After lunch, both mother and son lay down for a rest. Elizabeth hoped that her son could get some sleep. It was going to be a long night for a nine-year-old and she wanted to make doubly sure he was up for it. This was not the occasion to have a cranky child in tow. As for herself - no matter how hard she tried to drift off, she couldn't quite manage it. She was still far too keyed up and anxious to do anything but toss and turn. This certainly wouldn't be the first time she had gone far too many hours with far too little rest. The difference was that, this time, she didn't mind at all.

The remainder of the afternoon was mostly uneventful. Shortly after her self imposed quiet time, Elizabeth took her bath, and then sat in the sun to brush her hair dry while William had his. Much to her relief it wasn't as much of a traumatic experience as he usually made it. She could but only hope that their lunchtime discussion had piqued his interest enough to comply with her requests. She only had to send him back to the tub three times – a new record for William. Once to wash his hair, once for the customary wash behind the ears and once more to scrub his nails. After repeated, but hollow, threats of bodily harm if he got dirty again, the pair of them returned from the family's small bathhouse to the main house. If the idea of a surprise that required cleanliness and a nap was difficult for William to grasp, then the suggestion that he wear his best clothes was beyond his comprehension. No matter how much he begged, his mother still refused to tell him where they were going and what they were doing.

Elizabeth left her son in his room with explicit directions on what she expected him to be wearing when she returned. The dire warnings as to what would happen should he get dirty were reiterated numerous times. William recognized that his mother was never quite this adamant about any of her proclamations and vowed to himself to be on his best behavior – best being a relative term when you were only nine. Back in her own room, she began her own preparations. She tried on and rejected no less than six dresses before settling on the one she had set aside just that morning. She hadn't had this much trouble deciding on what she wanted for her wedding dress, but this day was infinitely more special than her wedding day had ever promised to be. She could almost hear Will laughing about her sudden bout of indecisiveness and smiled at the idea of telling him what trouble she had gone to on his behalf. She knew he would tell her she looked beautiful no matter what she wore and he would mean every word of it. Will never said anything he didn't mean, but she just wanted to wear something that made her feel she looked the part too. While it was out of character for her to be this concerned with her personal appearance, this wasn't exactly an ordinary meeting she was going to. She had been taught what to wear for every occasion, but it's not like there were any guidelines on the proper dress for your husband returning from the land of the dead.

Once the issue with the clothing was resolved, that left her hair. She sat at her dressing table and stared at herself in the mirror. She put her hair up, and it looked quite elegant, but then remembered Will preferred it down. She let it hang freely, but decided it made her look like she was trying to look younger than she was. Nothing was going to change the fact that she was no longer the barely twenty-two year old girl that Will had married. She thought about a braid, but quickly decided it was too casual. She exhaled sharply in exasperation and started to brush it out again.

"Mother?"

Elizabeth looked up to see her son reflected in the looking glass. She caught her breath as she again noticed how much he looked like his father. She gestured into the mirror for him to come to her. He quietly closed the door behind him and walked over to where she sat. Elizabeth put her arm around her son's small shoulders and pulled him close for a quick hug before returning to her as yet unsuccessful attempts to fix her hair. The two of them watched each other's reflections as she continued to arrange and rearrange her hair.

"I like it when you wear a ribbon in it. It makes you look prettier," William suggested.

Elizabeth smiled at him in the mirror. "Then a ribbon it shall be. Might I say that you look quite handsome this afternoon?"

The boy grinned. "Do I look like him–like my father?"

"Yes. Very much so." Elizabeth wondered if there was something else bothering the boy other than what they had discussed at lunch. He sounded uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

"Are you sure?" he implored.

Elizabeth leaned over and kissed to top of William's head. "Don't you think I would know?" she teased.

"Yes, ma'am. I just wonder if he'll know who I am when he comes home, or even want me around."

So that was the problem. "He will—he does. Why are you asking this now?"

He shrugged and walked over to the head of her bed, where the chest rested, and hopped up on the coverlet. He sat, staring at the chest with a face that looked as if he were trying to solve some complex equation in his mind. Elizabeth watched his reflection in the mirror for a few minutes before turning in her chair to face him.

"William–Will?" she corrected herself per her son's earlier request. "What is bothering you this time?" Elizabeth was beginning to feel concerned about her son. He was always such a carefree, happy child, and yet, today he was being quite uncharacteristically worrisome.

