Ramona:

Is it not funny how the smallest of things create great happiness. It's as simple as being away from the place of great irritation on a sunny afternoon in a company of a comfortable man. Most of us were in shock last night when Thelma returned, seemingly floating above the ground, thus contributing to great quarrels and unrest. There are fewer of us left, but it seems the remaining find extra energy to fight more in spite of a few friendships and alliances forming. Carmen and Louisa who usually brighten up the atmosphere are gloomier than a grave of the ancient sea serpent, all thanks to a silly bet they've been drawn into due to their quarrelling. They wagered that Jade will come back from the date, against Brenda's word that it will be Thelma. I thought Jade will be returning too, but I've prudently stayed out of such foolishness. The losing party forfeited their right to approach James during the pre-rose ceremony unless he chose to speak with them. Maybe the promise of love is to blame, but seeing so many silly deeds accomplished in short period dampens my hope for humanity's survival.

I would despair to find some intelligence in this world if it wasn't for Father Moore, the overseer of the Port Royal's hospital. High forehead framed by brown hair and piercingly blue eyes give him appearance of an enlightened man who can see people inside out and penetrate in thought into the fabric of the world. I'm flattered that he took interest in a mild suggestion I've made during our stay that evolved into a deep conversation. Father Moore is entrusted with the administrative work. In his free time he attends the spiritual well being of the patients, although he no longer belongs to the church. The sea called him away from devoting his life to prayer and solitude. Thus, he found himself standing in the hospital's courtyard half a world away from England, speaking to 'a woman rich in spirit and mind' as he described me.

Father Moore speaks highly of the Admiral. It is due to James that myself, Lucia and Joanna came to do charity work, mainly handing out the stew to the patients. I imagine it will be one of the responsibilities of his future wife. The Admiral along with Governor Swann is deeply involved in improving the town, which is a bit unusual. I imagine any other Admiral would normally be concerned with the port defences only. Regardless, this gives me an edge over others. I feel confident when it comes to management, even if getting into this much administrative detail such as cutting the cost repairs smartly is hardly the right pastime for a woman. My conversation with Father Moore is so interesting that I feel no resentment when James Norrington steps away to converse with Joanna. My sight lingers just a little, admiring his tall figure. He is such a handsome man, yet, today I am drawn to the enlightened blue eyes rather than sea green.

Joanna:

I've never seen so many spoons in my life: wooden spoons, silver spoons, spoons nearly as large as a plate and so small they're only fit for children, plain spoons and heavily ornamented. All of them share one quality – they've been donated to the hospital by kind hearted citizens. Well, that and the fact that I've been charged with counting them all after dinner to help an inventory check. There are very few literate people around to do it properly. The seemingly innocent task is harder than it looks. "Seventy one, seventy two…" I mutter in deep concentration, having separated the silver spoons from the bunch.

"There's one under the table."

James Norrington dutifully picks up the escaped object and places it in front of me. I can almost swear I see a flicker of amusement before he innocently offers help. As grateful as I wish to be, I feel flustered and indignant.

"You made me lose count!" I exclaim.

"Forgive me. An attractive woman concentrating so seriously on her task attracts mischief."

He maintains an air of gravity about him with that apology; however, something tells me he isn't too sorry. I've nearly forgotten that this was a date. Coming to the hospital to see so many patients and interacting with so many people has overwhelmed me.

I used to do this with my fiancée. I wish I've gotten a chance to build more memories before he was taken by God. After that, I couldn't find the courage to do this again. I have forgotten what it means to do a good deed. It's a missed feeling that fills me with warmth. I should not have locked my heart away this long. Meeting James Norrington is helping me remember. "I forgive you because you've made this day special," I tell him.

"No. It was you who did it."

I don't know where his heart is. I feel deeper bond between him and some other women, but I will remember this day as something special.

James:

Saying goodbye to Jade last night was difficult, yet I'm too far swept away by a whirlwind to reflect too deeply on the experience – meaning to brood as certain someone has so ineloquently put it. Theodore Groves doesn't allow me to think, sending me on another date as it is his intent. I must make decisions based on intuition. However, no matter how hard he tries, I am not so easily distracted.

As much as I prefer to enjoy the day, I've secretly checked the hospital for any suspicious intruders while the women were occupied. I trust Father Moore surely would have noticed anyone suspicious. Leave it to Jack Sparrow to insert his insufferable being where it's unwanted, including my date. The opportunity to search for him was too convenient to miss. I have a bad feeling Calypso might be getting impatient.

I escape these thoughts when Lucia passes by, dragging a cauldron that surely exceeds her weight across the courtyard towards the front door. I try to suppress a short laugh at the sight. Lucia is a funny creature. If the dragging can be somehow accomplished, taking it up the stairs is an entirely harder matter, complicated by a brown puppy that lives with Mr Moore bouncing about at her feet. She puts down the cauldron and paces around it in deepest contemplation, waving her hands in the air like she's reading some kind of spell. I think she's discussing with the dog what to do and then bites her lip and grabs the cauldron again with a renewed determination. The puppy lets out a small bark of discontent and grabs the hem of her skirt with his teeth. The ritual may look odd to someone who doesn't know her. Lucia is easily misunderstood because she lives inside her head, doing things that may seem awkward, but do make sense in her mind. In the tug of war, the puppy wins and she places the cauldron back on the ground, gently scolding the dog for stopping her.

