The Devil's Hand

--Chapter Fourteen--



    Dawn brought grey, cloudy skies and a drizzle of rain, but the storm had passed over them in the night. Jack and the crew went down to the beach to assess the damage to the ship. Nicola stayed at the cave and waited in boredom until he returned.

    "We need two of the sails mended," he told her upon his return. "We've put the Pearl back in the water, but we can't set sail until the tears are mended."

    "I'll fix them," she said.

    They gathered their things and made their way back to the ship. While they'd rolled the sails up before leaving the ship, there was still some damage from flying debris and the high winds. The main sail had a three-foot tear in it. The rest of them were much smaller and took less time to sew up.

    Her fingers were sore by the time Nicola finished stitching the sails. It took her into the second day to make all the repairs. They weighed anchor in the afternoon and Jack pointed the prow towards open water.

    "Where are we going?" she asked him from their bed, as he made notations in his log.

     "Europe. Possibly Arabia. I have something I need to see to."

    "I see."

    Jack put down his quill and went to the chest of jewels they'd played in a few days before. He dug through the gems and baubles until he found what he was looking for, and he brought it over to her.

    "You put the bracelet back," he said. "But I'm hoping you'll keep this one on."

    He lifted her left hand and slid a silver ring on her ring finger. The stone was pale, faintly pink, and rectangular, cabochon rather than faceted, in a bezel setting. Little silver balls decorated the metal in a baroque style.

    "There are fancier ones," he said, "but this one seemed to fit you more."

    Realising he'd just given her a wedding ring, Nicola felt tears well in her eyes. She blinked them away and smiled. "It's beautiful, Jack. Thank you."

    "There was something you said, in the cave." Jack stopped, unsure if he should even bring it up. He'd never been so off guard and confused as he was with her.

    "When?"

    "Just before you fell asleep. You said something to me."

    "I don't remember saying anything."

    He rubbed a thumb over the rose quartz in her ring. "You said . . . that you love me."

    ". . . Oh." Her fingers closed around his, in a quick, involuntary squeeze, and she looked down at their hands. "Um."

    "I'm not going to make a good husband, love," he said. "Part of me wishes that you hated me."

    "I don't," she said firmly. "I don't hate you and I don't wish to. Jack, I . . ."

    "Did you mean it?"

    Nicola licked suddenly dry lips. "Did I mean . . . that I love you?"

    His silence was response enough.

    "I do," she confessed. "I tried not to, but it happened anyway."

    Jack sighed and closed his eyes. Nicola rose on her knees and cupped his face in her hands.

    "Why do you wish I hate you?" she asked him in a whisper.

    "Because I see only heartache ahead for you, if you stay with me, and I-" Jack covered her hands with his own. "I care too much to hurt you."

    "Jack," she murmured. "Are you saying you love me, too?"

    "Do I have to say it in those precise words?" He sounded pained.

    She laughed. "No, Jack, you don't."

    He twisted the ring he'd just given her around her finger. "But I do," he said eventually. "I do. Mrs. Sparrow."

    "Then that," she replied, "is enough for me."





--end--