She stood with her back against the gate, her pale dress swaying slightly with the evening breeze. It was dark, but the moon was full and lanterns were hanging from the edge of the wall. She was waiting for him.

        He arrived soon after, panting. "Sorry, I was running late," he told her with something of an uneasy grin.

        "It’s alright," she said, returning the smile.

        "So what did you want to talk about?"

        She looked at the ground beneath her feet. Her toes peeked out from white sandals. She wondered how to put what she wanted to say. "Jon, are you leaving tomorrow?" She supposed being straightforward couldn’t hurt at this point.

        He froze, eyes wide and staring at her. "I… um…"

        She looked back up at him. "You were running late because you’re packing, right?"

        It was his turn to look down. "You’re right, Milly. I’m sorry."

        "Sorry for what?"

        "For not telling you. I just didn’t want to say goodbye. Not to you."

        She smiled again. "It’s alright, Jon. I understand. You have to follow your dreams. I have no right to stop you. You've wanted to join the Navy since we were kids."

        "Milly, I’m so glad you understand!" He wrapped his arms around her in a very quick hug, releasing her after only a moment. Milly felt something twist in her heart as he pulled away, but she smiled again.

        "Goodbye, Jon."

        He nodded to her and turned to go back, then paused and looked over his shoulder at her. "I’ll come back. I promise I will, so… wait for me."

        Tears were beginning to form in her eyes, but she forced them back. She couldn’t let him see her crying. "I will. I’ll wait for you."

        She was dashing about through the main hall carrying a tray of glasses filled with wine when she nearly collided with her butler Harold. He took the tray from her carefully. "Miss Millicent! Please leave that to me. You’re sloshing out all the wine!"

        She bowed her head slightly. "I’m sorry, but there are so many people! I have to hurry," and with that she disappeared into a crowd of villagers, all friends and neighbors.

        Someone took a glass from her tray and grinned at her. "Congratulations, Milly!" This elicited several more rounds of congratulations from the people around her, and she returned all their smiles, blushing slightly at the attention.

        She worked her way out of the crowd and back over to Harold. "It’s a problem, isn’t it?" she asked him.

        "Yes, that was our last bottle. Shall we tap into your father’s collection?"

        "Let’s go," she said brightly, taking his arm and walking with him down the stairs to the wine cellar. It was a large room, with many different types of wine, all rather expensive. She browsed around, searching for the least rare bottle, one that wouldn’t be too sorely missed. One small bottle on the top shelf caught her eye, and she reached up to pull it out. Oh, she thought it’s that one. She pulled it all the way out and held it in her hands, staring at the label.

        Harold noticed this, and stopped his own search to stand by her. "That’s the one you were saving back, isn’t it?"

        She nodded. "It’s for Jon’s homecoming party."

        Harold looked at the bottle fondly. "I remember my horror the day I walked into your room and caught you showing him different bottles of your father’s wine. I thought you were drinking them!"

She laughed. "When I mentioned my father’s wine cellar, he was so curious about the collection that I brought ten bottles to my window to show him. And of all the fancy bottles, this small one, with the ordinary label, was the one he most loved. He said ‘This one must be delicious, because the bottle is so simple. It doesn’t have to sell itself with a label.’ And I decided that day, that someday he and I would drink it together."

        Harold’s brows knitted together slowly. "But, Miss Millicent, it’s been eight years now. Do you still think he’s coming back?"

        Milly looked at him sharply. "Of course I do. He made a promise."

        Harold took the bottle from her and replaced it in the shelf. "Then we’ll keep it safely here until his return."

        Milly thanked him and the two of them returned to the main hall with two more bottles of wine. The villagers cheered at their entrance, holding up glasses to signal that they were ready for more wine. Milly started into the kitchen before Harold stopped her. "I’ll take care of it, Miss Millicent. Go enjoy yourself, this is your party after all."

        Milly smiled and took his advice, walking over to the crowd again. More and more people were congratulating her. "Thank you," she said, so many times that she felt like a broken record. But she really was grateful that they all cared so much.

        One of the villagers spoke up loudly, "So when are you gonna be taking over for Doctor Haysi?"

        Milly looked over to him. "Oh, I’m just going to be his assistant for now. I’ve just finished my schooling, but I need more experience before I can be a full-time doctor."

        An elderly man in the corner raised his glass to her. "Don’t worry, Millicent. I’ll be retiring in a couple of years and there’s no one else I’d rather see replace me!"

        Everyone laughed. Everyone was happy and smiling. Milly too. And then a man approached her. Duncan, the boy who had went to the same medical school, just off the coast of the island. Though he had become a dentist, they spent many days together learning the basics. "Congratulations, Milly."

        She thanked him, and took a glass of wine from a tray Harold was carrying by.

        "You look so vibrant tonight. I’m really happy for you."

        She blushed a little and took a sip of wine. "I’m happy for you too. You have a great career ahead of you."

        He placed one hand lightly on her shoulder. "I was wondering if maybe you’d like to have dinner with me sometime?"

