The Hawk and the Jewel

by Lori Wick

  "Your father returned to England with your mother's body and tried to put his life back together. Sunny Gallagher, your grandmother and the woman you were named after, never believed you were dead. I wish now that she had lived to see how right she was."

  "So my father sent you?** Trying to grasp all that was significant, Sunny's head was spinning over this news even as her young heart told her it was true.

  "No, he didn't send me. AU contacted your oldest brother, who is married to my sister. We're all very close because of that tie, your siblings and my family, and with my ship and sailing experience, they asked me to come.**

  "Is my father dead too?" Sunny suddenly asked, already knowing the answer.

  Brandon nodded regretfully. "About four years ago. His heart suddenly stopped. He was gone before a doctor could be summoned.'' Brandon fell silent then, not wishing to overwhelm her.

  "What are these 'siblings' you speak of-sisters?'*

  "Siblings are brothers and sisters," Brandon told her and reminded himself to watch his choice of words. "You have two brothers and one sister. They are all a good deal older, each married with children.

  "I'm a person who enjoys maps and charts, so on the voyage over, I took the liberty of drawing up a family tree so you would understand our family ties.** Brandon rose and fetched a roll of paper from his desk. "As you'll see, you're an aunt eight times over."

  Sunny accepted the paper offered to her, and like a person in a dream rolled it open on the table. Brandon, never taking his eyes from her face, helped her hold the edges down as she read. After a moment he began to point and explain.

  Gallagher Family Tree Randolph Gallagher d.1840 m. Katherine d. 1832

  Douglas 32 m. Marian

  Randolph (Rand) 36 m. Chelsea 35

  Heather 28 Sunny 13 m. Foster Jamieson

  Miles 16 Holly 15

  Harlan 11 Lance 8 Graced James 5

  Diane & Louise 8 (Twins)

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  "This is your father and mother, and here is your oldest brother, named after your father. We call him Rand. He married my sister, Chelsea. I wrote down everyone's ages, so as you can see, you actually have a niece and a nephew a few years older than yourself.

  Hawkesbury Family Tree

  Milton Hawkesbury

  Edgar d. 1823 m. Andrea

  Dexter 21

  Brandon 23

  Chelsea 35 m. Randolph (Rand) 36

  Miles 16 Holly 15

  "My family is on this side," he went on. "You see here under my folks are my sister Chelsea, me, and then my brother, Dexter. Dex is engaged to be married."

  "Is your mother dead?"

  "No. She's very much alive and looking forward to seeing you. She and your mother were the best of friends."

  "Will I live with her?" Sunny felt very confused.

  Brandon suddenly realized how important it was for her to know where she was headed, and said a prayer of thanks that her family had taken the time to work this out ahead of his departure.

  "You'll certainly see my mother, but since your parents are both deceased, you're going to live in London with your sister, Heather, and her husband, Foster. As you can see," Brandon again pointed to the paper, "they have twin girls, Diane and Louise."

  Again Brandon felt as though he'd said enough. Sunny's eyes were scanning the paper repeatedly, as though trying to memorize every word.

  Unexpectedly she asked, "Why did you come for me?"

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  Brandon had already told her this but patiently answered again. "When Rand was contacted we all sat down, your family and some members of my own, and discussed the matter. When all was said and done, my position and sailing experience made me the rather obvious choice."

  Sunny remembered then that he had said this was his ship and agreed that he was the logical person to sail for her. But she did not realize there was more behind the word "position" than she realized. She didn't feel disappointed that no one else had come, just curious over what they might be like.

  "How long will I stay?"

  Brandon stared at her, completely nonplussed. That she would not understand the permanence of this arrangement had never occurred to him. He felt a bit cowardly, but decided to throw the answer back at Ahmad's feet.

  "Ali said that the letter he left would explain everything." Brandon could only hope that after these words, the letter actually would fulfill that promise.

