Sweet Sunday
Came home from work Friday to find weemonkey6 huddled under all her covers, shivering and miserable with a sore throat. Temp: 102.4. She was in tears with the pain of her throat the next morning, and, although she is not known to be stoic or patient in such situations, I thought I'd better do the Mom Thing and take her to Kaiser's walk-in clinic. We were too late for Thousand Oaks, which closes at noon on Saturday, so it was off to the big Woodland Hills facility in The Valley. Beautiful day, beautiful drive (although the unexpected presence of black and whites had me reducing my speed more than usual), and, amazingly it was pretty fast at Kaiser! We got in quickly, the doctor took one look at her throat and said, "Tonsillitis: here's a prescription." Got the pills, zoomed home by way of Jamba Juice (nice and cool on the throat). Watched Sleepy Hollow with her last night, which was entertaining: a good Halloween flick. She is already feeling a bit better--temperature is down, and she is puttering about doing things, though the throat is still bad. Pobracita!
I wrote a little piratefic for the pirates500 Shelter from the Storm challenge for this week...
Stowaways
“Jack…Captain! Wake up!”
“Wha’…go ‘way, Gibbs. What time is it?”
“We’re half through the morning watch…”
“God’s life! I just turned in!”
“Aye, I know that, but…”
“Go away!”
“Stowaways.”
An eye opened. “What?”
“We’ve found a couple o’ stowaways.”
Both eyes opened, and Jack’s brows twitched together at the humorous look on Gibbs’s face.
But Gibbs, seeing Jack’s suspicion said, “ ‘s’truth, Jack. You’d best come see.”
*
Jack emerged betimes, squinting at the sun and out of temper, but piratically primped for the sake of the unknown intruders. He strode to where some of the Pearl’s crew stood. They parted at his approach and Jack slowed to a stop, staring.
Children, by all that was holy! A skinny, freckled boy of maybe ten summers, masking fear with defiance, and his small sister, half the boy’s age, dress torn and stained, long guinea gold curls tangled, and lips quivering against a sob, if Jack knew the signs.
“What in blazes…”
The boy blurted, “Are you Captain Sparrow?”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. Dragged from bed…confronted with two small miscreants…and then the snip of a lad was bold enough to speak before he’d been given leave! It was the outside of enough, and Jack growled, “Who the devil are you and what’re you doin’ aboard my ship?”
But his harsh tone was a tactical error. He saw the little girl’s eyes and mouth widen before she turned, burying her face against her brother’s worn jacket. Muffled wailing ensued. The boy hugged her close, the color draining from his face, making the freckles all the more visible.
Looks of accusation emanated from Jack’s crew.
“Now see what you’ve done?” Anamaria snapped. “They’re Mattie’s, Jack!”
“There’s a note,” said Gibbs, taking a sealed missive out and handing it over.
Mattie! “Bloody hell. You might’ve told me,” Jack muttered, taking the note and opening it.
Dear Jack,
Don’t be angry with my babes. I told them to board, and to wait a day or two before showing themselves. I’m in trouble: married a man I shouldn’t have. I may have to pay, but I’ll not have my children harmed: he’s too ready with his belt, and I don’t like the way he looks at my Mary. I beg you, as an old friend, to take them with you to my sister on St. Kitts. I heard you were headed in that direction. I’m sorry, but I’ve no money. You’re my last hope. I’ll make it up to you, some day. My word on it.
Mattie
Jack swore (under his breath), and looked up: sure enough, they did look like her. Sweet Mattie, who’d shared bed and breakfast with him many a time…
“Well?” demanded Ana.
“What do you think, Captain?” asked Gibbs.
Jack raised a brow at Anamaria (he’d have a word with her, later!), then said to Gibbs, “I think we’re going to St. Kitts.”
And then, he added to himself, maybe they’d go back to pay Mattie (and Mr. Mattie) a visit.
I wrote a little piratefic for the pirates500 Shelter from the Storm challenge for this week...
Stowaways
“Jack…Captain! Wake up!”
“Wha’…go ‘way, Gibbs. What time is it?”
“We’re half through the morning watch…”
“God’s life! I just turned in!”
“Aye, I know that, but…”
“Go away!”
“Stowaways.”
An eye opened. “What?”
“We’ve found a couple o’ stowaways.”
Both eyes opened, and Jack’s brows twitched together at the humorous look on Gibbs’s face.
But Gibbs, seeing Jack’s suspicion said, “ ‘s’truth, Jack. You’d best come see.”
*
Jack emerged betimes, squinting at the sun and out of temper, but piratically primped for the sake of the unknown intruders. He strode to where some of the Pearl’s crew stood. They parted at his approach and Jack slowed to a stop, staring.
Children, by all that was holy! A skinny, freckled boy of maybe ten summers, masking fear with defiance, and his small sister, half the boy’s age, dress torn and stained, long guinea gold curls tangled, and lips quivering against a sob, if Jack knew the signs.
“What in blazes…”
The boy blurted, “Are you Captain Sparrow?”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. Dragged from bed…confronted with two small miscreants…and then the snip of a lad was bold enough to speak before he’d been given leave! It was the outside of enough, and Jack growled, “Who the devil are you and what’re you doin’ aboard my ship?”
But his harsh tone was a tactical error. He saw the little girl’s eyes and mouth widen before she turned, burying her face against her brother’s worn jacket. Muffled wailing ensued. The boy hugged her close, the color draining from his face, making the freckles all the more visible.
Looks of accusation emanated from Jack’s crew.
“Now see what you’ve done?” Anamaria snapped. “They’re Mattie’s, Jack!”
“There’s a note,” said Gibbs, taking a sealed missive out and handing it over.
Mattie! “Bloody hell. You might’ve told me,” Jack muttered, taking the note and opening it.
Dear Jack,
Don’t be angry with my babes. I told them to board, and to wait a day or two before showing themselves. I’m in trouble: married a man I shouldn’t have. I may have to pay, but I’ll not have my children harmed: he’s too ready with his belt, and I don’t like the way he looks at my Mary. I beg you, as an old friend, to take them with you to my sister on St. Kitts. I heard you were headed in that direction. I’m sorry, but I’ve no money. You’re my last hope. I’ll make it up to you, some day. My word on it.
Mattie
Jack swore (under his breath), and looked up: sure enough, they did look like her. Sweet Mattie, who’d shared bed and breakfast with him many a time…
“Well?” demanded Ana.
“What do you think, Captain?” asked Gibbs.
Jack raised a brow at Anamaria (he’d have a word with her, later!), then said to Gibbs, “I think we’re going to St. Kitts.”
And then, he added to himself, maybe they’d go back to pay Mattie (and Mr. Mattie) a visit.