This chapter is dedicated to bean15. Thank you for giving my ego a big enough boost to start writing again!

Weeks had passed since I had hired Long John Silver. Business was incredible. More and more people were coming for meals. I was in the process of doing interviews for more kitchen help. I knew Silver's cooking was the only reason the Inn was suddenly doing so well. I was reluctant to admit it, but he was bringing in a lot of money.

"He's amazing," Rosa remarked one night as we cleared dishes from the supper rush. "Who is?" I asked casually, stacking plates. Rosa's eyes twinkled with enthusiasm. "Mr. Silver. Look at the business we've been getting," she swept her arm around the room, "because of him you were able to give me a raise."

I chuckled. "Saving for when you have children? I hope that's not too soon, Rosa. It'll be hard to replace you."

Rosa's cheeks flushed. Her hands busied themselves with a rag, wiping the tables. "I don't know."

"Whatever the future brings, the future will bring." Silver's salty voice boomed from the kitchen doors. He nimbly hopped into the dining area. The rope that held his long hair in place had slipped. The loose ponytail hung over his shoulder. I noticed the grey streaks in his reddish hair for the first time. I hadn't thought of Silver getting... old. He was such a young spirit, a bundle of relentless energy. He scratched the salt and pepper stubble on his chin as he leaned on the table for support. "Ahoy, 'Ro," he said playfully, "Hand me those plates, will ye? I'll finish up the dishes here with Jimmy." Rosa broke out in a shy smile. She put the plates in his weather beaten hands.

"Thank you, Mr. Silver."

She shifted the plates to the table and pinched her cheek fondly. "Of course, m'dear. Run along now." Rosa's face flushed again as she flounced away.

"Hullo, Silver," I said stiffly.

"Jim," the cook looked at me with full eyes. "I want ta apologize."

I took the stack of plates from them and put them on my own. "No need, I have no wish to speak to you," I told him curtly.

"Well I have a wish ta speak with you! I'm sorry I hit ye, I lost my temper."

I walked to the kitchen and pushed through the swinging doors with my shoulder. I dumped the dishes into the sink which had been filled earlier. I ducked under one of Silver's ropes as he burst into the kitchen. "Don't ignore me!" he rumbled. I turned as he reached for his crutches. On impulse, my foot shot out. The crutches clattered to the floor. "Oops, " I said coldly before leaving.

As I climbed the stairs to my bedroom, feelings of guilt began to creep into my mind. I crawled into bed ten minutes later the guilt had encased me completely. I had kicked a crippled man's crutches away. It was a deliberate, cruel act. Why had I done that? I awoke the next day caked in as much sweat as guilt. Nightmares had slipped in and out of my head during my sleep, each one punctuated with a haunting chorus of 'pieces of eight, pieces of eight.'

"Damn," I grumbled before rolling out of bed. I was going to have to apologize to Silver now. He had tried for friendship and in return I blew him off, kicked his crutches. I had been a terrible employer. Still, the thought of apologizing twisted my stomach. Still, I was going to have to own up to my actions. Straightening my tie, I stumped down the stairs.

I knew Silver would be in the dining room, smoking his pipe. It was still an hour before we had to start preparing for breakfast. I could smell the rich tobacco from the hallway. Silver was definitely up. Rocking on my heels, I took a few deep breaths and then entered the dining room. Long John was chewing on his pipe, eyes with a faraway glaze. Rosa sat perched on the table chattering animatedly, gesticulating with her hands.

I paused and watched them curiously. Silver shook himself from his deep thoughts and graced Rosa with a charming smile. He said something to her which made her laugh. Tugging on my waistcoat self-consciously, I stepped forward to join their conversation. As I approached their voices died down. I felt myself flush like Rosa had the night before. "Um. Hello," I offered, "Ah, Silver— John. I want to apologize."

Silver waved his hand. "Forget it. It's in the past, Jimmy." Then his lips curled around the stem of his pipe in a kind smile. He extended the hand to me. "Truce?"

Tentatively, I reached my hand out. He clasped it and we shook. "Truce," I agreed.