Five Sisters (20 page)

He left, leaving Sara alone with troubled Charlie once more.

"Feels like someone's pounding on my head with bricks," Charlie grumbled, "Or beating me with a stick."

Sara grimaced, "A headache?"

"Worse," he mumbled, laying his forehead in his hands like a pillow, "My head feels like
it's
throbbing. It weighs so much I can't even hold it up."

"Poor Professor."

She sounded so much like her father when she said that Charlie wanted to sigh, but he didn't feel like giving it the effort. That's how pitiful he was feeling.

"Perhaps it's from the wave," Sara suggested, "You know, when you hit your head against the steering wheel. Maybe that's why you're feeling so miserable. You have a concussion or something."

"God I hope not," moaned Charlie, slamming his head back down onto the table.

*****

"Dah-dum, dah-dum, dah-dum," hummed Nora, scrubbing the deck beside her two younger sisters and Mary later that afternoon. The sun was shining brightly overhead and she, Emy, Mary, and Gail had decided to help out the sailors on deck since they all weren't in the best of spirits from the night before.

They were limping around with sprained ankles, broken toes, and arms done up in slings- the effects of the great storm. Now, most of the men were relaxing in the warm sunshine with a glass of lemonade at hand. Several were fishing for that night's supper, but most simply sat and had a laugh with the other sailors. Jess had even brought out his fiddle and was playing a simple tune while the girls, with their sleeves rolled up and their hair tied back, scrubbed the deck dutifully.

Holding his injured hand with his healthy one and keeping it against his stomach, Ben Leslie made his way across the deck to the girls. When the wave had hit the night before, he'd been thrown onto the deck's floorboards and his hand scraped against a nail that hadn't been hammered in as much as it should have been. It made a clean cut straight across his hand.

At first, he'd tried to take care of it himself, but the cut was far too deep to be healed with a simple bandage. The bleeding just wouldn't stop and Ben didn't know what else to do. That was when Jacob suggested the most horrible solution Ben had ever heard. He said it probably needed stitches.

Ben simply refused to let a man who wasn't a doctor stick a needle into his hand. It wasn't that he feared the pain, never that, he just didn't want someone sticking sharp objects into his body if they didn't know what they were doing exactly. And besides, he said, none of the sailors even knew how to sew.

"Then just ask one of the girls to do it," Jacob had shrugged, "I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

"Wouldn't mind?"
chuckled
Carl, "You try asking a lady to use her needle and thread not on some fabric and wool, but on an actual human hand!"

"I'm sure if we explained the circumstances . . ." Jacob replied.

"Which one would be best, anyway?" Ben pondered, "Mary? She's probably the most mature."

"Not to mention the most attractive," Carl laughed, "But I'd
advise
against that. She's been in bed all day, I heard.
Must not be feeling well."

"Gail then?"

Jacob's head cocked to the side, "I'm not so sure she's a better seamstress than any of us men. She'd be up to it, I'm sure, but would probably leave you with a nasty scar."

"Sara?"

"She's off helping Charlie with his head, I think."

"I wouldn't dare ask Emy," Carl added, "The poor girl would probably faint."

"Who's left then?"

"Nora."

"Right, Nora."

"Shall I ask, or would you like to do the honors?"

Ben remembered the look of awe on the girl's face when he'd asked her. She must have been a little scared to stick a needle into his hand as well, because she blushed furiously and could barely say a word to him. But it was all worth it in the end. His hand had been cleanly sewn up and he supposed it should be healed in just a few weeks or so.

Nora was so busy scrubbing and humming her little song that she didn't even realize who was beside her until he said, in his silky smooth voice, "Nora?"

When she looked up and saw Ben, Nora nearly lost her breath. His blond curls were glistening in the sun's rays and his clear blue eyes sparkled. Besides the injured hand he held against his torso, he looked absolutely perfect, as always.

He kneeled down beside her and Nora suddenly became aware of how terrible she must look right now. What luck! Her fingers clutched a dirty rag and her forearms were covered in suds. Strands of hair had fallen out around her face, but instead of seeming appealing, they just looked frizzy and matted.

"Nora?" he asked again.

With her heart pounding out of her chest, Nora uttered the only word that came to mind, "Ben."

