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Tales of the Meridian Society! (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

"Samantha!" Anne Marie moved to help Sam after she had stood up entirely too quickly, and looked on disapprovingly, nodding and agreeing with the nurse as she scolded her. "You stay put," she said firmly while they waited for the nurse to come back. "I'm not afraid to tattle on you, you know. You have more than just you to worry about now."

Erik groaned and slowly sat up at the sound of his fiance's voice. If she'd still have him, that was; he'd acted positively beastly in the past twelve hours and wouldn't blame her at all if she never wanted to see him again. The things he'd been forced to say...the things he hadn't been forced to do...

"Sam," he grunted, pushing himself the rest of the way up and forcing a smile through the pain. "How are you, liebchen? How...I mean, is the baby...?" The fear he'd been pushing away since she'd gotten injured now gripped his heart.
 
His smile was genuine, but genuinely forced. But it was there, and Erik was all right. "Ah'm fine," she assured him, reaching out with her good arm to take his hand. "We're both fine, Ah reckon." The attempt at confidence was marred by the questioning glance she cast at the nurse. They'd have said something, right?

The nurse gave her a warm smile and a nod. "Your baby is fine," she assured them both. "You lost some blood, but not enough to endanger the pregnancy." The expression turned stern. "You were lucky."

"Ah know, Ah know." She'd intended it to sound sincere, but the words just sounded petulant to her ears. "An' Ah reckon Ah outta take me a break now, least until th' baby's born."

"Good." The nurse nodded her head, as if everything were settled. "Now, I'll give you two some privacy. Just ring if you need anything."

Sam watched her leave, then turned back to her fiancee. She watched him for a minute, noting the lines of worry and pain in his features. Then she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it - a poor substitute for what she wanted to do right now, but neither of them were in the shape for what she wanted right now. "Y'all saved mah life, Erik. Y'know that? That sumbitch had me dead ta rights, an'... an' y'saved me. Saved both o' us." Her blue eyes glistened with tears, the effect marred a little by the purple-black bruise that half-swelled one eye shut, and her smile trembled a little. "Gawd, Ah love you."
 
Sam kissed his hand and Erik had to bite his lip to keep it from trembling. His throat tightened and hurt as her eyes filled with tears and his did too. He squeezed her hand gently and his free hand came up to cup her cheek. He shook his head when she insisted that he'd saved her.

"I've behaved like a beast," he protested. "I've said things, done things, that aren't who I am. I wouldn't take back killing that bastard, but...well, I would have changed the way I did it. And I would take back everything else I've done that were unbecoming, that weren't me, that were...well, vile. I was so afraid that you would see those things and not want to be the wife of someone like that." He leaned forward to kiss her gently.

"No more missions, please," he begged. "Just until the baby is born. I won't tell you what to do, Schatze, but I will beg you to please not ask me to put yourself and our child in danger." Erik took a telegram from the side table and pressed it into her palm. "And while you consider it, we could take a slight detour on the way home, if you'd like. But only if you'd like." The telegram read:

Shalom Cousin STOP We heard youd descended from on high from the Fatherland and that youre getting yourself chained to a "Mexican transvestite" STOP As next week is Passover wed love to meet the lucky lady if your work doesnt prevent visiting family STOP Anyone Tanta Anna hates that much must be a woman worth knowing STOP Much Love Michael Hanes

"The Haneses immigrated to New York about twenty or so years ago," Erik explained. "They're cousins on my mother's side. But they're nothing like her so don't worry," he added quickly. "The ah, Hines got changed to Hanes at Ellis Island and they never bothered correcting it considering ah...well, Germany doesn't exactly have the best reputation around here, does it?" He smiled sheepishly. "You don't have to make a decision on running missions while you're pregnant right now, but I would be thrilled to be able to spend Passover with my favorite cousins and introduce you to them."
 
“Maybe Ah like y’behavin’ like a beast,” Sam smiled over his protests. “Jes’ a little, anyhow. An’ it ain’t lik y’punched me on purpose. Ah got this n th’ way when y’was a-tryin’ ta deck Colin.” She tapped her bruised eye carefully. “If y’were th’ kinda man what needs ta hit a woman ta’ feel big, Ah’d a shot yeh a while back.” She smiled. A sore as shit wouldn’ta let y’tie me up...”

