happy family

John Hathorne

John Hathorne, Jr.

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this is part of book of revelation!

John Hathorne shook with something between excitement and reverence. Nearly a year of petitioning the magistrates, writing letters, and calling in every favor he could had finally borne fruit in the form of the thick letter in his hands. His first apprentice. Someone had opened their door for John once, trusting that a boy who'd lost everything could still learn a trade and become a man worth the Hathorne name. He could almost hear the echo of laughter on that old kitchen table, from a place that hadn't started as home but ended up becoming one.

The first parchment was brief and to the point, stamped with the regal S of Salem's seal.

"Edward Teach, to be bound as an apprentice to John Hathorne in the practice of husbandry, for the term of six months, upon which time the apprentice shall be returned to his lawful guardian."

The rest of the page was filled with endless detail about the obligations between a master and apprentice. John read each jargon-filled clause with care, but all of it seemed to boil down to "teach the kid the trade and be a parent" in John's eyes.

Six months was laughably short for an apprenticeship binding, but John knew the reason well enough. Edward Teach was the boy who'd been all over every broadsheet in Salem for being part of a gang of "hero thieves." Likely as not, the courts and Clerics were wary of the public's attention toward a boy who they'd already exploited enough.

The thicker packet was what truly caught John's eye. The boy's name, a birthdate, and a note about his deceased parents and the incarceration of his legal guardian. A school record soon followed, with mixed comments from his teachers. They praised Edward's clever mind and speed with figures, but warned of attendance problems that John would need to whip into shape.

One more page, more than half filled with redactions, told of an ongoing blackmail case that was frustratingly thin on details. The whole file was like that. It said almost nothing about Edward's early life. There should have been an assessment of the boy's family, a home evaluation, something besides the barest scraps of Edward's past. Maybe documents tended to get lost in the slums? John wouldn't know. He hadn't grown up down there.

John had almost closed the folder before he saw the last detail. A scrap of paper at the end mentioned "paranoid delusions" in a hurried scrawl. The man pored through the file again, searching for a physician's note or a plan to treat such a serious condition. John found nothing but those two words hanging over him like a prison sentence.

John felt a pinch in his chest. That could have been him, decades ago, written off in a clerk's margin. His own masters hadn't cared for such dismissal; they had judged him by the work of his hand and the steadiness of his word. If the magistrates wanted to throw John in the deep end, so be it.

---

John already had an image in his mind of the boy who would appear at his doorstep. Some sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued street boy, the kind who lied like he breathed and stole anything that caught his eye. Wild, unpredictable, covered in sharp edges and storm clouds. A problem child to be reined in.

The boy that arrived in reality was a mousy little thing, just a bit older than John's own son. Before John could even bid him welcome, Edward Teach darted inside and pressed himself into John's side like a frightened rabbit, clutching a stuffed doll that looked like it had been stitched and restitched a dozen times. John stood frozen for a second. This wasn't the boy he had imagined.

John kept one hand on the door as Edward hid further behind John. Standing on the porch was a woman with pristine white robes and long black hair that grew unkempt near the bottom. John blinked for a moment before realization hit. This must have been the Cleric that John was told would be arriving with his new apprentice. Esther Alta, was it? Esther inclined her head in something halfway between greeting and dismissal.

"Mr. Hathorne," Esther said, her tone shockingly clipped. "Your apprentice."

John blinked, caught a little off guard by the bluntness.

"That one keeps to himself." Esther glanced past John for a moment, toward the shape of the boy huddled out of her view. "When Edward does speak, it's guarded. And sometimes not entirely grounded. You'll have questions. Don't expect answers right away." The Cleric took a breath, then smoothed out the edges of her tone. "Patience will serve you. The boy's been focused on survival for some time."

Esther seemed ready to add something more, then only said, "He's yours now," and stepped back from the door. The latch clicked shut behind her.

Edward tensed up behind him. Then, in a voice so small, John barely caught it: "Is she gone?"

John turned slightly. "Yeah. She's gone."

The boy drew in a shaky breath, then abruptly straightened. "Good morning, Master. What's your name?" Edward suddenly turned on a dime, with a fake smile and rehearsed voice that John could already hear cracking beneath the surface.

John gave a small nod, then crouched down to meet Edward's eyes. "Hold a moment. What was all that about?"

The mask faltered. Edward hesitated, then clung harder, the doll squashed between them; and now John saw it had long black hair in yarn, white cloth robes, and red button eyes that made the likeness to Esther too plain to miss.

"Don't trust that lady." Edward's voice broke. "The acolyte's dangerous; she-- she kept me locked up in her house for days!" The boy's grip tightened further. "I didn't do anything wrong. I wasn't bad. But she said I couldn't leave, and I begged her; I begged her to let me go-- but she just kept saying it wasn't time yet. I thought I was never getting out..."

John's breath hitched. The court's papers had called it "paranoid delusions," and he'd braced for monsters under the bed. Those expectations shattered when John listened to Edward's tale. A horrifying kidnapping, the way Edward told it, in which the woman John had spoken to seconds earlier switched from monstrous to motherly at a moment's notice. No matter how this child pleaded, no sane adult would let Edward go and expect him to tough out the next six months alone. Edward's admission that his "captor" treated him kindly after "kidnapping" him only confirmed in John's eyes that this was one of those delusions he had been prepared for.

