busy to have to do something so inconvenient as take a bath, and naps were for babies. What could the surprise possibly be?