On their way to one of the highest peaks of Shipwreck City, where Teague resided, so to speak, Tia and James had incessantly listed legends of the sea, the truth of which now had to be verified with their father.
"The Kraken?"
"No myth, Tia." Hardly noticeable, Jack shook the thought off. "But let's not talk about that slimy old fellow too much, shall we?"
"Poseidon's trident – what about that?"
"Kid, how old are you again?"
"Almost seven," James replied. "Why?"
"Because I was about ten years older than you when I saved some mermaids on Antoine's disgrace of a boat from the outlandishly ugly Captain Torrents with that very trident."
"Sparrow, please," Tara groaned, "don't tell the kids such nonsense!"
"He's not." Tia beamed up at her father. "It really is true, isn't it?"
"Yes, as true as it is that I'm carrying our groceries right now," Jack confirmed, promptly taking Tara's basket to the other side to make it easier for his daughter to walk next to him. "Our world can be more pagan than some might think, aye?"
"I'm not some," Tara growled, walking ahead even more briskly.
"Oh, darling, no – you're everything …"
The way he said it, so completely devoutly, puzzled her. It was raw intuition to turn back to him, and he glanced at her the way he always would when he happened to be intentionally near her. If he only wanted to, he'd always loved her sincerely and with all his heart. But how much was that worth when it no longer held any water under distraction?
"So mermaids really do exist," Tia mused wide awake.
"If she ever swims by again, I'll introduce you to Aquila," Jack promised. Then he already corrected himself. "Her sisters don't like me too much, though. Neither does she, actually, now that I think about it … Let's stick with Syrena, she wasn't so snarky."
"But why don't they like you if you saved them?" James asked, almost dismayed at the perceived injustice his good father was experiencing.
"You know, Jay," Sparrow began, pathetically looking down on the children, "ingratitude is the world's wage …"
Tara meanwhile shaking her head with her face high to the heavens spoke volumes.
"What?"
"The curses of the seas, and all the wrath of the world," it bubbled up immediately, "and it never occurred to you that maybe it's on you, if you keep facing it?"
"Yes, of course it did. All the time. But so helpful of you to also remind me of it."
"Oi – who's faster! Let's run home!" James' ideas were always sudden in nature, like his father's. That's why he was already on his way …
"You cheat by running off already!" Tia scolded, but despite the questionable start of this race she also began to run.
Their parents kept watching them approach the end of the narrow alley with its absurd slope.
"Since this is all new to you, I'll give you a hint," Tara grumbled. "Looks like your kids want to play catch." She looked up at him with a demanding smile. "So why aren't you moving?"
"Because, frankly, I'm in no particular hurry to get to Teague." He took a deep breath, then added, "And because my back is also killing me and –"
"I thought," she talked over him, "hunger was already doing that."
"That adds to the misfortune as well, yes. So why don't you run along instead?" He gave her as charming a smile as he could. "You're younger also, after all …"
"Age before beauty. I've been running along for years, Sparrow. It's your turn now. Since you happen to be around …"
"I don't happen to be, I was actively searching –"
"Papá!"
Tara and he looked straight up the alley. Tia and James paused on their chosen spot, gasping, yet only because they were obviously expecting more participation.
"When giving birth to them tore me to pieces, I couldn't let them starve either." Tara pushed him on with utmost determination. "So welcome to my world where physical pain, high blood loss and even the best of excuses simply don't count."
The dark wood of old ships was the same as then, and the same songs were wafting through the place. The guitar play Jack had grown up with whenever Teague cared to be around, he occasionally missed. Teague himself, however, not really. Not after plenty of practice in doing it as a youth, at least.
"I would have won, actually," James affirmed very seriously. "Normally I would have – what are you laughing at, Tia?"
His sister couldn't hold back and threw her hands in the air. "You didn't know that shortcut, just like me. That's why you weren't any faster than Papá!"
"Papá cheated after all," Tara whispered so that only Jack could hear it.