And yet... did no one bother to tell the boy that being freed didn't mean he would just be cast into the winds? Whether the law would call it kindness or cruelty, John could see how it would feel to a boy; being taken in the dead of night by a stranger and told nothing of where he was bound or why.

No corrections nor easy reassurances would take root here. John rested a steady hand on the boy's back and let Edward lean closer to his side. They stayed there for a long time, until they both stopped shaking.

The door at the end of the hall creaked open so fast it made them both jump. A blur of motion came bounding into the room. "Whoa! Who's this?" John's son grinned, eyes wide, practically vibrating with energy. "Is this the kid? Hi! I'm John Jr.--!"

Edward shivered. The tension in his shoulders flared up all over again.

John quickly raised a hand. "Hey, ease up, junior. Don't startle the new apprentice."

"Oh! Sorry!" John Jr. skidded to a stop, rocking on his heels and buzzing with energy.

A moment's pause. Edward finally stepped away from John and cautiously approached the man's son. "Can I call you J.J.?"

J.J.'s whole face lit up. "Heck yeah!"

Evidently, John didn't have much to worry about. These two kids couldn't have been more different. J.J. spoke as if he had a dozen thoughts to get out before each breath, bounding from one topic to the next. Edward lingered behind him and clung to his doll, eyes roaming each new space like he was learning the lay of the land for a job. Somehow, the two hit it off within minutes.

"Alright," John said, carrying his voice to get their attention. "Before the morning's out, let's walk you through your new post. You'll need to know where everything is. Indoors first, farm later."

"Oh, I can do that! C'mon, Let me show you around!" J.J. bounced to his feet, already halfway down the hall before Eddie could rise from the couch. "C'mon, you gotta see the attic. And the weird squeaky floorboard upstairs. Oh, and Dad's got an indoor garden..."

John kept pace, pointing things out as they moved. "Parlor here. No boots past this point unless I say so. The kitchen's through there. You'll take your meals with us, and I'll have work for you there sometimes. Pantry's behind that door. We keep the keys on this hook."

Eddie nodded at each point, his eyes flickering between John's commands and J.J's peppered chatter.

"So," J.J. grinned. "What do you like? Games? Stories? I've got a slingshot if you're into target stuff, but Dad says I'm not allowed to shoot indoors anymore 'cause of the window thing."

A slight flicker of recognition formed on Edward's face. John couldn't tell what had triggered it, and J.J. didn't seem to notice it at all.

"Oh, I forgot! What's your name?" J.J. crossed his legs, practically vibrating with anticipation.

Edward blinked slowly, his shoulders wound tight. Then, cautiously... "My name's Eddie."

J.J. stopped mid-fidget. "Eddie...?" J.J.'s head tilted, then his eyes went wide. "Wait. You're Edward Teach!?"

Eddie nearly jumped.

"I mean-- that's amazing!" J.J. blurted. "You're famous! Like, cool-famous! You know that trial was all over the papers, right? You helped people-- like a hero!"

Eddie stared at the floor, but his breathing slowed, just a little. A quiver almost like a chuckle came out.

"Ooh, I can't wait for you to see the farm! We've got chickens, pigs, this one evil goat..." J.J. kept going, narrating every corner, stain, and creaky hinge like part of some grand adventure story. "I bet you've got cooler stories than me, though." There was a flicker in J.J.'s eyes when he said it.

A flicker Eddie met. "Once when I was about nine, I broke into this guy's study to steal information on one of his clients," Eddie said, deadpan. "One of my first big jobs with Tommy. Real serious stuff. I came back with nothing but a stack of old letters and a recipe for Grandma's Potato Soup."

"Oh my gods." J.J. snorted so hard he nearly choked. "Noooo. That must have been mortifying!"

"Neither of us realized it until we were halfway across town." Eddie's grin widened with every word. "Tommy went through the pile and he was shaking. I thought he was mad, but Tommy was trying so hard not to laugh." Eddie met J.J.'s cackling with a little chuckle of his own. "I mean, Tommy still makes fun of it, but we remembered that recipe as soon as the weather got cold. We started making it every winter after that."

J.J.'s grin stretched across his face. "Seems like you wound up with the last laugh."

Just like that, stories of thieving mishaps and sneaky successes flowed. The time Eddie got stuck in a bakery chimney. The time Tommy disguised himself as an old man for a pickpocket job and got caught because he covered up his limp out of habit. The first heist they'd pulled off together.

John listened from just out of sight, leaning against the door frame of his study. He told himself he'd give the kids space and let Eddie settle in. But something about the way Eddie spoke of break-ins and scams the way J.J. would talk about homework and gardening made John's jaw tighten. He took a deep breath and stayed quiet. For now.

