The Old Cape Teapot Read Online Free Page A

ordered, “I’ll take the turkey on wheat…with a bottle of water.” Stepping back from the counter I took hold of Brian’s arm. “Haven’t you ever noticed his name?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “John Julian…?” No response from Brian. I repeated with more emphasis. “John Julian! One of the pirates who survived the Whydah ?”
    With his mouth full, he looked up at the sign, then to his friend John and back to me. “Holy crap!” He tilted his safari hat back on his head, let out a soft whistle and added, “I can’t believe it!”
    ***
    1722
    ANTIGUA
    Flour puffed into the air and circled Elizabeth’s tightly woven hair. She always felt fortunate to have John Julian as her husband and never questioned him about his doings. He had told her of his past, and she paid no mind to what he’d been; she only cared about who he was now. As she prepared bread for the day, the bright morning sun reflected its light onto the tiny diamond orbs that dangled beneath Elizabeth’s earlobes. They created flickers of rainbow colors that encircled her head and danced about the sparse room. She loved the small circles of ivory, painted with blue and green, from which the faceted diamonds swung. John had presented these earrings to her on their first night together as man and wife.
    He had cautioned her to hide any sign of wealth from their neighbors for fear of retaliation or robbery and to be careful of who was near her when she wore them. So Elizabeth wore this gift from John in secret, only when she was alone during the day.
    While the bread rose on the hearth, Elizabeth tended to her mending and spotted a few drips of black ink beneath the table. Perturbed, she tried rubbing them with salt and then vinegar to no avail. Wishing that John would be neater when he made his drawings, she passed over this small indiscretion as not worth her mention and went back to her sewing.
    By sunset, John made his appearance at home. After their evening meal, he took a bottle of ink down from a high shelf along with the vellum papers that rested next to it. The prior week, he’d taken these items from the counting house for his personal use. He felt no guilt because he knew he was a good overseer and justly deserved occasional gifts.
    Elizabeth sat reading the family Bible by the light of the hearth; she glanced over to John with each turned page. He seemed so intent in his drawing that she hesitated to interrupt him with concern over her coming late this month. Settling her mind with the thought of waiting a little longer, to be sure if she was with child, she continued her prayers. John, using his navigational skills, honed from his time at sea with Sam Bellamy, tried to recreate from memory a map of Cape Cod, carefully noting where his treasure was buried.
     
     

5
    Present Day
    ANTIGUA
    WHILE I ATE LUNCH, I couldn’t take my eyes off the living relative of the 1717 pirate, John Julian. My stomach churned with curiosity. I’ve always had an uncanny ability to solve mysteries and this was like a gift of a dozen roses. My leg bounced up and down under the picnic table with anticipation of finding answers. Suddenly the big wooden cover to the front of Julian’s shack slammed shut. My whole body came to a screeching halt. Why was he was closing? I stared at Brian. “What’s going on? It’s only 11:30 in the morning.”
    “He always closes at this time.”
    “But I want to talk to him.”
    “I understand, but John has to pick up two of his kids from school. He’ll open again at noon.”
    I folded the waxy paper around my sandwich. “So…how many children does he have?”
    “Six in all: four of his own, two that are adopted, one of whom is handicapped and the other has Down Syndrome.” Brian crumpled his sandwich wrapper into a ball and tossed it into the garbage barrel. “Don’t worry, we’ll come back later so you can ask him about his ancestors. Right now, we should leave. I want you to meet Ian.”
    “Okay.”