Five Sisters (19 page)

Sara dropped the roses at her feet and said goodbye to her pigeon friend. She had a feeling she wouldn't be seeing him much longer.

The air went cold, causing the hairs on Sara's arms to stand on end, as the fog crept steadily onward. She shivered, hugging herself, and closed her eyes as the fog consumed her, and when she finally was brave enough to open her eyes again she found herself in a long hallway filled on one side with rows of pale green lockers and on the other with enormous windows that let in the warm sunshine.

As Sara slowly walked onward she saw a figure coming into view. He was sitting on the ground cross-legged with his back against one of the lockers. Rumpled light brown hair fell into his eyes, emerald green, and he wore a pair of silver framed reading glasses. Beneath his eyes were two dark shadows and a line of freckles ran across his nose. The boy wore a school uniform: white collared shirt, black sweater and tie, and gray trousers, but the garments hung loose on his thin frame. They were obviously secondhand- worn out with holes and patches. He had his nose stuck in a rather large book and was reading it eagerly, absorbing each and every word with delight.

Sara knew almost instantly who it must be. He was much younger and a bit shorter, but she had no doubt that she was standing in front of the same Charlie Wilkie her father had known when they'd been schoolboys together.

He looked up as she approached and flashed
her a
smile, "'Ello! What are you doing here?" his eyes widened, "Oh wait! How could I have forgotten? Hold on a moment."

Sara stood silently while young Charlie turned around on his knees, opened the locker behind him, and pulled out a small book with a faded blue cover. He handed it to her and Sara heard herself thank him. Then, she turned to a nearby locker, opened it, and handed him a book of her own: large and covered in scarlet leather.

"Thanks. I've really
been wanting
to read this," Charlie grinned. He brushed off his pants and stood up, all the more for Sara to notice his lanky frame. Brushing some hair out of his eyes, he asked Sara if she'd like to join him for a bite to eat.

Sara nodded, "I'd love to."

Laden with several books, including the one Sara had given him, and struggling to carry them all, Charlie set off down the hall with Sara at his side. But they hadn't even reached halfway when a strange thing happened.

Several rose petals flew down from Charlie's arms. They were coming from the red-bound book Sara had given him.

Charlie's face went white and his eyes widened. He looked at Sara with a confused, yet almost somber, expression.

"I don't know how those got there," Sara murmured, "I left the roses at the graveyard."

Charlie took the book off the top of the stack and waved it around from the spine. Three more petals fell out and dropped to the floor, making thirteen petals in all. He glanced back up to Sara with troubled eyes.

"I didn't put them there," Sara continued, "I didn't. Honest."

Charlie didn't contradict her, but whispered, "All that matters is that they're there."

What in the world was he talking about? Sara had no idea. She was lost in her thoughts, her mind swirling, and when she finally came back to her senses and tried to ask Charlie what he meant, he was already walking quickly down the hall, struggling to hold all his books. She tried to run after him, but her feet were frozen to the floor.

"Charlie!" she called, "Charlie!" But he didn't turn around.

The little scarlet book lay on the ground at Sara's feet, surrounded by the thirteen rose petals.

Sara awoke with a stretch and a yawn, her mind still swirling. She had no idea what her strange, yet eerie dream meant, and she was considering pondering on the thought a moment when she realized that Mary's bed was empty.

Quickly, she put on a robe over her simple white nightdress and her long, dark brown hair was pulled up on top of her head in a mangled bun. Sara tiptoed into the hall and headed upstairs.

Noah's hands ran through Mary's thick ringlets, and then moved to her shoulders. His lips traveled down to her chest, burning through the thin layer of nightgown. He wanted more, Mary knew, she could feel it from the way he touched her, the way he held her. Whether or not she wanted to go further too, she wasn't sure. And before she could decide they both heard a voice, a girl's voice.

"Mary?" Sara called, "Mary?"

Noah instantly pulled away and disappeared to the other side of the ship beneath a shadow so dark he couldn't be seen.

Mary lifted her robe off the ground and hastily put it on. She was out of breath, but tried not to let it show as Sara appeared at her side.

"Are you alright?" Sara asked, "I awoke and noticed your bed was empty."

"I'm alright now," Mary lied, "I just couldn't get to sleep."

"Why are you up here?" Sara wrapped a blanket more tightly around her shoulders, "
It's
freezing! You've surely caught a cold by now!"

"I'm fine, Sara. Really," Mary assured, "Let's just get back to bed."

