Second on the Right (19 page)

November 19, 2006

“Captain? Captain?” Eileen raised her voice.
“You still with me?”

Benedict shook his thoughts, waking from his
daydream. “Hmm? Aye. That day when I had lost ye to tha storm, it
broke me heart-not knowing where ye had gone, if ye were alive or
dead. I remained captain of the
Mistral Thief
. Me crew and I
had many a successful raid on ships and towns alike. The treasures
we held were more than we would ever spend in a lifetime. For me,
it wasn’t enough. I wanted somethin’ more. I wanted—”

Benedict stole a glance at her. She was
listening, but didn’t offer a look his way. Sighing deeply, he
simply ended it by saying, “I asked her for a second chance.”

Eileen remained silent.

The area of Westport was lush with foliage,
despite the chilly weather. Colors of autumn decorated the roads.
Stone houses hid within the wooded areas. Sunlight winked on the
ground as it filtered through the trees and moving leaves.

All of this beauty was wasted on Eileen. Her
mind was so focused on the impossibility of the captain’s presence
that nothing else mattered. She knew there was more to his vague
answer than he was letting on. Even as they drew closer to their
destination, she didn’t say a word. She tried to make sense of it
all. She found it hard to believe her time on the
Mistral
Thief
, that the captain, was not a dream. Her fingers wrapped
around the steering wheel. She squeezed and took a few deep
breaths.

After a short trip down a gravel road, Eileen
pulled up to the house. Placing the car in park and turning off the
engine, she remained still, staring straight ahead. She could feel
Benedict’s gaze on her. Clearing her throat, she unbuckled both
seat belts, opened the door, and slipped out of the car. She opened
the passenger door as well, leaving Benedict seated in the car.

Eileen felt numb. She walked up to the house,
pausing at the front door. The white porch extended around the
entire house, like a moat surrounding a castle. With her key in the
lock, she paused, considering a glance back at him.

No…I need a moment to process all of
this.

Eileen unlocked the door and entered her
home. Other than the sounds she made in the kitchen, the remainder
of the Westport property was quiet. She went straight to the
cabinet and threw open its doors to reveal the partially used
bottle of coconut rum. Pulling out the cork, she shoved the lip of
the bottle in her mouth and upended it. The liquid felt like slow
warmth going down her throat, hitting her empty stomach. She closed
her eyes and took one gulp after another. She finished the rum.
Putting the bottle down, she leaned against the counter, allowing
the feeling of warmth, peace, and relaxation to wash over her.

As stars collide, would one grow great, the
other die, in their set fate?

Would one burn bright, overtaking another,
consuming it til there was no other?

Would they remain eternally bound, until
their true purpose was found?

Would one finally atone, only to exist
alone?

She continued to manipulate, in the hopes to
mitigate,

The past of crimes, could not be changed or,
in fact, rearranged,

But still there was a chance, the one would
grow and take a stance.

Thank God for first class,
James
thought as he stretched out his legs.

The flight home was long. Hours passed by and
he couldn’t sit comfortably. He tapped his fingers nervously, which
his neighboring passenger pointed out. He drank, he ate, and he
tried to read a book, but still, time crept by ever so slowly.

James had decided to return to New York City.
He had to see Eileen again, had to sit her down and talk about
their future. She was too important to him to just let it go. He
planned to surprise Eileen since he was going to be roughly a week
early returning. But first he needed to run an important
errand.

He opened his wallet and pulled out a picture
of himself with Eileen. He smiled as he fantasized about being near
her again. Holding the photograph close to his heart, he fell
asleep for a little while.

Outside, Benedict sat in the car. He had
watched Eileen’s reaction-or lack thereof. He frowned as she
disappeared into the house. Feeling overwhelmed, he put his head
back. He had no idea when or where he was. He had to admit it was
good to be near her again. Yet, in his heart he was a pirate. He
belonged on the
Mistral Thief.

Walking around the car, he stared at it in
amazement. How could it possibly move without any assistance? No
horse, no animal of any kind. At least not one that he could
see.

Perhaps 'tis powered by fairies,
he
jokingly thought.

Pausing at the threshold of the house, he
looked around. Part of his skill was in familiarizing himself with
his surroundings. Beginning on the left, he headed into the front
room, taking in every inch of space, every piece of furniture and
the layout.

The home was strange, and very neat. He had
never witnessed anything so clean. He stepped into the back, and
then over to the right, the dining room. He was surprised at the
sight. In the center was a replica of his table aboard the
Mistral Thief
. With a smile, he ran his fingers over the
carvings. Obviously her time on board had made an impression.

His thoughts were interrupted by the clinking
sound of a bottle. As quietly as possible, he spied around the
corner into the kitchen. The room was decorated with rich brown
granite counter-tops, cherry-wood cabinets and strange,
stainless-steel boxes. He was a bit surprised to see Eileen with a
freshly opened bottle of rum in hand and an empty bottle on the
counter, swaying back and forth. Benedict contemplated his next
move with Eileen, who was obviously intoxicated. Straightening
himself up, he strode into the kitchen.

