Sammuel was right. By that evening, I was walking around like nothing had ever happened. I was upstairs cleaning my room when Father came home.

"Good evening Wesley," He said reluctantly, poking his head through the open door.

"Did Mother ask you to talk to me again?" I asked.

"Yes," Father replied.

"Okay, I'll tell her we had a nice little conversation about…springtime navigation." I reached up to put something on a high shelf—well, high to me.

Just about then, Father realized I wasn't in bed anymore. "How did you get to feeling better so quickly?" He seemed a bit threatened.

"I don't know. I just felt better after we w-had lunch." I hoped he didn't notice I had almost said "went to lunch."

"What was so special about lunch today? Did you go somewhere?"

I looked at him and automatically knew that he knew we were gone. He must have come home during lunch and found out we were somewhere else.

"Yeah," I answered, "One of Mom's old friends that she hadn't seen in years invited her to lunch. She couldn't pass it up, but she couldn't get someone to watch us, so…"

"So she took you. I know. Who was it?"

"I don't know," I pretended to think, "Smith or something? Sarah was their daughter."

"Emily doesn't have friends of that name!" He shouted. He harshly picked me up and stood me on the foot of my bed. "Who was it?" He demanded again.

Mother and Elizabeth heard the ruckus—but didn't catch the words—and again came running.

Without looking at her, Father asked, "Emily, do you have any friends named Smith?" He never lost eye contact with me. I suppose he didn't want me to give her hints.

"No, I don't believe so." She frowned, not knowing what else to say. "Why?"

"Ha!" Father bragged, slapping me. "Who was it?" I looked down because I was afraid I'd say something. "Look at me," he commanded pushing my chin up. "Does that not scare you anymore? This aught to scare you!" He grabbed his whip, which now hung from his belt whenever he was at home.

I wanted to say, "Yes that does scare me," but nothing came out. I took a step backwards, but my foot caught in a fold in my blanket. As I tripped, he raised the whip, and…

"No Weatherby! Don't!" Mother pleaded as she ran between Father and me. He slapped her without even thinking.

That was only the second time he had ever hit her. It surprised us all. Father tried to forget about it and move on, but the look she gave him kept reminding him of the last time. The whole night flashed before his eyes and stopped at "Stay out of this. It's not about you."

He mumbled, "I never got to finish that."

"What?" Mother asked, very confused.

"I'm sorry," he replied excitedly. Then, he dropped the whip and rubbed her cheeks.

Turning to me, he picked me up—like a normal father—kissed me on the forehead, and exclaimed, "I love you!" He spun me around, put me down on the floor, and ran out the door saying, "You just gave me a great idea."

As soon as Father was gone, I inquired, "Mother, what is he going to do?"

"I don't know," she answered, "but whatever it is, it's bad."

Elizabeth snuck over to the door and peeked out. She could see a little bit of Father down the stairs and around the corner. He was loading a gun and mumbling things. The only word Elizabeth caught was "Sammuel."

"Sammuel!" She exclaimed, frightened, and starting to run out of the room. "He ca—"

"Oh, no!" Mother interrupted, grabbing her from behind to stop her. "Don't do that or he'll kill you too."

"Kill! Mother what do you mean by that?" I asked, in shock.

"You see, your father is a very violent man, (like I didn't already know that) and nothing any of us do can stand in his way. When he is seeking violence, he gets violence." Mother answered, though I found it hard to believe. One of these days, I would stop Father.

"But why Sammuel?" Elizabeth questioned naively.

"Did I ever tell you the story of my engagement night?"

"Yes," I replied.

"No," Elizabeth countered.

Mother recounted the whole story for us. From beginning to the same end I gave you. She finished it off with, "Ever since then your father has hated Sammuel and has been dying to finish him off. Now that he's gotten his chance, there is no stopping him."

By that time we were all on my bed curled up under the covers. Then, Mother got up and said, "Well, the story is over. I have to go make dinner." That was just an excuse of course. We all knew she had slaves to do that.