"What if he doesn't like me or want me?" he said in a small voice, his eyes focused on the chest.

Elizabeth quickly got up from her seat and went to her son. She sat next to him on the bed and hugged him tightly.

"Don't say that. He—no, we both wanted you very much. I don't think there has ever been a little boy who was more wanted than you." She kissed the top of his head. "And how could anyone not like you?"

"I heard you talking to Mr. Tolliver. He told me that some boys don't have fathers because their fathers didn't want them," his voice was muffled as he buried his face further into his mother's side.

"Mr. Tolliver doesn't know what he's talking about. I suggest you ignore him." Elizabeth felt her anger rising as she spoke, but quickly controlled it. It would do nothing to help console her distraught son, and he was far more important than almost anything at the moment – everything, in fact, except for his father's imminent return.

William lifted his head and went back to looking at the chest. "I just want him to come home. Are you sure he'll like me?"

Elizabeth leaned over and rested her head on top of her son's head. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

William slid off the bed and put one hand on the chest. "How will I know his answer?" he inquired seriously. He thought this had to be one of his mother's stranger suggestions, but he was willing to try it. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to the chest and pretend his father could hear him… but asking him a question did just seem rather bizarre.

This hadn't exactly how Elizabeth had planned to tell her son what the plan for the evening was, but it was, most certainly, the opportune moment.

"Will?" He turned his head to look at her, his hand still on the lid of the chest. "I didn't mean the chest."

The boy looked confused for a moment, then narrowed his eyes and stared at his mother.

While Elizabeth hadn't known what kind of reaction to expect, she was sure this was not it. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

A slow smile started to creep across the boy's face as he realized what she meant. "Truly?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Elizabeth nodded.

"Is this my surprise?"

"Yes. I hope it meets with your approval," she replied good-humoredly. "We have to be at the beach at sunset. He's coming home tonight." It suddenly hit Elizabeth that it was the first time she had actually said it out loud. She could feel the tears starting to form in her eyes. After years of tears of longing because she missed her husband, tears of joy were certainly a welcome change of pace.

William and his mother simply stared at each other for a long moment. Then the boy stepped back over too her and threw his arms around her. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her son and rested her cheek on the top of his head.

"Don't cry, Mother. He'll be there—he promised. You've always told me that he always keeps his promises."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. She then took a single, deep breath before responding. "That he does. I'm crying because I'm happy. You'll understand that one day." She straightened back up, gave the boy another tight squeeze, and announced, "Let's go."

William looked up at his mother's face for a moment, over to the chest and then back to his mother. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "Do we need to take that with us?" he asked, gesturing towards the wooden box with his head. There was no doubt, due to his inflection, that he sincerely hoped the answer to be no.

Elizabeth hadn't considered that possibility until that moment. Is there really any need to take it with us? She quickly decided that the chest and the heart inside were not required components for what they were about to do. All that was necessary was the she be there waiting. The fact that their son would also be there was just a bit of added insurance. Elizabeth stood up, reached up to the collar of her blouse, and extracted the plain leather cord holding the key to the chest. She had worn it every minute of the day since Will had entrusted her with it years earlier. She opened the top drawer of her night table, lifted the cover off the small compartment hidden in the bottom and dropped the key with its lanyard inside. She replaced the lid on the hidden cache, closed the drawer, and turned back to her son. Holding her hand out to him, she grasped his in her own.

"No" she said with determination.

It was as simple as that. They both now had no choice but to trust that Elizabeth had made the right decision. It certainly felt right.

The pair of them left the room, hand in hand, huge grins brightening both their faces. Elizabeth did take just enough time to cast one glance back at the chest before closing the door to her bedroom. They headed down the stairs just as Evan was beginning to make his way up them. Noticing their approach, he turned and returned to the ground floor himself.

"Miss Elizabeth, Master William. Don't the two of you look like you're ready for a special occasion this evening?"

William turned loose of his mother's hand and practically ran down the remaining steps to the young man waiting by the landing. "We are doing something special," he announced as if he were the keeper of the most wonderful secret in the world.

Evan leaned down to William's level. "I know," he said with a conspiratorial grin. "I would expect that you are quite beside yourself, aren't you?"