"Pirate!" he mumbled back just as softly.
"Outlaw …"
The traces of utmost satisfaction on his face made Tara roll her eyes. And to make matters worse, he proceeded to tell the children, "Learn from the best. When in doubt, rules can always be rewritten."
For a moment there, he'd considered to just let them win their little race – but no, they were robust. They were a fusion of Tara and him, they had to be. And defeat was part of the game when you played …
It dawned when they finally arrived at the place he'd call something like a home for a few years. If one wanted to run away from it, it probably was one. A home …
"Papá, did you miss Teague?" Tia wanted to know. Her tousled dark hair and dress with rips and stains were evidence of an adventurous day.
"See, Princess … I've likely missed him about as much as he missed me …"
And Tara could well guess exactly how much that must have been.
As soon as they entered, they heard Edward play, outside on his terrace made of old wrecks. As he always did – whether the world was about to end or stop spinning, he reached for the guitar. To Tara it seemed quite impossible that Captain Edward Teague, Keeper of the Code, had not yet realised that his son was in town since the noonday sun after nearly thirty years. And yet he merely moved his fingers over strings …
"Am back again!" Jack shouted with little enthusiasm, as though he'd only been away for a few days. Not in the least did he expect an answer, Tara could tell. And yet – for a moment it became quiet and the guitar sounds faded away. Until Teague eventually resumed his play.
"That's it?" Tara whispered, glancing at Jack in astonishment. "I just can't figure you two out …"
Sparrow winked. "That makes three of us, then."
"Whatever …" She sighed, turning to the children. "Let me see your clothes and hands, you two." The test was imaginable brief. "Yeah, thought so … Oh Tia, your dresses are always so much work …"
"But we were practising our fencing skills with Henry at the harbour and then we had to overwhelm Ace," she replied with wide eyes. "I just wanted to –"
"It's all right, I know, you're an Amazon, after all. But wouldn't you rather just wear some breeches and –"
"No. Mamá, please. I like dresses."
Tara gave Jack a weary smile, she couldn't help it. "Do you hear that? She likes dresses, even when she's overwhelming people and fighting with the boys."
"She sure knows how to build a reputation, it's in her blood, no? All she's missing is …" He gestured for them to be patient with him. He quickly patted himself down and then, in the very next moment, pulled out –
"Aunt Hazel's pearls?" Tara hissed. "Jack, for heaven's sake, dammit!"
"What?" he asked, already helping to put them around Tia's neck.
"You stole her pearls –"
"Borrowed them. The old hag won't be needing them much longer, will she?"
"And it stays in the family, actually," James also pointed out.
"I called him a thieving magpie for stealing those pearls just the other day!" she groaned. "And now look at you!"
Jack winked at his son. "Don't worry Jay, got them for us."
"But tomorrow your father will give them back just like you had to," Tara informed her son, smiling at Sparrow as though it was a warning. "Won't he?"
"Well, never say never, but –"
"Wrong answer!"
"All right, I'll put them back." Raising his hands in defeat, he nodded. "So you'll see how concerned I am about honesty and morality for you, aye?"
"On with it, then," she said, trying her best not to just slap him, "Jack, do you remember where the cooking is done around here?"
"If it's still where it used to be –"
"Yes, put the basket there so I can start right away." She turned to the children again. "And you go have a quick wash, will you? Put on fresh clothes and feed Poochie."
"But I'm so hungry," James voiced his concerns, "and I know Papá is, too. Why don't we eat first –"
"Your father is about to wash himself, too, and unlike you, not just quick, if that consoles you."
"Their father is indeed starving, though," Jack wanly confirmed, "did their father mention that?"
"Several times, yes," Tara said, "but I couldn't care less."
"Tia," Jack was quick to say, "Queen of the Seas, read us the future – what should we do first?"
She giggled, yet refused to be manipulated. "What Mamá said. Who sits down at a dinner table with dirty clothes?"
