The Reverend's Daughter (Book 2 after The Duke's Daughter)

Chapter Nine

Pete had recognized the boy's worship as what it was. Intense and humble gratefulness, for the part Pete had played in saving all of them from a horrible fate. Pete was just so relieved that their little lives would heal and they could go on as healthy, hopefully, happy children. Pete made an effort to praise the boy Timothy, sharing his smiles and sense of humor, in an effort to erase the damaging way that Redbeard's crew had abused the boy. He was a boy after Pete's own heart, Timothy only wanted to please, to be told he was doing a good job, and to be comforted when needed. The boy needed hugs and encouragement, Pete made sure he gave these things in abundance.

Violet had taken Sam and a machete to the shore, they were busy clearing a trail where the stream turned, as this was the closest, and easiest way, to gather the water needed for the trip home. Betsy had elected to stay aboard ship and put the babes down for their nap.

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Betsy looked at the three adorable children piled in her bed asleep. The swimming had worn them out and they had gone down rather quickly. She tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind her, she would check back in with them in a little while. She left the Captain's cabin altogether and entered the hallway. She had an idea, and now seemed a perfect time to give it a go. She walked the span of hallway, until coming to the turn that would take her to the galley. She set her shoulder's, said a small prayer for her own peace of mind, and announced her presence by calling out beforehand.

"Mister Paulie, permission to enter the galley, sir." She stood outside in the hall, knowing the galley was hers, yet giving him the respect he seemed to desire by asking his acceptance of her presence.

"Whadee want?" Was her only reply from the surly cook.

Betsy grinned, and giggled a little, as she planned to set his world on end. "I have a favor to ask of you, Mister Paulie, may I enter?"

"I spose, iffn ye must." Paulie growled from the table he sat at, his rum, laced tea sitting before him. It was his break time, after the noon meal, not yet quite time to start their supper.

Betsy entered and when she stood before him, she gave him a little curtsy. She had changed back into her breeches, so had no skirts to hold. She felt funny doing so, yet she loved the look her actions had produced upon his face. He was trying so hard to scowl at her, and run her off, which only made her more determined to charm him.

"I have an idea, Mister Paulie, and I need your help." She said sweetly, once again batting her eyelashes at him, and smiling in a beguiling manner.

"I gots enuf ta do with out doin' ye any favors, girlie." He looked down into his cup as he spoke, because to look at her, weakened his resolve to be a hard hearted shrew.

"Tis a simple plan I have sir, yet I cannot do it without your help. I am not sure if ye have met the wee ones yet, but they are just the sweetest children, and I need some help keeping them occupied. I am aware of a recipe for dough that they may play with, if you would help me to secure some flour, salt and water. 'Tis just to create shapes and creatures, giving them something creative to do this afternoon while the boys are busy." Betsy had no idea, but she had said the magic words, wee ones.

Paulie sat at his table, looking into his cup, and another small chink in the rock around his heart took place, like it or not. This young girl was so sweet, she spoke to him in a way he had not been spoken to in a long time, and certainly not by a Miss.

Betsy came around the table and sat next to Paulie on the bench. She folded her hands in front of her and turned a little on her seat to halfway face him. She waited patiently as she saw a gamut of emotions play across the man's face. It was several moments, she could tell he had left her and this ship behind, his thoughts had roamed elsewhere. So she simply waited, and prayed, for this man that she knew was hurting deep inside his soul.

"I always wanted me a big family, I wanted children,..... of me own, to set upon my knee and tell stories to, to love and play with, and teach em right from wrong.' He looked up at Betsy as a single tear tracked it's way down his cheek. "Why we could no' have babes, I do not know." He shook his head and looked back to his tea.

Betsy felt the man's pain as if it were her own. Her own tears fell for this gruff, lonely man. She resolved he would have the children he so desperately wanted, be they his very own, or not.

"God has a purpose for all of our lives Mister Paulie, you sail with a man who rescues children from an awful fate. The whims of men can hurt these sweet children, yet you are a part of a group of wonderful men, who gives them a chance to continue, as children. The life they would have if ye did not rescue them, I really do not even want to try to imagine." She laid a hand on Paulie's wrist, giving it a slight squeeze, as he turned his eyes to where they touched.

No one, save Violet, had touched him with compassion, in years and years. Surely not a sweet Miss, who should have run for the hills, with the way he had greeted her aboard ship. He put his other hand atop hers that rested on his arm, and closed his eyes for a moment. Taking deep breaths to keep the dam of tears from bursting, he decided this little lady deserved his respect. From the moment he met her, she had shown him, nothing but.

"Flour, salt and water, ye say? Well, we ken work that up in a trice. Come along to the kitchen and show me this recipe of yers." He smacked both hands down on the table, "Hop to it, gets yerself movin girlie! I gots ta be figurin' what be fer dinner soon."

Betsy smiled at the gruff way he had of hiding his emotions. She felt she had made significant headway with her cook, she would not fear entering his domain any longer, .......as if she ever really had.

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