He insisted on starting right away. Once in the kitchen, I gave Silver a quick tour. I showed him where all the supplies were and told him to shout if he needed any help. I left quickly, knowing Mother was waiting for me.

Once outside of the kitchen, Mother beckoned me upstairs. We stood uncomfortably in her office, face to face. Hers was pinched with anger, fear. I tried to keep mine smooth, untroubled. A business man's face.

"Why did you hire him?" she hissed, thrusting her chin in the direction of the stairs.

"He is an excellent cook. A hard worker," I replied, my words caked in fake cheerfulness.

Mother's shoulders hunched like a cat with its hackles raised. Her eyes were slits, fists curled until her knuckles were white. "He's a pirate," she spat poisonously. "More than that. He's the one who mutinied against you."

I licked my lips, which had gone dry. "Not specifically me," I admonished. "And really, he was more than civil to me."

"Listen to you!" Mother's voice began to rise into a shriek. "Defending the man who could've killed you! Killed Doctor Livesey! Killed Squire Trelawney!"

All rebellion against my mother died, like sails deprived of wind. Why was I defending him? She was right. Long John Silver was a pirate; a cunning, thieving buccaneer. He had proven to be a good friend, but also proven to be a good enemy. And he had treated me as fairly as he could, given the circumstances all those years ago. My head was in turmoil. Fierce resentment and sadness still burned fresh in my heart at his betrayal. In contrast, loneliness from his absence called out for me to forgive and forget.

Seeing the distress on my mother's face, I straightened my back. "If he shows one sign of dishonesty, he has to go," I promised. Her tightened face relaxed a bit. Her claw-like hand rested tenderly on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Jim," she said with an unexpected gentleness. "I know he was your friend."

I touched her hand lightly, then left her office for downstairs. I was met with the inquisitive questions of our customers. I braced myself to deflect as much as possible.

"Who was that, Jimmy?"

"Looked like a sailor, eh?"

"Jim! Who's that one-legged man?"

I just smiled at them. "Please, please," I raised my voice to be heard by all, "he will be our new cook for awhile, alright? Let him be, give him time to settle in."

The crowd of curious turned back to their drinks and food, muttering to each other. Rosa, one of our helping girls sidled up to me cautiously. "Mr. Hawkins," she asked timidly, "Who is he?"

I gave her a sharp look. "Is he bothering you, Rosa?"

"No!" she protested. "He's been here only fifteen minutes… He's just started preparing lunch and seems very friendly. He says he sailed with you."

Unasked questions danced in her eyes. I could see possible stories racing in her mind, of what adventures the cook and I could have had together. "Yes, we sailed together once," I told her heavily, "A long time ago. Don't go spreading it around, eh Rosa?"

She shook her head, brown curls bouncing. "Of course not, Mr. Hawkins!"

One of my father's phrases came to mind. "There's a good girl, now off you go." Shooing her away, I felt old. She was only a year younger than me and so innocent. She hadn't killed, or seen men killed. I came upon the kitchen. The double doors loomed in front of me. I took a deep breath.

The savoury smell of soup wafted through the double doors as I pushed them open. The sound of a knife on a cutting board resonated through the small kitchen. I spotted Silver's crutches propped up against the wall, well out of the way. He was balanced comfortably on his remaining leg, chopping up vegetables for the soup. Silver scraped the carrots he had just finished cutting into the large pot.

"Ahoy, Jim lad. How goes things?" he asked, friendly.

"Fine enough," I said mildly. "How's the set up in here?"

Silver raised his eyes to the ceiling. "I was hopin' to put some ropes up in here. Be easier for me to get around." He motioned loosely to his missing limb.

Leaning against a counter, I picked up a potato. "Do what you will." I began rolling it between my palms. Emotions roiled inside me. He carried himself with such ease. He waltzed right back into my life after I thought I had gotten over the heartache he caused me. I couldn't believe I had let him back in, after so much.

"Silver," I asked suddenly.

"Aye?"

"Did you really leave your wife?" Realization hit me like cold water. "Or was that a sap story to get a job here?"

Silver put down the knife. He pivoted on his toes. He cocked his head to the side. I could see wetness in his eyes. "No, Jim. It was more like she left me."

"Oh." I felt my cheeks flush red. "I'm sorry."

The sailor shrugged. "It was bound to happen. I wanted to sail again. We were rich, comfortable." He resumed his chopping. "But I was restless."

"Silver?"

"Call me John, lad. Like you used to."

I frowned slightly. I disliked how relaxed he felt with me. After five years and a mutiny, I would think one would feel awkward with an ex-shipmate. "Silver," I said with emphasis, "Do you regret what you did?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Well that depends. Which part are ye talking about?"

"The mutiny. The whole thing in general!" I exclaimed, anger creeping into my supposedly neutral dialogue.

Silver shrugged, swaying with a learned balance on his leg. "I don't have an opinion. It was a thrill. I got rich, I pirated," he gave me a sideways glance. "And I met some good company."

I jumped to my feet. "If we were such good company, why would you mutiny?"

"Jim," he said tightly. "Don't go there. What's done is done."

"You didn't care at all, did you?" I cried. "After all your fancy words, you really don't give a damn about me, do you?"

Blood rushed to Silver's face. He threw the knife down. "Don't you dare, Jim." He warned. I ignored his warning. I ignored how much bigger he was than me, how much quicker he could be.

"It's true, isn't it?" I scoffed.

His large hand came whistling through the air and smacked across my face. My head rocked backwards, a starburst of pain exploding in my cheek. Hand flying to my stinging cheek, I gaped at him in utter incredulity. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I whimpered his name once before fleeing the kitchen like a puppy.

"Jim—" His plea for me to come back was cut off by the kitchen doors swinging shut. I burst out of the back doors into the midday sun. Tears gathered in my eyes. Silver had never struck me before. Not like that.