"Henry, you take a serving to your mother later, too, and give her my regards, will you?"
"All right." Hastily he followed up with a ‚thank you'.
Always polite and oh-so-well behaved.
Hello, please, thank you.
He also had plenty of good qualities like patience and diligence in his blood, it was William Turner's son after all, but Jack couldn't help but wonder why so little of his mother had come through so far. For she was basically an opportunist through and through, and very well able to assert her interests even to the detriment of others.
Henry, on the other hand, stood there like Justitia herself, not even thinking of holding out his plate for dinner as demandingly as the twins.
But nothing came of nothing. Jack was never prouder of his rebels, and it was so evident on his face that it even made Tara smile.
"That's what I meant," James whispered to Tia and her friend.
"What's what you've meant, huh?" Tara put her hands on her hips in challenging amusement.
"The other day my mother also said that you smile more," Henry couldn't help but confess. Oh wonder, Turner Junior as honest and empathetic as always! He simply wouldn't become more likeable to Jack …
"Haven't I always smiled a lot for you kids?"
Henry nodded in good faith, Jack just rolled his eyes, inwardly groaning.
But of course, yes. Children were fundamentally quick to notice strivings for happiness. As much as they had already gotten used to the sight of the pistol pointed at him in the first few weeks, and to the quarrels that had been obvious to them despite friendly faces and well-chosen words, the joy of their new-found harmony was definitely noticeable. Even Teague kept chuckling to himself – Jack could hardly bear it.
"But more often now," Henry added like a saint. And then he held out his plate to Tara hopefully. "That's nice!"
It was so typical for a Turner. Even the whelp had always made the foolish claim of life that all things served him as best as possible solely because he had a pure soul. At the heart of the matter, it was more than self-righteous.
And as annoying as he found him, Tara thought Henry – and Jack could only take this as testimony to maternal transfiguration – was a really sweet little fellow.
"What's truly nice," Sparrow began to correct as he finally pushed himself in front of the children and took the ladle from Tara, "is that you're used to sharing your sharp observations with us as generously as your father once did, Henry. And let it be known to you, for all curiosity's sake: It's because of me." He looked at Tara as presumptuous as it'd get and probably truly meant it. "Isn't that right, darling?"
"Get to the back of the line or behind me."
He winked at her, ever so casually shabby. "Later, maybe …"
Pure indignation plastered on her face, but now Teague snatched the ladle himself, something Sparrow hadn't seen coming.
"Age before stupidity. Move away from the pot, boy, I'm hungry."
"As if we didn't have enough for everyone, you vultures, we have a guest!" Tara groaned and was already about to dust them all out of the kitchen when Teague conciliatory handed her a filled plate.
"Really charming, Edward, you may stay."
"Oh come on, those cheap little tricks," Sparrow scoffed.
"Jackie …" Teague was already coughing with laughter. "I don't ever wish to know how much cheaper yours are."
Tara sighed from the depths of her lungs, then she handed Henry the plate. "For you, dear. And I'll set some aside for Lizzy later."
"Great, but can I finally get some, too?" James' stomach growled as he looked up in miserabe theatrics.
"Don't worry," Jack mumbled, sticking the nearest plate under his nose, "your Papá won't forget you. First though …" He handed it to Tia before James could grab the dish. "You'll want to let your sister have some before you, won't you?"
"No, actually –"
"Good boy, writes poetry and is a true gentleman – like his exemplary eponym!"
"He's your son first and foremost," Tara stated, Jack just grinned.
"Can I have some for Poochie, too?" Tia asked into the bustle.
Jack looked from her to her mother in irritation. "Does the dog also get –"
"He can have a bit, he's supposed to live long," Tara said, handing Tia another plate before stroking the panting wolfhound's head.
"How much so? That doggy has been around longer than Teague, as far as I can tell, and Teague was already on earth when the Ten Commandments were carved in stone –"
After a snappy sideways glance, Jack raised his hands and looked innocently at his father. "What, you know yourself that your wrinkles are chasms from different eras."
Teague just waved it off.
"¡Papá, por fin, venga!" James meanwhile whined. "I'm really hungry!"
"Don't venga me, Jay, shut it and wait."
"But now even the dog got something before me! I don't get to sail with you and I don't get to eat!"
"I'm a lousy father after all, what can I do …"
"May I at least play with the Pearl later?"