  "Oh," Sunny looked stunned. "I did not read all the words, and I do not know-" she hesitated when Brandon rose and retrieved yet another paper from the desk.

  "You must have dropped it in your hurry to leave." Brandon's voice was a bit amused, but it was lost on Sunny as she opened the letter.

  "It is because of my love for you," she began again, "that I have taken this action. You will be angry, but I know what is best. The family you have in England has position, power, and money. You will be welcome and have care. Indira will miss you. Think of us when you open the jewel box. It comes with my love, Poppy."

  A single tear escaped the corner of Sunny's eye as she looked up at Brandon. "I am not to go back." It was a statement, not a question, but Brandon still nodded in agreement, knowing the sooner she accepted the feet, the easier it would be.

  "What is this jewel box?" Sunny tried to distract her own tortured thoughts.

  "Something Ali left for you. Did you want to see it?"

  "I would cast it into the sea, were it in my hands," she whispered, knowing she hadn't diverted her thoughts at all. She felt so betrayed and angry that she wanted to scream.

  Brandon's brows rose as he thought how well Ali had known

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  what her reaction would be. He also saw the anger building in those stunning purple eyes. Brandon asked himself if he should sidetrack her or let the anger come. He decided on the latter and stayed quiet as she crumpled the paper in her hands.

  "He had no right," she suddenly spat furiously.

  Brandon was certain she referred to Ahmad's method of sending her away.

  "He had no right to lie all these years! All this time I am not his, I am not given to him by an English man whose wife had died. I am not the daughter of a man who trusts me to Ahmad's care, wanting the best for me. Helied-all these years he lied!" More tears had gathered in her eyes, and Brandon could see they were tears of fury, tears of the betrayed.

  As she stormed the cabin floor, her hands were clenched and her hair, not having seen a brush recently, swirled around her shoulders.

  "I was safe. I was happy. Now I have only lies." She stopped and buried her face in her hands. Brandon stayed in his seat for a few moments and then rose to put his arms around her. He knew very well that she would push him away, but on the slim chance she would welcome a shoulder to cry on, he approached.

  Tears in the palace were not something the emir had enjoyed, and he only allowed shows of emotion on rare occasions. Not even Rashad, in deference to his ruler's preference, had comforted her when she cried. Sunny had never had a man hold her when she was upset, and at this moment, when her world had been torn in pieces, nothing was of more comfort than the feel of his strong arms surrounding her or the smell of his shirt as she buried her face against his chest and wept.

  Brandon said nothing to stop her tears or avert her from this grief. She had, in a sense, experienced the death of a loved one-an entire family of loved ones. Brandon believed her tears, grief, and anger were all healthy ways of handling the hurt.

  When the worst of the storm had passed and Brandon had handed her a handkerchief, he asked if she wanted to talk a little more. Her head shook in the negative, and Brandon knew that now was the time for a little diversion.

  "Let's head back into your room for a little while."

  Sunny, having come to realize that he meant her no harm, told him she did not need to sleep.

  "I'm not suggesting that you do. You have a bed to make and two trunks to repack.**

  His planned diversion worked li
ke a charm. Sunny's chin rose with indignation, and her eyes flashed purple fire. Brandon thought she looked like a young princess. She also sounded like she was addressing a servant.

  "I have never made my bed or picked up my clothing. Why," she sputtered angrily, "I do not even know how!" She sounded almost proud of the feet.

  Brandon wanted to smile, but knew better. He also decided not to mention that she obviously didn't know howtouse a hairbrush either. Her thick tresses hung in unruly strands around her face, back, and shoulders.

  Brandon calmly turned her around and propelled her in the direction of her bedroom. "Then I think it's high time you learn."

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  "You are hurting me!" Sunny told the captain angrily.

  "That," Brandon's voice was as calm as ever, "is why you must do this every day."

  Sunny let out a disgusted sigh but said nothing.