Sara nodded and the two girls were just about to head back downstairs when Mary realized her robe was missing a button. She told Sara to go back to bed; she'd be there in a minute.

Noah popped out of the shadows as soon as they were alone again. As he handed her the missing button Mary whispered into his ear, using a seductive voice she could barely recognize as her own, "Until tomorrow . . ." and kissed him softly on the lips. With a sly smile, she slipped back downstairs and fell asleep more peacefully than she had in weeks.

The next morning, Sara woke early, just as the sun was rising outside the porthole in her room. With a sigh and a yawn, she rose from bed and looked around the room at her dozing sisters. All four were sleeping contently and wouldn't be awake for another two hours or so. Once she'd pulled on a simple day-dress and combed her dark hair back into its usual style, a loose ponytail, Sara slowly trudged up the steps to the deck.

The bright sun, eager to start a new day, was shining in the distance, but Sara wasn't quite ready for so much light and she shielded her eyes from it, heading towards the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sara!" called Rory, looking down from the crow's nest.

"'Ello there!" greeted Michael.

But Sara merely waved her hand in reply, forcing a smile; she wasn't much of a morning person. It surprised her to see quite a few of the sailors already up and working on the day's tasks, but then again, she'd never woken up before nine o'clock before, so she wouldn't know if they were up this early everyday. She did notice, though, that they seemed a bit more battered than usual, which wasn't surprising.

The storm had wreaked its havoc on each and every one of the men, in some way or another. Through her squinted eyes, Sara saw that Rory's arm was held in a sling and Michael was limping around with a cane because of his sprained ankle. She didn't bother to look around at the other men though, her stomach was rumbling and the lively sailors weren't helping her already dampened mood.

Anxious to get away from the brilliant sun, Sara dragged herself through the door to the kitchen and began preparing herself some tea. She'd already prepared the stove to cook some eggs and bacon when she heard a soft rustle behind her.

Charlie, also not much of a morning person, had stumbled into the room and collapsed in one of the wooden chairs. He hadn't bothered to change out of his pajamas and a red plaid blanket was draped around his shoulders. Sara couldn't see his face because he'd dropped it onto the table, but his light brown hair, flecked with gray, was untidier than ever, sticking up in random directions. He groaned inwardly and slammed his head down on the table
again,
cursing under his breath as his head began to throb even more and he realized what a foolish thing that was to do.

"Charlie?" Sara murmured, "Are you alright?"

He looked up, revealing sleepy eyes complete with large shadows hanging underneath like half-crescent moons. A scarlet line ran from the corner of his eye up through his eyebrow, from his encounter with the steering wheel during the storm. Charlie was miserable and he looked it.

"'Morning, Sara," he croaked, before
laying
his head back down on the table again.

"Is something wrong? You don't look yourself," Sara said, coming to his side.

"'ve just got a headache is all," said Charlie, his voice hoarse, "And I'm a bit tired as well."

"Perhaps you should go back to bed then and get some rest," Sara suggested.

Charlie shook his head mumbling, "No. No, I can't go back to bed. Just got to grin and bear it, I suppose."

"Would you like some tea then? Perhaps it'll help."

Charlie nodded, his eyes were barely even open, and agreed, "Yes, tea would be nice."

Ten minutes later, Charlie was sitting cross-legged on the wooden chair- clutching his blanket closer around his shoulders, sipping some hot tea, and looking just as doleful as before.

Sara sat across from him, quietly munching on some biscuits and eggs; the sailors had stolen all the bacon.

"Would you like anymore tea?" she asked.

"No, 'm fine."

"A biscuit, perhaps?"

Charlie shook his head, "No. Thanks though."

The door opened and rays of sunshine fell across the room as Jess entered. He grinned, said hello to Sara, and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter, tossing it up in the air a few times before taking a big, juicy bite. Then his eyes fell upon Charlie, and he nearly choked on the apple.

"You alright, Charlie?"

"Jus' a little tired," was the reply.

"Still wearing your jammies, I see," Jess commented, the corners of his lips turning up in a smile, "And I like that shawl too.
Quite a fashion statement."

Charlie groaned, "It's a blanket, actually. And yes, I know I look like rubbish, you don't need to remind me."

"I've never seen you in a bad mood before," said Jess, his eyes wide, "It's quite a sight."

"I'm sure," mumbled Charlie, setting his head back onto the table.

"Well, I don't want to bother you any," Jess said, moving towards the door, "I hope you feel better soon, Charlie. And I'll see you later, Sara."