Page 24 of Escaping Pirates
“I knew it!” Sugar squealed. “He thinks I’m charming!”
“And he thinks I’m witty and clever!” Blossom fanned herself. “We should write letters back!”
Hope surged in my chest. Harlan wouldn’t even need to steal away paper if I could get them to compose long letters. “That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard,” I told her enthusiastically. “Shall we start now?”
“Yes,” Sugar said eagerly, but Blossom forestalled her.
“No! Remember? Uncle Tyrone is supposed to arrive this afternoon. He always has fancy stationary. Let’s wait for that.”
Disgust soured my mouth as I remembered the greasy-haired man who had offered to buy me from Harsh. If I put one toe out of line, they could easily sell me to Tyrone that very day. Harlan’s words from the night before came back to me.“Successful people make their own luck.”All I needed to do was keep the girls occupied and happy.
“You could work on drafts now, then rewrite them on the nice stationary later,” I suggested. “I’d be happy to write it for you or clear your desks so you have a clean place to write. Whatever you’d like.”
“Yes!” Sugar clapped her hands, and Blossom nodded eagerly. “Help me think of what to write.”
We spent the rest of the morning composing the sappiest, most cringeworthy love letters I’d ever read. Blossom compared Harlan’s strength to a devouring kraken, and Sugar wrote that Harlan was very, very, very, very handsome and that she would dream of him every moment.
“That’s perfect. He’ll love that,” I praised with each sentence they came up with. “He only talks about you two, you know.”
“He wasn’t excited about seeing us at first,” Blossom said at one point, gloom seeping into her prior enthusiasm. “He probably doesn’t even care.”
“Oh, come on, Blossom, don’t mope!” Sugar chided. “Remember what I told you to say when you’re feeling down?”
I perked up, genuinely curious to hear what sort of motto they’d have.
Blossom managed a small smile as Sugar went on in a singsong voice, “Depression is temporary but these cheeks”—she slapped her hindquarters—“are legendary! No man can resist us.”
I turned quickly to hide my laughter. Of all the momentsI’d spent with the pair of sisters, this had to be an all-time high.
“What do you think?” Blossom asked me, her face dour once more.
“I’m sure he was only upset because he was concerned about his crewmates at the time. It had nothing at all to do withyou,” I lied. I wasn’t sure how I managed to keep a straight face. “All you need to do is keep him focused on you.”
“And you won’t try to steal him from us, will you, Scurvyella?” Sugar said, shooting me a suspicious look.
“Not at all. I don’t like blond men.” If nothing else, I would become highly proficient at lying by the time Harlan and I escaped.
“Ship ahoy!” one of the crew called out from the deck.
“Uncle Tyrone!” Sugar said, eagerly looking over the letter she’d painstakingly composed. “He’ll help us.”
“I’ll leave you two to your family matters,” I said, hastily standing and trying to make my way to the door. Anything to avoid Tyrone.
“No, you need to stay and write the letter,” Sugar ordered. “Your handwriting is neater.”
I bit my tongue. Keeping Sugar happy would mean that she wouldn’t want her father to get rid of me. Would it be enough? Tyrone might have forgotten all about me in the last few weeks. My stomach settled slightly. Any man who offered to buy a servant so readily likely did so very often and wouldn’t even recall that I was on board. All I needed to do was keep out of his way.
“I would be glad to do that for you. While you get the stationary from your uncle, I can stay here and clean your room and prepare your outfits for tonight.”
“Yes, do that,” Blossom said without a word of thanks,getting to her feet. “Then we’ll get ready while you write the letters so we can give them to Harlan tonight.”
They left, and I immediately took several pieces of paper, folded them, and tucked them into my bodice. I didn’t care in the slightest if the paper I got was fancy or not. With it, Harlan and I were even closer to sending the pleas for aid now. Once he was given another quill and pot of ink for more love letters, we would be able to write the notes and get the bottles out.
Tension drained from my shoulders at the thought, and I began cleaning with renewed enthusiasm. The girls got along with each other better when their room was well organized and their possessions neatly arranged, so I devoted myself to doing just that as they went to find their uncle and beg whatever fancy paper they wanted off him. Hungry as I usually was, I would gladly forego any midday meal if it lowered my chances of running into Tyrone.
When the girls returned, they were chattering away excitedly together, discussing the latest story their uncle had told them, about some boy named Peter who had been accused of multiple kidnappings and murders but instead of being executed had been sentenced to life in prison. I listened as they went on and on about how he’d already been in prison for years now, and that he had been suspected of instigating a prison break but hadn’t escaped himself.
Escape. At least escape was possible on land, however unlikely it was. Here on the ocean, escape would simply mean drowning.