        Milly suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "Well, I’m awfully busy now with my work. Maybe another time."

        Duncan sighed, smiled, and walked away. Milly felt nervous, and retreated to the kitchen.

        Milly’s chest was burning. She rolled over in her bed, grasping a bottle of pills from her nightstand. She flipped the cap off and poured out three in the palm of her hand, one too many, but that didn’t matter. She shoved them into her mouth and reached for a glass of water. There was none. She panicked and began trying to swallow. The pills were dry and stiff in her throat.

        Harold opened the door to her room, rushing in with a glass. "Here, Miss Millicent! Drink this!"

        She snatched the glass from his hands and downed the liquid, only realizing after swallowing that it wasn’t water. "… Tomato juice?"

        Harold looked uneasy. "Miss Millicent, you’re taking too many pills. You’re not eating enough. You need some nutrition. You above all people should know better."

        She threw the glass across the room, and it shattered into a thousand pieces against the wall. "I don’t care! I have to take these pills, Harold! My chest is burning!"

        Harold took a step back from her bed. "Miss Millicent, please… you have to take care of yourself."

        Milly collapsed onto her stomach on the bed. "I’m sorry, Harold. I’m so, so sorry. It just hurts so bad, and the pills are the only things that make the pain go away."

        "Did you talk to Doctor Haysi about it?"

        She shook her head against the pillow. "He’s retired now, Harold. I’d be ashamed to ask him."

        "But he’s a brilliant doctor! And doctors aren’t supposed to treat themselves anyway! Please speak with him!"

        Milly raised her head up. "I’m sure it’s just arthritis. It’s common in women to have it in the chest area, and I had it in my legs when I was younger, because I stayed in bed so much with my illness."

        Harold gave her a dark look. "You’re just trying to put me at ease. You can’t take risks with your health, Miss Millicent! Now if you don’t agree to talk to Doctor Haysi, I’ll talk to him myself!"

        Milly started to protest, but sighed, falling back down against the pillow. Harold was worried about her, and she had become angry with him. It wasn’t fair. "I’m sorry."

He sat down on the edge of her bed. "You already said that. I can’t accept your apology until you talk to Doctor Haysi. Alright?"

        She finally nodded. "I’ll visit him tomorrow."

        Harold smiled then placed his hand on her back, rubbing along her shoulder blades. "When you were a child, you always asked me to rub your back. And I was always happy to do so. Miss Millicent, I’ve always thought of you as a daughter. And I always hoped… that someday… you would think of me as a father."

Milly raised up again. "Oh, Harold, I’ve always thought of you as a father!" She hugged him tightly, and he stroked her hair.

        "Please don’t worry, Miss Millicent. He’ll come back someday."

        Milly’s eyes widened. "What?"

        "I know you’ve been worried about him. You pulled out that old photo of him again yesterday. You said it yourself, he made a promise. He’ll be back."

        Milly rested her head against his shoulder. "I know, Harold. I still believe in him. But it’s so hard sometimes. I watch out my window every day for a naval ship. Maybe he's a captain by now. Maybe he has his own ship. It’s been so long, ten years now. I wonder what he's doing."

        Harold patted her head. "He's probably having great adventures, wonderful experiences that he will tell you all about when he gets back."

        Milly smiled against the fabric of his shirt. "Yes, that will be so great… when he gets back."

        She stared out her window again. How many times had she stood there, praying to see a familiar navy flag? But she would do it again tomorrow, and the next day, and forever. She told him she would wait for him, and she intended to keep her word.

        And so it was with shock and joy that she spotted a ship coming from the west with a large, dark flag swaying in the wind. It was unbelievable, and yet, she somehow realized that she had never stopped believing in the first place. She always knew he would return, deep down in her heart.

        She called for Harold, happily alerted him of the news, and rushed down the stairs, out of her manor and down through the village. Her heart was pounding, her chest was burning furiously, but she ran all the way to the shore line. It was evening, and the darkening sky did little to help her view. The ship was still quite far off, and it would be at least an hour before it reached the shore. She sat down on the beach, her skirt pulled down over her knees. Her eyes were large and bright, tears beginning to form again.

        She wondered what he looked like now. Was his hair still long, or had he cut it short? Was he taller now? What new stories would he tell? The questions were eating away at her brain.

        The sky became darker. The moon was half full, and there weren’t many stars out. She squinted, trying to see the ship. Finally her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she caught site of it. It definitely wasn’t the ship he left on. She still remembered the ache of watching it disappear into the horizon. Of course, in eleven years he had no doubt changed ships.

        She stood up, preparing to greet them. But as the ship docked and men came pouring off the sides of the deck, she realized that something silver was glimmering in all of their hands.

Swords.

        They were carrying swords.

        Horror swept over her. This wasn’t Jon’s ship. This was a pirate ship. This wasn't the man she had waited so long for, these were villains, robbers, possibly even murderers. She had to alert the village, she had to warn them. She took off running toward the forest, hoping to use a shortcut. She became aware while running that three of the men were running after her, probably to silence her.

