His thoughts were interrupted by a scuttle outside his cracked bedroom window. A ghost-like figure in white was sliding its fingers beneath the sash. Quickly Kennet flicked the sheet, covering himself from the waist down. Even the soft, ironed linen on his skin made him wince. In another moment, a nightgowned Trudy was dropping into his room, having crawled across the gable between their windows.

“The heck are you doing?” Kennet murmured, his heart filled with affection. “If Paps catches you, don’t come crying to me.”

“He won’t. They’re eating dinner.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, seemingly oblivious to his nakedness under the sheet. She had a handkerchief balled up in her hand which she now unfolded, revealing six sugar cubes. “It’s all I could get,” she said softly.

Catering to her solemnity, Kennet held out his palm to receive the gift. “Thank you,” he said. “Exactly what I was wanting.”

He popped one cube in his mouth and arranged the rest carefully on his nightstand. “You better scram now, kid. Give me some cash.”

She pressed a kiss on his cheek and was out the window.

They all snuck in to visit him, bringing illegal gifts and tribute. Little brought lemon drops. Nalle dropped off half a chocolate bar. Minor risked his skin to swipe three apples from the foyer’s fruit bowl.

“You’re crazy,” Kennet said, taking a bite of one. “You would’ve been over the barrel again.”

Minor shrugged, taking his own bite. “Wasn’t fair of him to make you take that many.”

“What, you were counting?”

“It was hard not to. Goddamn, he didn’t even give you a minute to put thick pants on.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered,” Kennet said dully.

Minor almost choked. “Tell it to Sweeney. That hiding was em-bare-assed?”

“Mmhm.”

“Cripes, man.”

“I deserved it,” Kennet said. “I’m the captain.”

“And I’m first mate. I should’ve split it with you.”

“Bare-assed?”

Minor’s grin cut the dark. “Cheek by cheek, brother.”

He ruffled Kennet’s head and slipped out of the room. Sleep found Kennet eventually. A thin, glossy rest that merely took him out of his head and let him rise above the wincing burn of his butt and legs. Through it he was aware of the creak of his bedroom door and light footsteps. The waft of lemony sweetness that was Ingrid and her cool hand on the back of his neck.

You could’ve killed all your mother’s children.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She kissed his head. “We all make mistakes.”

“They could’ve drowned.”

“Yes. But they didn’t. And you’ll remember they didn’t every time you take to the river. From now on, you’ll remember what almost happened and the price you paid. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded into his pillow.

“Then the lesson was learned. I’m sorry it had to be this way, but…”