evermore: a short story collection

willow

Adriana lay sleepless in her bed. The beam from the lighthouse shone intermittently through the thin curtains. Shouts from the tavern below rose up every now and then, and she couldn't tell if they foretold an imminent brawl or were merely drinking songs reaching fever pitch. She could hear Aunt Vera's snores in the other bed and she was dumbfounded that her chaperone could find rest at the edge of this busy port. Then again, Aunt Vera wasn't the one being shipped off to finishing school in London like Adriana. She sighed deeply and flung her pillow over her head, hoping to block out some of the noise. But the muffled sounds only gave her mind more space to imagine London and finishing school. She envisioned the damp of this seaside inn seeping into her clothes, into her skin, and following her to grey-skied London. Where instead of the loose skirts and flowing braids she wore in India she'd be folded into tightly-laced shoes and severe buns. A particularly loud yell from downstairs jolted Adriana to sitting and her feet swung off the side of the bed instinctively. Her heart raced. The crack of light peeking out from under the door taunted her. She peered over at Aunt Vera again. Surely it wouldn't hurt if she went out for one final walk before her imprisonment. Before she could second guess herself, Adriana lowered her feet to the floor and padded over to her trunk at the foot of the bed. In the dim light from the window, she pulled out the riding clothes tucked neatly beneath all the dresses. They were loose over her slight body-- Adriana's mother had insisted she would grow into them-- and she looked more like her younger brother than a girl of sixteen. She couldn't help but grin at herself in the mirror as she tucked her hair under a cap. Adriana listened for a moment at the door; it wouldn't do if someone saw her sneaking out of the women's hall. When she was sure any noise was coming from the tavern below and no stragglers out in the hall, she eased open the door. It creaked and she threw a terrified glance at Aunt Vera, but her chaperone merely huffed out a large breath and rolled over. Adriana slipped out the door and down the back stairs, avoiding the drunk revelers. She flung open the door into the alley and gasped in the salty air. Adriana smiled widely as she strode off into the darkness. These last few hours of freedom and the warm night were hers.

"She's a beaut, ain't she?"

Adriana startled at the voice that had come up beside her. She turned and saw a tall, thin man smoking a cigarette and staring out at the ship Adriana had just been mesmerized by herself. She quickly looked back out at the sea, not wanting him to catch her girlish features in the dim light.

"What's it called?" she asked, pitching her voice deeper than usual.

"That ship there? That's Morgana. My girl Morgana. She's the star of the Arabian Sea."

Adriana looked at the stranger again. The man looked young, a boy really, he couldn't be much older than she was, and his clothes were the simple, nearly worn-through uniform of a common sailor, but he had called the ship his girl, and her curiosity got the better of her.

"Are you the captain?" she asked.

The boy let out a laugh that rocked his frame right down to his feet. "You've never been on a ship, have you?"

Adriana felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She shook her head silently.

The boy's chuckles slowed and his tone turned wistful. "Maybe one day," he said. "I've been on Morgana since I was just twelve. Maybe one day I'll have my own ship."

He turned away from the sea to face her. "What you doing out here by the docks anyway? Didn't fancy the pub with all the other men?"

"Couldn't sleep," Adriana muttered, still not making eye contact with the boy.

"Aye," he nodded knowingly. "I can never sleep on land either. Well, would you like to see the ship? I'll show you around, seeing as how you've never been on one and neither of us are getting any rest tonight. Say, what's your name anyway, boy?"

Adriana's mind raced. He actually took her for a boy just like him. If she corrected him and declined his offer, what was there to do besides go back to sleeping Aunt Vera? Then the only part of a ship she'd ever see was the passenger cabin that would entomb her all the way to England. It was now or never.

"Adrian-nn," she stuttered.

The boy didn't hesitate as he stuck out his hand. "Caspian Margrave. But everybody calls me Caz." Adriana took Caz's hand and shook as firmly as she could. Her stomach thrilled with excitement at her undiscovered lie.

Caz made his way to the dock closest to where The Morgana floated a bit further out. Adriana tried to inconspicuously match his long strides. He flicked his spent cigarette into the water and jumped nimbly from the dock onto the rope ladder cascading down the side of the ship. The passenger gangway was secured away at this time of night, and from this angle, the hulking side of the ship was massive, casting Adriana in a menacing shadow. Caz turned back and saw her hesitating at the gap between the dock and the rope ladder swinging on the side of the ship.

"Here, take my hand."

Adriana was surprised at the ease with which she clambered up the swinging ladder and onto the deck. She rose to a shaky stand on the deck, her body finding the balance of the gently rocking wood. Caz's face was split into a beaming grin and she could feel the same on her own face.

"C'mon," he said, and walked her around the ship, pointing out where different crew members stood watch and naming all the parts of the ship. Adriana felt like the more Caz said, the less she understood, but she followed him around the deck, committing it all to memory.

After a while, the sky in the east began to lighten, and when Caz pointed it out and said they'd better be going before the rest of the crew showed up, Adriana's stomach sank. She followed Caz down the rough rope ladder back onto the dock, mind racing. Back at the edge of town, she and Caz split up, Caz heading for the tavern and Adriana pretending she lived further west. But she felt as if she had left a part of herself on the ship, her pounding heart up on the crow's nest, her sea-steady feet down in the hold. She doubled back, following the feeling back to the dock. She glanced over her shoulder down the empty harbor and scampered back on board. Her instinct told her to hide, so she hurried down to the cargo hold. Her eyes darted around, looking for the best place to stowaway. There, chests of fabric. After some rearranging of the brightly colored bolts of fabric, she lowered herself into one of the chests. Adriana took a deep breath, eased the lid over her head, and waited.