Ben laughed, "That's right, Ben. Glad to see you remember me."

Nora's cheeks burned.

When she didn't reply, Ben scratched his head, but grinned, "Well, I just wanted to thank you again for what you did last night. My hand's doing much better today and it's all thanks to you."

Nora felt her mouth open, but she couldn't make out any words at the moment. She was in such a state of shock she didn't know what to say or do or think.

Ben nodded, feeling a bit uncomfortable as the young girl gaped at him, "Well, er . . . I'm pretty sure it won't scar too bad. And hopefully it'll start to heal soon and I'll be able to cut out these stitches, right?"

Nora nodded silently.

"Well, that's all I wanted to say," Ben finished, "So, er, thanks again, Nora."

He'd already risen and crossed the deck when Nora managed to make out a few words and murmured, "Your welcome."

No one else on deck seemed to have noticed the short conversation between Ben and Nora, and they had gaily joined Gail and Zooey as they led the group in a song while Jess played the tune on his fiddle:

"
We pillage, we plunder,
we
rifle and loot.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

Yo Ho, Yo Ho!
A pirate's life for me.

We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
Maraud and embezzle and even hijack.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

Yo Ho, Yo Ho!
A pirate's life for me.
Yo Ho, Yo Ho!
A pirate's life for me.

We kindle and char, inflame and ignite.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
We burn up the city, we're really a fright.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

Yo Ho, Yo Ho!
A pirate's life for me.

We're rascals, scoundrels, villans and knaves.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs!
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

Yo Ho, Yo Ho!
A pirate's life for me.

We're beggars and blighters and ne'er-do-well cads.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
Aye! But we're loved by our mommies and dads!
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

Yo Ho, Yo Ho!
A pirate's life for me.
Yo Ho, Yo Ho!
A pirate's life for me.
Yo Ho, Yo Ho!
A pirate's life for me.
Yo Ho, Yo Ho!
A pirate's life for me."

Gail bounded around the deck as she sang, and although she didn't have the most melodious voice of the bunch, she was definitely the most enthusiastic. As the song finished, she jumped on top of the ship's rail and grabbed a robe for support, belting out the last stanza with a grin and lots of laughter.

Her voice traveled down the flight of stairs and into the lower level of the boat.

Poor Nathaniel could hear her and the others sailors as they enjoyed themselves on deck, and he couldn't help but wish he was able to join them. He'd give anything to be up there at this very moment, in the fresh air and sunshine, but he knew that never would, and never could, be possible.

The song also reached the ears of Charlie and Sara, who were sitting in his office, still sipping some tea.

Charlie hadn't bothered to get dressed at all this afternoon, and he still wore his pajamas with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His hair still stuck up in odd places and the shadows beneath his eyes only seemed to have grown darker. He was lying on the sofa with his feet up and a wet rag on top of his forehead.

When he heard the sailors' song, instead of smiling he dropped his hands onto his head and moaned, "Why, oh why, have they decided to
sing
? They aren't even very good singers."

Sara sighed, "I'm sorry, Charlie. But they'll be done soon, I'm sure."

"They'd better," Charlie agreed bitterly, "If not, I'll go shut them up myself."

Sara grinned even though she knew Charlie hadn't been making a joke. For some strange reason, she found the sight of him so miserable and pitiful oddly endearing.

The rest of the day she spent at his side- fixing him tea when he needed to clear his head, finding him a wet rag when the aching pain in his head was just too much to bear, and reading to him if he was bored. And she did it all without a second thought and without ever being asked. In fact, she hadn't even considered not taking care of him when he was feeling so awful. It was her first instinct.

"What have you been doing all day?" Emy asked when Sara arrived in the kitchen to help make dinner, "I haven't seen you since morning."

"Oh, well, Charlie isn't feeling too well, so I helped him out a bit," Sara replied casually, tying an apron around her waist.

"Aww . . . how sweet," said Mary, a spark in her eye.

Sara shrugged, "It was nothing."

"Well I'm sure Charlie was very grateful," said Emy.

"I suppose."

"Did he
ask
you to stay with him all day?" Gail wondered.

Sara shook her head, "No."

Mary grinned, "But he didn't refuse either . . ."