        She was breathing hard, clutching her chest. It was absolutely on fire. She needed her pills, but she couldn’t even let herself stop for a moment to take a breath. They were right on her heels, and countless more were heading for the village. This was Jon’s village, his home. He loved it so much, and had left it in her care. How could she let this happen?

        She suddenly felt as if a knife had dug into her heart, and fell over in agony. Oh no… it wasn’t arthritis… it’s my… heart. She crawled around on the ground, trying to grab hold of something, anything, to pull herself back up. It felt like she had lost control of her limbs. Her arms and legs didn’t do what she commanded. She could hear rugged footsteps getting louder, closer. No.

        She finally reached a tree and grabbed hold of it to stand up. She started to take off again when someone grabbed her arm from behind. "Hold it right there!" a deep voice yelled, pulling her violently back toward him.

        She struggled, fighting and pulling to escape. No! "Let go!" she cried, hitting him in the face with her free hand as hard as she could. For a brief moment, the pirate was startled by her action and his grip loosened. She slipped free, and lunged forward, toward the village. It took her at least half a second to realize something was wrong. My hand… She glanced down at the hand the pirate had been gripping, only to see that it was no longer there. Her left hand had been severed completely off, almost up to the elbow. In his desperation to stop her, he had sliced it off with his sword.

        Blood gushed freely from the wound. Milly was no stranger to blood, she had seen it pour from many people over the years, though she seldom saw such serious injuries. The doctor in her thought, I have to stop the bleeding. If I don’t, I’ll bleed to death. Her mind was foggy and confused, but she absently tried to tear some cloth from her skirt. I have to live. I have to wait for him.

        She wasn’t doing a very good job of creating a make-shift bandage with one hand, and the blood-loss was beginning to make her weak. I have to live. She stood up again, deciding that getting to the village and finding help was her only option. The pirates behind her had paused, assuming she was no longer able to run, but when they saw her take off again, they gave chase.

        She was slower this time, barely jogging, and the pirates caught up with her easily, grabbing her and tossing her onto the ground. "Stay down, you little bitch!"

        She was still for a few moments, clutching her chest with the only hand she had left. The pain was unbearable, far worse than her gaping wound. She was so tired, so exhausted. She wanted to go to sleep.

        No! I have to wait for him!

        She dragged herself to her feet again, stumbling until she fell over against one of the pirates. She looked up at him, and for a moment, he almost looked like Jon. Young and tan, with dark straight hair, but he didn’t have Jon's eyes, or his bright, happy smile. He looked upset, not angry, but almost worried. "Please, miss, stay down!" He shoved her to the ground again.

        Another pirate, the one with the rough voice who had sliced off her hand, kicked her hard in the stomach, but she didn’t have the energy to scream. Instead a low, painful moan escaped her. Blood from her arm had splattered across her white dress and drops had flown onto her pale face. She was struggling to breathe, struggling through the pain.

        "Hey," the younger pirate who resembled Jon said, "she’s down already! You don’t have to kick her!"

        The older pirate sneered at him, but made no other response. Milly writhed on the ground, gasping and shuddering. The blood was so warm on her cold skin, it almost felt good, if not for the searing pain in her chest and arm. She wanted to close her eyes, but she held them open. I have to wait for him! She somehow found the strength to raise up again.

        The older pirate laughed. "See? That one’s strong-willed. Only way to keep her down is to kill her!"

        The younger pirate narrowed his eyes. "Just stop. You can’t make it to the village. We’ll let you live if you just stop."

        "You think she’ll live anyway?" the other pirate asked, "She’ll bleed to death in few minutes. Look at her, she’s suffering. If you’re really so moral, why don’t you put her out of her misery?"

Milly was still sitting up, staring at the pirates. The younger one pulled out his sword. "I’m sorry, but if you had just stayed still…" He shook his head, then made a swift slicing motion with his sword. Milly looked down and saw that he had cut a narrow but deep path diagonally across her chest. Blood sprayed out, and more began to ooze from her mouth. It drizzled down her chin, mingling with the rest of it. Tears were pouring down her face. "No… I…"

        The younger pirate looked frustrated. "Just die!" he screamed.

        Milly was still sitting up, though how, even she didn’t know. It was a fatal wound, and she was well aware of that. "I can’t… I have to wait for him!" Blood squirted from her mouth as she spoke and her chest continued to burn. She was overtaken by the sudden desire to rip open the wound and allow that horrible pain to escape from her chest. But somehow in her barely conscious mind, she knew that wouldn’t help.

        Her eyes became wide, and in the distance, it looked as if the sun were rising. How odd… the sun is rising early. She blinked twice, and the light was brighter. It was so warm, and she began to fall back. "I have to wait… for him…" she whispered, landing hard on the dirt.

        Milly died, eyes wide open and covered in blood, on the muddy floor of the forest. The young pirate who had slain her shook his head. "I wonder who she was waiting for," he said quietly, giving her body one last look before stepping over her to head for the village.