He turned to his concerns about her safety and the safety of their child, needs doing along with his words. “Yeah. Reckon Ah figgered that when Ah was a-talkin’ ta Anne. Ain’t jes’ me Ah gotta be thinkin’ ‘bout now, is it?” She pursed her lips in thought. “Have ta be a mite more careful after, too. Both o’ us. Our baby needs a mommy an’ a daddy, Erik.”

As she spoke she took the telegram from his hand and scanned over it. The “Mexican transvestite” made her eyes narrow angrily, but the next sentence made her chuckle. “Yer cousins? Well, Ah ain’t never been ta New York, so let’s go. But, uh, ‘fore we do, Gruene ain’t all that far from here, really. Ah’d like to visit mah pa pa fer a few days.”
 
"So, you have how many brothers again?" Erik pulled at his collar as they pulled up the long driveway to the farm. Professor Swift had granted Sam a leave of absence until her postpartum maternity leave was over, and had given Erik until June to help plan and execute the wedding and enjoy their honeymoon.

Passover was in a week, but it made no sense for them to not stop in and see Sam's family first. He was marrying this man's daughter, after all. It only made sense that he should meet him. He fidgeted with his tie and twisted his engagement ring around his left ring finger. He looked down at the simple gold band, hoping that the man known only as Pa Cavendish wouldn't misinterpret the German tradition as a married man sniffing around his daughter. His thoughts spun around and around as he worried over everything that could possibly go wrong. In a sudden panic as they pulled in he looked over at his almost-wife.

"I didn't ask his permission," he said, gripping the steering wheel harder. "He's going to kill me. Sam, I didn't ask your father's permission to ask you to marry me! We're going to walk in and there's going to be a shotgun in my face I just know it."
 
Modern medicine was a grand thing, Sam decided as she flexed her shoulder. Particularly if you knew someone with pockets deep enough to pay for it. The aerolin-impregnated thread and bandages had aided her arm to heal completely in only a couple of weeks, instead of the couple of months it she'd have needed without them. The muscles were still stiff, requiring frequent exercise to limber up and regain strength, but it was a damn sight better than still being in a sling and worrying about infection.

"So, you have how many brothers again?" Erik asked, turning into the driveway. Although driveway was a little grand for the beaten dirt trail that led up to the old house.

"Seven," Sam replied, "all older'n me. Robby, Jimmy, Bart, Billy, Chuck, Don, an' Joe." She eyed the house, noting some recent changes - the addition of a heliograph receiver, for instance. "Bart's out west workin' some Yankee's ranch, so it ain't likely you'll see him. Billy an' his wife Adelita live wit' Pa now, helpin' take care o' th' place." She smiled at the thought. "Billy's done got himself a knack fer this, too. Ain't jes a poor dirt farmer now, an' Pa kin relax a little." A pause. "Not that he does, mind."

Suddenly, Erik looked worried. "I didn't ask his permission," he said, gripping the steering wheel harder. "He's going to kill me. Sam, I didn't ask your father's permission to ask you to marry me! We're going to walk in and there's going to be a shotgun in my face I just know it."

"Naw," she laughed. "You ain't got nuthin' ta worry 'bout, Erik. He'll be too shocked Ah'm gettin' hitched ta go fer his gun. An if he does?" She pulled him close and kissed him. "Ah'm faster on th' draw, even wit' needin' ta exercise mah arm."

As the car pulled to a stop a pretty dark-haired woman opened the door and waved, then called back inside. Sam swung out and slammed the car door behind her. "That'd be Adelita," she said, taking Erik's arm. "C'mon. You'll love them."

"¡Samantha!" Adelita called, rushing down the stairs to embrace her sister-in law. "¡Bienvenido a casa!" She looked Sam over, then did a double-take at the sight of her belly. "¿Qué? Eres ... ¿verdad?"

"Sí," Sam laughed, "sí, estoy embarazada." She pulled Erik over. "Y este es Erik, mi prometida."

Adelita looked shocked, then whooped with joy and hugged Erik. "¡Mucho gusto! ¡Nos preocupamos por nuestra pequeña Samantha, tanto!"

"What th' bloody hell is this?" a new voice interrupted. A grizzled old man scowled at Erik with Sam's blue eyes as he stomped down the steps carrying a shotgun. "Did Ah hear some two-bit sidewinder done knocked mah baby girl up?" Eyes narrowing, he stormed across the lawn at Erik. "This here the sumbitch what did it?"

"Si," Adelina said. "Ese es el."