  Brandon had let another two days pass before mentioning Sunny's hair. At his suggestion that she brush it out herself, she had stared at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses.

  So now they sat together in a sheltered spot on the deck, and Brandon tirelessly ran the brush through her hair, or at least made the attempt. Some strands were so tangled he feared he would need to cut them.

  At one point, when he had one side brushed smooth, he made Sunny brush for a while. But it was clear that her heart wasn't in it. She grew distracted easily and ended up with nearly as many snarls as when she started. Brandon tolerantly retrieved the brush and went back to work.

  "I hope you realize that I'm not on this trip to play maid to you," he told her suddenly, although his voice held no rebuke.

  "Why did you not bring a maid for me?" Sunny asked the first question that came to mind, thinking what an excellent idea it was.

  Brandon could only shake his head. She was so clearly accustomed to being waited on hand and foot. He had been raised in a home of considerable wealth, and even now, in part because of that wealth, was considered one of London's most sought-after bachelors.

  In his home, however, money had never been an excuse for acting helpless or being unwilling to learn new skills. Sunny obviously believed that if she didn't know something by now, especially some thing that didn't interest her, then she didn't need to learn.

  "What is my sister like?" Sunny turned suddenly, and Brandon saw the spark of curiosity in her eyes.

  "Like a grown-up version of yourself. You look like you might be taller someday, but other than your eye color, your faces are very much alike."

  "Did my mother have my eyes?"

  **No, you have your grandmother Gallagher's. I believe that is why you were named for her."

  "And she is dead?"

  "Yes, about seven years ago now.**

  Sunny turned back so Brandon could finish her hair. His sister would certainly laugh at the job he was doing, but it looked better than before.

  Brandon was lost in thought for the next few minutes. His mind raced from how hard it could sometimes be to read Sunny's face to the feet that he could no longer tolerate watching her eat with her hands.

  He hated to invite a battle, and he was learning fast that with Sunny a battle was easy to come by, but it was time she learned to eat with a fork. Lunch was less than an hour away, and Brandon had determined to talk with her before the meal. He knew the customs in the East were vastly different from those in England, but England was where they were headed, and Sunny was going to need to learn to conform.

  *Put it in my left bfmM*

  Brandon was again telling himself not to laugh. "Sunny," he spoke with the utmost patience, "in order to cut your meat, you put your fork in your left hand and the knife in your right. When the meat is cut, the knife goes at the edge of your plate and the fork goes back into your right hand, so you can continue eating.**

  It was the second time he had explained all of this, and he told himself if it took the rest of the day, she would do it correctly. Sunny scowled fiercely at him, but Brandon's voice and face remained calm.

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  "Give it a try now," he ordered softly.

  "To eat with my left hand is barbaric." The words were said with lofty disdain, but Sunny's eyes belied her words. Not haughty, they were following Brandon's progress through his meal. Throughout the verbal explanation, he'd calmly eaten, using his knife and fork in perfect form to show his young charge how it was done. He told her she could no longer use her hands and fingers, and it was understandable that she was growing hungry. He kept up the scheme until she at last gave it a try.

  The meat was very tasty, but Brandon watched a look of loathing cross her face after she had painstakingly cut the meat and placed it in her mouth. He watched as Sunny held the fork out in front of her and stared at it.

  "I do not like the taste of steel in my mouth."

  "I guess that will take a little getting used to. In no time at all, you won't even notice it."

  Sunny put the fork and knife down. "I will starve."

  "Not on my ship, you won't." Brandon put another forkful of food in his mouth and chewed imperturbably. "If I have to truss you up and feed you like a baby, I will."

  "Why do you treat me as a child?" Sunny's voice was high-pitched with frustration.

  "Sunny," Brandon's voice was totally logical, "you are a child."

  She had no argument for that. "What is 'truss'?" she asked suddenly.

