A Spirited Gift

I didn’t know how to answer that. I hadn’t anticipated having a conversation with him like this. He thought he knew who I was—the mayor of Duck and his old flame’s daughter. But he hadn’t guessed that I was his daughter. I felt awkward and even more nervous. “I’d like some tea.” I bustled to the cabinet and took out the Sterno and folding stove I kept for emergencies. After lighting it, I put some water in the kettle and put it on the stove. “Are you sure I can’t get some for you?”

“No, thanks. I’m not that thirsty.” He started walking around looking at my treasures. He picked up the flintlock pistol that had belonged to pirate Stede Bonnett, a summer find at the Charleston Market.

It had engraved silver mounts, gold leaf, silver wire inlays and a carved stock. The French barrel had a carved relief of St. George slaying the dragon. It wasn’t fully functional. There was no fly in the tumbler and no bridle in the lock. That meant it wouldn’t fire properly. It was a special piece—one that would net enough to tide me over for a long winter—but only to the right person.

“So you own this place?” He kept talking. Maybe he was nervous too. “And you’re the mayor and you work as a firefighter or something?”

The dealer who sold the pistol to me thought it was junk—but then he couldn’t touch it and find out where it came from like I could. I’d struggled for a while, wondering if that was cheating, until I thought about all the fake treasures I’d paid too much for. Treasure hunting was up and down.

“I was just helping out,” I told him. “I’m not an official volunteer or anything.”

“This is a nice place.” He came back and sat down. “You’re kind of young to own something like this, aren’t you? Does your mom help out?”

“My mom is dead.” There—it was out. The teakettle whistled, and I poured the hot water over the blackberry tea bag in the cup. “She’s been dead a long time.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“How could you? Why would you?”

He shrugged. “I guess she didn’t mention me then. We dated for a while. It was a long time ago. We were both just kids. Did she marry someone?”

“No.” Despite my earlier resolution to confront him, I wasn’t sure how far I wanted this conversation to go. It was crossing over into part of my life that I wasn’t comfortable sharing with him yet. I didn’t even want to think what Gramps would say if he knew Danny Evans was having a casual conversation with me about Mom in Missing Pieces.

“I’m sorry.” He backed down. “I don’t know you well enough to ask you this kind of stuff, I guess. You’re just a lot like Jean. She was easy to talk to.”

“Sure.” I added some honey to the tea but didn’t sit down to drink it.

“Anyway.” He got to his feet and hooked his fingers in the pockets of his well-worn jeans. “I just came by to say thanks. And, I admit I was a little curious about you. I’ll see you around, Dae. Next time, the rum and Coke is on me.”

I realized after he was gone that I’d been holding my breath, hoping he wouldn’t guess the truth. The connection was there—he couldn’t see it yet. How was I going to feel about it when he could?

I took my tea and sank gratefully down on my sofa—only to jump up an instant later, emptying my cup as I sat on my ghost pirate’s lap.

He winked and grinned at me, gold tooth showing on the right side of his mouth. “Aw, we ain’t that close related, dearie. The ladies favored me when I was alive. No reason we couldn’t have a little fun, even though you’re a mite scrawny for my taste.”

“Don’t even go there!” I warned, not sure what I could do to prevent it, since I couldn’t stop him from being there at all. “Never mind. We’re going next door. Shayla has to know some way to get rid of you.”

“Look, girl, there’s a very easy answer to you getting rid of me. You’re the last of my line—far as I can tell. I need yer help with the kind of thing only a relation can do. You do that, and I’m gone. Poof! Not like I want to be half alive, half in the grave in this foul time. The air stinks like bilge water, and the women have no rounding to them. What’s there to make a man feel welcome here?”

The shop door flew open and Shayla stalked inside without bothering to close the door behind her. “I knew it! I knew I sensed a presence here somewhere. Dae, what have you taken up with? Haven’t I warned you about messing around with things you don’t understand?”

Chapter 18

“Me?” I put down my teacup. “What are you talking about? He was in one of those spirit balls that came from the séance. In case you didn’t notice—he’s not my mother.”

Shayla frowned, brows knitting over her dramatically made-up dark eyes. “I don’t know how that’s possible. I was very specific. Not just any spirit could come through like that.”

“He says we’re related through my mother’s side of the family.”

“Well, of course! That makes perfect sense.”

“I’m glad you think so. But you haven’t heard the best of it yet. Shayla Lily, spiritual advisor—meet Rafe Masterson, hanged pirate who cursed Duck.”

“That’s an old wives’ tale,” Rafe objected.