Chapter 4

  As Jonathon got dressed the following morning, he took care not to wake Scarlett. He slid on his breeches and tunic, strapped his cutlass to his hip, and pulled on his boots. He left a bag of gold on her dresser. He had already paid the Madame the night before, and this was far more than the going rate at The Sleeping Siren, but he felt bad about her turning down business last night and about having to leave early. Besides, he thought, she was good at her job. Her pay should reflect her abilities.

  He exited The Siren, the early morning light casting long shadows on the dirt streets. He began his journey to the docks where his ship, Mother’s Myth, was in the process of being careened. Under normal circumstances, this would have taken a little over a week, but he had paid the dockworkers a little extra to bump his ship up the list and finish faster. The job would be completed later today, but he still needed to meet with the inner circle of his crew and ensure that all was ready to set sail on the morrow.

  As he walked through Gravenfair, he basked in the familiar sounds and smells of morning that he had come to know and love. While it wasn’t the most savory of ports, it was by no means a pirate’s den. There was, of course, an area of town that housed the more depraved members of society, but the same could be said of any port town, really. No, Gravenfair was, for all intents and purposes, a normal port. As such, the sights and smells he enjoyed this morning were all those of the legitimate businesses of a town: the butcher chopping away at the cuts of meat that had been ordered, the general commotion of stores and shops opening their doors and placing their street signs out to draw in the populace, and the baker preparing for the day’s sales. It was at this last one that Jonathon stopped to purchase his breakfast. He had no time to swing by The Plot and Plaster for a full meal, so he decided to settle for the second-best option he could think of–a loaf of freshly baked bread from Doughy Delights. From outside, he could hear the owner singing as she kneaded the dough. As he stepped inside, the door’s bell announced his arrival.

  “We’re not open yet, dear,” came a melodic voice from the kitchen, “but if you come back in an hour or so, I’d be happy to help you.”

  “Aww, but I heard the bread made here was the best in all of Gravenfair. Plus, I have important business to tend to today. Are you sure you can’t make an exception just this one time?” Jonathon asked innocently.

  “Jonathon Harding? Is that you?” The sound of clattering dishes followed, and the kitchen door swung open to reveal Ruby Whatley.

  Mrs. Whatley was a woman who embodied warmth and comfort. She was a charmingly plump woman who often reminded Jonathon of what people meant when they said “the mother someone never had.” She was short, with dirty blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun and an ample bosom. Of course, accompanying that ample bosom was an equally ample belly and bottom, but she carried it well enough. She smiled softly as her eyes met Jonathon’s, and for a brief moment, he was reminded of his mother.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “I thought so,” she said, closing the distance between Jonathon and herself before pulling him into a tight embrace. “It’s so good to see you, dear. Please, come in and tell me how you’ve been. I feel like it’s been weeks since the last time I saw you.”

  Jonathon shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t today, Mrs. Whatley. I wasn’t kidding before, I actually do have important matters to tend to at the docks. But I was hoping I might be able to purchase a loaf from you before I headed that way.”

  Her gentle, nurturing face became stern as her hands found her hips. “Jonathon Harding.” How was it that she could say his name in such a way that made him feel like a child being scolded? “You sit down right this instant. You’ve been gone for weeks, and I’ve not heard a word from you. You will at least let me know how you’ve been and that you’ve been taking care of yourself. Otherwise, you won’t get a crumb from me.” He quickly sat down at the nearest table, and her gentle smile returned. “There. Now, isn’t that better? Sit tight, dearie, and I’ll get you some breakfast.”

  She disappeared back into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a few small loaves, a jug of milk, and some of her homemade honey butter. Jonathon’s urge to rush down to the docks was forgotten as he spotted this rare treasure. Mrs. Whatley’s honey butter was one of the most coveted items in town. She mostly made it for herself and close friends, and any excess was snapped up instantly by the lucky souls who came into her shop first. His mouth began to water as she placed the bread, butter, and milk down at the table. He began eating as she peppered him with questions about where he had been, how he had been doing, and if he had been taking care of himself. He was quick to reassure her on all fronts, though he spared her the details of some of his more unsavory activities. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his work as a pirate, he just didn’t want to trouble the sweet woman with such unpleasantness.

  After about half an hour, her questions lessened as her curiosity was sated. She stood, smoothing her apron. “Well, dear, I feel as though I’ve kept you long enough. You have your business at the docks, and I’ve got a shop to open.” She began walking back towards the kitchen.

  “Wait,” Jonathon said, quickly standing to stop her before she disappeared. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing at all, dear,” she said, that gentle smile returning to her face. “Just promise me you’ll stay safe. You’re all I have left of dear Sophia.”

  It had been a long time since he had heard his mother’s name. For a moment, Jonathon felt like he could almost hear her voice, soft and comforting, echoing from his dream the night before. He felt a pang of grief shoot through his heart. He realized, or maybe just remembered, why Mrs. Whatley was so demanding of his time and safety. “Very well, Mrs. Whatley. I promise.”

  She smiled a bittersweet smile and disappeared back into the kitchen without another word. He lingered in the shop, the smell of fresh bread mingling with his thoughts. Mrs. Whatley had been there for him in ways he could never repay. But once he found The Spectre, he’d make sure to do his best to try.