Uncharted Secrets (Uncharted Secrets, Book 1): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories

by Cristi Taijeron

  Uncharted Secrets

  Uncharted Secrets, Book 1

  CRISTI TAIJERON

  Copyright © 2014 Cristi Taijeron

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13:9781502368690

  ISBN-10:1502368692

  Edited by Stacey Coverstone & Janine Lieber

  Cover Artwork by Megan Dinsdale and Cristi Taijeron

  Reign-creative.com

  Interior design by Cristi Taijeron

  Endlesshorizondesigns.com

  To My Sister, Tori

  Thank you for reminding me that this story was one worth writing and for traveling the adventure with me every step of the way.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It takes a crew to write a pirate story and I wish to thank every one of these loyal adventurers who have helped me along the way.

  AJ Addams

  It has been an exceptional blast sharing story time with you!

  Being an amazing writer yourself, you understand all the little things that make a story big. From the difficult task of one word tossups, to the hours it can take to refine one blasted sentence. I adore the colorful tidbits you add to liven up the characters, and your appearance as Madame Adaline Janvier is truly one of a kind. You are a colorful gem, AJ Addams, and I can’t thank you enough for helping me polish this unique pirate story.

  Sarah

  Thank you for reading the ‘dirty’ version and for spending hours with me on the phone discussing the emotional details of these fictional characters.

  Barnabas

  You know you’re my favorite messmate, and in the spirit of pirate comradery, I hereby dedicate all the gritty and humorous insults in this tale to you.

  Nicole

  Thank you for always listening to my ongoing tale

  and for sharing your honest reactions to the chain of events and character traits.

  Jessica

  Your enthusiasm for my stories inspires me to keep writing. Thank you for taking on the tale as blind reader.

  Beth, Janine, Kelly, and Janel

  Thank you for volunteering for the quick read and for assuring me that this story stands strong on its own.

  AUTHOR’S

  n OTE

  Uncharted Secrets was inspired by a mysterious character mentioned in the Justified Treason series. In those books, Sterling Bentley tells us that he never knew his mother, Hannah, and though his father, Mason Bentley, spoke very little of her, Sterling was well aware that Mason loved Hannah for all of his days.

  When I began writing Justified Treason, Hannah was as mysterious to me as she was to Sterling, but as the tale unfolded I found myself wanting to know more about her. So, I decided to write the story. The surprises I found hiding in the pages of Uncharted Secrets consumed my imagination like a wildfire. There are so many clues to this mystery laced into my other books that I had to delve into the details like a detective, seeking out routes with dead ends and uncovering key elements like pieces to a crime scene. As an author, writing books is sometimes like reading one—I don't always know what's coming next—and the unexpected twists that I have unraveled in this tale have made up a beautifully tragic and unusual pirate story.

  Contents

  I BREAK MY BROKEN HEART

  1 Flowers and Shells

  2 Heartbroken Lullaby

  3 No Longer

  II DREADFUL SALVATION

  4 Not Mine to Take

  5 Nowhere to Hide

  6 Vanished

  7 Room with a View

  III MY PLACE IN THE WORLD

  8 Paint My Pain

  9 Feather in the Wind

  10 One More Day

  11 Queen of My Nightmare

  Uncharted Secrets

  As told by Hannah Remington

  Prologue

  Hope

  Atlantic Ocean

  Winter of 1643

  “What will Barbados be like, Father?” I asked as England disappeared over the horizon.

  “Ah, my girl, I’ve told you plenty of times, but I’ll tell you again.” My father, Jonathan Remington, put his long, lean arm over my shoulder. “I’ve been told there are palm trees and white sandy beaches there. Everything is green and the air is always warm. You won’t be needing your coat down there. Not once.”

  “Not even in the winter?” I snuggled my face into my woolen scarf.

  “Not even on Christmas day.” He smiled.

  It was always such a joy talking with my father. His bright blue eyes were warm enough to melt the chill of the cold winter air, and his optimistic words always filled my heart with hope.

  We carried on for a moment about our promising new future, but beyond the excitement, my mind was haunted by the words his employer had said to him before we left.

  Tucking into his side, I asked, “Why did Mister Parker say this move was a foolish decision for you to make?”

  “Because Mister Parker is a stuffy old man who has starved himself of hope. There be many men in this world plenty fine to keep what they were given and never try for nothing more, but not me. No. I was never one to settle. That job I had there, it kept a roof over our heads and nothing more, nor would anything more ever have come of it. But with all I learned at Mister Parker’s store, I reckon I’ll be running the finest merchant stand at the market in Barbados.”

  “I know you will, Father.” I shared my faith in his dream.

  Most of the men who came to Mister Parker’s store had come to see my father, and that cranky old man hated the way everyone favored his helper over him. But I was not the only one Jonathan Remington caused to smile. His joy was contagious and his friendly demeanor made everyone in his presence feel at home.