The man scowled as he drew closer, then suddenly tossed the shotgun to the ground and seized Erik's hand. "Pleased ta meetcha, boy!" he crowed. "Ah'm Bill Cavendish, but y'kin call me Pa." Spinning, he grabbed Sam in a bear hug. "An' Ah never thought Ah'd see th' day some fellah'd tie y'down, Sammy. Never thought Ah'd see it."

Sam hugged her father back. "Oh, he is Pa. He is." She grinned at her fiancee. "An' now y'see where Ah git mah sense o' humor from, don'tcha?"
 
Erik made a little 'oof!' and awkwardly hugged Adelita back when she hugged him. His immediate family was, obviously, a bit more formal, and while the family they would be seeing at the end of the week was generally warmer they still maintained a small amount of formality with strangers. It was weird to be immediately greeted with warm hugs and loud talking. His telegram to his mother about Sam's condition, after all (since they wouldn't have been able to hide it), had been met with stony silence.

"Mucho gusto," he returned, still caught in the hug and looking over Adelita's shoulder to Sam for help. Not that the woman wasn't nice or anything, he simply just didn't know what to do. "No ha habido neces--"

"What th' bloody hell is this?" An old man who looked as rocky and unforgiving as the landscape around them turned his icy blue eyes to Erik. Adelita finally let him go but still had an arm around his shoulders when she confirmed that this was indeed the man who had impregnated Pa's daughter. Erik couldn't help but take a step or two backwards in preparation to run...when he threw down his shotgun and wrung his hand cordially.

"Ja I um..." He cleared his throat. "I see." He wasn't sure his heart would survive too many more jokes like that. "It's a great honor to finally meet you, Mister...er...Pa." Erik smiled weakly. "I've heard so much about you, and I've been wanting to meet you before the wedding."
 
“Well, don’t jes’ stand here a-jawin’,” Pa declared, clapping Erik on the back and pulling Sam in not a bear hug. “When y’all graphed sayin’ y’d be here today, Adelina decided ta whip us up somethin’ special. Empanadas an’ tamales an’ pork stew wit’ corn an’ rice, an’ even a cake Ah reckon.”

Sam went to grab her suitcase, then spent a moment wrestling with her father as he tried to carry it himself. Finally, rolling her eyes, she relented. “All sounds good. Erik cain’t ave th’ stew, though. He’s kosher.”

“Shee-it, girl,” spa declared. “What you got in this thing? Weighs like a million pounds. An’ kosher? Ah thought yer fellah was a kraut?”

Sam took Erik’s arm and followed her dad towards the house. “Naw, lemme explain. He cain’t eat no pork or shellfish, or... uhm... bugs? Ah think. An’ buzza dscan’ th’ like.”

Pa Cavendish looked back quizzically. “You sick, Erik? Ah mean, Ah wouldn’t eat no damn buzzard mahself, but...”

Sam sighed. “He’s Jewish, pa.”

“Huh. Well, ta each their own. Come on in, y’all kin leave yer bags in th’ hall.” He pushed the door open, revealing a small entry y’all of whitewashed wood. Sam’s bag clunked as he dropped it by a in cabinet. “Had Billy move a spare bed inta yer old room, Sammy, an’ Adeline put up some drapes an’ th’ like.”

“Drapes?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“Ta block th’ light, so’s y’all kin sleep.” He grinned deviously at Erik. “If’n Sammy takes after her ma, y’ain’t gonna get much sleep tonight anyhow.”

“Pa!” Sam snapped, shocked.

“Don’t you ‘pa’ me, girl!” he cackled. “How else d’yeh reckon y’had yerself seven brothers, girl?” Motioning for them to follow, he headed for the kitchen. “C’mon, Ah’m thirsty. Kin y’have a beer, Erik? Don’t think th’ Good Book ferbids that.”
 
Erik winced in preparation for the blowback when Sam informed her Pa that he was Jewish, but there was none. She herself had obviously not cared, and that had to come from somewhere, but clearly the views of the child didn't always follow that of the parent. He released the tension in his shoulders as they entered the house and he set his own suitcase next to Sam's in the hallway. When Pa mentioned that he wasn't likely to be getting much sleep on account of Sam, he blushed from his neck up to his hairline. It was mortifying enough to have it mentioned amongst friends, but coming from her father...!

"Er...ja, I can have a beer," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly and following Pa into the kitchen. He was sure God would understand if it wasn't kosher, and though moderation was part of the dogma it wasn't exactly like he'd be going on a bender. The kitchen was full of all sorts of
strange and wonderful smells while Adelita puttered about. Once he had his beer he sat down at the kitchen table with his soon-to-be father-in-law, casting about for something, anything, they might possibly have in common apart from a deep and abiding love for the woman who sat between them.

