Second on the Right (20 page)

Benedict rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Be he
a pirate?”

She scoffed. “There isn’t much work for
pirates around here. No, he’s head of a shipping company, like
captain of a ship I suppose.”

“If he truly be part of the Benedict family,
pirate blood flows within,” he grinned.

Eileen was not amused. “James and I are
romantically involved. Are you saying I should be concerned?”

Benedict opened his mouth, but quickly shut
it. Eileen was about to question him further when he interrupted.
"Ya got anythin’ ta drink?".

Eileen nodded her head towards a cabinet.
Benedict took a few bottles of rum, wine, and brandy. Placing the
bottles on the counter, he opened the wine, poured two glasses, and
slid one to Eileen.

Eileen was parched, from the stress of seeing
Captain Benedict, whom she believed she’d never see again. She
downed the full glass of wine in a few seconds. She stepped away,
searching an upper cabinet for spices. Facing Benedict again, she
paused to take another long drink, finishing half of her glass of
wine. Once the table was set, she returned to the counter for
another sip. After placing the remaining items on the table, she
went back for her glass of wine, only to stop as she reached for
it.

Didn’t I finish?
I must be
overtired,
she thought as she took her drink with her to the
table. Benedict sat across from her; a few choices of wine and rum
were set to the side.

She looked over at the bottles and then back
at him. "Planning on getting sloshed tonight?" she asked.

"Ah, no. Just hopin' ta enjoy
somethin'…fine," he replied.

She stopped and looked at him intently; a
faint sizzle coming from the oven was heard over the silence. She
knew often, when he spoke, he would twist his words.

He's trying to make one thing sound like
something else. Or something else sound like something else, but it
was really something, not the else. No wait…

She blinked, looking down for a moment. She
was over-thinking things. Why was her mind so fuzzy? She sighed.
I have been working way too much.
When she looked back up at
Benedict, he responded with a smile.

As Benedict shared swashbuckling stories of
his time at sea, Eileen leaned towards him, engaged in the
conversation. She made more eye contact with him now than in the
last few hours and occasionally would give his hand an affectionate
squeeze. She smiled and laughed as he joked. While in the middle of
reminiscing of their time aboard the
Mistral Thief
, the
front door opened.

James called out from the entryway,
"Eileen?"

"James!" Eileen exclaimed, surprise and
delight in her voice, her hand slipping from Benedict's grasp.

James entered the kitchen and set a bouquet
of fire-and-ice roses and a bottle of red wine on the counter. A
small, black velvet box was hidden in his overcoat pocket. Eileen
flew into his arms. They embraced passionately, their absence from
each other obvious. As Eileen moved to look at James, he pulled her
back into a tender kiss.

James could taste the hint of rum on her
lips. “Eileen, have you been drinking?” He moved back to look at
her. “And without me?” he asked with a wink.

She gave him a sly smile and shrugged, “Only
a bit. I couldn’t resist the coconut rum.”

“I've missed you, my dear," he whispered. His
fingers pushed back strands of loose hair, tracing the side of her
face.

"I've missed you too," she replied, having
forgotten the other occupant in the room.

Benedict stood with a look of annoyance
evident on his face.

James was startled by the movement he caught
out of the corner of his eye. He stood protectively in front of
Eileen. "Who are you and what are you doing in my home?" he
demanded of Benedict.

Benedict raised an eyebrow, giving James a
onceover. "Tha name's Capt—"

"James! It's all right.
H
e's
all right. He needed food and a place to stay," Eileen interrupted,
not ready to make introductions.

“He’s
all right
?” James turned to
Eileen with an incredulous look on his face. "You’ve been drinking
with a complete stranger? You never called to tell me he would be
here. You just, what,
assumed
I’d be okay with it? You let
him in our home! Eileen, do you have a clue, any inkling of how
dangerous that is?"

“James, he’s an old friend.
Please
,”
she tried to explain.

“I have no idea who he is! You’ve never told
me about him. You brought him here, into
our
home without
speaking to me about it!” His voice grew louder with each word.
“You’ve been drinking with another man,
alone
. Not to
mention the fact that you weren’t expecting me tonight.
Unbelievable! You honestly still don’t see it? Do the math,
Eileen!”

Eileen cowered. Benedict rose, straight and
tall. Though several feet away, his presence was impressive.

"Yer frightenin' the lass, mate," he said in
a serious tone.

James gave a seething look to Benedict, then
faced Eileen.

"James, please,” she pleaded. “I can explain.
If you'd just listen—”

James held up his hand to stop her.
How
could she invite another man into our home?
He was furious.
James suspected the stranger in the room was not a charity case,
that his intentions were not honorable.
She invited him here?
What exactly was she expecting?
His anger increasing, he
couldn’t breathe. Leaving the roses and wine, he extracted Eileen's
hands off him and brushed passed her slamming the front door
shut.

