A scuffling at the front door heralded the timely arrival of Ben and his family. He and Marilyn practically fell into the house, both with arms full of squirmy children, car seats, and diaper bags. They deposited their armloads on the floor of the front entry, and the older of the two kids made a beeline for me.
“Tiss! Tiss! Looka my sirt!” she cried, holding out the sides of a black band shirt like she would a dress. “I’m wearing your sirt!” The little girl looked like a miniature version of me in her leggings and Marauders T-shirt that was way too big for her tiny frame. Except she wore red, glittery Dorothy shoes instead of black Toms, and her hair was the same light brown as her mother’s.
I hugged her tightly, told her how rockin’ she looked, and nudged her toward Mom for grandma kisses. I knew she’d be back by my side in a moment; Gina was my little shadow. I greeted Ben and Marilyn, squeezed fat Little Ben until his chin started to quiver in fear for his life, and then handed him off to Jordan who finished the job nicely. By the time the baby made the rounds back to his mother, he was in tears. They were short-lived, though, especially once he laid eyes on the table laden with food and his high chair already set up waiting for him.
Ben and Jordan shook hands like the adults they were, followed by that hug/backslap thing so many men do, and then started throwing punches like the boys they’d always been. Tom, taller and beefier than all four of my brothers, grabbed them each by a shoulder and shoved them apart so Dad could slip into the melee and greet his eldest son. They all stood around in a tight man-circle, guffawing over something. I thought I caught the word “trout” or perhaps “goat” in there, but I had no desire to know any details.
I darted a glance over at Sebastian and bit back a grin. He was standing in front of the armchair where he’d been sitting when the troops arrived, wearing an expression that could only be shock, or maybe fear, at the chaos that had just erupted inside our front door.
I felt a tug on my shirt and found Gina grinning up at me. “Come,” I said, grabbing her hand. “There’s someone here you need to meet.”
We halted a few feet from the shell-shocked Sebastian, and I crouched down so I was on Gina’s level. To my surprise, Sebastian did, too, although he still looked a little apprehensive about what might be expected of him. “Gina, since you’re the biggest Marauders fan in the whole wide world, you should be the first to meet our new guitar player, Sebastian Jeffries.” Gina had already been informed of Tom’s pending departure, and although the little girl had been initially distraught, every time I saw her she asked if we’d found a new poopdeck swabber yet. I was pretty sure she just liked saying the word “poop,” because she always snickered behind her hand when she did. “Sebastian, this is my niece, Gina Ransome, Marauders’ number one fan.”
Sebastian, looking rather charmed, held out a hand to Gina and smiled warmly at her. “Nice to mee—” Before he could finish his sentence, Gina had thrown her noodle arms around his neck and was squeezing him hard, her knobby shoulder pushing against his Adam’s apple. He gagged a little and wobbled awkwardly on the balls of his feet. He braced one hand flat on the ground to keep from tumbling backward, his other hand snaking around the little girl to hold her upright, too. “Whoa!” He laughed, obviously a little embarrassed about being nearly bowled over by a preschooler.
“Hi!” Gina squawked close to his ear. He flinched and I clamped my teeth together to keep from laughing out loud. Gina stepped back, struck a saucy pose, with one hand on her hip. The other she held up in front of Sebastian’s face, all five fingers splayed. “I’m five. My brother is on’y one, and I do the talking for him ‘cuz he’s the baby. So jus’ aks me your questions, not him.” Then she pointed at her shoes, did what I presumed was supposed to be a soft-shoe shuffle, and asked, “Do you like my magic s’ippers?”
Sebastian nodded, still looking a little knocked off-center, but he somehow managed to keep up. “Yes. I do like your shoes. They make you look quite glamorous. Like a sparkly movie star.”
“Not a spark’y movie star, siwwy. A spark’y rock star!” she corrected, planting her feet a little wider in a stereotypical rocker stance. She really did look like a mini me.
“Right. Of course. Silly me.” Sebastian smacked his forehead self-deprecatingly, but he seemed like he was actually enjoying the exchange with Gina. “What was I thinking?” He leaned forward and touched the toe of one of her shoes. “Maybe you’ll let me borrow them some day.”
My heart melted, okay? I didn’t know what I’d expected, but a man who knew to compliment a girl on her shoes, no matter what her age? Something in me told me he might just be a keeper.
Gina reached out and stiff-armed him with both hands, shoving his shoulders with surprising strength. This time he did go toppling backward. “You’re so siwwy, Bast’en,” she chortled. “You’re a boy. You can’t—”
Sebastian lurched to his feet almost reflexively, looming to his full height over us. I stood quickly too, watching him, wary, my hand on Gina’s back, drawing her close to my side. “You okay?” I spoke to him slowly, calmly, not wanting to alarm Gina needlessly. Or anyone else in the room for that matter. She might have been a little rough, but he’d reacted almost blindly, instantly on the defense. I didn’t think he’d landed hard enough to hurt himself. Maybe he was just embarrassed about being knocked over by her, but something about the way he’d reacted didn’t sit well.