  "It means to tie," Brandon said briefly and concentrated on his food. He didn't look her way again, but did say a prayer of thanks when she picked up her fork and made a valiant attempt at her meal.

  * * *

  "Everything is so strange," Sunny whispered when she climbed into bed that night. "My clothes, the food, the eating-all so strange. I will never understand. I will never be truly English."

  Sunny was on her way toward depression, but then she realized something inside her had changed. Some of the restlessness had abated. For over a year now there had been an unsettled feeling within her. Every day she had felt the discontent rise up, and on most days she learned to fight the feeling by doing something she was not allowed, certain this would drive the feeling away. Whether

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  went to the tower, the kitchens, the stables, or across the court,

  the restlessness stayed with her.

  When she'd had special times with Indira or Ahmad, there was Little or no restlessness. But Sunny found that whenever she was left with her own thoughts, her mind would stray and become unsettled. Her attitude would result in a certain type of fidgeting, and Sunny would act on impluse, even though she knew better.

  Just thinking of it made her feel fidgety. She rustled about in the bedcovers for some time before sleep came to claim her. Brandon, waiting for just that, sat at his desk and listened to the sound of her silence when it finally came.

  After the 6rst day when she had jumped ship, he had not let her out of his sight. Any 13-year-old who would jump from the deck of a fast-sailing ship, intent on swimming home, was not to be trusted. She had shown no other signs of running, but Brandon was not convinced that she was as settled as she appeared. This was the reason he was getting ready to take his bath at 10:00 at night.

  Each evening he waited for her to sleep before climbing into the tub. Although the tub was too small for his 6'3" frame, he enjoyed these evening baths. They allowed him to relax and dwell on all of the things for which he was thankful.

  When he completed his studies at Oxford three years ago, at the age of 20, and was commissioned onto his first ship, his mother warned him that at times his duties and responsibilities would threaten to overwhelm him. Her advice after this had been simple.

  "Stay in God's Word, Brandon. Read your Bible every day and enjoy God. You may not enjoy all you see going on around you, especially when there is hurt and suffering, but you can enjoy God. Dwell on Him, His promises, and His love for all people. He will see you beyond every sunset."

  -Her words and those of the psalmist came to him now as steam rose
around him, clearing his mind of the day's events. He meditated on Psalm 147: "He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds. He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names. Great is our Lord, and of great power; his understanding is infinite. The Lord lifteth up the meek; he eastern the wicked down to the ground. Sing unto the Lord with thanksgiving; sing praise upon the harp unto our God."

  "I know, Lord," Brandon prayed quietly then, "that in Your

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  love You have brought Sunny back into our lives with a purpose. Thank You for Your power and infinite understanding. Use me especially now, and the family once we're in England, to bring Sunny to Your Son, Jesus Christ."

  sunny stared at the hairbrush in brandon's hand and then at the man himself" He was smiling at her, but those dark, raised browstoldher he was waiting with his usual persistence for her response.

  It didn't bother her all that much to take care of her hair; it was just that she could never remember to brush it. Being reminded made her feel like a child. She was one, of course, but didn't care to admit it, even to herself.

  She finally took the brush and plopped down on Brandon's bed as though she'd lived in this cabin all her life. Six weeks had passed since they had set sail, and Sunny was feeling as much at ease with Captain Brandon Hawkesbury as she had with Rashad or Indira. He was overbearing at times, but family ties and traditions in her land were taken very seriously, and the tact that his sister was married to her brother afforded the captain a tremendous amount of respect.

  While Sunny brushed her hair, Brandon worked over the ship's log at the desk. She noticed he wrote something every day.

  "What are you writing in, Brandon?" Already she was losing some of her accent.

  "It's the ship's log. I record where we've been, the weather conditions, and anything outstanding that happened on board."

  "Do the pages have dates?"

  WI date them."

  "What's today's date?" Sunny's voice had dropped, and Brandon turned to look at her.

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  "It's October 19. Why do you ask?"