For the next two weeks, James Norrington and Isabelle were in almost constant company. He escorted her to and from the offices and found excuses to haunt the halls of headquarters and carry messages back and forth. One day he brought a message from the offices to find her sitting in the library with a troubled look about her face. She was staring out into the startlingly clear blue skies of the Caribbean afternoon and chewing on the pad of her thumb; something, he had noticed, she only did when she was deeply troubled.

"Miss Beckett?"

"Mr. Norrington!" Isabelle rose from her spot behind the desk and shook her head. "I didn't hear you come in. What brings you here today?"

"I have a message from Mr. Jenkins for you." He said placing the file on the desk. "What's troubling you?"

"Nothing." Isabelle said quickly as she snatched up the file to read over the message that was no doubt a simple document requiring her signature.

"Miss Beckett. For two weeks now, we have been conversing and spending time with one another. We established that we are friends and colleagues. It didn't take me long to discover what that look means." Isabelle glanced up at him.

"What look?" His eyes locked on hers, daring her to come up with an excuse. It was hopeless and she knew it. She sighed and then sat down again, tossing the missive down before her. "It's the taxes levied on the trade goods, Mr. Norrington! People are fighting for their very survival and yet there's nothing to be done!"

"What brought this about?" Mr. Norrington watched as she arose again and went to stand on the balcony. The wind caught up her honey colored hair and twisted it about. He stood beside her and watched as she corralled her thoughts and began to speak.

"Yesterday I was in the market." She said softly. "I overheard a woman bartering for flour—flour!—of all things. She could not afford it! It is not even a severe import, being grown and ground as it is upon another island, but it is so taxed that the milliner in the market must raise his prices. I heard her pleading with him…it is her daughter's tenth birthday and she wished to bake a sweet cake for her." Isabelle looked troubled at the thought and James expressed as much to her. "Should I not care then? It is my business that is going to destroy the hopes and dreams of this poor girl…and her mother."

"You can't lower the taxes. You've said as much yourself." James said. "What can you do? Gift them the flour?"

"You know as much as I that the people of Port Royal are too proud for that. They'll accept no outright charity from Company coffers." She grasped the marble railing and sighed.

"You're thinking about something." James turned his back to the railing and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared peevishly at her. She was tapping one well manicured nail against the stone beneath her hands and her eyes were squinted against the bright blue of the sky and water as her mind continued to brew. Finally, he could stand the silence between them no longer and felt compelled to break it. "What is it?"

"What if I were to throw a party…for all the children?" She said with out turning to face him.

"What do you mean?"

"Is May day not soon approaching?"

"It is four days hence."

"Perhaps we shall have a May day feast. And a party for the children with sweet cakes and the like. Perhaps even gift them with small trinkets…flour and sugar for the older ones." Isabelle looked up at Mr. Norrington from the corner of her eye. He was good at guarding what he was thinking; it was one reason she enjoyed his company.

"I think that sounds quite plausible." He finally said. "There hasn't been a celebration here in a long time."

"Will you help me?" Isabelle reached out and grasped James' sleeve. "I don't think they'd accept it knowing it's all done by me….would you be my voice to them? They know you…"

"They might not accept it from me….I made many an enemy when I sailed from this port after Jack Sparrow." Isabelle's dark eyes sought his, pleading without having to say a word. "But I shall do my best to see your Maying a festive one. Father Murdoch will certainly help us."

"Oh, thank you!" Isabelle's eyes were alight suddenly and she went back into the library to make a list of all that would need to be done.

She sent a message to the offices outlining what she was doing and also made overtures to the other members of the elite in the area. Many of them were quick to help and offered up their kitchens to the making of the feast. The event was held in the yard between the church and the vicarage with the blessings of Father Murdoch. Large tables were laid out and everyone in the village was invited. The elite of the city released their servants and their families early to set up the tables and bring the food. There were sweet cakes of every shape and flavor and a large island boar had been killed and roasted for the occasion. There was a May pole and the teens of the village climbed to a high bluff to watch the sun rise and to greet the spring sun as it climbed from the sea on the far side of the island. Isabelle helped set out the food and smiled as James led the first of the villagers into the vicarage yard.