  “Good things await us on that island, my dear.” He kissed my forehead. “I reckon we should go check on your mother now. Poor thing is already feeling sick from the motion of the sea.”

  At the age of twelve, I was plenty old enough to know that my mother was drunk. Her usual stumbling and slurring was well in place as we boarded the ship, but as if I were still an oblivious child, my father continued to shield her addiction.

  Walking down the swaying companionway, he kept his arm over my shoulder and said hello to a few of the friends he had already made as we passed. Before we entered the small bunk room we’d be calling home for the next month at sea, he got down on his knee and looked into my eyes. “Remember this, Hannah, my sunshine, it is he who hopes not who is the fool. So, no matter what comes to you in life, promise me that you will never lose hope.”

  X

  PART I

  Break My Broken Heart

  Bridgetown, Barbados

  Winter of 1645

  Chapter 1

  Flowers and Shells

  Sifting through the cupboards to find nothing but stale crumbs, I decided it fair enough to pilfer through my mother’s purse while she was busy with her client. It was her fault I was hungry anyway. Finding just enough change to buy a loaf of bread, I covered my long blonde hair with my hood and headed out the door.

  The day was sunny, and hot. It was always so hot here on this island. The only perk to being poor was the lighter attire. Yes, the colorful gowns and ornate corsets of the regal were prettier, but I could never imagine wearing such things in this heat. That’s what I told myself, anyway. Hiking up my olive colore
d skirts to keep the fabric clear of the smelly puddle that kept permanent residence at the bottom of the rickety stairs, I cleared a successful leap and left the rancid alley before the foul stench could follow me to town.

  Bridgetown was not very big and it never took me long to get to the market. Hating it there as much as I did, I did my best to hurry through the aisles before anyone recognized me. Coming upon the booth that once belonged to my father, I grabbed a loaf of bread and handed over the payment without making eye contact with the man who had taken his place.

  Glad that things went so smoothly, I carried on my way with my face well shielded. Or so I thought.

  “Is that you, Hannah?” I heard a familiar voice. Though I only wished I could hide, the stout, young sailor was already standing before me. “Good heavens it is you!”

  Wrapping his arms around me, James sighed, “I am so sorry to hear of your father’s passing. He was a fine man. I know I only worked with him for a few months, but the good words he offered have been sailing the seas with me ever since.”

  Though my father had been gone a year already, I still felt the need to cry when I thought of him. Resisting my tears, I forced a smile. “He certainly was a fine man, and I keep his words in my heart, as well.”

  “How are you and your mother doing?” James looked concerned.

  “Oh, we’re fine.” I lied.

  “I know he did all he could for you two, and he told me he had a good savings built up, but if you need anything while I’m here in town, you just let me know.”

  Though it crossed my mind to gush out the god-awful truth, I only thanked James for his kind offer and wished him well on his journeys.

  Once again, taking refuge under my hood, I headed back to the place I called home. Reaching the alley that led to my flat, I sighed in relief. It was rare for me to get in and out of that crowd without any trouble. Just when I thought I was in the clear, I saw them. Odelia Harold and Charity Haynes.

  Wearing their extravagant gowns, each with brunette hair styled in fanciful curls, they looked like princesses, and as always, they glared at me like I was a filthy swamp monster who smelled of fish guts and mold. Being that I had already made eye contact with Odelia, it would be all too obvious for me to turn around now. I had to brave the nerve to walk past them. As if I was about to run out onto a battlefield with bullets flying here and there, I took a deep breath and tried to look proud.

  “Oh goodness, Hannah. Do you ever take a bath?” Odelia pinched her nose.

  “You smell like you slept in the alley outside your door.” Charity snickered.

  I walked past them without saying a word, but when Odelia said, “What’s the rush, harlot? Do you have a John awaiting you?” The words hit me like a knife to the back.

  Stopping in my tracks, I turned to them and said, “I am not a harlot.”

  “Oh, come now, we all know better than that. You live in a whorehouse for heaven’s sakes,” Charity jabbed.

  As if my wordless pain wasn’t humiliating enough, Thomas Wilshire walked out of the store behind them just in time to see Odelia fan her hand at me. “Be on your way now, before we end up smelling like you.”

  Frozen in my embarrassment, I stood stiff like an idiot as she grabbed Thomas’ arm, but the moment he looked into my pathetic eyes, I lowered my head and walked away.

  Not only was Thomas Wilshire the oldest son of the richest man on the island, but he was the best looking boy I had ever seen. Tall and lean, he had short brown hair and light brown eyes that reminded me of warm tea when he smiled. And he smiled often. He was always laughing, and was friendly to everyone he spoke with, like my father had been. Of course, my observations of him were only from afar, and up until now, I was sure he didn’t even know I existed. Now, he would forever know me as the ugly girl who smelled bad.

  Having never been more humiliated in my life, I hoped that he would forget he ever saw me, but there was no such luck for me. While walking away, I heard him say, “What’s wrong with you, Odelia?”

