The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Fifty-Seven
You Can Always Depend on a Dishonest Man
Jack
settled himself as he read the greeting, smiling at the word
“Jacques”.
“Ah, me Carrie…me French little singing
angel,” he smiled revealing the many gold teeth, gingerly touching
the scarf on his head, the one she had worn and he had grabbed last
minute in his escape. He remembered her singing…a siren for sure,
he thought. She could lure the heartiest of men to the rocks with her
voice.
He began to read. But he did not understand.
He
skimmed it again.
J'espère que vous recevez cette
lettre. Je suis bien.Les Frechman aidés m'obtiennent le
mégaphone outre de ma tête que vous devriez lui être
gentil.
“Bloody ‘ell!” he shouted aloud, flipping
the page over.
On the back side the words were the same.
All
in French.
The only word he understood was her
signature…Carrie.
“What do ye think yer doing to me,
girl?” he lamented, throwing his head back against the boxes. “Ye
finally make contact and I can’t read a bloody thing ye wrote!”
Jack stuffed the letter back into the pink envelope and
choose the next one. A green envelope with the word ‘Gato’ on the
outside. He furrowed his brow as he tore open the letter and began to
peruse the contents. He read the signature first.
Jessi.
Ah
me precious little Jessi. He recalled her standing in the Pearl’s
galley offering a taste of her fine Mexicali dishes. Hot and spicy he
remembered…both the dishes and Jess. He began to read.
Gato
querido no deje Sands conocerme han escrito. escribo en español
en caso de que baje en las manos incorrectas allí en el cuarto
Jack swore again. “Damn it Jessi, did ye not know I
barely speak the Queens’ English and ye send me a letter in
Spanish?”
He found himself gritting his teeth.
He
quickly folded in back in half, returning it to the green envelope.
He brought up a blue envelope reading the neatly printed
block letters JACK.
Finally he thought.
Swiftly he
tore into it and flipped it over to see the name of the sender.
“Ally,” he read aloud. She was the girl from the Flying
Dutchman. Aye, a slight smile came to him. She could fix me rudder
anytime, he let his thoughts wander.
He brought the page back
around and started to read.
“Dearest Jack…I write from
the Cape to you to let you know…”
Jack blinked his eyes
as he tried to focus on the words. They had begun to blur as if water
had spilled upon them…smearing them.
He wiped his own eyes
but the words did not improve. He watched as one by one the letters
began to flow like liquid, staining the blue paper until before his
very eyes all of the text was a muddy mix of ink and water. Then to
his horror, the paper became a soggy mess, disintegrating in his
hands. Nothing was left of the letter…as if it had been written by
a ghost. A ghost at sea.
He wiped his hands dry on his pants,
staring at the last letter. It was no use, he thought. It would be
the same, either a foreign language or would disappear. He couldn’t
stand it. They had finally managed to get to him and it was all for
naught.
He picked up the last letter with the other remaining
two and stood, a sigh of disgust escaping him. He would work on it.
French, Spanish, and whatever. He would manage something. But for now
he would have to hide them.
He glanced down at the box Sam
had showed him earlier; the one marked “Letters”, but felt he
needed to put them somewhere else. He wandered among the boxes,
touching them, reading the words on the sides.
Jack stopped
at one in particular.
“Yes, “ he thought to himself.
“Perfect place!”
He went to it, and with some struggle
brought it down to the floor.
Reaching inside his shirt Jack
brought out the letters and gave them one last look.
“Until
later, me loves.” he promised and kissed each envelope.
Jack
then leaned down and with a quick flick popped open the lid of the
box. He gave his attention to the contents inside.
Framed
pictures and photographs, some color, some black and white. There was
handwritten sheet music and a broken ashtray. Jack reached down and
lifted the crystal ashtray for a closer inspection thinking it odd.
On it was the name of a hotel…The Mark.
Jack shrugged and
threw it back into the box. A clear bag caught his eye. The contents
was something that always catches the eye of a pirate. Jewels.
With
thumb and forefinger he lifted the bag to eye level and gazed at the
diamonds, sparkling like frozen drops of water. He shook the bag,
jiggling the precious stones. Among the crystal whiteness of the gems
tumbled a single gold band. The call was too strong and Jack found
himself pocketing the bag. Diamonds and gold..what more could a
pirate want?
He then took the envelopes and placed them
carefully among the items and returned the lid to the box. With a
grunt, Jack heaved the box off the floor and back to its original
spot, making sure it was squared even with the boxes below it.
He
wiped away the dust that had gathered on the box, bringing the
letters out more clearly.
Yes, Jack thought, a perfect hiding
space as he exposed the black letters even more.
The letters
that spelled out the word “Lost Loves”.