"So Pa," he said at last, taking a sip from the bottle, "did Sam always want to be a Ranger, or are there secret hopes of becoming a ballerina I don't know about?" He smiled and gently nudged Sam. A little bit of embarrassment at the expense of a mutual acquaintance, he found, usually helped break the ice.
 
"Oh, Ah reckon there was a time when Sam wanted ta be a pretty fairy princess," Bill replied.

"Dad!" Sam protested, cracking open her own bottle of beer. She'd be sticking to water and sodas for the rest of the night, on account of the baby, but her pa brewed some damn good beer and there wasn't any way she'd visit home and not have one at least.

"Hear that, boy?" he laughed, punching Erik in the shoulder. "Ah done hit a nerve, her callin' me 'dad' insteada 'pa'." He swigged downt he bottle. "Ah used ta read her fairy stories - that an' th' Bible, and that ain't hardly bedtime stories - an' she ate 'em up." Another swallow. "Don't get me wrong, mah girl learned how ta wrassle an' ride an' shoot, same as mah boys. Her poor sainted ma'd come back from Heaven an' kicked mah ass ifn' ah didn't. But she had her a softer side, too. Had herself a little doll, an' sewed a little white dress fer it, an' gave it a sword."

"A spear," Sam mumbled, looking embarrassed. "Lady Aurianna had a spear."

"Right. A spear." He shook his head. "Used ta drag that li'l doll everywhere, an' tell stories 'bout fightin' monsters. Wore more dresses, then. Then it all stopped overnight."

"Ah was growin' up, pa," Sam said softly, looking out the window.

"Yep. That you was." He glanced out the window as well, staring at the barn. "Funny thing, though. Round 'bout that time, Ah found what looked like pieces o' bone in th' hog pen." Keen blue eyes, like Sam's, caught the whitening of Sam's knuckles and the worried crease around Erik's eyes. "Big pieces."

"Did you?" Sam said, voice a little strained.

"Yep. Ah reckon some varmint got in there, an' the hogs done cleaned it up after mah girl done put it down." He took another swallow of beer. "Sam started wantin' ta be a Ranger, after that. But maybe, just maybe," he grinned, "Lady Aurianna was the start of that. Ain't too mucha difference between bein' a fairy princess knight an' a Ranger, really." He let the silence linger for a moment, then tapped his bottle against Erik's. "What about you, son? Sam don't talk 'bout her work much in her letters home, but Ah reckon yer some kinda secret agent? How's a German Jew get tangled up wit' mah Tejas fairy princess, anyhow?"
 
Erik laughed and rubbed his shoulder where Pa had punched it. "I just can't picture fairy princess Sam," he admitted with a chuckle, beginning to relax as Pa elaborated. He couldn't keep a wry smile from his lips when Sam corrected that her doll, Lady Aurianna, had had a spear. She'd talked about this doll briefly at Christmas, but it was quite another thing to hear more stories about it from a third party. The smile fell when Pa mentioned that the doll and the dresses had stopped overnight.

Sam had told him about her assault, about the man who had tried to force himself on a twelve-year-old girl. It had made Erik physically ill to think about. When Pa mentioned that he'd found big pieces of bone in the hog pen, Erik's eyes narrowed slightly with concern behind his pinc-nez and he looked sideways at Sam. His hand found hers and squeezed it gently when she found her voice enough to respond. To his relief Pa dropped it and changed the subject, though he exchanged a glance with Sam, wondering if she knew that he'd known.

"We met through work," he said, taking a sip from his bottle but still holding Sam's hand with his free one. "I'm an engineer by trade, a linguist by hobby, and the combination caught the eye of our de-facto leader. His family and mine have had a business partnership for nearly half a century, so he wasn't a complete stranger when he suggested I put my skills to better use than steel manufacturing." He shrugged. "I'm not certain I'd classify myself as a secret agent. We're more like...an international task force." He wasn't sure how much Sam had told her father about their work, nor how much they were allowed to say. Ongoing cases were automatically classified as top-secret, but when it came to describing the general nature of their work he was never quite sure. "Of course I'll be taking over the family business once my father retires, but it mostly runs itself when I'm away for the Society."
 
“Steel business, hey?” Pa Cavendish swigged from his bottle. “You, what? Design ships? Or, Ah dunno, trains?”