  She gasped up some excuse for her vile behavior, but rather than waiting around to hear his reaction, I hurried to get away from them. Just as I rounded the corner to the alleyway that led to my flat, I heard footsteps hurriedly heading in my direction. “Wait,” Thomas said.

  No. No. I cried in my mind, wishing I could sink into the putrid puddle at the bottom of my stairs to hide from him. But it was too late.

  “Hello,” he called out again. I tried to ignore him, but just before I hopped the puddle, he said, “Hannah. Wait.”

  He knew my name. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face him. “What do you want?”

  He looked nervous. Removing his hat, he scratched his head. “I, uh, well, I’ve kind of been wanting to say hello to you for a while.”

  “To me? Why would…” His stuttered words were too good to be true. Although I was dumbstruck by his admission and my heart fluttered with girlish glee, I squinted at him with distrust. “I’ve been teased enough today, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back home now.”

  “Oh, I’m not teasing.” Looking offended by my statement, he stepped closer. “I’m sorry those girls were so rude to you, but I’m not like that. I think you’re pretty and I’d like to, uh, take you for a walk sometime.”

  Utterly stunned by the unexpected invitation, I stuttered myself. “Well, I, uh…”

  While I looked for a valid excuse, he lifted the bag in his hand. “I just got some meat and cheese at the market, and I see you have some bread. Maybe we could make lunch together.”

  His silly expression made me think it was safe to trust him, but it was the thought of eating meat and cheese that led me to take a risk that he was sincere. “All right.” I let out a little laugh.

  “Wonderful.” His shoulders relaxed, and he pointed to the archway past my stairwell. “Let’s go that way. I don’t want to see those nasty girls again.”

  Though I figured it was because he didn’t want to be seen with me, I was pleased to hear him insult them. “Where will we go?”

  “I know of a little shady spot down a ways on the shore. How about we head for the beach?”

  Surprised that a man of the noble class would know of a secret shady spot by the beach, I agreed and followed him through the alley. Walking alongside Thomas Wilshire, I felt like I was living a dream. At seventeen, he was as tall as a full grown man, and though I felt small and dainty beside him, his silk stockings and extravagantly embroidered waistcoat made me feel dirty and cheap in my lowly fabrics.

  “So, when did you move over here, Hannah? Before I left for London you were living above the bakery.”

  First, I remembered how much I loved living over the bakery—my father and I would open the window first thing every morning so we could enjoy the scent of warm bread filling the air—but then I realized Thomas must not have known my story. No wonder he was talking with me. If he knew the truth, he would probably go running back to town.

  “Hannah?” he said, and I realized I had been staring at the sea while avoiding his question.

  “Oh, uh. Sorry. I got distracted. Look at those pelicans. I love watching them dive for their meals. I recently drew a picture of one of them swimming out of the bay soaking wet.”

  Following my change of subject, he asked, “You draw?”

  “Yes. It’s my favorite thing to do.” I left out the part about art being the escape that kept me sane while my world crumbled around me.

  “I can write well enough, but I couldn’t draw a square to save my life.” He chuckled.

  “Writing is just as artful if you ask me. I enjoy signing my name as much as I like drawing the pictures.”

  “I never thought of it that way.” He scratched his head. “How’d you learn to write?”

  “My father was never taught so we learned together.”

  “That’s nice. What a great thing to do together.” He guided me down the embankment.

  “We did a lot of things together. I miss him sorely
.” I confessed my painful longing. Walking across the hot white sand, I told him, “We used to come down here in the evenings and gather sea shells.” I fingered the string around my neck. “I keep this one on a necklace. It was the last shell he gave me before he died.” I showed him the purple colored clam shell I adored with all my heart.

  “That’s beautiful, Hannah. Did you make the necklace?” He examined the braided hemp.

  “I did.” I couldn’t afford jewelry, but I treasured my shells like fine gems.

  “Wonderful. You know, you’re lucky to have had such a loving parent.”

  Stunned that he would consider me lucky for anything, I paused for a moment before I said, “I am definitely thankful I got to spend the time with him that I did.”

  Leading me towards the trees lining the shore, he said, “It seems to me that in that short time, you received more love and wisdom than some people get in a lifetime from their parents.”

  Having never thought of it that way, I felt my heart warm. Wiping the sweat off my forehead as we reached the shade, I said a silent prayer to thank God for the time I’d had with my father.

  While Thomas and I walked side by side, I admired the flowers and vining plants we passed, and even stopped to gather a few blooms along the way. Inhaling the fragrant aroma of a large orange flower, I said, “This flower is so pretty, I need to know its name.”

  Rather than sticking it in my basket with the others, I weaved the long stem into my braid. Thomas looked at me in the most peculiar way. “I thought the same thing when I first saw you.”

  My heart felt like it stopped beating and I felt light on my feet. Without a word to respond with, I simply stared at him in disbelief, until he took my hand. “Come along, you can see the tree I like from here.” He pointed towards a tall tree with a canopy shaped like a parasol.