Miles to Go Before I Sleep

It was the darkest day of the year. As I sat by the crackling fire watching my five year old daughter pretending to be the captain of a Pirate ship, I thought about my own life; how it used to be before I married Will Turner. I was once the only daughter of the Port Royal governor, prim and proper in manner but screaming inside. I was desperate for adventure, and I certainly got my wish. Every year it was always the same, and just when I was beginning to think nothing would change it did. A few months before Will and I married, the pirates came. Captain Jack Sparrow arrived first, followed by Captain Barbossa and his crew of scallywags.

"All hands on deck! Hurry, mates, there's a storm approaching! Man the sails! Lower the anchor!" I jumped slightly at the child's voice, smiling as she hurried over to me, tugging at the hem of my pale blue nightgown. "Mama, all hands on deck, or you'll be thrown overboard!"

I laughed, standing at last, and lifted her into my arms. "Roselyn Turner, your father would be very proud."

Roselyn, or "Rosie" as we called her, blushed slightly and wriggled out of my grasp. "When's Papa coming home, Mummy?" she picked up the wooden model of the famous Black Pearl that Will had carved for her the month before. Rosie was certainly "Daddy's little girl", for he spoiled her to no end. I suppose this was because he had grown up as an orphan, living as an apprentice to the town's blacksmith. He wanted to give Rosie the life that he never had, and I loved him all the more for it.

"Soon, Rosie," I replied, folding my arms and gazing out the window. "He had to work late tonight." Despite the fact that it was mid-December, the Caribbean island was as hot and humid as in the spring and summer months. I turned back to our daughter, fiddling with the buttons of my nightgown. "Love, fetch your father's slippers, please."

Will, unfortunately, had come down with the third bad cold this year. I tried to persuade him to stay home in bed, and that old Mrs. Barton, who never seemed to die, could wait another night for her new set of wine glasses. I lost in the end, however, and Will went to the shop anyway, sniffles and all. Rosie obeyed, dashing to the master bedroom and coming back out again holding the large, soft slippers. She set them before the fire to warm and plopped down again, making cannon ball noises with her lips.

I went to sit back down to wait for my husband, sighing with content. The citizens of Port Royal and my father had originally expected me to marry Commodore Norrington, because he was a more "proper match" for my status. However, I did not love him as they wanted me to- he was certainly a kind and generous man, but I had my heart set on the blacksmith. Will and I shared our childhood together, and we knew secrets about each other that no one else did. I could speak to him as I could no other, and the idea of not being with him was ludicrous.

Nearly a half an hour passed by before we heard a familiar violent "KETCHHUUUUH!" and the sound of the front door opening and closing. "KETCHHHHUH!" Will sneezed again, rubbing his strong arms as he entered the cozy parlour.

"Papa!" Rosie was on her feet in an instant, leaping into her father's arms. Will hugged and kissed her on the cheek, holding her for an extra moment.

"How is my little scallywag?" He asked, his voice awfully congested.

"Good." Rosie snuggled against him, taking in his scent of metal and soot. Once Will set her down, I stood, wrapping my own arms around his neck. He kissed my forehead and stroked the ends of my curly dirty blonde hair.

"Elizabeth." He whispered, pure love in his eyes.

"Will." I replied, placing my hand against his forehead. "How are you feeling, love?" My answer was a sudden hitch of breath.

"KetCHUUUUH!" he covered his mouth and nose just in time. "Not much better. These sneezes have been relentless." He sniffled, smiling as Rosie brought him over to his chair. "Eh-heh- KetCHUUUUH!" he fell forward, nearly knocking her over.

"Bless." I told him, clucking my tongue as he sat down, cringing at his aching joints.

"Why do you say that, Mummy?" Rosie asked curiously, climbing up onto her father's lap, her eyes shining as I took the throw blanket from the couch and tucked it around them both.

"Say what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Bless."

I laughed, kneeling down to remove Will's dirty boots, grimacing as the dirt and grime stuck to my hands. Once his socks were off, I slipped on the slippers, and squeezed his foot.

"Oh don't do that!" He begged, sliding it quickly out of my clutches. I grinned mischeviously. Will's feet were terribly ticklish. Eventually I stood again, rubbing my hands together.

"To answer your question, Rose petal, I bless your papa from the evil that comes out when he sneezes." Whether or not this story of saying "bless" is true, I was not sure. But the meaning of the particular phrase used at this particular moment was a wonder to me Will shook his head, smirking.

"There's nothing evil inside Papa," Rosie insisted. "I wish it away every night."

I felt my heart melt at the sweet statement.

"So..." Will shifted a bit in order to pull his handkerchief out of his pocket, and blew his nose. "What have you both been up to today?" He pinched his nostrils through the thin fabric as a clear indication that he still felt "sneezy".

"We made cookies!" Rosie replied. "Gingerbread ones! And I played pirates!"

It was Will's turn to laugh, but the laughter only brought on another bout of harsh coughing.

I nodded in agreement. "She's right. We cooked, cleaned...the usual. Rosie and I were also coming up with ways to decorate the house for the Christmas holiday coming up. How was your day at the shop?"

Will shook his head, sighing softly. "I nearly finished Mrs. Eh..." he suddenly paused, clamping his handkerchief over his mouth and nose again. "Eh...KehTCHHHHH! HuhKETCHHHH!" he closed his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"Bless you! Oh Will..." I sighed. "You poor thing." I checked his forehead for a fever again. "You're starting to have a temperature," I announced. "You should go straight to bed before your cold worsens."

Will leaned against my breast, being mindful of Rosie still on his lap. I rested my cheek against his shoulder-length dark hair, feeling horrible for him. Will always tended to overexert himself, and he was prone to falling ill more quickly than most.