"But Mother!" Elizabeth complained. "What happened after that?"

"Yes Mother, you've never told us the rest," I added.

"No, one story is enough."

"Please!" Elizabeth and I begged together.

"All right. I guess I can tell you." And she jumped back on the bed.

Meanwhile, Father had been riding, and had just arrived at Sammuel's house. Sammuel's aged father, who could no longer speak, answered the door. He held up a sign that read, "THEY'RE BUSY," in Sammuel's handwriting.

Father just pushed him out of the way—which can seriously injure an older man—and called, "Sammuel!"

Sammuel came out of the kitchen all sooty and surprised to hear Father. However, he was even more surprised when Father pointed a gun at his head. Melony came out of the kitchen as well, and Sammuel waved her back in, trying to protect her.

"Come on out Missus," Father commanded. "You might want to hear this."

"Hello Weatherby," Sammuel started, attempting to be polite. "'Tis a pleasant surprise to have you here. Would you like anything? Some tea perhaps? I think we still have tea."

"No thank you," Father responded harshly.

"Then, what exactly is your purpose here?" Sammuel asked, pretending not to notice the gun.

"My wife came over here today, did she not?"

"Yes…That was a pleasant surprise as well. Why?"

"You mean, you didn't invite her?"

"No. She just showed up this morning."

That last comment delayed Father. His arm wavered, but only for a second.

"I don't believe you!" He shouted, his determination returning.

"But…have I ever lied to you?" Sammuel countered.

Father thought, and thought, and thought. He realized that in their whole relationship, Sammuel had never lied…until that morning.

"Yes!"

"Sammuel?" Melony whispered, confused.

"When?" Sammuel asked.

"Remember my engagement party?" Father once again thought back to that night. Sammuel tried to remember as much as he possibly could. Mother told us the story…

Weatherby had just slapped her for the first time. Remember that Weatherby's father said, "Actually, it's all about her, and I suggest you let her tell her side of the story."

But Mother didn't want to tell her side of the story. Every second, this marriage idea was growing further and further from her mind. She did not want to marry Father; she would choose Sammuel over him if that was necessary. She felt like throwing the ring at him, kicking him, spitting in his face…anything. But instead, she just stood there staring at him, about ready to cry.

Finally capable of moving, she ran up the stairs by the door. Mother had decided she had to leave the party. She had just gotten to the door and was about ready to open it when it opened on her. She fell to the floor, and a mob of people flooded in. One large, but not too bid, very dirty, male pirate with some sort of disgusting hair helped Mother up. She looked around after a second and noticed they were ALL very dirty pirates!

"Mother! That can't be!" Elizabeth interrupted. "You've never met any pirates. I thought you were telling us a true story."

"Why can't you ever just listen—to the whole story—before you make comments?" I complained.

"I can too! When it makes sense," she argued, shoving me a little.

"Cannot!" I pushed her back, and we started one of those brother-sister fights.

"Do you two want me to finish the story?" Mother asked.

"Yes," we both replied.

"Then stop fighting."

The man who helped her up said, "Sorry 'bout that. Are you all right Miss?"

"I'm fine," Mother replied, brushing herself off.

"Good…We weren't expectin' ye te be there." He paused and looked around. "I'm Jack," he said after a while, holding his hand out to shake hers, "Cap't Jack Sparrow."

Mother didn't really want to shake his hand…but he did look cute, and his hand was still stretched out. She replied, "I'm Myra," reluctantly shaking his back.

Then he went down with the rest of the people. There was just the announcer and Mohter standing at the top of the stairs looking at the mess the night had become. Mother wanted to cry, but somehow ended up laughing. A group of five pirates had taken over the band and started playing a strange type of music. The majority of the pirates had raided the food bar. One pirate named Ragetti had picked up Elizabeth.

"Aw! Looket at the baby," he said with a very strong accent to his friend Pintel. "What a beautiful baby."