Jack couldn't help but laugh, it sounded almost crazy. "Over my dead body, are you mad? If I catch your careless little fingers on my ship, you won't have any hands afterwards. Savvy?" He leaned down to his son and smirked. "But perhaps it makes for any consolation, at least when it comes to dinner, that the last shall be the first." Tara had to really pull herself together not to laugh as Jack glanced up at her. "Or was it the other way round?"
"Why can't I sail with you?" James crossed his arms, his serious little face completely failing to have the effect he hoped for. "Tia and Henry would come, too, and –"
"You're too young, I'm sincerely sorry," Tara interrupted him. "There's no need for any discussion, also the food gets cold."
"Well, yes, I wish I could get food at last! Papá, ven-" James paused, surprisingly caught at his father's raised eyebrows. "Venga, ¿por favor?"
Jack shrugged and handed him a plate. "Good enough."
Immediately the children ran off next door with the dog.
"This one's for you, then," Teague continued, handing Tara another plate. "Again, since you've been so hospitable."
"Thank you. Again."
Teague filled another plate and held it out to Jack.
He examined the dish skeptically. "As though you'd be so kind."
"I am, Jackie, trust it."
Just as he was about to reach for it, Teague pulled the food away and followed the kids chuckling. "Dream on, son."
Tara's gloating was what remained. "Really sad to see you like this, Captain."
"I'm used to it. No one ever gives me anything, least of all life."
She grimaced and handed him her plate.
"For you."
"I couldn't possibly accept." He unceremoniously scooped up a portion for himself, with considerably more content. "It's not quite enough."
"I would have pulled it away like Teague anyway."
"Of course you would've." He grinned. "That's good. Take what you can."
"And give nothing back." She nodded. "Savvy …"
"Savvy? Are you sure?"
"Indeed, it's clear."
"Also crystal clear?"
"Tonto," she whispered, this time it almost sounded affectionate, then she went on to join the others.
And he watched her leave, just for a moment, through the dark doorway to their children. She was vindictive as hell, but she pulled herself together for him. He was jumpy as hell, but for the first time in his life, thanks to her, he didn't feel too much like jumping.
Still.
It seemed so surreal.
So caustically perfect and deceptively stable. He could hardly believe it was the truth. That he was here, with them, that they could be happy. Because nothing in his life had ever lasted, certainly not happiness, and especially not when it was incredibly important to him.
And the three of them were incredibly important to him …
His gaze inevitably wandered to the Pearl in the bottle. There she was, supposedly harmless on the shelf next to some old bowls and pots.
As though she were not the infamous beast of these waters, a legend that not even flames could harm. Cursed many a time and yet always so proud. Untamed like the ocean. For the longest time. An advocate for freedom, a symbol of broken chains.
And now there she stood, on an old shelf, catching dust.
He swallowed. And felt a certain itching within his very core. How he just wasn't himself without the Pearl in all her glory.
If she were sea-worthy, he probably wouldn't be in the Cove anymore.
Just for a while, of course. He would come back, certainly he would – and hadn't Tara herself already spoken of distance?
Unthinkable, however, without the Pearl.
This ship, what it stood for, had shaped his entire life. It had been his only constant for decades, the only thing that evoked longing in him and kept the weariness of life at bay when everything else lay void in shambles.
"Jack? What's the matter, aren't you coming?"
He had barely moved since she'd left the kitchen. She knew his moments. Sometimes he'd literally freeze and stare at one point in nowhere, as if all at once he understood the universe.
This time, however, it was not a point in nowhere. It was the Pearl he was glancing at.
"You miss her."
He forced himself to shake his head, but she knew he hardly wanted to take his eyes off the black sails. Pure lethargy was written all over his face – she had noticed it again and again in the last few days.
He tried hard not to let it show, but like a fish on land, he was gradually running out of water.
Therefore she'd been waiting for this moment, as she did every time. It was always inevitable with him, and she had finally understood that.
"It's all right, she's a part of you."
"She's in a bottle …"
He had sold his soul for a ship that could now only be used for decorative purposes and, moreover, looked terribly tacky while doing so.
"Other ships aren't." She immediately raised her hands in the face of his reproachful gaze. "Come on, as though infidelity was such a wholly unspeakable concept to you …"
"Once you've sailed towards the horizon with the Pearl, it's never the same with any other ship in the world." He looked at her, saddened and serious. "It's not just a keel and hull and a –"
"A deck and sails, yes, you say that often. A ship needs all that."
