Chapter 37

Emma was ready to scream. The strip of linen fluttered to the floor yet again, tangling in a loop by her feet. She'd tried five times now to tie it into a simple knot behind her neck just to keep her arm from swinging around while she went about her day. It hurt enough when it held still. The repetitive failures infuriated her because she knew full well that it was a task that could be accomplished with only one hand. It was her skill that was lacking. Killian could tie far more complex knots than what she was attempting with great speed and no difficulty. He was so practiced at it that he barely needed to glance at what he did, and the result would be flawless. She should have asked him to do this for her, but now he was at the helm, and she didn't want to interrupt him any more than she wanted to admit defeat. She knew she could do this; she just needed to give it another shot.

Taking a deep and very intentional breath in order to avoid yelling obscenities at a high enough volume to bring the whole crew running, Emma stooped to retrieve the fabric yet again. She tugged and shoved it back into position around her elbow and shoulders and did her best to release the tension of her frustration. Her distress wasn't making the process any easier, and when she accidentally jostled her injury in a bad way, the dull throbbing of her pain turned sharp and lashed viciously at her. Again, she resisted crying out, this time by biting into her cheek.

With a determined focus, she crossed one end of the strip over the other and looped it. So far so good, but that was the easy part. She pulled one of the ends between her teeth and bit down to hold it in place. She moved slowly as she reached to take hold of the other end, willing it – begging it – to not drop away again. It shifted slightly, and she froze, but released a relieved sigh that it didn't slip off completely.

A sense of victory flooded her as she actually gripped it between her fingers, then gave it one more wrap and twist. With her hand and teeth, she pulled the knot tight as best she could and gave it a quick test. Her arm could still move more than she'd truly like, but the shoddy sling was a vast improvement over allowing the limb to swing free, and it seemed as though it would hold well enough as she went about her business.

To be fair, she had very little business that day. Despite her protests, Killian had adamantly explained that she'd been relieved of all her duties until her arm was functional once again. She knew he was only being practical and realistic, but she was not looking forward to the boredom she'd have to endure while also feeling utterly useless. In fact, she hardly knew what to do with herself now. Usually in her downtime, she'd wander the deck while waiting for tasks to present themselves to her, or for orders to come. Unfortunately, that habit usually could only keep her content for those short gaps of time. She already knew that pacing couldn't keep her content the whole day, and she'd only become an obstacle. It was comforting that she could at least commiserate with Mr. Murray, who was still similarly out of commission. The thought brought her a soft smile, and she made her way down to the galley where she knew he'd be stationed and harassing O'Sullivan.

At his first glimpse of her when she walked in, Murray smirked. "Were ye feeling that jealous of me, Swan?" He taunted as she approached and pulled out the stool across the table from the one he occupied.

"Of course," she exclaimed with a bright sarcasm. "You were getting all the attention, and we can't have that, can we?" She rested the elbow of her wounded arm on the table and winced.

Murray's smile dissipated. "The hell'd ye tie there?" He leaned over, trying to see the fastening at the back of her neck.

With some embarrassment, she turned her head. She didn't want him to see it, and she wasn't going to make it easier for him to do so. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what kind of knot she'd ended up with, but she had more than a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't a good one. Murray was not easily dissuaded, however. He craned his neck still further for a better view. Emma was convinced he was about to try to stand up on his one leg when that proved to not be enough. O'Sullivan ended up saving him the trouble.

"It's a lubber's knot," he announced as he walked up behind her, his arms full of potatoes.

"Traitor," Emma mumbled with an exaggerated scowl.

O'Sullivan shrugged as he deposited the spud pile on the countertop, and caught one that tried to roll away to the floor. "I've known him longer than I've known you."

Murray made a gloating laugh, then shook his head at her. "Where's yer head? Ye gonna walk around this ship wearing a lubber's knot? What ye expect the captain would say to that? He can't have seen it."

She blushed. "It's not like I tied it into the rigging! I just need it to hold my arm in place, and this was the best I could manage behind my head with one hand. Nobody's getting hurt by it."

"It'll hurt ye, alright. Rest of us'll be fine, but it ain't going to hold that arm in place. Another name for a lubber's knot is false knot. They only make ye think they're holding. Don't give any warning before they let go. That arm's gonna drop when ye least expect. C'mere. Bring it over and I'll fix ye."

With a sigh, Emma pushed herself back up onto her feet and shuffled over to the other side of the table, where she turned her back to Murray.

He grunted. "Hunch down a bit for me. Can't quite reach ye up there."

Emma lowered one of her knees to the floor to give him a better angle. In a blink, he'd slipped loose the knot she'd tied so that the linen fell slack. The quickness and ease of the maneuver illustrated how unreliable the knot really had been. His thick-calloused thumb pushed away some stray strands of hair to keep them from getting caught while he tied something more secure. It only took a few twists before the sling was tied tight and fitting far better than when she'd done it before. After a couple breaths, the ache had even lessened noticeably. She gave her shoulder an experimental flex and didn't start seeing stars.

"That too tight?" He asked.

"No," she sighed with relief. "I think that's perfect. She rocked her head back and forth to see whether the knot would move around, but it stayed put. Emma rose to her full height again and looked him in the eye to thank him.

She'd barely resumed her seat at the table when she heard footsteps and a voice in the doorway behind her. "How's the arm, Emma?" When she turned, she saw Pinocchio striding toward them, carrying a long, thin bundle in his arms.

"It's been better," she told him truthfully. "But I'll live. Boredom will probably get me first."

"Sure glad you find our company so engaging, Swan." O'Sullivan's tone was nonchalant.

She rolled her eyes. "You've hardly said anything since you walked in, and it was only to betray me."

"You needed betraying," he countered.

Murray nodded at her enthusiastically. "He's right. Ye did."

"Mr. Murray," Pinocchio shuffled the load in his arms around. "I brought you something." It was a carved piece of wood, mostly cylindrical, but with one end tapered down and rounded. The other end was wider and concave, and lined with padding. A few leather straps hung down off its sides. "I know you've been getting around a bit with the crutch, but I think this will make for a better, hands-free option whenever your leg's ready for it. May I see if it fits? Do you mind?"

"By all means!" Murray's grin took over his face. "Four limbs would get me doing some real work again 'stead of sitting idle. Go on and fit her."

With an almost imperceptible nod, Pinocchio knelt down and pressed the padded end to Murray's stump. From what Emma could see, it looked like a good match for size, but Pinocchio was clearly looking for something more precise than that. He applied a strict concentration as he wrapped and fastened the straps into place. He took his time, and when he was done, he took the wood between his hands and gave it a careful wiggle, checking for movement. Again he nodded, more noticeably this time. "I think that'll stay. How's it feel? Don't try standing on it yet. I don't think you're quite healed enough for that."

Murray tried pushing the far end into the floor, rotating it back and forth as he did so. "Still damn sore, but I think that'll do the trick."

"Good." Pinocchio began to undo the straps as methodically as he'd done them. "We'll start getting you practice with it as soon as you're ready, and we can adjust the padding along the way if we need to. Might have to account for swelling." He pulled the prosthetic free and wrapped the straps around it as he stood. "You'll have your kitchen back in no time." He gave a thin smile and ducked out of the room.

"You must be damn happy to hear that." Emma beamed at Murray.

"I certainly am," O'Sullivan responded, staring wistfully out the door. "I could kiss that man."

Murray grumbled.