William scowled at Evan and then at his mother, approaching from behind. "How did you know before me? That's not fair."

Evan laughed before his green eyes took on a far away expression for a split second. "I was there during the battle before he had to leave, remember? I've told you that before."

"But you would have been a little boy then," William expertly pointed out.

Elizabeth reached the landing, put her hand on her son's head and tilted it back so she could see his face. "Some little boys have to grow up much faster than they should. You are most fortunate that you do not have to."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, conceding that point to his mother. He leveled his head and addressed Evan. "You never told me you knew – know him."

Evan shook his head. "I don't. I've never met him. I just know of him and what he did to save us all."

Elizabeth decided it best to change the topic before it devolved into Evan and William engaging in shared tales of hero worship. She knew that Will didn't consider himself a hero, but he might have to learn to live with the fact that many other people didn't agree with him – mainly pirates. They would just have to cross that bridge when they got to it.

"Evan, would you please make sure the house is secured before you leave tonight? And, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you leave a lamp burning near the front door? I'm sure it will be long past dark before we return. I know I must be forgetting something I needed to do, but I can't think of what it could possibly be." Elizabeth stopped suddenly. "I'm beginning to babble, aren't I?"

Evan fought to repress a smile. "Don't worry about anything here. I'll take care of everything. You two just take care of your part."

"Thank you," she said with a relieved sigh. "You wouldn't by any chance know where Mrs. Lansford put our picnic basket, would you? I want to make sure we're there early, and then there is the issue of somebody we both know being perpetually hungry." Elizabeth stared pointedly at her son as she made her comment.

"By the front door. Now go!" Evan made a shooing motion as he spoke.

Elizabeth picked up the small basket. William, for once, grabbed his hat without being reminded. The twosome stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine and headed on their way. According to the clock in the foyer, it was just after four o'clock in the afternoon when they began their journey. Sunset that evening would be shortly after seven. Elizabeth calculated that it should take them a little over an hour to walk to the cove where Will had told them to meet him. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, they should have less than two hours to wait once they arrived. That would be plenty of time to feed her bottomless pit of a son, take care of any last minute questions, concerns, and worries that he might have, and allow for any unforeseen circumstances that could, God forbid, delay their arrival.

Port Royal wasn't an overly large town, but it was long and narrow due to its location on an elongated peninsula. Once they reached the edge of town there was nothing much beyond but beaches, cliffs and open space. It was the trip through town that had Elizabeth the most concerned. She was in no mood to stop and socialize today. She was a woman with a mission, and nothing was going to get in her way. However, it wasn't quite working out that way: it was beginning to feel as if everyone she or William had ever met in Port Royal was out for a walk at precisely the same time. Why did today of all days did everyone feel the need to talk to her or William? It was a struggle for her, but she managed, just barely, to hide her impatience amidst the various invitations to tea, inquiries as to what shipments she was expecting, local gossip, miscellaneous social events, play dates for William and what have you. At least the members of the community who were better acquainted with Elizabeth's trade had the decency to leave her alone for once. There couldn't possibly be a pirate anywhere in the Spanish Main who didn't know what today meant to their King.

Elizabeth and William were nearly clear of the main square when almost certain disaster struck – or what qualified as certain disaster to a young wife and her son on their way to a most very important meeting. Disaster, in this case, was more commonly known as Beatrice Busby – the nosiest, most social conscious and stubborn woman in Port Royal. She had been a thorn in Elizabeth's side from the day she and her father had arrived from England – not coincidentally, that thorn frequently concerned Mrs. Busby's disapproval of relationship with Will Turner from childhood until now. Even Will, who seldom spoke ill of anyone, had called her Mrs. Busybody. There was no way to avoid her notice – the woman had eyes like a hawk. Elizabeth was convinced she could also smell when something that she did not approve of was going to take place. How else could she always be exactly where you hoped she wasn't?

"Miss Swann! You are just the woman I was hoping to see," the rather stately woman gushed as she overtly assessed Elizabeth's attire and possessions. "I see that you've already taken it upon yourself to take the first step. Although, you might have wanted to wear something a bit more formal – and leave that at home," she continued with a cursory glance towards William.

"Pardon?"