“Engines, Pa,” Sam interjected, wanting to brag on Erik a little. “He helped design some o’ th’ German aero ship engines. He’s damn smart he is.” She sipped her own beer. “An’ handsome, an’ rich, too. Didn’t find that last part out until well after we’d been goin’ out.”

“Rich, huh?” Pa looked him over, then hooted and slapped his knee. “Mah little Sammy’s goin’ be a Society lady!”

“Doña Samantha Cavendish,” Sam agreed, joining in. “Of the Dallas Cavendishes. Quite a delight to meet you, sub.”

Her father laughed again. “Hell. Y’even sound like one.”

“I had elocution lessons,” she explained, adopting a haughty air for a moment. “As part of an undercover assignment, which called upon me to mingle with polite society in Berlin.”

Chuckling, her father shook his head. “Well ain’t that somethin’. Ah’m happy fer yeh, Sammy. Don’ envy ou non though, Erik. Mah little girl’s a firebrand, jes’ like her ma.” He considered that for a moment, staring into the mouth of his bottle. “Course, Ah reckon yeh like that - wouldn’t hardly be able to put up wit’ her none, otherwise. Would you?”

“Pa!” Sam protested, voice ce full of mock outrage.

“Hush, girl. It’s what Ah liked ‘bout yer ma, ain’t it?” He smiled wistfully. “Maggie could outdrink, outfight, an’ outride me any day o’ th’ week an’ twice on Sunday. Hell, she damn near started a riot, first day Ah met her.”
 
Erik opened his mouth to answer, but Sam put in that he designed engines. This was true, but it wasn't how his family had made their money. Thankfully, Pa didn't seem to mind his little girl marrying a rich man. He knew that some would think that he thought he was better than them by virtue of his wealth. He smiled when Pa laughed and slapped his knee.

"I do design engines," he admitted, "but it helps that my family owns more than thirty percent of all the steel in Germany." Sam told him about their mission in Berlin, and he tried not to look too suspicious when she mentioned her elocution lessons. Instead he pulled her to him and kissed her temple when Pa mentioned that he wouldn't have been able to put up with her if she weren't a firebrand. "She's done more good for me than I can express," he confirmed with a smile.

Pa talked about Sam's mother and Erik smiled. He'd heard the story of how they had met, but figured that Pa Cavendish wouldn't mind telling the stranger. "A riot?" he grinned. "Apart from Sam being Sam, how does one woman start a riot?"
 
“Oh, Ah know that story,” Sam laughed. “A coupla muleskinners was bein’ a mite rude ta ma, an’ she weren’t havin’ it!” She laughed, leaning into Erik’s embrace a little more. “So she decked one, an’ then his buddy fer good measure. But their team got uppity, an’ things got a little outta hand.”

“More or less,” Pa Cavendish agreed. “They’s a bit more ta th’ story, though. Things Ah didn’t reckon Ah needed ta be tellin’ kids.”

“Really?” Sam perked up at that. “Well, Ah ain’t no little girl now, so start talkin’.”

“Well...”. Pa drained his bottle. “See, this was back before th’ Martians. Hell, Tejas was still part o’ th’ Union then. Ah’ jes’ gotten ta El Paso, at th’ end o’ a cattle drive, an’ hit th’ saloon.” There was a pop and a hiss as he opened his second bottle. “Now, Ah missed th’ first part, but yer ma said she’d been chattin’ up one o’ th’ saloon gals when a couple o’ muleskinners approached both of them.”

Sam leaned forward. “‘Approached’?” She considered that, licking her lips nervously. “... she, uhm, She wasn’t....”

“A whore?” Pa Cavendish shrugged. “Not that she ever told me. Wouldn’t bother me none if’n she had been, but she never said.” He met his daughter’s eyes squarely. “An’ if she was, it shouldn’t bother you none neither.” He grinned. “But she was, well, a whole lot like you. Dressed like a man, which was a whole lot less normal back then. An’, she said one o' th’ skinners was a rude sumbitch ta her an’ her friend. So, she broke his jaw." He grinned. "Had a mean right hook, yer ma."

"Then what?" Sam asked, suddenly eager to hear more about her mother.

"Well, th' skinner's pals didn't take none too kindly to that, an' commenced ta makin' threats." He grimaced. "Y'kin guess th' kinda threats a group o' men'd make ta a lone woman. That's when Ah figured Ah'd step in an' introduce mahself." A cackle. "Ah didn't hit anywhere near as hard as yer ma, but Ah was carryin' me an' axe handle, laid one o' them rude sumbitches right out."