Eileen faced him as he entered. He wrapped
one arm around her waist and with the other hand caressed her
cheek. She closed her eyes briefly, his touch tender and light.
Their eyes locked. He leaned down to kiss her. She glanced from his
eyes to his lips and back up again. Her hands rested on his arms.
Just as his lips were about to brush against hers, she pushed
against his chest and turned her head to the side.

Clearing her throat, she pushed past him. He
stared after her. When she reached the staircase, she turned and
beckoned for him to follow her. Taking his hand, she led him around
the house.

They eventually ended up on the back porch.
Overlooking the sound, listening to the faint trilling of tree
frogs in the distance, the two stared out at the trees. Though the
walk-through had concluded, Benedict still held Eileen’s hand,
telling her it that it helped provide comfort to him. Eileen sat
with him, leaning her head on his shoulder, watching the sun
set.

James couldn’t help but smile as he left the
gate of JFK airport. He grabbed his bags and hailed a cab. The
excitement he felt was overwhelming. Having enough time on the
flight to think, James had formulated what he believed to be the
perfect plan.

As he stood at the curbside, James noticed a
young man, roughly twenty feet away, staring at him. James guessed
him to be a teenage boy, but it was difficult for him to estimate
age. He flagged down his ride while feeling the boy's eyes on
him.

What's his problem?
James wondered, as
he stole a glance at the figure.

The boy was leaning against a window of the
terminal, one leg bent back, foot resting on the lower part of the
glass. Dressed in dark green, he wore a hoodie. A tuft of hair
stuck out on the side, giving the appearance of a feather. The
boy’s arms were crossed, his face hidden in shadow. A chill ran
down James’ spine causing the hairs on the back of his neck to
rise.

He's just a kid. Why do I care?

As a cab drove up and the driver popped out
to assist with the baggage, James stole one more glance. The kid
was gone. James jumped into the cab and provided the driver with
his destinations. As they drove off, movement from outside the car
caught James’ attention. The kid had darted up alongside the cab as
it picked up speed. He slapped a sticker on the window next to
James. It was a circular black decal.

The driver yelled at the kid, swerved
slightly, but continued on, all the while complaining. James stared
at the black circle on the window. He didn’t know the kid, but he
did recognize the symbol. James rolled down the window partway to
remove the decal. He placed it in his binder to look over later.
Shaking his thoughts, he focused on the task at hand. Making the
necessary stop, he instructed the driver to head for the apartment
he shared with Eileen. James leaned back in his seat and opened his
newspaper to continue reading in the science section.

Balancing one bag on his shoulder and pulling
the other from behind, James entered the quiet apartment. He
deposited everything into one big pile, shut the door, and walked
around the rooms, hoping to surprise Eileen. He frowned when he
realized she was not there. Thinking she might still be at the
hospital, he dialed the number and spoke with a nurse on her floor.
She said Dr. Davis had taken a leave of absence and that the last
they had seen of the doctor, she was discharging and escorting a
homeless patient out of the hospital and to the nearby shelter.
James called over to the shelter.

Why would she still be there?
he
thought, concerned for her safety.

After a quick conversation with the shelter
staff, James learned Eileen hadn’t been by in a few days. He
searched the apartment for some evidence of where she might have
gone. He had dialed her mobile phone, but the call went straight to
voice mail. Concern changed to panic. He continued to call her,
hoping for a different outcome, but receiving the same result each
time.

James went to the kitchen and found a pot of
soil with a stick in the center set on the table. He slumped down
into one of the chairs, staring at the stick. He never felt this
way before. Worried to near-nausea, he feared the worst.
Perhaps
I'm being overly sensitive because of the threats.
He couldn’t
bear the thought of losing Eileen. While staring into space, trying
to convince himself a call to the police would be an overreaction,
he noticed a small handwritten note that had fallen to the
floor.

I've taken a much-needed vacation from work.
If you need to reach me, I'm at the house. If you have business to
take care of, don’t hurry out here. I'm fine, just relaxing.

Yours,

Eileen

PS. I've officially killed our 20th apartment
plant. I've committed planticide. I give up!

She was terrible at horticulture, but
wonderful in so many other areas. Her giving up meant plants could
breathe easier, as they were now saved from her brown thumb. His
worry dissipating, James looked at the stick in the dirt and
laughed.

Eileen nudged Benedict in the arm. "We should
eat.”

Without a word, he followed her through the
house and into the kitchen; he sat across from her. Eileen diced
and chopped vegetables with ease. Benedict rested his chin on his
hand and a wistful look came over his features.

“Captain,” she said, avoiding the scolding
look he was giving her. She couldn’t bring herself to use his first
name. “I’m not sure how to explain it, but I believe I know a
relative of yours.”

“Aye? Is that so?” Benedict raised an
eyebrow.

“Well, in a way. He’s actually a descendent
of yours. James Benedict,” she explained.