Eddie noticed. The minute John and Eddie locked eyes, his smile vanished on the spot, leaving J.J. confused and Eddie shivering until the boys disappeared down the hall. A door creaked open, leading straight to J.J.'s room, then shut behind them with a soft click. John could still hear the faint thump of just one pair of footsteps, the rustle of fabric, maybe a drawer or closet being opened. But the giggles and chatter that had filled the rest of the house were gone. It was a little too quiet in there. John pressed his ear against the door to listen more closely.

"What's this doing here?"

"That's... um."

"It looks pretty! Where'd you get it?" That subdued eager tone Eddie had been using during the stories finally returned.

"I'd rather not..." A pause, just long enough for John to know something was wrong. When J.J. spoke again, his voice was softer. "There's something on my mind, but I'm not ready to tell Dad yet. Don't bring it up, okay?"

"Oh. Okay."

Whatever it was, it stayed behind when they left the room.

The last stop on the grand Hathorne house tour was the bedroom at the end of the hall. "Your quarters." John opened the door with a little smile. To the family raised here for generations, it was small. Bare walls, narrow bed, a dresser with mismatched knobs in the corner, and a desk tucked under the window.

Eddie didn't treat it like a small room. He stepped inside slowly, eyes darting around the place. Eddie's hand brushed the edge of the bed. He glanced out the window, then rapidly shut the curtains. The boy's eyes lingered on the desk like it was the finest he'd ever been offered. "I like it."

John watched from the hall. He'd seen boys put in worse corners than this, but there was something chilling about the way Eddie pressed a hand on the bed as if he wasn't sure he was allowed to touch it. It told John what he needed to know about the kind of rooms this lad had known before.

The three of them padded back down the hall. J.J. flew down the corridor like he'd never lost momentum while Eddie hovered beside him, eyes flickering briefly to John and then away again. John took in the boy's too-thin clothes, his fraying sleeves, and the soles of shoes that looked like they barely survived the walk here. Eddie wouldn't get far in those.

"Boots on, both of you." John clapped his hands together. "We've got errands in town tonight."

J.J. cheered like he'd just been promised ice cream. "Yes!"

Eddie only nodded, though that tiny smile remained.

---

The three of them made their way through the heart of Salem, straight for the garment district. The streets were thick with crowds moving between market stalls and storefronts. The smell of fabric dye and false flowers mingled in the air.

"Tailor first," John called over his shoulder. "If you're going to be apprenticed here, Eddie, you'll need proper work clothes."

J.J. trotted ahead, grinning. "And we'll make them look good, too! This way's the best, you gotta see the hat shop!"

Eddie didn't share his enthusiasm. He stuck close enough to shadow J.J.'s heels, glancing over his shoulder at passing carriages and the shifting weather vanes overhead. Eddie clutched his doll tighter with every step, and John sometimes noticed him glancing into its red button eyes.

Then came the first tug. Eddie pulled J.J. towards a quiet corner behind a stall. Then again, just past the entrance to a narrow alleyway between fabric shops. After the third tug, even J.J. was starting to get annoyed. "What's going on?" he huffed.

"We're being watched."

"By who?"

Eddie shook his head and clamped a hand over his mouth. "I can't say," he mumbled through his fingers.

John, walking a few paces ahead, paused to let the boys catch up. He caught the boys' hushed tones, the way Eddie stared past him toward something unseen. The omen from the case file, "paranoid delusions," slid back into his mind. John was supposed to expect this. Eddie." John's voice was as even as he could manage. "We are safe here. There's no one following us."

"Yes, there is!" Eddie's hands curled around the doll until his knuckles turned white. "I'm not making it up. I'm not crazy..."

John stiffened at the desperation in those words. He glanced around slowly, in the measured way he'd check a fence line for breaks. The crowd moved normally. No figure trailed behind. Then John saw it-- a flicker of red, just above a shop sign, nestled in the upper window frame.

The light came in a faint pulse that blinked slowly from a strange, tiny black box. Even the material seemed like it came from another world. John's eyes locked on the strange black device. The pulse of red light flickered and vanished, before reappearing with a bright flash.

John stepped towards it, curiosity edging past his caution.

"Whoa, whoa! W-what are you doing!?" Eddie's voice shot up, raw with panic.

John froze mid-step and turned. Eddie's face had gone pale, eyes wide, hands pushing the doll into his chest like it might keep his heart in place.

"Those things are dangerous! Don't touch them!" Eddie's breath quivered with each word.

"Alright." John raised both hands, palms out. Once he had returned to the kids' sides, John continued, quieter now: "I'm sorry I didn't believe you. But... what are they?"

Eddie turned away and stared at the ground as if it held the secrets of the time travelers. When the lad finally spoke, the words sounded rehearsed. "Just stay away from them."

John didn't like being left in the dark, but Eddie had sensed danger before he had. That was worth listening to. "I'll try."

The three of them tried not to think about the lights anymore. They pushed through the heavy wooden doors of Warren's tailor shop and into the warm scent of cotton and polished floorboards. J.J. immediately dove into a rack of vests, holding up ridiculous combinations for approval. John found himself joining in for a while-- better to keep the mood up-- before steering Eddie toward sturdier things.

