Read Online Second on the Right by Elizabeth Los - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Los
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laid out on the table before Benedict. Her
eyes widened at the sight. With trembling lip, she began the
murmur, “The paper. Y-you have the printout Daria gave me. It’s
here.” Her eyes were wet with tears; she stared at her hands in her
lap.
Benedict watched her intently.
Once she felt composed, she looked up.
"Remember the day I first came on board?"
"Aye, am not likely ta ferget." He smiled. "I
thought you were…not quite right in tha head."
"Because of my ramblings about the internet,”
she continued his thought.
"The what now?" he leaned forward, placing
his arms on the table.
Taking a deep breath, she spilled out
everything that led up to the point of her being rescued from the
ocean. She covered her harassment at work, her useless
ex-boyfriend, her hopeless roommate, and her own lack of
self-confidence to make her life her own. She ended with the
explanation of what was on the paper, the information on her family
history, and how she wished that, if pirate blood truly flowed
through her veins, it would somehow benefit her in life.
Benedict was still taking in everything she
said, though some of it was beyond his understanding. Boyfriend?
Roommate? What did peak his interest was her mention of Captain
Davis in her family line. He looked down as he pondered all of
this. She knew my first captain, thanks to Daria. I wonder why
she would have bothered with Eileen.
"S-so, you can see I was telling the truth,"
she stuttered.
"Aye, aye,” he said with a distracted air.
“Miss Davis, ye say Daria gave ye this?” he asked with eyebrow
raised.
"Yes." She cleared her throat again. "As I’ve
told you, I’m not from here…I-I mean, from this time. I’m from the
future—" she stopped. Her face flushed, and she was unable to meet
his intense gaze.
"I believe ye, Miss Davis,” he said quietly.
"Ye know of me first capt’in, Davis. Do ye know how he died?" he
questioned.
“No, sir,” she answered softly. “I’m not sure
how I arrived, o-or why I’m here, b-but I want to—” She looked
down, failing to finish.
“Miss Davis?” Benedict called. "Ye need ta
learn ta take what is rightfully yers. Be forceful if need be.
Defend if need be," he continued, waiting for her to nod in
understanding. “Do not give in, do not give up. Act it even tho' ye
don't feel it. In time ye will," he said.
Chapter 8
November 7, 2001: 3:45 pm
James reclined in his chair on the aft deck
of the Destiny. His laptop sat on the table in front of him.
He had spent the last hour going over his notes and revising his
presentation for the following day. Calling it quits, he melted
into the chair, nearly all of his muscles relaxing under the warmth
of the sun’s rays. Just as he was drifting off into a nice dream,
the phone rang, jarring him back to reality. Blindly, he reached
out and grabbed his mobile. “James,” he answered monotonously.
“Well, whadda ya know? He does live.” Patrick
chuckled on the other end of the line.
Patrick was a large, broad-shouldered man
with close-cut, jet-black hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. James
and Patrick met each other in England during their long-ago
boarding-school days. James, a highly intelligent student, had
managed to attract bullies wherever he went. One fateful day, he
literally ran into Patrick while running from his daily
persecution. His large friend stood up for James, protecting him
from that day forward. The two found a special kinship. Patrick had
vowed to not only be his friend for life, but his self-imposed
bodyguard. As James was able to hold his own, he no longer needed
Patrick's services at school; however, they remained the closest of
friends.
James woke at the sound of his best friend’s
voice. “Hi, Patrick. To what do I owe the—”
“Ah, don’t say it, man. You know why I’m
calling. I got your email, and I’m taking care of it. I don’t have
anything yet. I’ll have something when you return.”
“So, you’ve called me to say you
eyes widened at the sight. With trembling lip, she began the
murmur, “The paper. Y-you have the printout Daria gave me. It’s
here.” Her eyes were wet with tears; she stared at her hands in her
lap.
Benedict watched her intently.
Once she felt composed, she looked up.
"Remember the day I first came on board?"
"Aye, am not likely ta ferget." He smiled. "I
thought you were…not quite right in tha head."
"Because of my ramblings about the internet,”
she continued his thought.
"The what now?" he leaned forward, placing
his arms on the table.
Taking a deep breath, she spilled out
everything that led up to the point of her being rescued from the
ocean. She covered her harassment at work, her useless
ex-boyfriend, her hopeless roommate, and her own lack of
self-confidence to make her life her own. She ended with the
explanation of what was on the paper, the information on her family
history, and how she wished that, if pirate blood truly flowed
through her veins, it would somehow benefit her in life.
Benedict was still taking in everything she
said, though some of it was beyond his understanding. Boyfriend?
Roommate? What did peak his interest was her mention of Captain
Davis in her family line. He looked down as he pondered all of
this. She knew my first captain, thanks to Daria. I wonder why
she would have bothered with Eileen.
"S-so, you can see I was telling the truth,"
she stuttered.
"Aye, aye,” he said with a distracted air.
“Miss Davis, ye say Daria gave ye this?” he asked with eyebrow
raised.
"Yes." She cleared her throat again. "As I’ve
told you, I’m not from here…I-I mean, from this time. I’m from the
future—" she stopped. Her face flushed, and she was unable to meet
his intense gaze.
"I believe ye, Miss Davis,” he said quietly.
"Ye know of me first capt’in, Davis. Do ye know how he died?" he
questioned.
“No, sir,” she answered softly. “I’m not sure
how I arrived, o-or why I’m here, b-but I want to—” She looked
down, failing to finish.
“Miss Davis?” Benedict called. "Ye need ta
learn ta take what is rightfully yers. Be forceful if need be.
Defend if need be," he continued, waiting for her to nod in
understanding. “Do not give in, do not give up. Act it even tho' ye
don't feel it. In time ye will," he said.
Chapter 8
November 7, 2001: 3:45 pm
James reclined in his chair on the aft deck
of the Destiny. His laptop sat on the table in front of him.
He had spent the last hour going over his notes and revising his
presentation for the following day. Calling it quits, he melted
into the chair, nearly all of his muscles relaxing under the warmth
of the sun’s rays. Just as he was drifting off into a nice dream,
the phone rang, jarring him back to reality. Blindly, he reached
out and grabbed his mobile. “James,” he answered monotonously.
“Well, whadda ya know? He does live.” Patrick
chuckled on the other end of the line.
Patrick was a large, broad-shouldered man
with close-cut, jet-black hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. James
and Patrick met each other in England during their long-ago
boarding-school days. James, a highly intelligent student, had
managed to attract bullies wherever he went. One fateful day, he
literally ran into Patrick while running from his daily
persecution. His large friend stood up for James, protecting him
from that day forward. The two found a special kinship. Patrick had
vowed to not only be his friend for life, but his self-imposed
bodyguard. As James was able to hold his own, he no longer needed
Patrick's services at school; however, they remained the closest of
friends.
James woke at the sound of his best friend’s
voice. “Hi, Patrick. To what do I owe the—”
“Ah, don’t say it, man. You know why I’m
calling. I got your email, and I’m taking care of it. I don’t have
anything yet. I’ll have something when you return.”
“So, you’ve called me to say you
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