Howel Davis (Post 13)

Bath. Oh, glorious bath. How I have missed you.

I didn’t want to get out of the tub, it was so wonderful. As promised, Meg had provided us with tubs, clean water, and soap. I sank into the hot water with a sigh of delight. I scrubbed my skin raw and lathered up my hair no fewer than three times. I considered using a straight razor to shave my legs and armpits — which, I am unhappy to report, resembled those of a sixteen-year-old boy — but decided against it, since I still planned to masquerade as a boy.

But before I went back into my boy’s clothes, I wanted to put Meg and all those other floozies in their places. I may not have had their impressive racks, but I had good genes and the benefits of twenty-first century health and beauty care. I slipped into the aquamarine gown and laced myself up as best I could without assistance. It was rumpled and beginning to smell, but it would have to do. I gazed at my reflection in a metal plate — mirrors were a luxury in the 18th century, and only the very rich had them — and was relieved to see that I didn’t look as bad as I had feared. I still had the bruise on my cheek, and my eyebrows were unruly, but my skin, oddly enough, had never looked so… luminescent. My eyes were bright, my cheeks and lips had a natural rosiness to them, and I looked… good. How so very odd.

I walked out of my room and noticed that Howel’s door was open and his room empty, so I went down the stairs where some patrons were dining. I spotted Howel sitting with Meg in a corner, and she was leaning into him, her thick hair over one shoulder. He sat naturally, that ever-present good nature in his eyes, and I wondered if he had ever had an awkward social moment in his life. He’d bathed and shaved, and even though his face was a bit thinner than when I first met him, I was struck by how well he cleaned up.

As I approached, they both turned to look at me. I suddenly realized that neither one of them recognized me; Howel stared like a man appreciating an attractive woman he’d never seen before, and Meg stared like a woman suspiciously eyeing her competition. I stopped at their table and grinned. “Good morning,” I said.

Howel’s eyes widened, his mouth fell open. A delicious warmth crept through me, flushing my cheeks. He said, “Sabrina?” I must have been grinning like an idiot at this point, but I couldn’t stop. He muttered, “Holy Jesus.”

Meg looked from me to him, confused and becoming increasingly angry. “Who’s Sabrina?” Then, the realization of who I was finally dawning on her, she stood and said, “I don’t know what you two are about, but it’s sick!” She stormed off, leaving us to gaze at each other.

Howel rose and gestured to the chair Meg had been sitting in. “Will you have some tea?” We sat and as he poured me some tea, I gazed at him from under my eyelashes. A smile pulled at his lips as he said, “You were a pretty lad, but you’re a beauty of a woman!” I felt the heat flood my face and the air leave my lungs. The way he said it, though — like a man admiring a piece of art, not like one overcome by desire. It bothered me.

He tilted his head to the side, considering me. “What do you plan to do now, lass?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I have nowhere to go. I suppose I could go back to Nassau, try and find a way back to 2009, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it would be in vain. There’s no reasonable way for me to ever get back.” I didn’t say that my plans were, without a doubt, to follow him to the ends of the earth. I added, “There’s also the minor issue of Jack Blaine. He knows who I am, and has threatened to hunt me down when the time came.”

I said this casually, as if addressing the weather, and Howel startled. “Jack Blaine? He knows you’re a woman?”

“Yeah. I was trying to sneak some food into the hold for you, and I was caught. Taylor and Blaine ripped off my shirt, and, well…” I shrugged sheepishly. “It was kind of apparent that I was a woman. When Blaine found out my name was Sabrina, he made the connection. He kinda bullied me a bit, trying to find out what I knew, but I didn’t tell him a thing.”

Howel became very still, and the expression on his face was one I had never seen before, not on him. It was deadly. He said slowly, “Did they put their hands on you?”

I was thrilled by his reaction. “No. Honestly, they didn’t.”

Howel studied my face. He touched my chin and tilted my head toward him, his expression dark. “What happened to your face, then?”

“Oh, Taylor hit me, but that was before he knew… he still thought I was a boy then,” I answered, the words tumbling hurriedly from my lips, my heart racing. I didn’t want his fingers to leave my skin.

All good things must come to an end. He mumbled, “Son of a bitch,” and moved his hand away. Then he said, “Blaine heard the Igbo woman say Sabrina the Charmed Woman knew our fates, and then he discovered that Will, the pirate lad, was a woman named Sabrina.”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

“He’ll hunt you down, he said? Tell me then, Sabrina the Charmed Woman, what becomes of Jack Blaine?”

“He becomes a pirate,” I replied. “A cruel, sadistic one who loves to torture his victims. He will be captured and hanged in 1720.” I thought for a second. “Oh, and he kills Ned Taylor.”

“Ned Taylor? Why would he do that? I thought he and Ned were fellows,” he growled.

I leaned forward. “Because Ned Taylor becomes a pirate hunter. The book didn’t elaborate, but I would guess that Taylor will be on the Slave Coast trying to hunt down Blaine himself. He’ll be defeated and killed.”

Howel’s blue eyes were piercing. “Blaine hasn’t decided to go on the account yet, so he hasn’t discovered how valuable you are to him. Once he realizes what path his life will take, he will come looking for you.”

He was right. We stared at each other, letting it all sink in. Finally Howel said, “Go back, Sabrina. Go back to your time.”

I shook my head. “I told you, I don’t know how! It would be impossible.”

Howel leaned back in his chair. “Blaine will come for you, lass, mark my word.”

I replied, “I know he will.”

Howel studied his hands, the welts around his wrists. After a moment, he said, “I’d tell you to stay with me, that I’d protect you, but I’ve got to find employment. I haven’t a farthing to my name.”

“That’s okay,” I said quickly. “I can still stay with you. I’ve been masquerading as a boy for a while now. I’m quite good at it.”

Howel frowned. “How then? Will you try to find employ with me?”

“Yeah. Aren’t ships always looking for boys to do menial jobs?” I asked.

“Oh, noooooo,” Howel said with a laugh. “I’ll not have you following me onto slave-ships, a pretty little lad who draws troubles like flies ‘round a sugar bowl.”

“I’ll follow you anyway,” I said stubbornly.

Howel sighed. “If you haven’t anywhere to go, and nobody to help you, I suppose it’ll have to be that way.” He smiled. “I promised the pirate England, after all.”

I didn’t like the way he said it, as though I were a burden. I frowned and looked down. “I can be of help to you, too, you know. I’ve told you your future, after all.”

He snorted. “Aye, and little good it does me, if I can’t change it after all.”

I was quiet for a moment, then said, “You can try.”

He smiled. “Aye. And you, Sabrina? What does your future hold?”

I tried to smile. “I have no idea, Howel. No idea.”

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