Eddie followed slower, his eyes scanning the corners and shelves. He picked things that fit and looked durable, clothes that covered him well. The lad's eyes lingered on the price tags. And nothing red-- three shirts went back on the shelf with gentle care at the faintest trace of crimson. John's eyes drifted back to those blinking red lights just outside the shop. He gave Eddie a nod and gently nudged towards cool blues and soft browns that made the tension in Eddie's shoulders loosen up.

By the time they left the tailor's, John's arms were heavy with parcels and his purse was lighter than silk. He'd bought enough for a year; maybe more. The receipt made John's stomach turn, but the threadbare clothes Eddie wore when he'd arrived pushed that feeling down. John's mind was on six months from now. He imagined the kind of life that led a child to his doorstep, draped in tattered rags and paranoia. Paying the price hurt less than sending Eddie back into that life with nothing.

---

The sun was just beginning to dip when they returned to the Hathorne house. J.J. barreled through the front door with a triumphant, "We're home!" and scattered his parcels across the couch in a burst of fabric and paper. John and Eddie came in behind him at a steadier pace, setting down the rest of the goods to unpack together.

The excitement of the day settled into a warm contentment. The new shirts and trousers folded neatly into drawers, spare work gloves set aside for the farm, ribbons and tags swept into a basket. J.J. dashed into the kitchen with a bold declaration that he would make dinner tonight.

John was halfway through sorting the day's receipts when Eddie spoke up with a hopeful glitter in his eyes. "Master Hathorne? When are we going to visit Tommy?"

John's heart sank. He set the papers down and sat on the couch next to Eddie. "I don't think that would be wise."

Eddie shivered. "Why not?"

"Because..." John paused, searching for the right words. "In an apprenticeship, you need space from the influences that could pull you off your work. From what I read in the Putnam case, Thomas put you into dangerous situations. He wasn't taking care of you the way he should."

"He did take care of me." Eddie's voice was sharper than John had heard him all day. "He always took care of me."

"I'm not saying Tommy didn't love you, Eddie," John said firmly. "But there's a reason you're not with him right now. For the next six months, my job is to teach you, train you, and keep you safe. Part of that means setting boundaries."

"What if something happens to him?" Eddie blurted. "What if I left and now he's-- what if he's sick or hurt or--" The boy slipped back into that shaky, mousy version of himself from when the two first met. "What if Tommy thinks I abandoned him?"

John's chest tightened. He hadn't expected the question to land this hard. "I promise you, that's not going to happen. Tommy will understand."

"He won't understand if he's d-dead..." Eddie hugged his doll tighter. "If something happens and I'm n-not there, I won't even know, not until it's too late. Nobody'll tell me anything. He'll just... disappear."

John took a breath and tried to soften his voice. "I know this is hard, but Tommy's in a place with rules and systems. If something were seriously wrong, someone would notify us. That's part of the structure. He won't disappear."

Eddie's expression didn't change. "But you'd like it if he did."

John exhaled. To think this boy would care so much for a man who clearly neglected him. "I think the healthiest thing for you right now is space. A new environment, a fresh start--"

"A replacement for my family." Eddie looked so small, but that paranoia warped his words. "That's what this is. You hate Tommy. You want to erase him. And if he just disappears and... and I never see him again..." Tears welled up in Eddie's eyes. "Problem solved, right?"

John didn't move. He let the silence settle for a moment, just long enough to catch his breath and choose his words with care. "I don't hate Tommy. I don't want to replace him either," John added, more gently now. "I know how important Tommy is to you, but I also have to run my household and your training in a way that's responsible. That means focusing on the work and the life you have now."

Eddie stared at John-- brittle, unreadable, but he didn't argue anymore. That was a start.

Eventually, J.J. called from the kitchen that something was boiling over. John excused himself to deal with it. "Let's not talk about Tommy anymore," John added as he rose from his seat, the words carrying just enough weight to make it clear this was not a request.

He heard nothing. When John returned to the living room, Eddie was still on the couch, knees tucked up, clutching the doll like a lifeline. The distance between them felt like miles.

It was too early, in J.J.'s opinion, for anything serious to be happening, but here they were. The kitchen smelled like oatmeal, Dad had barely touched his bowl, and Eddie sat at the table looking like a man condemned.

"First day," Dad announced like it was a festival. "We need to talk about what daily life will look like for you."

J.J. wisely decided to bury themself in their oats. Eddie nodded stiffly.

"You're bright. Maybe even university material," Dad continued. It was high praise, but Dad's firm tone made it fall flat. "But you've missed a lot of school, and that's going to change. You'll be in lessons half the day and working the other half. And you must show up. Every day." Dad emphasized each word.

"I didn't skip because I wanted to," Eddie protested. J.J. subtly reached for his hand.

"I know. I'm not blaming you." Dad's face twisted, but his tone remained steady. "I'm telling you that you're safe here, and part of being safe is building skills for your future. In the classroom, in the fields, and in the workshop. That's the arrangement. Understand?"

Eddie didn't look up, but he nodded again, a little slower this time.

Life with Eddie soon fell into a rhythm. Mornings were for pulling on clean work clothes and showing Eddie the farm's routine. After midday, J.J. and Eddie would change into school clothes and head to class, their hands still faintly smelling of hay and leather. Sundays brought brief moments of peace, where the boys would spend hours playing pirates or sewing that secret project in J.J's room. The pair went everywhere together, and Eddie's stories always followed-- though none bore the name Dad forbade him to speak aloud.