Tara walked up to him and smoothed out a few wrinkles on his shirt, it was hopelessly useless but helped her bridge their distance for the moment.
"But what the Pearl is – that's it." She looked at him for a while. "She always stood between us. There was a time when I was unhealthily jealous of that other black lady, you know."
"After all, she's very beautiful, too," Jack pointed out.
"She knows how to inspire. And unfortunately, you're not quite yourself without her."
"So you've noticed." He wrinkled his nose.
She nodded, almost sympathetically. "Without the Pearl, you miss your wings. I didn't want to admit it at first, but you're starting to get on my nerves anyway."
"Already?" Perplexed, he blinked a couple of times. "With what?"
"You keep staring at the horizon and you don't hear or see anything else, Jack, that's –"
"When did I –"
"Constantly, and it's getting more by the day. The ocean is calling you. See, when even I can hear it, it must be about time."
He swayed his head back and forth, then mumbled, "Three, four weeks might be –"
"Or six or seven. A little distance." She bit her lips for a moment, then added more quietly, "Provided you come back."
"Even if it was for the food alone …"
The blow to his side as response made him grin. Until a thought vexed him. "What will you do in the meantime though?"
"Live like all those years before. But you don't even care about that, you just want to know with whom I might –"
"Sweetness, you know if anyone touches you and I find out about it –"
"I won't be caught off guard like you." His face gave testament to a maximum of dissatisfaction, so she just waved it off with a wink. "Come on, think – you alone are exhausting enough. Like I'd want to burden myself with another of you men."
"But Groves is so polite and easy –"
"Sparrow, what about love don't you understand?" She pursed her lips, adding, "My kind of love, unlike yours, can never be shared. So you better make sure you don't do anything stupid, because if I find out about it –"
"Worry not, love, more kids and death threats only from you."
She backed away, aghast. "What are you thinking?"
"Huh?"
"Don't you ever say that out loud again unless you mean it!"
"That I only accept death threats from you? Well sure, I pretty much like living –"
"Children! You're talking about more children?"
"Oh, that. Yes. Well, yes! Why not?"
She quickly shook her head. "Do you know how bloody painful that is?"
"No, and thankfully I never will," he admitted. "Sorry as I am, darling, if you want another one of them, you'll inevitably have to give birth to them yourself. But after that!" He winked. "After that, I'd be there this time. Promise!"
That she even thought about it for a second annoyed her. That she wanted to drag him right into the next best room for following through with such madness, even more so. It was nothing but a bodily reaction, but what a stupid one!
Accordingly, she pushed aside any thought of more chaos. "Without a ship, without luck," she merely repeated the words he had recently mentioned. "You said that the other day."
"You changed the latter, though," he corrected, "the two birdies and you." She couldn't help but smile, involuntarily at most, but it still was a sight to behold. "I was always right – not that I'd ever had a doubt about that. But indeed, not all treasure is silver and gold, you know."
"Just doesn't change the aspect with the missing ship. So what do we do with the bottle?"
"If I knew that –"
"You'd have set sail again already, yes," she finished his sentence. "I do know that."
His melancholy turned into guilt. "That much understanding seems uncanny to me. I really rather feared this discussion was gonna get ugly. Relatively speaking."
"By now I get that if you stay out of the water for too long, you can't catch your breath. Teague once said you were born during a raging typhoon, is that true?"
Jack looked down at the ground, lost in thought.
"On the Troubadour, yes?"
He finally nodded.
"So it's in your bones, see?" When he looked a little lost, she just embraced him. "The high seas," she then said, "welcomed you into the world, not the mainland. None of us can beat our nature, and sooner or later you won't be happy without the seas."
"Your food's getting cold, love." He smiled, just not particularly chipper. "And the Pearl's in a bottle, any way you slice it."
"Do you really need to talk that urgently?" Teague stood in the doorway, suddenly and tired as always, and glanced at them both. "If you haven't made yet another baby, surely it can wait."
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jack sighed. "If so, it certainly wouldn't show on me."
"Good Lord", Tara groaned, "I'm not with child, gentlemen – everything's fine!"
Teague clapped his hands with a smirk. "There you go – then come and eat, children …"
Dear ella, I was so happy to read your latest comment, thanks so much for all the motivation and your time again *-*