Mother looked over to where Sammuel was. Three pirates were there with him—with clean hands. They were doing something. When Mother looked closer, she realized they were doctors, and they were trying to fix Sammuel. A few of the richer, more well dressed pirates—including Jack—were doing the actual stealing part. No, in reality, they were stealing the gold, and the others were stealing food and instruments.

One of the pirates was harassing Weatherby, but he broke away. He had found Sammuel as well. Father pushed the pirate away from him, picked up his pistol that he had dropped, and fired in the general direction of the doctors.

In the time it took them to stand up cautiously, and for the one in front to say, "That was a very bad idea, Sir," all the other pirates had surrounded Father and cocked their pistols. The other men in the room also had their hands on their guns, though, it wasn't apparent who they intended to shoot at. The women were frightened, but stiff. Silence seemed to last forever until someone shot. No one knows who, but it triggered everyone else to shoot as well. The screaming of the women added to the chaos as all the men shot practically at nothing.

Suddenly, out of the whole mess, Sammuel scrambled up the stairs. "What can I do to get their attention?" He shouted to Mother over all the noise.

"I don't know," she answered. For a second, they just looked out at the crowd together. "Kiss me," Mother supplied, joking.

"That might work," he joked back.

He tried everything he could think of to get their attention. He shouted; he jumped up and down; he shot in the air with his gun. He even pretended to shoot himself, faking a fall and everything. There was nothing more he could do, so he did the only thing left to do. Sammuel sighed, looked at Mother, and kissed her. One great big smooch that lasted forever! Until they all stopped shooting.

Jack saw it. Weatherby saw it, and when they saw it, they stopped, all just as shocked as Mother was. In turn, everyone else stopped shooting, and Sammuel stopped kissing.

"You're all fighting over me, eh?" Sammuel asked, "Right?...Right?" He had to ask several times because no one would answer him.

The crowd eventually mumbled a little. Sammuel must have taken that as a yes because he continued, "Well, I've solved your problem. I promise you that I shall never set eyes on Emily Laureen Myra Dantes again!" With that, Sammuel left, and it was true—Mother hadn't seen him again until this morning.

"That was the true story," Mother thought to herself as she remembered it all. "But I can't tell them that. It just isn't proper."

So she didn't tell us the rest of the story. Instead, she replied to Elizabeth's question with, "You're right. It's not true. I just couldn't stand that Sammuel could tell good stories and I could not."

"Then what did happen?" Elizabeth asked.

"Nothing really. Most of the people left. I left."

"How does that explain why he is killing Sammuel?" I demanded.

"Oh, a couple of days later he promised to never see me again," Mother explained as if it were nothing at all.

"Mother! You've killed him!" I realized.

"What?" Was all she could think to say.

"Sammuel!" I repeated, "You've bloody killed him!"

"Don't say such things!" She commanded covering my mouth. I knew she was just trying to avoid the real subject.

"I'm sorry but—"

"Who taught you that word? Did Sammuel teach you that?"

"NO! But—"

"Then, who did?"

"Well, Father said it a couple weeks ago, but it's not like I never hear it around the town."

"Oh."

"But that doesn't change the fact that this is all your fault Mother," Elizabeth continued for me. "Why did you go?"

"I don't know…I have to make supper," she answered and left.

"Yes, I remember most of the night," Sammuel replied after he thought for a while.

"Then you know exactly why I'm here," Father said.

Sammuel just looked at his hands and kicked at the floor softly. He knew why Father was there. He had known all along.

Father was becoming impatient again, so he shouted, "You saw Emily again!"

"Yes, but she came here."

"You could have sent her home."

"Yes, but…" Once again, Sammuel's "talent" with words was showing through. He had nothing to say to that. Father was right; he had messed up this time, so he tried a different approach.

Sammuel got down on his knees and begged, "But look at Melony, she's pregnant, and my father, he's sick. Right now they need me—"

There were two shots at two people. Both hit; both killed. Five lives were in the room—two dead—but no one knows who.