At first, Eddie worked like someone bracing for a trap. He'd haul feed and hay bales with the sluggish pace of someone desperate not to get yelled at for dropping any, and ask a million questions while mending fences and helping with the accounts in Dad's study. In the firestorms of a rich private school, those good grades that were once a point of pride began to slip under stricter expectations. Eddie's quick mind lit up with numbers and puzzles, and he could memorize a story if you told it well, but essays and Latin grammar wore him down fast.

J.J. saw how hard it all was for him. The field work was heavier than anything Eddie spoke of doing in the slums. The school assignments assumed years of uninterrupted lessons J.J. took for granted. Still, Eddie tried harder than J.J. had ever seen a kid try before. By the second week, Eddie had learned the names of all the animals and was showing J.J. how to tell fresh eggs by holding them to the light. The first time Eddie oiled the hinges on that accursed hayloft ladder and stopped it from shrieking like a banshee, Dad gave him a nod and said, "Good work."

J.J. swore Eddie stood taller for the rest of the week.

Yet, the new kid didn't turn around overnight. Eddie still rarely smiled. J.J. saw the way Eddie flinched when they heard the name "Ms. Catherine Alta" at the school admissions desk. He tensed when voices got too loud or he caught a glimpse of one of those blinking red lights just off the school property. And Eddie never seemed to keep any friends for long.

J.J. was no fool. They knew exactly why Eddie faded out of conversations whenever they seemed to go well. Even if no one dared bring it into words, they both knew what it meant when six months was up and it was time for Eddie to go home. It meant the painful loss of whatever delicate connections Eddie made on the decent side of Salem. J.J. saw that pain ahead of time. They'd sometimes catch Eddie staring at them, sad and longing with splotches of blush on his face, when the new kid thought J.J. wasn't looking.

Six weeks passed before anyone knew it.

John padded down the stairs, he saw a familiar silhouette hunched over the front window. Eddie, fully dressed for a day at the farm, hair combed with a soldier's stiff precision. Every morning since Clef walked free-- twelve days ago now-- Eddie had taken his spot by the window, holding his breath for a response to the flurry of letters John had to hastily omit the return address from before sending out.

John stood behind Eddie, taking in the stillness of the rising sun. The lucky stars had been on John's side until now, keeping Tabitha from finding Eddie with her limited resources from the slums. Now that Clef was free, John and Eddie both knew it was only a matter of time before the new duke's connections found their way to the Hathorne house.

A part of John had hoped this would all fade, and Eddie would shift his hopes to his future instead of his past. But there he was, for twelve days in a row. John placed a hand on Eddie's shoulder while the faint ticking of the clock above the fireplace filled the silence between them. The man thought of saying something gentle and pragmatic, like "Sometimes people get busy," or "It might take longer than you think," but the words didn't come out. There was no good way to tell Eddie to stop hoping for something that would only reopen his wounds.

Eddie spotted the courier before John did. The boy shook with something happier than nerves as the figure approached the mailbox, and John had to stop Eddie from rushing out the door. When John returned, he was flipping through a small stack of envelopes until two of them caught his eye.

One seemed normal, almost unassuming, save for Eddie's name written on the back. The other stood out immediately, with thick parchment, elegant calligraphy spelling "Edward Teach" and the fanciest stationery John had ever seen. The man's stomach tightened. For a moment John, considered doing something unimaginably cruel, before he shook the awful thought from his mind.

"Hey, we need to head out," John called, gently folding the letters while trying to keep his voice light. "J.J.'s waiting on us."

Eddie's eyes were fixated on the envelopes in John's hands. The excitement on the kid's face twisted into an anxious stillness.

"Tell you what." John crouched down to Eddie's level and gave him a little smile. "I'll leave these in your room for now. Your little doll can stand guard until we get back, okay?"

Eddie hesitated, then nodded. John squeezed his shoulder and departed from the front window to tuck the envelopes on Eddie's bed, propped carefully against the pillow. Eddie placed the doll sitting up beside the letters, arms outstretched and bright red eyes shining into John's own. The pair left, and John closed the door behind him with a quiet sigh.

John watched the boys from a short distance as they tromped through dewy grass, lit by the gentle glow of the early morning sun. In an instant, J.J. was halfway across the pasture and lost in his tasks. He moved with the confidence of a kid who grew up bottle-feeding calves and turning compost with a stick longer than he was tall.

Eddie trailed behind, cautious eyes flickering towards every sound and movement. The cattle and horses unsettled him the most: they were big, unpredictable, and far too eager to approach with the aim of sniffing at Eddie's hair or licking his face. He quickly shifted towards the vegetable rows to settle into the safer work he'd grown used to. Eddie pulled weeds, patted down soil around young sprouts, and inspected leaves for bugs.

John carefully kept watch while shouldering the more difficult tasks the kids couldn't handle yet. He spent the morning working the plough, tending to the larger animals, and talking business with the farmhands. John was in the middle of harvesting blackberries from a particularly thorny bush when he heard J.J. howling with laughter nearby.