James and his father exchanged a rather perplexed glance, for them the question was much more who didn't. But perhaps Jack had better not write any new rules right now …
"All right, hurry up," Tara said, sending the twins off, "when you're done, it's going to be your father's turn, yes?" Then, as she looked back at the very man, lethargy was literally written all over his face.
"You can't possibly be serious."
"Give me your clothes."
He paused for a heartbeat, then his mouth formed a daring smirk. "We're in no hurry, love, the children should really be asleep before we –"
"When was the last time this shirt got a good washing?"
"When it … needed it."
"Your understanding of that hardly matches mine," she assumed. "So give me your clothes."
"Why are you being so strict?"
"Because I'm raising your children. I also want the bandana …"
"Also?"
"Yes, come on! Otherwise you'll eat with Poochie far away from the table."
"I was about to ask – he's here?" Jack could hardly believe it. "Impossible …"
"Sea turtles, Sparrow. Nothing's impossible in a pagan world, remember? Now, give me your laundry."
He indulged in a maximum of self-pity as he purred, "Tara, surely this is –"
"Do I speak Spanish? Venga …"
"What's for dinner? Is it even worth it for me if –"
"Fosforera," she replied, already unbuttoning his shirt herself.
He nodded and finally helped. "Why didn't you just say so right away …"
"You'd better not say much more yourself, or I'll change my mind about it all."
"Still the same guitar," Jack noted as he stepped out onto the terrace to lean over the railing in front of Teague. He hated this place, but watching the sun set from there was quite the spectacle.
"Jackie!"
"Don't do that. Jack's been perfectly fine since I was two."
"Over my dead body."
He cast a half-amused, half-tired glance over his shoulder. In a way, he truly was an original, his father …
For once, the man even stopped his play to tap his imaginary hat. "So you're finally back here?"
"Could arrange it, yes …"
"That's my shirt," Teague remarked, beginning to play again. "You look like you even washed your sins away. Where did she find the breeches and that bandana?"
"Ask her – I haven't been here in ages."
"Does she wash your clothes?"
Jack nodded. "And she's about to cook Fosforera."
"Then you're outrageously lucky once again – it's one of the best Venezuelan recipes," Teague said. "Spanish technique." He varied his playing a little so it sounded more like Flamenco. "Italian love …" He let the guitar fall silent and grinned. "And African fire …"
Jack nodded. "Fosforera she's always been bloody good at making, aye."
Teague played on, but more quietly than before. "She's been bloody good at raising your children, too …"
"Obviously."
"So, what are they up to?"
"Feeding the dog." Jack drew in the evening air deeply before saying, "A circumstance that, as luck would have it, provides us with the ideal opportunity to address a few core questions in a short amount of time."
"Well," Teague hummed, "my first question would then be … does she hate you?"
Jack actually had to think about that for a moment. "In a way. I did miss that. I missed her."
"I should hope you did so, Jackie." Teague was all of a sudden completely serious. "She's become like a daughter to me."
"Of course, and let me guess off the top of my head: The children she has with me are just like yours?"
"You haven't been here, you know."
"I did notice that, yes."
"Were you looking for her?"
Jack snorted, in annoyed amusement the more he thought about it. "You have no idea how long."
Edward kept playing, quietly. Deliberately. "Was plenty stupid to sail away from her."
"If I'd had any idea how hard it would be to find her again, I'd never have left."
"No." Teague eyed him in almost affectionate skepticism. "I don't believe you, Jackie."
"Well," he finally sighed, "me neither."
"The important thing is that you know now."
Silence grew loud for a moment. Not even the strings could be heard, only the usual disputes and laughter in the city below.
After a while, Teague cleared his throat. "How does it feel to be back?"
"Bizarre. What was going through your head when she was first standing before you?"
"Tara?" Teague let his gaze wander along the horizon with his son. "I thought it couldn't possibly be just one child. And that you'd be blindsided the day you found out. Tell me, Jackie …" Teague abruptly changed the subject. "Did you also look for your compass?"
