Spirits of the Pirate House (13 page)

“She seems pretty popular,” said T.J. to his
cousin.

“Ya think? I just wonder what she’s
whispering to Bortnicker all the time.”

“Me, too.”

“You think she’s pretty, Cuz?”

T.J. hesitated, wondering what his cousin’s
intention was in asking such a loaded question.

“The truth?” he said, finally.

“Yeah.”

“She’s a knockout.”

LouAnne nodded. “I was thinking the same
thing.”

They stopped for a bite at the George and
Dragon in King’s Square, where Bortnicker and Ronnie ordered crab
sandwiches while T.J. and LouAnne shared a Shepherd’s Pie.

Then it was back outside and over to St.
Peter’s church, the oldest Anglican church in the Western
Hemisphere. T.J. was taken by the many memorials to Bermuda’s
seafarers sprinkled throughout the place of worship.

“You’ll also want to visit Fort St. Catherine
on the east end of the island, which Sir William helped design, by
the way, but that’s a couple miles walk from here, and I think
we’re all a little tired,” said Ronnie finally. “We can hit a few
more shops and work our way back to King’s Square.”

They were clowning around at the ducking pool
and prisoner stocks when Chappy pulled up, precisely on time. “Have
fun, people?” he asked as the overheated teens luxuriated in the
minivan’s air conditioning.

“It was great,” said Bortnicker. “Ronnie sure
knows her way around.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” she replied, flashing
a winning smile.

“Has Mike said anything about our schedule
for tomorrow, Chappy?” asked T.J.

“Actually, yes. The three of you have a
morning meeting with a representative from the National Heritage
Trust regarding the house investigation you’ll be doing ... fact
finding and all that. Then, you’ll have the afternoon to yourselves
before your first dive on Tuesday.”

“You know what would be cool?” ventured
Ronnie.

“What?” replied Bortnicker, hanging on her
every word.

“How about going snorkeling near Somerset? I
know the perfect shallow-water cove. My dad and I call it Treasure
Beach.”

“How come?”

“Well, because of the currents, it seems like
a lot of stuff collects there—”

“Like what?” asked T.J.

“Old bottles, china, sea glass. You can see
it from the surface and actually dive down ten or twelve feet to
get it. With all the storms we had over the winter, I bet some
interesting things have rolled in.”

“Cool!” cried Bortnicker. “You guys want to
go?”

“I don’t know,” LouAnne began
uncertainly.

“Oh, you could just paddle about on the
surface or sit on the small beach,” Ronnie said with a wave of her
hand. “Or just enjoy the scenery.”

T.J. could sense his cousin doing a slow burn
and tried to beg off, but his friend was having none of it.

“C’mon, guys, it’ll be fun!” he pleaded.
“Besides, T.J., we’ll be able to get used to our masks and flippers
again before the big dive on Tuesday.”

LouAnne realized that she was the only thing
standing in their way and reluctantly agreed to go. “All right,”
she relented, “I’ve gotta start working on my tan anyway.”

Chappy dropped off the three Americans at the
hotel and then pushed on toward Somerset with Ronnie.

“So, what’d you think?” said Bortnicker as
the minivan drove off.

“About what?” said LouAnne.

“Ronnie.”

“A little pushy,” was her reply, and his face
fell.

“Hey, is that LouAnne?” called Tom Sr. from
the balcony. “Welcome, my dear! How was the flight?”

“Great!” she said waving. “And Bermuda’s
fantastic.”

Mike, back from his fishing trip, wandered
out of his room. “All right!” he said, clapping. “The
Junior
Gonzo Ghost Chasers
are complete!”

“Catch any fish, Mike?” called T.J.

“Couple nice tuna. We’re gonna have tuna
steaks tomorrow night. I know just how to grill ‘em. But tonight,
to celebrate LouAnne’s arrival, we’re going all out—there’s this
British place up the road called King Henry VIII. Good English food
and the waitresses all dress like wenches. You’ll love it! But it’s
a little dressy. So, why don’t we meet at the pool at seven and
I’ll call a cab, give Chappy the night off.”

“Sounds cool,” said T.J., and they retired to
their rooms after some welcoming hugs for LouAnne.

Once the door to their room was shut,
Bortnicker turned on T.J. “What’s up with your cousin?” he asked,
an edge to his voice.

