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Chapter 23~ The End of the Beginning
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The night was pacific. After all the death and adrenaline in the past few days, the oceans decided to settle—to let the rotting smells fade away. The passing islands were just as still.
I stood at the bow of the ship, lost in my thoughts. They’d drifted back to my mother. What kind of madness could have been running through her head for her to lead a life such as this? I ultimately understood her abandonment of my father’s conduct. If I could only speak with her once more…
The sea breeze rippled through my raven-colored waves and left icy kisses across my cheeks and nose. I hadn’t opened up my eyes in what felt like an hour. There were no sounds piercing my ears—only the numbing accent of the wind. My arms rested on either side of the railings.
After my confrontation with my father, both Edmund and I were fed and properly clothed. Edmund refused any help from Henry Every at first, but he wasn’t stupid. He needed any charity he could get. So, he was tended to by the ship’s most skilled crewman who cleaned, sterilized, and dressed his wounds. My treatment was a bit more severe. In fact, there was nothing the man could do for my foot or ribs. He gave me a strong crutch and a blessing. And that was that.
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I was dressed in a long white cotton chemise that had been retrieved from the Svarn Aatank’s demise. A corset to match would’ve been appropriate in any other circumstance. For once, my bruised ribs had done me a bit of good.
The gown draped a tad around my shoulders, obviously too large of a size for me. However, I did receive shoes—a pair of simple slippers. The feel of a protected foot had been forgotten to me up until then. Something about the new clothes made me feel taller, more powerful than before. In return, the crutch did its job of bringing me back down a size.
Edmund, on the other hand, turned a sour grimace towards his new apparel, disgusted at the very touch of its soft cotton on his skin. I couldn’t say his transformation from rugged and filthy to a respectable-looking man was any more comforting to me. I’d grown so used to the disarray. A long tawny brown leather coat sat along his shoulders, styled in silver adornments and buttoned up to his sternum. He wore actual trousers that weren’t torn or poorly crafted and boots that fit him modestly and comfortably. Edmund’s hair had been washed and somewhat combed back. I almost didn’t recognize him when I laid eyes on him. Then again, he could say the same for me. I’d washed the grime away, as well. I was clean—reborn—not a speck of dirt upon my pearl white skin. The slave ladies had all been ordered to tame my locks, against my reluctance of them. And in a mere ten minutes, the hair had been packed into a braid down my shoulder.
I was finally comely, pretty. And God knows how much I despised that.347Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkJu5zvVmuA
It was times like these that made me ask myself “what am I gonna do with the rest of my life?”. The unknowing silence after asking such a question wasn’t entirely bizarre to me. I’d been asking myself that very question since my mother died.
My father’s wealth wouldn’t last. He’d be lucky to make it the rest of the year before pissing it all away and ending up drunk, dead, and in a ditch.
He was past the point of saving. But, then again, perhaps, so was I. What do you do when there’s no direction? No stability? Nothing left to fight for or against?
Where then do you turn?
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“I could use a drink,” I grumbled as I heard the thump of approaching footsteps behind me.
“Couldn’t we all?”
Arms wrapped around my waist. Arms that I knew—that I loved. They shielded me and brought a placid smile to my lips. His chin rested upon my shoulder and nuzzled closer into the nape of my bare neck. Breath hot. Breeze cool and silky. Chills.
“So,” he hummed, deep underneath my skin. “Bombay?”
“You’ve heard...It can be temporary if you like. We can go anywhere. Malaysia…Spain…South Africa. We can even go back to England if you prefer.”
“No.” He stopped and turned me around. Edmund’s face was so close. The tips of our noses brushed against one another. The tickle spread underneath my skin. It was lightning. And the warmth in my chest was wrenching up in knots.
“Bombay sounds lovely.”347Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡip5BphgElu
The space between us at last disappeared. We both took control of each other, releasing every bit of tension left. Giving it to the air. And boy, there’d been a lot of tension to release. Edmund was warm and drew me in so that no other sensation was as powerful or as overwhelming as his lips. His sun-kissed skin. The smell of new life on him. My hands fell all over him, engulfed in the happy reality that he was a constant. He was here. And he would always be here.
It meant that I’d never see someone else who could outshine the sun as he could. Or make me as weak and defenseless to his smile as he could. Someone with everlasting devotion and loyalty. Someone who would wipe away the tears in the night. Someone who’d traveled to hell and back, right by my side every step of the way. Someone who could fill every moment with adventure, happiness, and love.
We finally broke the kiss and drowned in each other’s eyes. My hands held onto his face. My thumbs danced over the soft skin of his temples. Those eyes…347Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFIqAr5W8yH
And suddenly, neither of us were ourselves. Nothing had changed since the night we met. We were still damaged and desperate for someone new like before. Both of us a little scared but knowing that nothing would ever be the same after. I’d hold onto that moment for the rest of my life.347Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwEMunMnlCO
“Stay with me.” The words were soft but strengthened with more meaning than what my life was worth.