Jack raised a brow at that. "How do you know?"
"Did you accidentally lose that, too?"
Jack crossed his arms over his chest and turned to completely face Teague. "Why do you ask?"
No later his father held up said object.
"Will you catch?"
Jack did very much so, though puzzled.
"You catch anything of value," Teague chortled. "Like your son …"
"Bloody hell, how did you –"
"You're welcome. But Jackie …" Teague had more in mind than he let on. Jack only knew him that way, and flowery words had obviously also remained his preferred means to tackle lessons. "People don't lose things of true value. They give them up …"
Jack couldn't be bothered to get into it, also to not give in to his paranoia. His father didn't possibly know that he'd indeed deliberately given away the compass to forget Tara. He couldn't know, and he shouldn't …
By old force of habit, Jack opened the compass – and its old habit had not changed either.
Teague watched his son closely. When his gaze led from the needle to the interior behind them, he knew where it was pointing. And it secretly relieved him. Tara had truly become like a daughter to him, and it was completely out of the question for Jack to act … like Jack … to her again.
"It's a compass that rarely points north, huh?"
His son tilted the head. "Very rarely."
"So, do you plan on staying, Jackie?"
"Yes." Laconic was an understatement.
"Do I have to squeeze every word out of you? For how long?"
"As if you ever answered that question."
An almost guilty smile crept onto his father's face. "Touché, boy."
"Were you there?" Jack then asked. He was visibly concerned. So much so that Teague was almost pleased with him. "When they were born, I mean?" he specified, even if Teague had well understood already.
"I really would've wished," he began, "that they'd both been tiny bundles. But that wasn't quite the case."
"How bad was it?"
"She's still here, Jackie. But you and I …" He laughed until he eventually coughed a little. "We'd have died, I say."
Jack pressed his lips together and, somewhat bleary, nodded.
"James is a few minutes older," Teague went on to inform him. "But Tia was literally born in blood."
"Washed with all waters?"
"Like you." Teague finally put the guitar down. It was the rarest thing to ever happen at home. "You know, Jackie …" He even joined him at the railing now, his voice rough and deep as ever. "Lately they've been asking about you all the time. Dying to meet you, I've already run out of appropriate stories. I'm … glad you're here."
"What a strange new attitude this is …"
"How's the Pearl?"
Jack immediately screwed up his face. "Do you want me to leave again so badly?"
"Come on …"
"For some time now," Jack muttered, indignant by the very idea of it, "she's been a ship in a bottle."
"Oh, not good … That's why you're so tired, eh?"
"I sold my soul for a ship that's now in a bottle –"
"Not one soul. One hundred souls Jones wanted, and for good reason. Stop making yourself less than you –"
"Save your fatherly pride, anyone would've –"
"That's where you're just wrong," Teague interrupted him. "There are plenty of men who wouldn't have taken those one hundred people back to their home shore."
"Was the least I could do."
Teague looked into the flickering latern lights of the Cove. "Tell it to those who earn badges for the uniform with much less."
"Decorated uniforms never really suited me," Jack retorted in mock-regret, causing Teague to chuckle.
"I've been telling you that since you were a kid, you're a terrible recipient of commands."
"You'd sometimes mention it when you were here for a change, aye."
Teague held his breath and again didn't even try to wash his hands from it. The realisation just how bad of father he'd been to his boy had by latest made its way into his consciousness whenever he found himself play, care and laugh with his grandchildren.
And over the last few years Jack had also had an epiphany or two. "If I'd had any idea that Tara was expecting my –"
"I know you would have been there. And now you are."
"Just a little tardy, as per usual."
Teague laughed to himself. "A per usual, yes …"
Dear ella, I'm super grateful for your motivating feedback again, it's so nice of you to take the time! I'm really glad you found and enjoy the story and hope it will keep being a bit of fun ^-^