Sam nodded at that. "Sounds fair. But, what about th' riot?"

"Well," Pa said, "things got a mite frisky when Ah bushwacked mah man. Sent him into a card table an' upset th' whole damn thing."
 
The Cavendishes seemed rather more...liberal about gender roles than Erik was used to. It wasn't a wonder, really, that Sam had turned out the way she had. Not that he was complaining at all, just that usually the families of women like her tended to complain about it rather than celebrating it. Ma Cavendish sounded like a force to be reckoned with, much like her daughter. She probably would have been as immensely proud of Sam as Erik was.

"And I'm sure one man landed a punch on the wrong man," Erik filled in with a chuckle. "It sounds like something out of a moving picture. That's one hell of a way to meet your wife, sir." He finished his beer, but declined another. God would forgive one, but two was probably pushing it and he didn't expect Pa to understand the rules of kosher food and drink without instruction as in-depth as he'd given Sam.

"So did she help out on the farm?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and sliding an arm around Sam. "Or was she like Samantha and insist on forging her own path?" Erik squeezed her affectionately, indicating that he really didn't mind that she forged her own path. It was one of the things he liked about her.
 
"Oh, she kinda believed in doin' her own thing. At first, at least. We knocked about fer a while, doin' this an' that an' th' other. A touch o' prospectin', we robbed some bandits-"

"You did what?" Sam demanded, leaning forward. "Ah never heard y'all was..."

"We weren't criminals!" Pa snapped back, a touch defensively. "Ain't no crime, stealin' from thieves. Not really. Now you hush, girl." He sipped his beer. "Even tried ta go into business, once. It didn't work out. Th' farm didn't happen until after Jimmy was born, an' we decided ta get hitched all legal-like an' settle down."

"Bandits," Sam snorted, settling back and crossing her arms. "Y'all was robbin' folk."

"We was robbin' bandits!" Pa exclaimed, pointing at her with the bottle. "We gave stuff back, when we could figure out who it belonged to!" He sipped at his beer and glanced from Sam to Erik. "So, y'all gettin' hitched before mah granbabby's born? Or after?"
 
Erik's eyebrows shot up when Pa talked about robbing bandits in what sounded like a Robin Hood-style scheme. Mentions of prospecting and business...he had always figured that Pa had inherited the farm from his father and settled down quickly, the way most people did. Hadn't he learned by now not to underestimate a Cavendish? He smiled and patted Sam's shoulder reassuringly when she seemed to take issue with her parents robbing bandits. What he wouldn't give for Ma Cavendish to be at this table with them to recount stories of their days before their children. Then again, if Ma had been around perhaps he never would have met Sam. It was funny how things worked out in a cause-and-effect sort of way.

"Before," Erik answered, twisting his engagement ring around his left ring finger. "The wedding is in a few weeks anyway, and May is traditionally a desirable time for German weddings. Samantha isn't showing that much yet; we can just find a tailor to let her dress out a little." He smiled at her, squeezing her shoulder again, still unable to believe that they were getting married in three weeks! "My mother isn't terribly happy about it, but if she's so opposed she doesn't have to attend. Speaking of the wedding, though..."

He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. "We've got a friend who's offered to bring you and your sons to the wedding. I wanted to ensure you would feel comfortable traveling with pirates, but something tells me it shouldn't be a problem." He smiled wryly.
 
“Yer ma don’t approve?” Pa repeated, sounding surprised. “Why th’ hell not? Ah done been tickl d ta death, every time one o’ mah kids done got hitched.”

“That’s because she’s a...” Sam began in a fit of temper, before glancing sidelong at Erk. Her voice was calms and a bit strained as she continued. “Ah mean, it seem my future mother-in-Law disapproves of me.”

Pa looked at her curiously, and Adelina chuckled as she set a platter of food in the center of the table. “¿Que no te gusta ella mucho, Samantha?” Joining them, she opened her own bottle and picked up a tamale. “Dar tiempo al tiempo. Mi madre desaprobó de Guillermo cuando primero nos casamos, pero caro lo vive ahora.”

“Yeah, Maybe,” Sam scowled. “But...”

“She don’t like yer job?” pa guessed. “Or th’ way y’dress? Or,” he looked apologetically at Erik before continuing. “Maybe she thinks yer a gold digger?”

“But o’ all that, Ah reckon,” was Sam’s sour reply. “She ain’t too wild ‘bout me gettin pregnant before th’ weddin’, neither.”