"James. James, no wait!" he heard her
cry.

Buckling his seat belt, James saw Eileen open
the front door and call out to him. He was furious. Starting his
car, he drove away from the house. One glance in the rear view
mirror, he watched her reenter their home. His eyes caught the look
of anguish on his face.

James used his mobile to ring his best
friend. "Yello," said the deep voice on the other end.

"Patrick. It's James here. Do you have time
to meet? I require some assistance in altering my current mood,"
James said to Patrick over speaker-phone.

"Huh?" he replied.

"I need a drink, a strong one at that," James
explained. He found, in times of crisis, he often resorted to
alcohol. He recognized it as a coping mechanism, but that didn’t
make it any easier to avoid. James attributed it to genetics, since
it seemed to be a problem for most of the men in the Benedict
family.

"Well, why didn't ya say so?" Patrick
laughed. "Meet me at the Black Duck Cafe, off Riverside Avenue. I
can be there in twenty."

Benedict had watched in horror as Eileen ran
into the arms of another man. After James left, the captain could
hear Eileen’s quiet sobs. Several minutes went by before Eileen
returned to the kitchen. Though there were no tears, her fair skin
revealed what she tried so desperately to hide. Blotches of red and
white over her face betrayed her anguish.

Benedict’s heart softened. Putting his plans
momentarily on hold, he opened his arms to her, which she ran into,
sobbing into his chest. He held her tightly. After a while, she
pulled away from him, wiping the tears from her eyes. She
apologized for what had happened.

"Captain—” she began.

"Robert," he interrupted, hoping the use of
his first name would put Eileen more at ease and remove any formal
barrier between them. He tried, but only temporarily succeeded in
this plan aboard the
Mistral Thief
. During his illness, he
managed to manipulate Eileen into using his first name. But after
he recovered, she put distance between them, and he became captain
to her once again.

"I should finish making dinner." She
continued with final preparations before serving.

During the meal, Benedict continued to
covertly fill Eileen’s wine glass. Nearly full on liquid alone,
Eileen pushed her unfinished plate away. He slid over a glass of
rum. Though she didn’t immediately begin drinking, it was there for
the time when she would automatically take it without thinking. And
that time soon came.

Once she finished the glass of rum, he smiled
and placed his hand on top of hers. Her inhibitions lowered, one by
one. The wine and rum had done their job effectively, and Eileen
was now at Captain Robert Benedict's mercy.

The Black Duck Café was more of a bar than a
café. The building’s facade almost reminded Patrick of a small
ship. It had been built on a pier-like structure, overlooking the
sound. The inside even more resembled an old wooden, sailing
vessel. Every inch was covered in dark wood; the cross-beams
overhead stretched the width of the room. The bar area was
decorated with rope, wheels, and brass bells. It was karaoke night,
as was clear from the screeching and howling taking place on the
other side of the room. While James stared at his untouched scotch,
Patrick slipped onto a bar stool next to him and patted him on the
back.

"Man, do you look down. What's up?" He asked,
grinning. "Or for that matter, what's down?"

"I think Eileen is cheating on me," James
said quietly.

Patrick looked at James in disbelief. He knew
Eileen quite well. In fact, he had witness several attempts from
other men to ask her out. In every case, she turned them down
faster than they could get the words out. She was in love with
James. "What makes you think that?"

"Currently, there is a gentleman— no, just a
man
in our home. Eileen was entertaining him in the
kitchen," he replied, his words dripping with contempt.

"Hold up a minute. By entertaining you mean…"
Patrick’s eyes widened.

"No, no! I…" James shook his head when he saw
Patrick's expression. "I mean, they were in the kitchen. They were
just talking. At least, I think that’s all they were doing." He
frowned, looking back down at his drink.

"Look, I know Eileen, and so do you. She's
devoted to you and would never cheat. Who is this guy? Did she
say?" Patrick asked, requesting the bartender to pass him a scotch,
minus the water.

James shook his head. "I-I never gave her the
chance. I was so angry."

"Well, my friend, it would appear you may
have jumped the gun a bit. If I were you, and there are times I
wish I were, I'd make a hasty and heartfelt apology toot sweet."
Then grinning broadly, he added, "You might be, uh, rewarded for
admitting you were wrong."

Glancing over at Patrick, James smiled.
"You’re right." He sighed deeply, leaning back and looking up at
the ceiling. "I miss her so much. As soon as we’re done here, I'm
heading back to Westport. No stops. When I see her, I'm going to
take her into my arms, tell her I'm sorry, kiss her passionately,
and make sweet—”