The Pirate Daughter's Promise (Pirates & Faith) Page 2

  No one held a deeper place in Skye’s heart or knew her like William James. They’d grown up in the orphanage together, sharing many times of both hardship and happiness.

  Smiling widely, he greeted, “Good morning, Skye.”

  “Good morning, Will,” she replied with a pretty almost-shy smile.

  Will glanced at her basket. “Are you going to the bakery?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” Will responded. “So am I.”

  “Really?” Skye was delighted that their errands were the same, giving them much more time together.

  Will nodded, his pleasure evident in the sparkle of his eyes. “Mr. Cunnings rose this morning and found we had no bread, so he instructed me to go get some.” He stepped out of the shop and closed the door. “I’m sure he wanted me to go immediately, but I stalled to see if you’d come by.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” It worried Skye to think of being the cause of trouble for Will with his employer. He had tried for so many jobs before this one.

  “It was all right,” Will assured her. “I wanted to.”

  “How are things for you?” Skye asked as they walked away from the shop. Though it had been only a couple days since she’d been able to see him, it felt longer. “Is your skill improving?”

  “No, it's not,” Will admitted, a frown replacing his once-cheerful look. “I am not meant to be a tailor . . . I don’t want to be a tailor.”

  “Perhaps a new job will come along soon,” Skye said hopefully.

  “I don’t know how Mr. Cunnings has kept me around this long. He’s always complaining about my work.” Will sighed. “I wish I could work for Matthew again.”

  “At least life is better for you now than it was at the orphanage,” Skye said, trying to encourage him.

  “I don’t know about that.”

  Skye glanced at him. “Why not?”

  Will’s answer did not come right away. He knew it was because he was not able to see her often anymore. He actually missed the years they’d spent growing up together, especially the times the two of them had spent studying God’s Word. Skye had changed his life in an incredible way by leading him to Christ. Not only that, but he missed watching over her and taking care of her. He had been her protector for years against the children and orphanage workers who had treated her so poorly. Now, since he had left, Skye had been on her own, largely caring for herself, and it saddened him that sometimes he couldn’t be there when she needed him.

  Before Will could attempt to tell her any of this, her voice broke through his thoughts.

  “There’s my grandfather,” Skye murmured, her voice low and full of dread.

  Despite the trials she had lived through in her young life, Skye had been blessed with an optimistic outlook, strength of heart, and a confidence that carried her through the long hours of each day. The only thing that had ever truly shaken that confidence was her grandfather and the way he treated her.

  Just ahead of them, standing in the courtyard of a large, brick merchant’s house, an older gentleman held a small white and brown dog. Everything about him spoke of wealth —his home, expensive clothing, the way he carried himself, and the dog, which had been delivered specially from a kennel in England. It all made Skye want to flee.

  As she and Will walked by, Skye risked a glance in her grandfather’s direction. He met her glance with a cold stare, and she quickly looked away, ruing the fact that she had chanced a look at all. It bewildered her to think that this hard man was her grandfather. The grandfather who had refused to take her in, refused to save her from having to grow up in an orphanage, all for the simple fact that she was the daughter of a pirate.

  Just as they were about to pass the house, the man called out, “Excuse me, Mr. James.”

  The two of them stopped, and Skye’s grandfather strode toward them. Skye sidestepped closer to Will, hoping to shield herself by his presence, yet when her grandfather reached them, she might as well have been invisible to him.

  “Mr. James, what a fortunate coincidence,” he said with a smile. "I planned to stop by sometime today to ask Mr. Cunnings a question, but I will ask you and save the trip. I would like to have a new waistcoat made of silk. Could you tell me how much it would cost?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Young,” Will said with regret, “but I’m afraid I’m not doing well as a tailor's apprentice. I don’t think I could accurately give you a price.”

  “Just an estimate would be fine,” Mr. Young pressed.

  “All I can really say is that it would be quite expensive,” Will replied finally.

  He and Skye tried to go on, but Mr. Young stopped Will again.

  “I’m quite impressed with you, Mr. James. You’ve done well for having come from an orphanage. You have a good job, and with a few of the right friends, you could do very well. If you’d like, I could introduce you to a few very respectable acquaintances.”

  Skye shifted and swallowed hard. She kept her eyes on the cobbled street, afraid that her face would show the sadness welling up inside of her. Obviously, her grandfather did not consider her worthy enough to be called a respectable acquaintance, even for Will who wasn’t really any different from her. Both had very low standing in society growing up as orphans. The only real difference between them was Skye’s tainted reputation as a pirate’s daughter.

  Sensing Skye’s great discomfort, Will replied quickly, “You do not have to trouble yourself, Mr. Young. I am very thankful for the good friends I have already. Thank you anyway.” Not wishing for Mr. Young to say anything more to hurt Skye, he continued, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be going or Mr. Cunnings will be upset that I took so long.”

  Mr. Young nodded. “Very well. Good day, Mr. James.”

  “Good day,” Will replied politely and he guided Skye along, away from the house.

  When they had gone farther, she murmured, “He ignored me again. Just as he always does. It’s as if I don’t even exist to him.”