“What?”

“You know what.
Ronnie
. She doesn’t
like her?”

“You know how girls are, man.”

“Exactly. Maybe you should tell her to be
nice. The girl’s just being a good host.”

“I know, I know,” said T.J. tiredly. “It’s
just like school. You can’t figure girls out.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want your cousin to ruin
it for me.”

“Ruin
what
?”

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but I
think Ronnie kinda likes me.”

“Bortnicker, we’ve only been here like one
day. Don’t go jumping to con—”

“Are you saying it’s impossible for a girl to
like me?”

“No, that’s not what I—”

“It’s easy for you, T.J. Lots of girls at
school want you to go out with them.”

“Not as many as you’d think.”

“Yeah, right. The only reason you weren’t
booked every weekend back home was LouAnne.”

“Bortnicker—”

“As if I can’t see you have the hots for
her.”

“Could we not talk about this?”

“But I’m really surprised at her. Couldn’t
she just be happy for me?”

“I’m sure she ... will be. But c’mon man,
give her a break. She just got here, and she’s probably dead tired.
Cut her some slack, okay?”

“Will you talk to her, please?”

“And say what?”

“To be
nice
! Can you do
that
for me, at least?”

T.J. closed his eyes and pinched the bridge
of his nose like he always did when he was collecting his thoughts
or calming himself down. “Tell you what,” he offered. “I’ll try to
talk to her after dinner. But you’ve gotta leave us alone for a
while.”

“No problem.”

“All right, then. Could we please get dressed
and go out for a fun dinner?”

Bortnicker brightened. “Of course, Big Mon. I
was just starting to get hungry again anyway.”

* * * *

King Henry VIII provided the Jackson party of
five with an evening of atmosphere and hearty food. True to its
reputation, the restaurant had a Middle Ages theme, with waitresses
and barmaids in low cut peasant outfits—which Mike Weinstein found
especially appealing—and the male staff in blousy shirts and
breeches.

After Mike and Tom Sr. enjoyed a pre-dinner
cocktail called a Dark and Stormy, comprised of ginger beer, lime,
and dark Bermuda rum, the group compared notes on their day. Mike
was still beaming over the tuna he’d brought home and was looking
forward to seeing again the young lady whose father owned the boat.
Tom Sr. lamented the sorry state of his golf game but couldn’t get
over the gorgeous vistas from many of the tees; he said that the
preliminary vibes from the government officials were promising.
T.J., Bortnicker, and LouAnne then regaled the adults with their
descriptions of picturesque St. George’s.

Dinner began with a round of the classic
island dish, Bermuda fish chowder, to which the Americans were
advised to add a few drops of rum and sherry peppers that was
provided in a stylish glass decanter. Then it was on to various
British forms of meat and potatoes, though everyone gave a nod to
good health by ordering a garden salad.

While a wandering minstrel entertained the
patrons with English folk songs and Bermudian standards, Mike got
down to business. “Okay, team,” he said, while dousing his steak
and kidney pie with black pepper, “tomorrow the investigation
begins. Chappy will drive the four of us to the National Trust
Headquarters in St. George’s where you’ll interview one of the
government people who oversee Hibiscus House. Take a camcorder
along. We’ll see what you can get out of her about the background
of Sir William Tarver. If we need it, we’ve also been granted a
follow-up visit to the National Trust archives later this
week.”

“Think they’ll tell us anything juicy?” asked
Bortnicker.

“You never know. These people, as you’ve
noticed, tend to be reserved. But then again, they’re the ones who
contacted
us
, so I hope they’ll divulge some good stuff
about Tarver. Be polite, but firm.”

“Gotcha,” said T.J.

“Now, Tuesday morning’s dive is all set for
10:00 a.m.. Chappy will pick the four of us up at 9:00. LouAnne,
are you okay with using the underwater camcorder?”

“Sure, as long as you have something for me
to float on,” she answered firmly.

“That’s been taken care of. Jasper Goodwin
has an inflatable he’s bringing. You can stay on the surface and
zoom in because the depth of the wreck is so shallow. Hey, we’re
only talking about a five minute segment of the show here, so don’t
think it has to be a National Geographic documentary or
anything.”

They passed on dessert, paid the tab, and had
the front desk call a cab for the ride back to the hotel.