"I feel terrible," he croaked.

"I know, my love, I know."

Will's breath suddenly hitched again, and I pinched his nostrils closed, knowing how much his sneezes hurt him when he was ill. He closed his eyes again, trying to compose himself. "Eh..." he gasped, and I began to massage his nose with the tips of my fingers, feeling Rosie's concerned eyes on me as she craned her neck to watch.

"Better?" I asked, feeling his body start to relax again. Will nodded, and I took my fingers away from his slightly red nose, hugging him tight.

"I'll go pull his covers down, Mama." Rosie offered, sliding down from his lap. She was trying so hard to be so helpful, I knew. For a five year old, she was very mature, and sometimes I felt I was speaking to an adult rather than a child.

"Yes, please."

She rushed off again, leaving Will and I alone.

"Ugh...my nose." He practically whispered, dabbing at it with his hanky again. I took his arm afterwards, and helped him stand.

"Thank goodness you are not at sea with this chill!" I exclaimed, remembering just how wet and cold Will had become on the Black Pearl. He nodded, leaning against me on the way to our room. Rosie was sitting on the edge of the bed already, and the large patchwork quilt and sheets were ready for Will to slide into. I shooed her away gently so I could help Will out of his clothes and into his pajamas. He was unusually warm to the touch, and shaking with chills.

"KutCHHHHUH! HutCHHHHHUH!" he sneezed twice more, allowing me to pull the nightshirt, freshly washed, over his head. I aided him under the covers, tucking them tightly around him.

"God bless. Shall I fetch the doctor?" I asked, not wanting to take any chances.

Will shook his head, breaking into another fit of coughing. I rubbed his neck and shoulders, waiting patiently for his response.

"No," he croaked. "The doctor is probably tired of me at this point. It's not too bad anyway."

"It isn't bad now Will, but if we don't treat it quickly, it could turn into something much worse. And it's not a very big town as it is...I'm certain the doctor has seen several patients more than once." I kissed his forehead tenderly.

Rosie peeked in the room chewing anxiously on the end of her dark hair. She has a mixture of both our features; Will's thin brown hair, my hazel eyes, and my snub nose. She has her father's personality certainly, including his rather quick temper at times. As my own father says, Rosie is "a little spitfire".

What fascinated Will and I the most, was the fact that her first word was "Piwate!" rather than "Mama" or "Dada". We found the concept highly amusing, because Will is half-pirate, if there is such a term.

"I think a good night sleep will be fine," Will insisted, and I rolled my eyes.

"You are so stubborn!" I groaned inwardly, before turning to Rosie. "Come in, Rose petal," I cooed, and she did as she was told, holding her teddy bear. This bear was one of her favorite possessions besides the toy boat, because "Uncle Jack" had sent it to her from overseas. To Rosie, Captain Jack Sparrow was like a fairytale creature, and she was always willing to hear more stories about him.

"I brought my teddy for you, Papa." She told him. I touched Will's feverish cheek, watching as he raised his dark eyes with surprise.

"Oh, honey, you didn't have to do that." He told her weakly.

Rosie tucked the bear beside her father's head. "He wants to be with you until you feel better," she insisted.

Will sniffled, touching her silky hair softly. "Thank you, Rose petal. That was very generous."

I put my hands on Rosie's shoulders, and knelt down so my head was level with hers. She smelled like cinnamon and warm sugar as a result of our baking excursions earlier that day. I kissed her temple, running my own fingers through her smooth locks, watching as she relaxed under my touch.

"I think," I began softly, "that it is time for all little girls to go to sleep. It is getting quite late, my precious love."

Rosie groaned inwardly, shaking her head. "Awww, Mummy, do I have to? I want to stay with Papa." She whined.

"Oh yes," I insisted, narrowing my eyes. "Go and give Papa a hug and a kiss good night, and I'll tuck you in." She nodded, reluctantly shuffling over to the bed, allowing Will to embrace her and peck a kiss on her forehead.

"Good night," he whispered, squeezing her hand three times, which, I learned, was their signal for "I love you". I lifted our dear daughter into my arms and carried her to her small room just down the narrow hallway.

"Is Papa going to get better?" she asked as I helped her out of her day dress and into her nightgown. She climbed into bed, cuddling her toy boat this time instead of her usual teddy.

"Of course he will," I promised. "Papa's very strong."

Rosie beamed. "Mummy?"

"Mmm?"

"Can you tell me the story about Captain Sparrow and how he and Papa saved you from the evil Captain Barbossa again?"

I pretended to groan, and rested my forehead against the mattress, pounding it slightly with my fists.

"Please say yes, Mama...you always say "Not tonight!" I want to hear it, please?" She begged. I was about to respond when I heard Will sneeze loudly again.

"HuhKETCHHHHUH! HehKETCHHHAH!"

I sighed. "Not tonight, Rose petal. I am so sorry that I keep postponing it, but your father really is not feeling well. Do you forgive me?" I asked, and she thought for a moment, chewing on her lower lip.

"Eh...KETCHAAAH!"

Rosie finally nodded, jumping a bit at her father's sneeze. "Yes."

I kissed her on the cheek and forehead. "Good. Tomorrow. You can hang me from my ankles by the mast of your ship if I go back on my promise, all right?"

Rosie giggled, holding out her arms for a hug, and I took them, holding her close. "Love you, Mama." She whispered, and I felt my throat choke up with tears.

"I love you too, my dearling." I whispered back. "Sleep sweet. Dream of your Captain Sparrow and his swashbuclking crew. I am sure you will one day see them." I tapped her nose and stood, walking over to the vanity where a lighted candle stood. I blew out the flame, and the room dissolved in darkness. Though Rosie was able to rest now, I knew that it would be miles and miles before I slept.