  Will shook his head, confused. “I can’t understand it. He loved your mother, right?”

  “More than anything,” Skye told him.

  “I’ve heard more people than I can remember say that you look just like her,” Will stated. “I can’t imagine him not loving you. In a sense, he’d be gaining back what he lost.”

  Skye shook her head with regret. “All he sees is that I’m the result of his daughter marrying a pirate.”

  Will looked at her sadly and was quick to change the subject, hoping to distract her from the difficulty with her grandfather. She had enough on her mind without the added sting of being shunned by the only family she had left.

  Chapter Two

  Another clear day dawned over the Caribbean. After a quick breakfast, Mr. Young left his house early with a mission to order a new waistcoat, the price of little concern. He strode into the tailor’s shop and looked around. The walls inside were well stocked with shelves full of brightly-colored bolts of fabric, Mr. Cunnings being one of the few tailors who sold the fabric of the clothes he made. A couple large tables and work areas were set up with sewing supplies and equipment. Across the room, Mr. Young spotted Mr. Cunnings and Will at a long table measuring out a piece of cloth.

  Mr. Cunnings looked up and smiled expressively when he noticed Mr. Young enter. Quickly straightening his wig and smoothing his coat, he hurried to meet Mr. Young, his eagerness for the business painfully obvious as he asked, “Good day, sir. What can I do for you?”

  “I want a new silk waistcoat,” Mr. Young told him. “What would be the cost?”

  Mr. Cunnings calculated, considering Mr. Young’s size, which was certainly not substantial, and the cost of the materials. “It would come to about forty pounds, but for you, I’ll make it thirty.”

  Nodding, Mr. Young seemed quite pleased with the price and said, “If you can have it done by tomorrow morning in time for a dinner I’m hosting, I’ll pay an extra pound.”

  “It’s a deal,” Mr. Cunnings replied,
a grin stretching wide across his thin face. “We shall have it done. Now, what color would you like?” He gestured conspicuously towards several different-colored bolts of silk.

  Mr. Young studied them for a few moments before deciding on a color he liked. Mr. Cunnings quickly took the measurements he needed and Mr. Young was free to go. He thanked Mr. Cunnings, said good day, and left the shop.

  Will let a small sigh escape when Mr. Cunnings hastily instructed him to clear the work area. With a deadline to meet, the man would be even more impatient and demanding than usual. The next hours were sure to be unpleasant. Mr. Cunnings spread out the silk they needed on the newly-cleared surface and the two went right to work on the waistcoat.

  * * *

  A knock at the door interrupted Skye on her way to straighten the children’s room. With no one else around, she answered it. The mail carrier greeted her in a friendly fashion and gave her a handful of mail for the orphanage. Skye thanked him politely, closed the door, and took the mail straight to Mr. Phillips in his office. He flipped through it as she turned to leave, but he called her back, his forehead wrinkling in a deep frown as he pulled out three of the letters.

  “These are addressed to Mr. Young,” Mr. Phillips stated. “They must have somehow been mixed in with ours.” He turned his stern eyes to Skye, making her flinch slightly. Though she had grown up, it was never far from her mind that this man had raised his hand to her on numerous occasions over the years. “I want you to take them to him at once.”

  Skye’s eyes widened. “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  Mr. Phillips handed Skye the packets. For a moment, Skye only stared at them, her gaze fixed on her grandfather’s name.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Mr. Phillips snapped.

  “Nothing,” Skye murmured and promptly left the room.

  At the front door, she slowed and swallowed hard. How could she go to her grandfather’s house and face him, converse with him? The last time she had spoken to him was just a hazy memory, clouded by many years. Yet what choice did she have? Mr. Phillips would never be understanding of her reasons for saying she couldn’t do it. His response would be to threaten her with the loss of one of the very few privileges she had or even her job.

  Resigning herself to her task, Skye pulled open the door and reluctantly stepped out. The city was noisy and very busy, the opposite of the peaceful early morning she had enjoyed with Will the day before. She walked into the bustling street and headed toward her grandfather’s house, dread mounting. Along the way, she glanced in desperation at the tailor’s shop, silhouettes of customers appearing through the window. She knew Will must be busy, but she longed to see him walk out of the shop and take the letters for her. However, the door remained closed as she passed by.

  Skye hesitated when she came to the entrance of her grandfather’s courtyard. Her eyes followed the cobblestone walkway leading up to the large front door of the huge brick house. The brilliant green lawn and beautifully-tended flower gardens made her feel entirely out of place, but she made herself keep walking and tried to calm her nerves.

  Stopping at the top step in front of the door, Skye silently asked God to help her and give her strength. She took a deep breath and knocked cautiously. It startled her when the door opened almost as soon as she had taken her hand away.

  Her grandfather stood in the doorway, hat tucked neatly under his arm, apparently on his way out. When he realized who had come to call, his eyes narrowed in an irritated manner.

  “What is it?” he asked brusquely.

  Skye licked her lips and her voice wavered a little as she explained, “Your mail somehow got mixed in with that of the orphanage. I was sent to give it to you.”