"A Happy May morning to you!" She called as the children trotted forward to look at the food with large hungry eyes.

"A Happy May morning to you as well, Mistress Beckett." The older of the girls curtsied and nudged her brother that he might turn and bow to one of their betters. The little boy just stared at Isabelle with his thumb in his mouth. "Bow, or Mama will skin you alive!" The girl hissed. He bowed from the waist, but kept his eyes locked on Isabelle. He was terrified of her. Isabelle knelt before him and smiled.

"How old are you?"

"He's four ma'am." The girl answered. "Hardly talks at all with his thumb in his mouth all the time."

"Well, a four year old gentleman is just who I need to sit at the head of one of my tables. Would that be you?" The little boy took his thumb out of his mouth and then looked up at his sister before nodding and whispering an answer. "Good! Follow me!" Isabelle took his little hand in hers and led him to the head of one of the tables and lifted him into the chair. His sister sat to one side and curtsied again as Isabelle went off to greet more of her guests.

Many of the villagers came to participate in the festivities, but many of the parents suspected that the East India Trading Company was behind much of it. Father Murdoch had pledged his name to the cause at Mr. Norrington's request, knowing full well that if either Isabelle or James fronted it, it would fail on the doorsteps of the townspeople.

After a breakfast of sweet cakes, the older children danced around the maypole, winding lengths of different colored silks about the pole and singing and dancing songs that the elder villagers taught them; songs from the old country and the old world. Isabelle was helping to bring up platters of boars meat when James took one of the trays from her and set it upon the table.

"Miss Beckett, I request a dance from you."

"Oh, Mr. Norrington, I couldn't…"

"You can and you will because it is my May Day wish." James said grasping her hands and dragging her towards the open space where a country reel was being completed.

"Miss Beckett! Miss Beckett!" A young girl with blonde curls dancing from beneath her mob cap came running up with a wreath of flowers. "Ye cannot dance without a wreath miss!"

"Well, I won't take yours, Miss Anne. You see, I won't be dancing."

"This isn't mine. Sarah Cheavers made it for you." Isabelle looked across the green to where an auburn haired teen stood with a wreath of blue flowers in her loose hair. She stood beside one of the coopers' lads swaying to the music as the reel was completed. "She'd be awful sore if you didn't accept it Miss Beckett. She saved the pink ones for you since it matched your dress and ribbons."

"It would seem you have no choice in the matter, Miss Beckett." James Norrington whispered, a smile playing about his mouth. Isabelle shot him an angry look and then knelt down and let the little blonde girl place the wreath upon her head. Her long hair had been plaited around the side of her head and curved across her neck and over her left shoulder. Now with the bright pink flowers adorning her hair she looked like a May Queen.

"Very well, if you all insist." She said, still squinting up at James. "A shall dance, but only this once!" James led Isabelle out into the open space where the dances were held and smiled at her as they moved through the set to the tune of the violin and flute. She was passed from hand to hand and danced amongst the commoners and colonial elite. When the music ended Isabelle made her excuses to leave and finished setting up for the lunch with a broad grin upon her face.

Isabelle was just putting a slice of boars' meat on one of the plates before young John King, the four year old from earlier in the day, when she heard a bell begin to ring. She looked up at the church bell and shielded her eyes, but it was not coming from the big bell in the church. She went back to serving the children when she heard the bell again. James watched as the smile faded from her eyes and she seemed to grow nervous. She moved away from the tables and moved into the graveyard behind the church. He followed at a discreet distance.

"Miss Beckett?" Though they were indeed friends he had never been able to use her given name. She had never given him permission to use her Christian name, and so he continued to refer to her as someone of higher station and not a friend. Her arms were crossed over her stomach and she stared out into the harbor below. "What's the matter?"

"Lord Beckett has returned." Isabelle whispered.