“Reckoned that might be th’ case. Y’hes’ remember, Sammy. Yer fellah ain’t fussed ‘bout it, an’ you ain’t fussed ‘bout it, so give it time. Ah reckon rich Kr...”. He cleared his throat. “Rich folks in Germany jes’ do things different, is all. An’ speakin’ o’ Germany..?” He glanced at Erik again.

Erik seemed grateful to change the subject. “Speaking of the wedding, though...” he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "We've got a friend who's offered to bring you and your sons to the wedding. I wanted to ensure you would feel comfortable traveling with pirates, but something tells me it shouldn't be a problem." He smiled wryly.

“Pirates, Hey?” Pa laughed. “Long as Ah ain’t gotta rob ‘em, we should get along jes’ fine.”
 
"All of that, really, along with no woman being good enough for me," Erik said with a dismissive shrug. Pa gave Sam good advice, but Erik arched his eyebrow when he began to call him a Kraut. It disturbed him that casual slurs were something Pa Cavendish allowed and even perpetrated in his home, but he wasn't going to make a big deal of it. The man had caught himself, and had thus far been welcoming.

He was relieved, however, for the change of topic. For all her faults he still did love his mother, and as much as they had butt heads on the topic of Samantha and as many words as they had had over it, he still didn't like listening to someone else disparaging her. Erik happily floated the idea of Kieran accompanying Pa and his sons to the wedding, and it didn't surprise him in the least that he agreed.

"Knowing Kieran, he might actually hold someone over while you're aboard," he admitted with a chuckle. "But he's a good enough person I don't think he'd intentionally put you in harm's way."
 
“Do Ah hear mah baby sister in there?” a deep voice boomed from the hall. It was followed by a stocky, bearded man in dungarees and a denim coat. “C’mere, Sam!” he boomed, throwing his arms wide.

Sam made a noise of delight and lept to her feet to be gathered into a bear hug. “Not so much a baby,” she laughed. “Not by a long shot.”

The big man squeezed her again, then stared down at Erik with hard eyes. “An’ is this th’ sumbitch that...”

“Ah already pulled that gag, Billy,” Pa interrupted.

“What? No...” Billy complained.

“Yep,” Sam snickered. “Had him a shotgun an’ everythin’ - whole lot more convincing than you.”

Billy disengaged. “Ah kin make convincin’ threats!” he protested, sounding hurt. Then he seized Erik’s hand and shook it vigorously. “Put ‘er there, sir. Big Billy Cavendish, Sam’s mean...”

“Yer a big o’ teddy bear,” Sam laughed.

“Sam’s big, mean brother,” he continued with a voice full of patience.

“Bart’s meaner’n you,” Sam countered.

Billy sighed. “Ah’m stuck wit’ her,” he said, looking at Erik seriously. “Y’all gotta chance ta escape, though - OW!” The last came asSam slapped him in the back of the head.
 
Big Billy was, indeed, big. Enormous, in fact, and when Pa interrupted to tell him he'd already pranked him once, Erik tried not to let on that Big Billy didn't need a shotgun for him to have believed it again. His mere size and expression had been enough for Erik to tense up, prepared for a blow. When instead he insisted that he could be convincingly mean then seized his hand, his laugh turned into a small noise of distress as Billy shook not just his hand but his whole arm.

"Sorry Billy, I'm afraid I am determined to make an honest woman of your sister," he returned with a grin. "Besides, I imagine even if I wanted to back out now none of you would need to act convincing as you tore me limb from limb."
 
“Shit, Erik - Ah kin call yeh Erik, right?” Billy popped open a beer and took a seat. “Y’done got me all wrong. Ah wouldn’t lay a hand on yeh.”

“Really?” Sam asked, lifting a skeptical eyebrow.

“Really.” Billy drained half the bottle and set it down with a thud. “Reckon you’d beat his brains out, long before Ah had a shot.”



Word of Sam’s visit had clearly spread, because by nightfall the farmhouse was packed with her brothers and sisters-in-law and nieces and nephews. All of them, in one fashion or another, expressed a form of pleased incredulity as they met Erik. Clearly, none of them had ever expected to see their little sister interested in a man or getting married. All of them enthusiastically congratulated her though, and jokingly offered Erik their congratulations before peppering him with questions.

Eventually the women chased the men out of the kitchen before dragging Sam back in. Snippets of rapid fire Spanish wafted out with the scents of cooking meat and beans and vegetables, demanding incredibly personal details and offering intimate advice about men. The husbands, meanwhile, smoked and chewed and talked about weather and crops and livestock in between even more questions about what Erik did.