"The new Governor, of course! You are on you way to meet him, are you not? He would be the perfect solution to your problem. Granted, he's a good bit older than you, but he's not unattractive. I understand he's a widower with grown children, but you're young enough that if he wants some more then that shouldn't be too much of a problem."

It belatedly occurred to Elizabeth that she should have coached William on being careful not reveal their destination nor their intent. She came to find that shouldn't have worried, though. While William was far from being a perfect little statesman, he did have a keen sense of when to play his cards close to his chest, so to speak—whether it was his own natural instinct or something he had learned that from her or his pirate "uncles" she did not know.

"Mrs. Busby," Elizabeth started, her exasperation showing in her voice and on her face. "I already have a husband. You know that. Will Turner, you remember him, don't you?"

"Surely your experience with serving as your father's hostess will appeal to him. Everything would be just perfect if it weren't for that one youthful indiscretion of yours." This time Mrs. Busby glared down her sharp nose at William.

"Mother, what's an indiscretion?"

"A mistake," Mrs. Busby answered sharply with a curt nod of her head that caused the tightly wound bun of gray hair on the back of her head to wobble precariously. "Perhaps we can convince the good Governor that he's a foundling you rescued from misuse by pirates during your own captivity. If he learns any differently after you're married then you can just deal with that then. Now, Miss Swann…"

"Mrs. Turner."

"If you just follow my advice, we can have you restored to your proper social circle in no time," the overly gregarious matron continued without any regard to Elizabeth's comments or obvious irritation with her.

"Mrs. Busby, my mother promised me a picnic on the cliffs today as a reward. If we don't hurry it will be too dark for me to play. Maybe mother can pay a visit to the Governor tomorrow while I'm having my lessons? I would like it very much if she tried to find me a real father," Turning to Elizabeth and tugging at her sleeve he added "Please?" in the most pitiful sounding voice he could manage.

"See? Even the boy understands the sense in it."

Elizabeth smiled at Mrs. Busby. "I suppose that's settled then. William and I really need to be on our way now. So if you'll excuse us?"

Mrs. Busby bid the pair farewell and continued on her way, talking all the while. It wouldn't have surprised Elizabeth to hear the woman planning her wedding already. Elizabeth giggled at the thought of relating the tale to Will – he would certainly get a good laugh out of it. How could he not? If for no other reason than Mrs. Busby's reaction to discover he was back.

Elizabeth then looked down at William who was failing miserably at looking totally innocent. How Mrs. Busby could not have seen the mischief in his eyes was a mystery to her. He was always quite adept at worming his way out of awkward situations. Today he was most certainly on top of his game—handling any potentially awkward questions from his friends or his mother's business associates with equal tact and decorum. Before the encounter with the formidable Mrs. Busby, even Elizabeth was beginning to believe that she was taking him on a special excursion as a reward for receiving high marks on his school work. She was slightly disturbed at how easily and naturally lying came to him, though. Perhaps Will can have a talk with him about that? Surely that was more of a father-son type discussion than mother-son?At least, she hoped it was.

The numerous interruptions in town had slowed them down considerably. Regardless, there was still plenty of time–Elizabeth sent up a silent prayer for having had the foresight to allow extra time. As they arrived at the cliffs, she looked at the worn pathway leading in two directions: to the top of the cliff, and down to the beach. It had been years since she had been here. She smiled to herself as she looked up towards the small grassy meadow at the top of the cliff and remembered the happier times when she and Will had snuck away to this very spot to enjoy a few stolen moments alone. This was where he had first taught her how to handle a sword. It was also where she had frequently and inexpertly tried to seduce him on multiple occasions. Every time she had gotten closer to her goal than the last, but ultimately never managed more than finding herself wanting him more than she had before, and finding him still insisting that they wait. She felt heat rise in her cheeks as she considered the prospect of a somewhat more private homecoming later that night.

William raced up the path to the cliff top. Elizabeth followed behind, somewhat more sedately, in hopes of not having to explain to her son why his mother had suddenly started to blush. Once at the top, they settled beneath a small stand of trees to enjoy their meal. It was soon apparent that both of them were far too keyed up to eat. Elizabeth wracked her brain for an idea on how to keep her son occupied as they waited.

She smiled as she called him to her. How could she have not realized that she knew the perfect thing to do all along? "William? How would you like to learn a song about pirates?"