Page 16 of Unlikely Heroes
It was evening now, with Smitty and Nick Bonfort at their usual spot in the dining room, finishing homework. Able held Ben on his lap as his son sounded out words in Isaac Newton’s masterpiece,Principia Mathematica, the English version. Unperturbed by all the genius around her – what a woman he had married – Meri knitted a sock.
“Who should show up in my trigonometry class this afternoon but Jean Hubert, looking none the worse for wear, the scoundrel,” Able said. “He wouldn’t admit where he had been – gave me that half-insolent, all-French smile. As we speak, he is dining with Headmaster Croker. He’ll be here soon.”
Oh, predictions. Able heard a knock. He listened for Mrs. Perry’s heavy footfall, and smiled to himself. Ah, yes, here it came. It was low-voiced but intense. He leaned toward his wife.
“Meri, I believe Mrs. Perry is giving our returning prodigal what for,” he whispered sotto voce.
“Good,” Meri replied. She smiled at Ben. “What say you, Ben?”
“I missed him,” the little one replied, almost with his father’s intonation and inflection.
“You are both scoundrels,” she said, her affection for them obvious. “Ben, there is an excellent pile of blocks over there that needs stacking. Give Sir Isaac a rest, won’t you?”
“Aye, Mum.” Ben hopped off his father’s lap and made for the corner. In a few minutes he was busy stacking and humming.
Able touched Meridee’s hand. “You are the leaven in our odd loaf,” he told her.
“I know,” she replied, straight-faced, which made him laugh out loud. “Let us see if our son can be both a child and a genius, shall we?”
“Amen to that,” he said, thinking of his own rough start. Ben was already miles ahead of him in joy and comfort, the kind that comes from a loving mother who nurtured and admonished and smoothed his way.And who keeps me sane with her unbounded love, he thought, grateful.
Maybe he could test her a bit. He knew he had a minute, because Mrs. Perry had lit into their French POW with more than her usual verve. With the deepest, most unshakeable knowledge, Able knew Meri’s love would last. He also knew she enjoyed occasional glimpses into his odd cranial world. He touched her hand again, closing around the knitting needles. She rested the needles in her lap.
“Something tells me…”
“Aye, mum,” he teased. “I had the strongest feeling yesterday that the barrister had no idea who had added that interesting codicil about willing theJolly Rogerto St. Brendan’s.”
“He did seem surprised,” she said, and gave him her intense look that, depending on its venue, excited him, or sent him into introspection. Here in the sitting room, he knew her lively mind was hard at work. “If it weren’t possible – don’t even try to tell me it is – I would suspect that Euclid has a hand in this. What gives, my love?”
Her use of schoolboy cant made him smile. No wonder every lad at St. Brendan’s adored her, too. “I believe my meddling mental mentors – now there is a phrase – somehow engineered that codicil Sir Charles claimed never to have seen before.”
“Youknowsuch things are impossible, don’t you?” his practical skeptic asked.
“I have given up trying to figure it out,” he told her. “Obviously, there is more afoot during this national emergency that will involve our boys in the fleet.”
There. He had admitted it. Their boys. All of his extraordinary senses might caution him to take a more detached view of the lads of St. Brendan’s who would come and go, some to distinguished service and others to a weighted canvas shroud in mid-ocean, but his deeply human side refused to cooperate. “Our boys,” he repeated. “We are all in this together for the long game, no matter where it leads us.”Take that, Euclid, he thought, but with no rancor.In your clever engineering, you mind-bending specters, please let me always return to this woman beside me.
He had spoken aloud without realizing it. He watched sadness cross Meri’s face, to be replaced by calm acceptance. He leaned closer. “I won’t say the next few months will be safe, Meri. I would be lying.”
“I know,” she said softly, after a glance at Ben. “My strength is returning, and my heart is in trim. Go and fight your battles. I will love you always.” She turned her head toward the door. “Mrs. Perry is giving our unfortunate Frenchman a regular bear garden jaw. Able, rescue him.”
He could never admit that Mrs. Perry fair terrified him, too. Meri knew him well, though. With a laugh, she got up and left the room. He heard her low voice, then silence, followed by the kitchen door closing decisively. Able had known Mrs. Perry since the age of fourteen, and could not deny, even now, a healthy respect bordering on abject fear, when she was on a tear.
But here came Jean Hubert with Meri, looking bruised by Mrs. Perry’s ill treatment in the foyer, but otherwise unscathed. He returned bow for bow, and kissed Meri’s cheek.
“Mercifor the rescue, Madame Six,” he said.
“You owe me a king’s ransom for my intervention, Jean,” Meri said as she sat down and resumed her knitting. “Where have you been? Should we worry that the next knock will be Royal Marines ready to clap you in irons?”
“No, no, madame,” the scoundrel said. He was silent, looking at them both expectantly.
“Jean, you are a reprobate and an escapee,” Able said. He said it mildly enough because it was far too easy to like the casual Frenchman who had been caught up in Napoleon’s machinations the same as he was, no more no less, even if on opposite sides, and sentenced to a Portsmouth prison hulk. “Do answer Meri’s question, if you know what’s good for you.”
“I do, Able,” Jean said cheerfully. “It might amaze you, but then again, knowing you…”
“Belay the stall,” Able said in his sailing master voice this time.
“Captain Ogilvie himself escorted me undercover to Trinity House – what was it – six months ago,” he said promptly.