"What? How do you know?" James peered down into the blue bowl of the Port Royal harbor and could make out little. He certainly didn't see the company flag ship that he knew Lord Beckett had sailed on.

Because I can hear him in my head, feel him in my heart…But Isabelle couldn't tell James Norrington that. He would think she was insane. He looked at her and saw that her eyes were focused on the horizon. He too began to scan the line where sea met sky and sure enough, in the distance, a ship could be seen bobbing against the waves, its white sails unfurled and full of the prevailing wind.

"Have you ever just known something, Mr. Norrington?" She did not take her eyes from the distant ship.

"I have had that feeling before, yes." He answered quietly.

"Well, I know that Lord Beckett is on that ship."

"Does that matter?" Isabelle finally looked at him.

"Yes. To me it does. He will not be happy with this." She waved her hand back towards the front of the church where the sound of laughter could be heard coming from the revelers.

"So what if he isn't happy?" James said quickly. "You've made far more people very happy with the events thus far. We mustn't his homecoming ruin your day. Perhaps the wind will shift and he'll be held to sea. A storm could blow in. You could be wrong and he isn't aboard that ship. You never know! But you shouldn't let that ruin these festivities." Isabelle nodded. She was worried what Cutler would think of her using Company funds to provide a good time to the townspeople. She knew he would not approve. It had happened in India during a wedding for one of the clerks. Cutler had been furious that Isabelle had appropriated Company funds to help pay for the church so the young couple could be wed. She had also organized the villagers so that there might be a grand and festive party for the couple afterwards. Though the only real cost to the company had been the fee to pay the priest at the church, Cutler had been furious that such joy had been brought to the people he wanted to keep in fear. He had believed she was undermining his authority.

"You're right. I can't let him ruin the day for them…" Isabelle turned and quickly went back to the May Day festivities.

The day was drawing to a close and the children were sent along with sacks of flour and bits of sugar to take home with them. Though it wasn't a lot to Isabelle, she knew it would mean the world to their parents. John and Betty King, the two children who were first to arrive were the last to leave. John King pulled away from his sister's grasp and ran back to Isabelle. He wrapped his arms about her skirts and looked up at her with his large blue eyes.

"Thank You Miss Beckett!" He said looking up at her. "My belly ain't never been so full." He ran off again and took hold of his sister's hand and left the church yard. Isabelle felt torn again. She was glad that the boy was so happy, his little heart was overflowing with joy and she could feel it. But it was not enough to counter her own feeling of sadness at hearing the news that he'd not been eating well. She knew that the little half pound bag of flour she'd sent home with his sister would be hardly enough for two loaves of bread. She sighed heavily and went to retrieve her shawl from inside the church. Father Murdoch met her on the stairs.

"You have done good work this day, Miss Beckett. Have you ever thought of joining the church?"

"No Father. My place is not with the church." She said with a small smile. All the Saints and their mothers would roll about in their graves and tombs and send thunder bolts upon him if she were to take up holy orders at his urging. "I thank you though, for helping us with this event." The priest nodded and made the sign of the cross above her head and watched as she turned to leave. Mr. Norrington had called up the carriage to bring her home.

"That ship we saw earlier has entered port." He said as he handed her up into the coach. The sun was sinking into the water and had turned the sky from the brightest blue to a flaming orange. "It looked to be flying company colors, though that isn't unusual in Port Royal any more."

"No, not unusual at all. Thank you Mr. Norrington, this day was more of a success than I could have dreamed." He shut the door and she leaned against the edge of the door to look down at him. He placed his hand gently over hers and smiled up at her.

"It was all because of you. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for." She nodded but he could see worry, or perhaps fear in her eyes. "If you need anything at all, please, call upon me."

"I will thank you Mr. Norrington." The driver pulled away and James was forced to step away. "Thank you!" She called to him again before she began to corral her thoughts to deal with Cutler's arrival.

A/N: I know this might seem a little slow going for now, but I have to build a bridge between DMC and AWE. I really hope people are enjoying this story. I love reviews so don't be shy!