J.J. was elbow-deep in compost while Eddie carried a bucket of grains, wiping sweat and soil from his brow. Eddie began launching into another one of those wretched stories. This one seemed to be about sneaking past a merchant's watchdog using a trail of sausages. "...and by the time the dog figured it out, I was halfway across the roof with the ledger--"

"You know, Eddie," John interrupted, without looking up from his own work. "You don't need to keep telling stories like that. It's not something you should be proud of."

Eddie's voice faltered. He was quiet for a moment, perhaps expecting John to laugh it off or ease up. When John's expression remained serious, Eddie just gave a sharp nod. "Okay, Master."

Eddie didn't speak another word for hours. J.J. tried to carry the energy himself, but those efforts fell flat without Eddie's tales of whimsy to bounce off of. Soon, J.J. went quiet as well. The kids worked with hunched shoulders and stayed close without quite meeting each other's eyes.

The sun climbed to its peak when John went to get something from the shed-- then patted his coat pocket and froze. "Ah-- hang on. Forgot my keys," he muttered, heading back towards the house. "Should've left them on the hook." Once he made it inside, John dug through the clutter, trying to remember where he'd left the shed keys. John grabbed the keys with a relieved sigh when he saw them half-tucked under a folded newspaper in the living room.

When he returned to the farm, John's eyes landed on the shed door. Eddie was in the middle of fiddling with the lock while J.J. bounced on his toes, wide-eyed and gleaming with excitement. Eddie's eyes flickered towards John for a second, then returned to his work. By the time John reached the shed, the lock fell away with a loud click, and the door was open.

John stopped just short of the doorway. His expression shifted into something that made Eddie clasp J.J.'s hand and bolt across the grass. It took a second for John to process what had happened and run after them, heart jumping in his throat as he called for his boys. "Eddie! J.J! Wait--!"

Eddie was already at the porch steps, hurriedly pulling J.J. up and into the house. John caught the door just before it could slam shut and stepped in after him. By now, the boys were separated. J.J. poked his head out from down the hall with a puzzled look on his face, while John searched the rest of the house for Eddie. Soon, John found Eddie in his bedroom, curled up on the floor by the foot of his bed. One hand clutched that red-eyed doll, while the other clung to Clef and Tabitha's unopened letters.

John gently opened the door. "Hey, Eddie." When Eddie didn't respond, John crossed the room and crouched beside him, making sure to keep a little distance between the boy and himself. "I'm not mad at you."

"Then why do you look like you hate me?"

John imagined how his parents might have disciplined him if he dared be so bold as to pick locks in broad daylight. The man remembered how quickly he learned all the wrong lessons. "I don't hate you. I just want to talk about what happened at the shed."

Eddie sat up and nodded, his face brittle with tension.

"I don't want you picking locks around here, Eddie." John tried to keep his tone even. "This isn't the kind of road we should be going down."

"I just wanted to help." Eddie's voice came out small.

"I know." John gave a little smile. "And I appreciate that, truly. But I still don't want you doing it again. Next time, just ask. You don't need to solve everything by yourself." John reached out to rest his hand on the floor between them, inviting an approach.

Slowly, cautiously, Eddie took the offer, placing the hand carrying the doll on top of John's own.

The rest of John's lecture died in his throat.

Summer fully hit as the end of July crept up on J.J. and Eddie. The air was thick with heat, and the roads shimmered like glass under the sun. The days stretched out so long, it felt like they might never end. It should have been perfect. It should have been happy. J.J. kept waiting for the mood to lift. Not even a gloomy kid like Eddie could eat ice cream without smiling, but the smiles faded as soon as they were off the porch. Letters from Clef were devoured in minutes, never to be spoken of again. Eddie's stories vanished entirely, and he shied away from Dad's presence every time they locked eyes.

The worst of the strange tension hit on walks to school. Eddie's eyes would drift towards the haunted shipwreck on the far end of the harbor, his expression halfway between smiling and hovering on the verge of tears. Eddie never said more than a whisper of the name Dad had made forbidden in the house. Eddie only went back to normal when J.J nudged Eddie's elbow or squeezed his hand. Not quite a smile, but enough that J.J. their presence helped.

One rainy afternoon in the middle of a rainy week, J.J. walked to school with a wooden sword strapped to their back and a bandana tied around their head, just like they would whenever the kids played pirates in the yard. Eddie paused, his eyes flickering with recognition before dimming again. When the pair walked past the harbor, Eddie gazed at the remains of Tommy's ship, then at J.J.'s outfit, then back. This time, when J.J. held Eddie's hand, that gloomy expression on his face didn't fade.

J.J. pulled Eddie aside, making sure they couldn't see those unsettling red lights before they spoke. "Hey, Eddie? What's going on? You've been... distant."

"It's about Tommy." Eddie shook his head. "Master doesn't want me--"

"Dad isn't here." J.J. squeezed Eddie's hand tighter. "He doesn't need to know."

This time, Eddie really looked like he was about to cry. Tense shoulders, arms crossed tightly, gaze fixed at anything but J.J. "This winter, Tommy promised he'd take me to the beach when it warmed up..."

