Longish Drabble: 'The Middle Child'

[dwgm]

Have had great difficulty writing anything at all for the last month or more for various reasons, although I managed to turn in my merrypirates story after two deadline extensions, and then this piece of post-AWE fluff, set between Home for the Holidays and Hero, popped into my head on seeing the drabble prompt of the week at blackpearsails...



~ The Middle Child ~

It was Jack who finally found her, in the ornate great cabin of that old galley she'd so admired, deep in the Cove.

"Quite a nest you've made here, love," he remarked evenly, peering into the darkness of her little cave, piles of dusty velvet and brocade draped over a carved table.

The great eyes glittered with tears.

He sat down outside, cross-legged, and held out his hands. "Come here."

She obeyed, emerging with a sob, and curled in his lap, clinging. He let her weep, murmuring nonsense against her dark, tangled hair. Eventually the storm slackened, and he pulled out his fine new handkerchief and helped her 'swab the decks'.

"What were you thinking, running off?" he scolded gently. "Your mother needs you!"

Her lip quivered. "Joe Harvey says I'm in the middle now, and she won't have time for me."

"Joe Harvey's a bloody little liar and should be well thrashed – and you, too, for believing him." He gave her a pinch on the backside and narrowed his eyes. "Don't you know she'd be here herself, if she could get out of bed? "

"Is she all right?"

"She's fine, or will be, once she knows you're safe. She was askin' for you, and was a mite upset when we couldn't find you. Had half the Cove in an uproar lookin' for you."

"Oh!" She flushed. "Can we go back?"

*
Ignoring her older brother's annoyed exclamation, and Captain Teague's relieved one, Isabelle let go of her Papa's hand and ran to where Mama lay with arms outstretched, pale but smiling, in the big bed.

"My darling!" were the delightful words Isabelle heard as she was drawn close, and she choked, "I'm sorry, Mama," crying again.

"You should be!" she heard Jamie exclaim behind her. "We've been—"

"Jamie!" Captain Turner said sharply from where he sat beside Mama, on the opposite side of the bed.

"Oh, all right. But Father—"

"All's well as ends well, lad," Papa cut in. "Belay the backtalk and enjoy the moment, eh?"

Mother loosened her hug. "Do you want to see your new sister and brother?"

Isabelle sat up, stunned, and scrubbed the tears from one cheek. "Both? Two?"

"Twins, come and see!" said Suzanna, the midwife, who was standing by the cradle in the corner of the room.

Mama chuckled and gave Isabelle a little push. She slid off the bed and slowly approached the cradle. Two small blanket-wrapped bundles lay there, side-by-side, pink faces so much alike in contented sleep.

Suzanna's hand curved close to one. "This is your sister – she was born first."

Isabelle knelt beside the cradle.

"She is pretty, no?" Suzanna said.

Isabelle nodded. "But the best thing is--" She turned to Papa and grinned. "—forever and always, she and I are both in the middle!"



~.~