Dinner was a raucous affair, with people sitting wherever they could and tucking my into platters of meat and beans and rice and tortillas. Intermittently Sam would steer Erik away from certain dishes with a whispered “ain’t even sorta kosher”. Finally, pleading a need for a little fresh air, she grabbed his hand and navigated between bodies and feet until she made it out onto the porch. Inhaling a deep breath of the cool evening air, she let it out slowly. “So,” she grinned, hugging him. “Y’done met mah family.” Smiling, she leaned close and kissed him. “Still got time ta escape, y’know.”
 
Sam's family was...large. His extended family was large, but as an only child he was used to quiet family dinners with quiet conversation at a large table and the slow tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway occasionally pushing itself into the conversation. Large, loud gatherings like this were often for a special occasion--parties and weddings and the like--and were always held in much larger venues than the Cavendish kitchen. He finally understood why this way of serving food was called "family style" in North America.

Speaking of food, he'd never had such a nightmare trying to navigate a meal. He was used to large gatherings such as this being mostly Jewish affairs, or at the very least with kosher considerations for guests. Some dishes he would have to examine closely before concluding that it was probably kosher, while others which looked innocuous enough would be met with Sam's hand on his arm and a quiet warning. It occurred to him that they likely cooked with a fair amount of lard, and he finally settled on filling a tortilla with some rice and ostensibly pulled chicken...before scraping the contents dejectedly onto his plate and relinquishing the tortilla to Sam when she pointed out that that, too, was cooked with lard.

Finally Sam mentioned fresh air and pulled him outside. Erik ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep, cleansing breath away from the heavy air of delicious food smells and tobacco smoke. He'd had a cigar, just to fit in, but the others had kept smoking when he had no stomach for it. He relaxed his muscles and wrapped his arms around her shoulders when she hugged him, glad for a little time alone together.

"They're wonderful, Schatze," Erik replied with a smile, kissing the top of her head. "I'll just have to learn a bit more about cattle and farming. And ah...I'm afraid you'll be disappointed if you were planning on a big family. I think perhaps we should stop at three, ja?"
 
“Stop at three, huh?” Sam laughed, leaning into his embrace. “Ah dunno, Erik -after all it ain’t like Ah even planned on havin’ one till Ah met you. Reckoned Ah’d jes’ be a cranky ol’ spinster wit’ a whole lotta nieces an’ nephews.” Smiling, she kissed him back. “Three’ll probably be fine. Long as y’an’t stintin’ on keepin’ me satisfied.”

Something whined and screeched inside, causing her to groan in dismay as whoops and shouts echoed out. “Gawd,” she groaned, “Chuck done brought his damn fiddle. Guess hopin’ someone busted th’ thing was too much ch ta hope fer.” A tune began screeching out, accompanied by stomping and clapping. “C’mon,” she decided, tugging at his hand as she stepped off the porch into the velvet darkness. “Lemme show you round. Ah promise you that lookin’ at some cows’ll be more fun’n listenin’ ta him was away.”

Still clutching his hand, she led the way into the night. As her eyes adjusted, the gibbous moon and the shining path of the Milky Way provided enough light for her to navigate by. “Really ain’t that much ta see, really,” She laughed. “Not unless y’really want me ta learn you ‘bout cows. But Ah’m serious when Ah say Chuck’s bad. Jes, well, everyone else’s worse, so they reckon he’s good. If’n that makes a lick o’ sense.” She pointed off into the darkness. “Barn’s that way. Let’s go.”
 
"Stinting?" Erik did his best to look offended. "My dearest love, I thought we were beyond that tired old 'stingy Jew' stereotype." He chuckled warmly and leaned down to kiss her again, but was interrupted by what sounded like a cat being gleefully tortured by the inhabitants. Apparently it was supposed to have been a fiddle, but he couldn't for the life of him parse out any recognizable notes from the ensuing cacophonous racket. Gladly he let Sam take his hand and lead him into the night, even if he hadn't had his heart particularly set on learning more about cattle tonight.

"Oh it makes a sort of sense," he agreed when she explained. "Not any sort of good sense, but sense nonetheless." He smiled into the dark, squeezing her hand and following her across the unfamiliar farm. "The barn?" He arched an eyebrow wryly. "My darling Samantha if I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to lure me off to take advantage of me. I've read about these sorts of things, you know..."
 
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