“I’m bushed,” said Tom Sr. with a yawn as he
held the door open for LouAnne upon their return. “Sweetheart, I’ll
call your dad and tell him all is well.”

“Thanks, Uncle Tom. Tell him and Mom I miss
them, and I’ll speak to them soon or shoot them an email
tonight.”

“Will do. Then I’m going to take a hot shower
and turn in. I’m due back on the golf course at 8:00 a.m.
tomorrow.”

“Two days in a row?” said Bortnicker.

“It’s a tough job, but
somebody’s
gotta do it,” Tom Sr. joked.

“I’ll phone Chappy to pick us up around
9:30,” said Mike. “That should give you guys time enough to—”

“Go for a run,” finished LouAnne.

“And eat and shower, I hope!” joked
Bortnicker.

“What should we wear to meet this lady?”
asked T.J.

“Well, I think it’s time to break out the
team shirts. Since we’re in Bermuda I got you guys both tees and
golf shirts. I’d go with the collared shirts and clean shorts.
You’ll have to be on your best behavior.”

Everyone’s gazes drifted toward
Bortnicker.

“What?” he said defensively.

“Oh, nothing,” said LouAnne airily.

“Hey, Cuz,” said T.J., “we’ve still got some
daylight left. Want to see the cliffs across the street?”

“Sounds great. Bortnicker, you coming?”

“Nah,” he said tiredly, “I’m gonna go online
for a bit. You two go on ahead.” He gave T.J. a quick look and then
went upstairs.

The cousins crossed South Road and cut
through Astwood Park. “Hear the waves?” said T.J. “Just watch your
step on the rocks.”

They reached the crest of the cliffs and
gingerly sat down, their legs hanging over the edge. “I can’t
believe how beautiful this is,” said LouAnne, the wind fluffing her
hair.

“Bortnicker and I checked out the beach
before,” said T.J. “The sand really is pink.”

“Cool.” She looked sideways at her cousin.
“Okay, so what’s up?” she said.

“With what?”

“I saw that look Bortnicker gave you. You
have to talk to me about something?”

“Well, yeah, actually. He wants you to
lighten up on Ronnie.”

“Oh, really? Was I that much of a witch
today?”

“No, nothing like that. He’s just sensitive,
that’s all.”

“Listen, T.J.,” she said, looking out to sea,
“I care about you guys a lot. I know what you’ve had to go through
to be his friend, and I admire you for it. But it doesn’t take much
to turn his head, and this girl has absolutely steamrolled him.
Unfortunately, in two weeks we’ll all be home, and this place will
just be a memory. This girl must meet hundreds of guys who are just
passing through. I don’t want our friend to get hurt.”

“I won’t let that happen,” said T.J.
earnestly.

LouAnne shivered involuntarily. “Getting a
little chilly up here.”

“Want to go?”

“Nah,” she said. “Just put your arm around
me.”

They sat awhile longer.

Chapter
Thirteen

“
You were right,
Cuz,” panted LouAnne as they clipped along The Railway Trail. “It’s
as beautiful as you described it.” Tropical birds sang gaily in the
dense foliage as another glorious Bermuda morning got
underway.

The cousins had met poolside for their 6:45
pre-stretch and were on the running path by 7:00. As they ran they
went through their athletic accomplishments of the past year.
Overall, LouAnne had the more notable results, but T.J. had
lettered in two completely different sports, which was
impressive.

“So, what do you know about this race on
Saturday?” she said, her blonde ponytail swishing behind her.

“Well, it’s open to athletes on the island,
of course, but there are a few visitors like us who’ve entered,
too. Could be over a hundred runners total.”

“Cool. And we’re running on South Road?”

“Yeah, and it follows the water most of the
way, so it’s pretty scenic.”

“I’ll concentrate on the scenery some other
time. My goal is to win the thing.”

T.J. smiled. His cousin was a real
competitor, and he knew she’d go all out to win. He’d have to work
hard to stay with her.

“How was Bortnicker when you got back last
night?” she asked, knowing full well he’d begged off so T.J. could
talk to her about Ronnie.

“Okay. He’d just gotten done texting back and
forth with his mom. She’s at some Feng Shui expo in New York or
something. He just wants you to give the girl a chance.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t mess up whatever
wonderful things he’s imagined for himself. By the way, I had a
good time last night, just talking.”