He smiled and rested his forehead upon mine. Our eyes fluttered closed. Nothing but breathing at last. His hands traveled up to mine touching his face and curled around my fingers—gently, heartened.
“No matter what.”
I fell in love with a Cabin Boy. But, I ended up with Edmund Hemingway.
I smiled to myself.
And that was so much better.
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The End.
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A/N: Thank you to everyone who has supported me in the making of this story. I can't tell you how much your feedback and your encouragement mean to me. The Bastard Girl has been such a huge part of me and my work, and I'm so glad to have a place and an audience to share it with.
In exciting news, get ready to dive further into the world (and drama) of The Bastard Girl by reading the sequel, The Cabin Boy, which is on my page. The Cabin Boy is told from the perspective of our one and only pirate boy Edmund Hemingway as he recounts the adventures that take place on Bombay and beyond. The Cabin Boy is a story filled with gripping adventure, enduring romance, and shocking revelations as dark, hidden truths about Edmund's past emerge. It asks the questions: What will become of the crippled Constantine Every? Will she ever truly be able to escape her sinful parentage? And what exactly happened to Edmund's missing sister Gretchen Hemingway?347Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq3UNfKMYht
Read The Cabin Boy, a Sequel now!
For my readers, I've included a sneak peek of the first chapter. Enjoy!
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The Cabin Boy--Sneak Peek
December 1696
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I’d fallen in love with a hurricane of the most perilous, fascinating sort. I’d fallen so deep in love that drowning was an understatement. I was submerged in her—everything of her. And she was a lethal poison in my veins that burned when I drifted too far away. But I couldn’t get enough. I would never have enough. So, I decided to marry her.
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“What’s it like?” she asked, delicate fingers curling around the locks of my hair. Our heads rested on cotton, feather-stuffed pillows. Her raven curls billowed out from under her and rooted into the white pillows like some invasive species. Her skin was light and fair, like an angel’s. And I could hardly recognize her from the ruffled sheets. She camouflaged into them, beseeching me to find her voluptuous body hidden deep underneath. We were bare, and the night air danced over our flesh, raising goosebumps and healing the warm, tender bites on my chest. Her neck. My jaw. And her breasts.
“I’ve already told you,” I hummed, pressing my cheek to her palm.
“Tell me again, Edmund.” She smiled with a twinkle in her excited eyes that she knew I couldn’t resist. “Please.”
I gave up the little game and let my hands fall onto my chest as my eyes drifted up to the ceiling of the bedroom. Every day she asked. She would lie there and listen with the focus of a scholar. Most of the time, I romanticized the story for her benefit. A boring day for me was a boring day for her.
“Well, we started loadin’ the ship today for the weekend’s trip. And I swear, Owen gets drunker every time I see the bastard. He nearly fell overboard in the middle of the day! A good, wet smack in the face would be good for the old bugger. Oh, I almost forgot! Guess what I saw?”
“What?”
“A Spanish galleon, big as a whale. Sails as white as sand and puffed up so that I thought they’d burst open. And you could hear the most beautiful Spanish songs comin’ from it. The way it parted the waves was like God splittin’ the sea. You would’ve loved to see it, Constantine.”
Suddenly, just like it always would, the wonder in her eyes faded to a dead gray as she remembered. Sometimes, it slipped her mind—or, because she had blocked it out so much, she’d forget it entirely. Constantine was a cripple.
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Nearly two years ago was when it began—the rest of our lives. We were younger, full of hope, and full of love. And the world could kiss our asses. And perhaps our lives were good for a few months or so. We took ownership of a quaint summer home in the most beautiful part of Bombay. The most that was ever spoken of Constantine’s father was when the monthly payments would arrive. And when they stopped coming, we knew he’d finally fallen from his whisky-tainted ivory tower. No one grieved.
I took a job at a nearby shipping port, doing menial work for as much as I could get. I knew ship work wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. What I wanted couldn’t be achieved in Bombay. But, the money was running dry. Eventually, I began progressing to better-paying positions where I would take small trips to nearby ports—Muscat, Cochin, Colombo. The like.
Constantine stayed home.
The doctor calls we sent for her ran our money bone-thin. And nothing seemed to be getting better. She could hardly walk more than a few feet without her crutch. The only solution would be surgery, and that kind of expense would ruin us. So, she tried getting a job around the city. But, of course, no one dared to hire a cripple—especially not a crippled woman.
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Constantine pulled the blankets over her body, burying herself underneath the fabrics again. The night sky outside the window suddenly seemed darker.
“Love,” I whispered, “I heard that Ms. Silvia at the inn might be hirin’ soon. Do you want to visit her tomorrow?”
But, she only rolled over, turning her pale back to me. A low, stifled sigh escaped her lips. “I’m tired, Edmund.”
I tried to smile and wrap my arms around her, but she recoiled and pulled the blanket almost entirely over herself. “Constantine—”
“Please…I need some rest.”
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Thank you again to all my readers and all the fans of The Bastard Girl! Until next time!
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