  She held out the packet of letters and her grandfather took them. He flipped through the stack with a frown before he settled an accusing gaze on his granddaughter.

  “You didn’t lose or keep any of it, did you?”

  Skye’s heart plummeted. Did her grandfather really think her a thief just because she was the daughter of a former pirate?

  “N-no, I didn’t,” Skye stammered.

  Mistrust colored her grandfather’s expression as he closed the door without so much as a simple word of thanks. But just before it closed completely, she heard, “I find that difficult to believe.”

  Skye stared at the door for long miserable seconds before backing down the steps. Slowly, she walked out of the courtyard beset by terrible dejection. She made a determined effort to fight back the tears pooling in her eyes. Skye rarely allowed herself to cry, only silently in bed at night, but soon she could hold them back no longer and they trickled down her face. She walked down the street, head bowed, her grandfather’s words replaying in her mind. Every time they repeated, they stung deeper.

  But something shattered the echo of the words. Her name was called. Looking up, she filled with relief. Will hurried to her.

  “Skye, what’s wrong?” he asked, worried at seeing her tears.

  Skye wiped them away as she told Will what had taken place at her grandfather’s, pouring out all the sorrow that had built. She tried to prevent more tears from falling, but it was useless. The cry helped her feel better, but nothing could erase the sting of what her grandfather had said.

  “I just long for a family to love and take care of me,” Skye told him miserably as she wiped her wet cheeks. "Sometimes I can’t stand how badly I miss my father."

  Will laid his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. “I know you know this better than anyone, but don’t forget that God is also your Father, and He loves and cares for you constantly,” he reminded gently. “He has a plan. This may not comfort you, but what would have happened to me if you had not come to the orphanage? I might never have known Christ.”

  Skye looked up at him, a smile finally coming to her face. “You’re right. And yes, it does comfort me. You are my dearest friend, Will. Thank you.”

  Will smiled and silence followed for a moment before Skye spoke again.

  “I must get back to the orphanage. I have so much to do. If I don’t get back at it, I won’t get it done. Mr. Phillips has already threatened to throw me out once this week. Although I don’t believe he’s serious, I’d better not risk it.”

  “I’m sorry I held you up,” Will said, truly worried for her.

  Skye shook her head. “Don’t be. I would still feel terrible right now if I had not talked to you. I needed it.”

  “I’m thankful that I was here to help you. Now I don’t want to keep you any longer,” Will urged her gently. “Maybe we’ll see each other tomorrow.”

  “And in church on Sunday,” Skye said. “I’ll pray that I can come.”

  “I will too,” Will promised. “And I will pray about your grandfather.”

  “Thank you,” Skye told him with a smile.

  And with that, they parted. Will remained where he stood as he watched Skye disappear down the street, and only then did he continue on his way back to the shop. It still worried him to think that Skye could be sent away from the orphanage. But if that did happen, he would use every shilling of his wages to make sure she had a good place to stay.

  Will’s mind turned then to what he had told Skye. God isn’t the only one who loves and cares about her, he thought. How do I tell her that? He could never seem to find the right words or the right time.

  * * *

  Skye met Mr. Phillips as soon as she came through the front door. By the scowl on his face, she knew that he was not happy, and she braced herself for whatever harsh words might follow.

  “What took you so long?” he demanded.

  Skye was slow to speak, knowing he’d be upset with her answer. “I met Will on the way back,” she told him meekly.

  Mr. Phillips’ eyes narrowed. “Haven’t I warned you not to waste your time talking to people when you go out?”

  “Please, Mr. Phillips, I hardly get to see Will since he left,” Skye tried to explain.

  “That’s what yo
ur days off are for,” he snapped. “And today isn’t one of them. If you waste any more time, you definitely will not be attending church on Sunday.”

  Skye stayed silent and went back to her work, determined not to do anything that would jeopardize her privilege to attend church. From past experience, she knew that Mr. Phillips didn’t care how important it was to her and that he needed very little provoking to forbid her to go.

  The rest of the day passed with a shadow over it, but Skye found great comfort in the passages of her Bible when she’d been allowed to go to her bed for the night. The words of 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 brought a smile to her face. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.

  Chapter Three

  Will was careful not to let even a speck of dust from the street reach Mr. Young’s new waistcoat. He did not want any reason for the man to be displeased after he had worked on it late into the night, enduring Mr. Cunnings’ harsh criticism and complaints. The tailor had said that if Will were better at tailoring, the waistcoat wouldn’t have taken so long. I need to find a new job, Will thought. Mr. Cunnings wasn’t the only one getting frustrated.

  At the front door of the merchant house, Will paused, thinking for a moment how poor Skye must have felt standing here. With a sigh, he knocked and the housekeeper let him into the large, well-furnished foyer.

  “I will tell Mr. Young that you are here,” the prim woman said as she walked into another room.

  Will let his eyes scan the room as he waited. Just the foyer alone was as large as the tailor’s shop workroom. Masterpieces of artwork, which must have cost a fortune, hung on the walls. If the foyer was decorated in such a way, what must the rest of the house be like? Will couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to live like this.