Sebastian cleared his throat and relaxed his stance immediately, but not before I saw a shift in his expression, a decision made, a door slammed shut on something. Then he gave Gina a warm, albeit more reserved smile. The little girl’s eyes were wide as she tipped her head way back to look up at him, just like I did. Would she cry? Freak out? Sebastian’s expression told me he was worried about the same thing.
“Bwasted barnacles, toots! You are one tall poopdeck swabber!”
Of all the things Gina might have said, even I was not expecting that, and I snorted in a very unladylike manner. Sebastian released a strangled chuckle of surprise, too.
“Oh. Well, yes, I guess I am.” He bent forward at the waist, gripping his knees. “At least compared to you I am.”
“And compared to Tiss, too. See’s sort like me, you know.” Between Gina’s slight lisp, her precocious attitude, and complete lack of guile, I could see he was beginning to relax again.
“I suppose she is.” He glanced over at me, clearly relieved. “But tell me something. Where did you learn to cuss like a sailor? It’s pretty impressive, I have to admit.”
“You mean like a piwate?” Gina bounced her skinny little hips from side to side in a show of straight-up sass. “My cuz here.” She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder at me. “Tiss is teaching me evewything see knows, and see knows lots of piwate bad words.” She reached up and tugged on my hand. “I know ‘Bwasted barnacles,’ and ‘sufferin’ seesells,’ and ‘siver me timbers,’ and ‘go take a long walk on a sort plank,’ and—and—”
I put a hand over Gina’s mouth. “Shhh, matey. If your daddy hears you talk like that, he won’t let you rock out with me ever again!”
“Hear you talk like what?”
I clapped a hand over my own mouth and stared wide-eyed at Gina in exaggerated trepidation before turning to face Ben. “Like a well-behaved young lady,” I assured him, winking conspiratorially at my niece.
“Like a lady, Daddy,” Gina echoed, nodding her head.
“Yeah, right.” Ben stuck out a hand toward Sebastian. “I’m Ben. Tish’s oldest brother. I see you’ve already met my daughter.”
Sebastian shook Ben’s hand firmly. “Sebastian Jeffries. Yes. Gina the sparkly rock star. We’ve met.”
“What did Tish teach you to say, Princess?” Ben asked, his eyes still on Sebastian.
“Nothin’ Daddy.” Gina giggled gleefully behind my hand, eyeing her father as coquettishly as a little girl could. “But maybe you sould go take a long walk on a sort plank, ye wormy, bug-chewin’ clump of compost!” And with that, she doubled over in a fit of giggles.
I crossed my arms and looked down at her. “Um, no. I did not teach you that.” I said to Ben, “You can’t blame me for that one.”
Gina lifted her head, still snickering into her cupped hands. “Gramma taught me how to say ‘Go take a walk on a sort plank, ye wormy, bug-chewin’ clump of compost.’ It’s her favorite!”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Compost. I should’ve known.” He shoved his hands in his pocket and called over his shoulder at the group of people talking over each other on the other side of the room. “Mom!”
“Yes, I know,” Mom called back, blissfully clueless. “Everyone is hungry. And the food is getting cold, people, so let’s sit down!”
Within moments, we had all found a place around the huge table we’d had as long as I could remember, Sebastian between me and Gina.
“Let’s pray, shall we?” Dad grinned, his eyes darting around the table. He seemed to enjoy the full seats as much as Mom did. All around our circle, people took each other’s hands. I reached for Sebastian’s, even though he had it resting on his lap, and on his other side, Gina did the same, burrowing her balled fist into his.
“We hold hands when we pray,” I whispered by way of explanation, trying to put him at ease. He was clearly unprepared for this. “Don’t make eye-contact with my dad or he’ll ask you to say the blessing,” I teased, trying to ease his tension by making a joke.
Dad chuckled at the head of the table. “I heard that, young lady. Guess it’s your turn this morning.”
I rolled my eyes, but without preamble, bowed my head and said a few simple statements about being thankful for the food Mom had prepared, the people gathered, including all our guests, and the love they brought to the table with them. “And thank you, especially, God, for creating pirates. Epic, epic pirates. Amen.”
“Epic, epic piwates,” came a reverent little whisper from Sebastian’s other side.
Heads lifted, hands were released, and as though a switch had been thrown, the bucket-brigade of food began as the dishes, platters, and condiments were passed from diner to diner in organized chaos.
I noticed Tom caught Sebastian’s eye and smiled. “It’s always a madhouse around here. You’ll get used to it,” Tom assured him, passing a basket of biscuits to his left.
Glancing at Sebastian, I could tell he had his doubts about that.