“Explains what?” he asked.
“Your attire, sir. And your accent.”
Jamaisvous sat up slowly, letting his benefactor’s arm do most of the support work. Directly in front of him was a weather-beaten wooden sign staked in the dirt. In black faded letters on white-painted weatherboard the sign read Opening Soon, A New Boutique of Bargains! and at the bottom was a name printed in block capitals: Mr. Wesley Keith Johnson, Esq.
“Might I ask your name, sir?”
“Silas,” he replied, and suppressed the silly urge to add “Mariner,” choosing instead to stay with “Jamaisvous. Dr. Silas Jamaisvous.”
“Doctor? You are a physician?”
“No, madam, I’m a scientist.”
“You must meet my husband. He should be home by now. He is a scientist, too!” the woman chatted, steadying him to his feet as he carefully stood.
Jamaisvous swayed like a child’s kite in a gale-force wind and his injured leg folded when he tried to place his weight on the limb. Crusted blood could be seen on his pants where he’d suffered a previous wound, but only if one looked closely, and his newfound friend seemed more interested in his face and the obvious nosebleed.
“I appreciate your kindness. Tell me, dear. Who are you?” Jamaisvous asked, his voice gaining strength as he managed to finally stand erect without falling. A train of thought was on a runaway collision with an idea he was developing, and if what he suspected was true, then the gods of the cosmos were certainly having a belly laugh at his expense right now.
The young woman held out a hand gloved in white lace and said in a gracious tone, “My name is Emily, sir. Emily Tanner.”
The End