The Dust of 100 Dogs - A. S. King [63]
On her way back to the boat, she stopped outside the tavern and listened to her men singing drunken songs, then headed back to the dock. David had tidied the ship and done inventory. They would be ready to go once they sold the captured brig and restocked their ammunition in the morning.
“Do you think the men will object to leaving tomorrow?” Emer asked.
David shrugged. “They’ll do what we tell ’em. They’re loyal.”
“I’m afraid I don’t trust any of them.” Emer poured them both a mug of strong Cayman rum. “I reckon I only trust you.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
They sat on deck together and watched the stars appear, drinking for an hour until David leaned his head on Emer’s shoulder and breathed loudly. “You know, we would make a good pair.”
Emer laughed. “I think you’ll need to go ashore for that, David.”
“Admit it!” he said, rubbing his stubbly jaw. “We would!”
She looked at him. His eyes were bright blue, with long lashes, and he had lines round his mouth from smiling and the sun. His arms were strong and his hands were rough from a lifetime of hard work. He kept his dirty-blond hair tied in a tail down his back, and was usually clean-shaven. He was as handsome as Seanie—but he wasn’t Seanie.
“Maybe in another time and place, but not here, friend. Here, we’re comrades. That’s all.”
“You must crave a man after so long at sea! You aren’t made of glass, are you?”
Emer stopped laughing and felt sad.
“Are you?” David pressed.
She sat up straight and tried to look serious. David noticed this and did the same, looking into her eyes and squinting drunkenly.
“I do crave a man, David. I crave one man. A man I probably won’t see again,” she said. “But I love him still.”
David was silent.
“You think I’m daft, don’t you?” Emer asked. “You think I’m stupid.”
“No. I think it’s sweet. It’s sad, I reckon. You’re a beautiful woman, you know, and it’s sad that you wait for a man you’ll never have.”
“I might,” Emer defended herself. “I might go back and find him. That’s what I’ll do one day. He’ll most likely be married by now, but—”
David interrupted. “Then why do you taunt yourself?”
“I can’t help it. I just do.” Emer folded her hands in her lap and looked at them. “Now, you tell me your story—then we’ll decide which of us is worse off!”
David said, “I’ve never met a woman I’ve loved. I’ve never had a specific woman in mind. Just a quiet life, tending my land with a warm woman in my bed, is all.”
“That’s all? You never had one woman you dreamed of?”
“Not until I met you, no.” David looked at her softly.
“Oh David, I can’t be the warm woman in your bed! What would the men think?”
“The men wouldn’t have to know.”
“The men would know, and besides, I just told you that story. It wouldn’t be fair. I would always be thinking of Seanie, and you would be fooling yourself.”
“Who’s fooling herself? You’d rather have an imaginary man than a real one? You should just face the facts, woman, and move on! This fellow. He’s not here, is he?”
They worked to stand up and steady themselves.
“This is your only chance, sir, to have me,” David slurred. “I’ll never mention it again.”
“See? You call me sir! What type of love affair would we have?” Emer giggled.
“No more impossible than your Irish boy coming to find you. You should forget him anyway, whether or not you choose to accept my offer. For your own good.”
He made his way down the plank to the dock and