"Oh." J.J.'s heart twisted. "You know, we can still make the beach trip happen this Sunday. Have you asked Dad about it?"

Eddie gave J.J. a skeptical look. "Master's still mad at me about the shed. And if I tell him why..." Eddie's eyes drifted to the harbor again. "That would just make it worse."

"There's nothing to worry about; he's not that angry." J.J. grinned and nudged Eddie's side. "How about we ask together? I'll take the lead."

Eddie held back a tiny, hesitant smile. "You'd do that?"

J.J. nodded. "Of course. Whenever you're ready, I'll be there."

"Yeah... I'd like that." Eddie's smile widened just enough to show a flicker of hope. "But if we get in trouble for this, I'm going to be so mad at you."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take." J.J. knew it would be just fine.

---

The rain cleared up in the nick of time, just before July's curtain call. A little family arrived at a beach that came alive with crashing waves and calling gulls. Eddie's eyes kept darting back to John, like he was waiting for the trip to be canceled at the last second. Once their shoes were off and they hit the sand, the salty sea breeze peeled all that worry right off Eddie, and he wasted no time diving right in.

While J.J. was testing the water with their heels, Eddie was already waist-deep and splashing around like the waves were his true home. The pair found seashells shaped like spirals and shards of sea glass they had to stop themselves from picking up. They built a sandcastle with their haul of seashells as battlements and a dried-up piece of seaweed to form the castle's flag. Eddie led the charge back to the shoreline, daring J.J. to go deeper, then promptly shrieked with laughter when the water splashed too high. J.J. trailed behind, watching the joy in Eddie's stride.

After a while, the whole world narrowed down to the sound of the ocean. Footsteps on the sand slowed to a crawl. Eddie grabbed J.J.'s arm a little tighter than he probably meant to. He had a mischievous glint in his eye, the kind that let J.J. know Eddie had finally found the opportunity to tell one of those cool stories Dad didn't like to hear for some reason. Yet, this story began and ended in only a few words: "I'm going to show you something cool. Follow me."

J.J.'s eyes sparkled with delight. Eddie didn't need to spell out where they were going. For J.J. remembered those days when the two of them ventured close to the beach. On those precious walks, Eddie would whisper the name that Dad forbade him to speak aloud, and gaze towards an old ship marooned on the far side of the harbor. Eddie effortlessly grabbed a black cloth from his bag while Dad wasn't looking, and slipped out of sight along the edge of the water with a trail of droplets forming behind him. Eddie let himself smile a little as soon as the sounds of the beach made way to the sounds of ships and dock workers.

The kids traveled for what felt like no time at all, each crunch of sand accelerating J.J.'s excited shaking, faster and faster, until a monument of cracked wood finally appeared before J.J. and Eddie. "This is yours?" J.J. breathed, eyes darting from the broken timbers to Eddie, who nodded with an ever-growing smile.

J.J. eagerly scrambled through the ship, checking every crevice and corner as they imagined the adventures Tommy must have had here. The image of Tommy's ship in its prime formed in J.J.'s mind, full of sailors and adventure beyond their wildest dreams. J.J. climbed to the hull to see the flag in all its glory, only to find it missing. "Hey, where's the...?" J.J. paused. Eddie wasn't behind them anymore.

J.J. slowly crept back down towards the inner hull of Tommy's ship. There, Eddie sat, clutching an ancient compass in one hand, wrapped in a black flag with the painted skull and crossbones peeking out from behind him. Eddie's eyes widened like he was holding off tears. He seemed so excited to be here-- he smiled, for once, and Eddie rarely smiled. "Eddie? You alright?"

As soon as the words reached Eddie's ears, it was like a dam burst open. "It's almost like Tommy's here," Eddie's voice quivered. "Like I can almost hear him in my head, but it's not real. It's not real, it's not real, it's just... just a stupid husk of wood and..." Eddie's words fell apart. The brave, cool hero-thief mask he wore in front of J.J. fully shattered, and though Eddie still smiled, those tears he had fought back until now finally fell down his face.

J.J.'s vision blurred in turn. They reached for Eddie's free hand, slowly, gently, like Dad had warned them. Those warnings soon meant nothing, for Eddie's hand whipped towards their own like a viper and squeezed it tight. For a moment, they just sat there on the sand, protected from the world by the deep shade of Tommy's ship.

No miracle words could reach through the twelve years of this boy's life, before J.J. and Eddie met. Ocean waves knocking against the rotting wood spoke for them. Indistinct voices that blurred together from far away spoke for them. The call of seagulls and the crunch of sand shifting beneath the weight of two children desperate for something to ground them spoke for them.

When Eddie looked up again, he was still smiling, and tears still fell from his eyes. "You wanna hear another story?"

J.J. noted the cracks in Eddie's voice, but the spark beneath the surface shined through. Their face lit up instantly, the somber mood forgotten for just a moment. "Yeah!" J.J.'s eyes went wide with anticipation. It was like the old Eddie had returned, the one who came to life whenever he had a new story to tell.