"I believe he's expressing a wish to carry it for you," I tell her, making sure she sees my approach. I wouldn't want that prehistoric contraption dropped on her foot. "He has a point. Meanwhile I cannot offer a paw, I can give you a hand, providing it is acceptable."

"No!" she exclaims vehemently and then shakes her head as if to cancel the harsh exclamation. "I mean to say, that is, I appreciate your kindness, but I cannot trouble you with something so trivial! It is my job. I should be the one to do it!"

"I admire your strong sense of responsibility. However, I do wish to challenge small part of your statement," so I tell her, seeing that she fully believes her words. "It is our job. Since we've arrived together, shouldn't we do it together?"

"Oh! I suppose so," she concedes. The puppy lets go of her skirt and lets out a short bark. I suppose he approves.

"Besides," I say a little boldly, leaning closer than perhaps it's appropriate to take the heavy object away from her, "I would like to help even if it is your job only." The puppy turns away pointedly and goes chasing after a spoon that Joanna drops.

"Um, well," Lucia fidgets under my scrutiny, but I have faith she will speak up honestly even if it embarrasses her deeply, "as selfish as I'm being, I do want you to help. Not that I wouldn't try my best to do my work. After all, it's you who inspires me to try no matter how difficult. I always see you doing your best."

It's my turn to be flustered. "I'm not that perfect when it comes to hard work," I tell her. "It depends on what it is. I'm not fond of paperwork. My assistant always complains how late it is, providing he can find me. To be honest, I don't feel very repentant when he cannot find me." Confessing my shortcomings is uncomfortable, but I cannot force guilt to come. I imagine he is very cross with me since I've been using this marriage as cover up for not seeing him. Ninety five percent of those papers are an irrelevant pile of bureaucracy, instilled by the Admiralty. I wonder, will they believe me if I tell them that the ship which should have carried those papers ran into storm and sunk.

"Oh! I missed it!" Lucia exclaims in sincere disappointment, seemingly to herself.

"Missed what?" I glance around, wondering if I can bring back whatever it is she wanted. But, there's just the sunlit courtyard without anything intriguing going on.

"I thought you've smiled. But, I missed it. Sometimes you do that, suppress a smile when you want to laugh," she says and then looks horrified. "I mean, I don't think you're gloomy or anything unsightly like that! You're always so serious and that's good! That is that's what I meant to say!"

Her face is flushed. She looks ready to hide underneath the cauldron we're carrying. That's how she is. Lucia always confesses to me whatever is on her mind. Today, I'll be giving a rose to one of these women who will be safe during the next rose ceremony. I had no idea who to choose when Groves informed me. Joanna amazes me with the strength of her spirit. Ramona must be the smartest woman I've met. It seemed too dazzling to choose. But, just like that, I suddenly know who. It will be in the afternoon when we part ways, but right now I simply smile at her.

Groves:

"I knew he'd like her!" I mutter self-satisfied, feeling perfectly comfortable in the position chosen as observation point at an old attic, uninhabited except for the spiders, if it weren't for some hinge sinking into my side and a minor hole in the boards where my foot is. The house is located across the hospital, half-hidden by trees. Thus, it's impossible to detect me. Surely, James is hugely exaggerating when he is complaining how difficult I've made his life with the insane idea to marry him. He certainly doesn't look like he's suffering. I wish I could hear what he's telling Lucia. He leans down a mere inch from her face. I don't believe he's kissed anyone yet. "Come on, just do it!" I urge, but he straightens his back. My position would be perfect if it wasn't for the constant nagging that emerges behind me.

"Do what?" an insistent inquiry comes for a hundredth time.

"Go away, Gillette!" I state, without lowering the telescope. "Haven't you found any leads on Sparrow yet?"

"Not while you're looking at James though a spyglass with a perverted look on your face," Phillip states.

"It's not perverted to look out for your friend's well being," I parry.

"You are spying on his date," Phillip claims, wrestling the telescope from me. However, I won't give it up so easily and grab it back. The floor creaks ominously as we play tug of war for possession.

"Next time bring your own telescope!" I tell him, winning the thing back.

"Next time?"

"Of course. He has a one on one date in two days. I wonder if he will finally kiss someone."

I put up the telescope, turning it this way and that to bring the hospital back into focus. For some reason in addition to blur, the world seems to be shaking.

"Uh…Theo…." Phillip says in a funny voice.

"Quit nagging!" I exclaim impatiently. "Sometimes I really wish you'd fall through the floor and disapp…..eaarrraaaah!"

The floor collapses, bringing us down several feet to the third floor where we land on the bed with the decrepit boards and spider webs crashing all around us. A spider bounces off my forehead and scooters away.

"Groves…" Gillette says into silence filled with settling dust. "If you're alive, please get your foot out of my a…." he sneezes.

I remove the leg at his request and roll off the bed, wondering what has more dust my coat or a three hundred years old carpet that has never been cleaned. As I land on my knees and hands, my nose nearly presses into the telescope that lies in shambles.

"Such shame," states Phillip light-heartedly and I suspect he's referring to my behaviour rather than broken telescope. "Don't worry; I'll buy you a new one for your birthday. Five months from now."

I groan.