Kate Hoffmann - The Pirate

Truth be told, he loved her exactly the way she was. Merrie would not be Merrie with a timid smile and a yielding nature. He loved her fire and her passion and her inquisitive spirit. He loved her intelligence and quick wit. He loved…

Griffin stopped at the side of the road and frowned. Damn, was that it? Did he love her? He groaned, then cursed softly. No, he wouldn't allow himself such foolishness. But then…

Perhaps he did love her. Yet how could he be certain of his feelings? He'd never been in love before. In fact, he had never even considered the notion. Love was meant for sentimental poets and blushing virgins.

But his feelings for Merrie ran as deep and as strong as an ocean current, drawing him toward her against all will. It mattered not that he steered away from her, her pull was ever present and impossible to fight.

Then why was he still determined to return to his own time? Was it because of Teach? Or was it because he couldn't bear to open his life to another woman, to risk the pain that it might cause? He had cared deeply about Jane and it had nearly killed him when he lost her. He couldn't imagine living if he ever lost Merrie.

Perhaps that was part of it. But there was more…much more. Here, in her world, he felt as if he was incomplete in some way. As if part of his being had been left behind in his own time. Teach was waiting for him. But to be honest, the pirate was not the objective, but simply a means to an end. A way to finally say goodbye to his father.

With Jane and the baby, there had been a reason for their deaths, a reason he couldn't fight. But with his father, he'd just watched him fade before his very eyes, unable to understand why he had chosen to abandon his life and unable to do anything to bring him back. To destroy Teach might somehow give meaning to his father's death.

How could he explain this to Merrie in a way that she would understand? She would never comprehend the sense of family duty his father had instilled in him, the strong moral fiber and uncompromising honor by which he lived his life. These were things a man did not speak of, for they were the fabric of his very soul.

No, these things were not meant to be said aloud. Griffin picked up his pace until he was nearly running. She would never understand.

The harbor was already bustling with activity when he arrived at Early Jackson's dock. The shrimp boat sat in its cradle at the edge of the water, the hull nearly scraped bare. He circled the boat, admiring the practical lines and sturdy construction. The shrimper had been built by hand, the same way boats of his time had. He knocked his fist on the hull and listened to the solid, dependable sound.

"Morning, Griff."

Griffin glanced up to see Early Jackson ten feet above him, hanging over the side of the boat with a bucket in his hand. He smiled. "Morning, Early. I didn't see you up there."

The spritely old man crawled over the side and scrambled down the ladder. "You're a little slow getting in this morning."

Griffin shrugged. "Sorry. I'll work later tonight."

"Naw, I don't care if you take some time for yourself. You've been working so hard these past few days, I'm sure Meredith would like to keep you at home a little longer."

Griffin nodded and peered inside the bucket, then pulled out his favorite scraper. Without a word, he set to work, scraping the wood with strong, sure strokes. Early watched him with a bemused expression.

"Is everything all right between you and Meredith?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?" Griffin replied.

"Because, if you scrape much harder, you're going to scrape a hole right through the hull. You might feel better if you talk about it."

Griffin stood up. Why was every facet of his personal life open for discussion in this century? He braced his fists on his hips, ready to tell Early it was none of his business. But then he thought better of it, and replaced his retort with a question. "Are you married, Early?"

The old man rubbed his whiskered chin. "Yep. Nearly forty years… and to the same gal, I might add."

"May I pose a question to you?"

Early shrugged. "Sure. Pose away."

"Who has the last word in your household? You or your wife?"

"She does," Early said without a moment's thought.

Griffin frowned, certain that he had not made himself clear. "What I mean to ask is, who is in command?"

"She is," Early said.

Griffin cleared his throat. "I don't believe you understand my question. Let me restate it. Do you consider her opinion in all that you do?"

Early snorted, then chuckled. "Are you crazy?"

He smiled, relieved that he'd finally gotten the answer he wanted. Things were not so different here.

"Of course I do," Early continued. "I'm no fool, boy."

Griffin opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, considering Early's answer for a moment. "This is common then," he finally asked, "this bowing to your wife's will?"

"Me and Millie just figured that marriage should be an equal partnership. I give a little, she gives a little. It keeps things interesting and on a nice even keel."

"An equal partnership?"

"When we got married, most folks didn't think that way. But Millie made it clear she wouldn't marry me unless I respected her as an individual. Then came the women's movement, and now everybody pretty much thinks this way. I like to tell Millie we were ahead of our time."

"And this does not bother you… to give up control? Isn't it a bit like a ship with two captains?"

"I never really wanted control in the first place," Early said with a chuckle. "Not since I figured out that I loved the lady. After that, it didn't much matter. Besides, we usually take turns at the wheel, one of us steering while the other navigates. It makes the trip easier for the both of us." Early paused, then slapped Griffin on the shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll work it out. Meredith can be as stubborn as a cross-eyed mule. She gets that from her daddy. But she's got a good heart, something her mama had in spades."

"Yes," Griffin said quietly, "that she does." He smiled. "That she does."

"Now, seeing as how you're going to make up with Meredith, I suspect you'll be staying on the island for a while longer. I was wondering if you might want some more work. Me and the boys found two more shrimpers, but we don't have time to work on them both. We figured we'd give one to you to fix up. When we sell it, we'll split the profits right down the middle. Does that sound good?"

Griffin hesitated before he answered. To agree would be to admit that he would spend the rest of his life in this time and place. Was he really ready to do that, to give up on the past and go on with his future? "That sounds fair," he finally replied. "But I'd like to have a few days to consider your proposal, if you don't mind."

"I'm sure you'd like to discuss it with Meredith," Early said.

Griffin nodded. "Yes, I would. I'd like to discuss it with Merrie. To be honest, I think I would like to discuss it with her right now." He dropped the scraper in the bucket, then rubbed his palms on his thighs. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Early grinned. "You just take all the time you want, you hear? A lady shouldn't be rushed."

Griffin blinked in confusion, then nodded. "Thanks, Early. I appreciate your understanding."

With that, he turned and started for home. The trip back took only half the time that the trip to the harbor had, since Griffin was jogging most of the way. When he reached the cottage, he threw open the door and strode inside.

"Merrie?" The sound of his voice echoed throughout the house. "Merrie, where are you?"

"Merrie!" Ben squawked. "Merrie-girl!"

She emerged from the bathroom, a towel in her hand, her short hair damp and her rosy face looking as fresh and pretty as a dew-soaked flower. "What are you shouting about? Why aren't you at work?"