Eddie took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

J.J. leaned forward, grinning wider with every word. "So if they had all that, why's the ship here? And..." they hesitated, glancing at the planks split by years of wind and salt. "Why's it wrecked?"

"We're getting there. I--" Eddie's breath hitched. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, no no no, it's okay." J.J. snapped back upright. "It just seemed like it was so cool, and now..."

"Yeah," Eddie said softly, drawing in a slow, shaky breath. "I know."

The tale stopped in its tracks with a horrible scream. Eddie scrambled to his feet and ran towards the entrance punched into the ship's hole. Before J.J. could process what was happening, they'd been shoved into the darkest corner as Eddie cried, "Stay behind me!" The boy then rushed back towards the entrance of the ship, where J.J. could hear the heavy sound of wood scraping outside the hull.

J.J. slowly emerged from the corner and made their way to Eddie's side. Awful, terrified whimpers nearly masked out the sound of familiar footsteps on the sand. The figure J.J. saw marching through the dock made their heart jump with cold recognition and a flash of guilt. J.J. wrapped their arms tightly around Eddie. "It's Dad. It's just Dad. It's going to be okay, Eddie, relax--"

"EDWARD!"

Eddie jolted. Both kids shivered at the voice that crashed through the ship like a wave.

Dad's thunderous eyes locked onto Eddie as he stormed towards the ship. "You two-- what the hell were you thinking!? You can't just disappear like that! Do you have any idea how dangerous this is!?" Dad didn't stop. He looked more worried than furious, but J.J. knew Eddie wouldn't see that. "If something happened to you out here; if that hull caved in or you fell and broke something, no one would have found you in time!" Dad kept stomping and shouting, looming over Eddie and the thin barrier he formed between J.J. and their enraged father. "Never, ever run off like that again!"

Every pained noise Eddie let out as he desperately tried to form words made J.J.'s stomach turn. He was breathing too hard, too fast, quivering with every exhale. Eddie's face was red and blotchy, with tears streaming down his cheeks. Eddie's legs looked ready to give while his arms stayed stretched like a shield across the hull's opening. "I'm so sorry!" Eddie's voice was raw and shaky. "Please, please don't hurt us..."

The words hit them both like a hammer. The fury in Dad's face cracked. J.J. squeezed Eddie tighter. Dad slowed his approach with quiet, heavy steps that looked like he was holding himself back. He scanned the inside of the shipwreck as if he was only really looking at it now, before his eyes landed on the flag wrapped around Eddie's shoulders. "Eddie. I'm not going to hurt anyone." Dad wasn't yelling anymore, but his voice was firm enough to make Eddie flinch again. "But this was reckless. You're not allowed to come back here alone again. Either of you."

Eddie's shoulders twitched at the warning. "I just wanted to see it one more time," Eddie mumbled, quieter now. "With someone who'd listen."

Dad's anger flared again. "Then speak to me. I would have--"

"No, you wouldn't." A little fire ignited in Eddie's eyes, and his voice came out sharper than he'd meant it. "You hate Tommy so much you wouldn't let me say his name. If I told you this was Tommy's ship, you'd..." Eddie was trembling again. "You'd tear the ship down, or burn it, or...! If you could make it go away, then you'd finally get to erase him."

"That's not true," Dad said quietly. "It's not about Tommy. I never wanted to erase him." Dad stopped and crouched just enough to be level with the kids. "I just want you two to be safe. That's all. Sneaking off by yourselves, climbing through rusted holes in a shipwreck? That's dangerous. I got scared. You scared me."

Silence. Eddie's knuckles were white on the edges of the hull. J.J. saw his lips twitching like Eddie was fighting back tears, or words, or both.

"Eddie, it's alright." J.J. waited for Eddie to face them before continuing. "Dad's just worried about us. Right, Dad?"

Eddie's eyes lit up, then narrowed with suspicion as he pulled J.J. behind him.

"J.J.'s right." Dad sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "I'm not going to tear this place down. I wouldn't do that to you. You can miss Tommy. You can talk about him. You can even show me what he left behind." Dad placed a hand on Eddie's shoulder. Eddie shivered again, but didn't move. "Just don't shut me out anymore. Okay? Can I come in?"

A moment's pause. J.J. could see gears turning in Eddie's mind, processing the change in Dad's expression. He didn't look mad anymore, not really. His eyes were warmer now.

J.J. gave Eddie's hand one more squeeze. "Come on. We'll be okay."

The crunch of sand shifting beneath Eddie spoke for him. He slowly lowered his arms from the broken rim of the hull's opening and stepped to one side. Eddie stared cautiously at Dad, bracing himself for something. The breeze pushed in through the entrance, rustling the pirate flag on Eddie's shoulders.

A bit of wonder glittered in Dad's eyes as he slowly paced into the ship. J.J. saw the way Dad's gaze lingered on the golden light filtering through this relic of ancient wood. The three of them made their way towards the compass that had been forgotten in Eddie's fervor to protect this place and its innumerable value in the boy's heart.

Dad sat down in the middle of the hull, making a point not to intrude too forcefully upon this precious space. His expression finally relaxed into a smile. "It sounded like that story was getting good. What happened next?"