Sometimes the sitting room, parlor, den – whatever the Captain liked to call it – seemed dark and oppressive. Carolyn tried to modernize the gloomy room a bit, but even the new sofa and modern alcove furniture weren't enough. She loved, of course, the portrait that was her first hint things weren't quite what they seemed at Gull Cottage. Whenever she raged at, missed, looked for or needed Captain Gregg, simply standing in front of the painting comforted her in a strange way she couldn't – wouldn't – explain to herself. On more than one occasion, she'd found herself caught up in the steely challenge of the grayish-blue eyes in the portrait. "Madame!" She expected the artist's rendering to its open its mouth at anytime, mocking her inexplicable desire to stare whenever she thought the painting's subject haunted elsewhere.
Then, in a fit of pique, Carolyn cut down the Captain's beloved Monkey Puzzle tree, and the spirit disappeared entirely, leaving her with the sound of the wind rattling the bay windows for company. She stared tearily at the portrait, but the Captain's gaze seemed empty, and lifeless. Martha's comments weren't so funny anymore. Carolyn Muir decided the Captain's presence was more important than a fight over the color of upholstery or any other item in Gull Cottage, and drove through the dark and stormy night to replace the object of his affection.
Now the bedroom, or Master Cabin, was completely different. There, Carolyn reveled in the firm, masculine sensibility of the leather sofas, no-nonsense antique dresser, and ship's windows. The paintings of sailing vessels were splendid, whether of stormy seas or placid green deepwater. The fireplace, with its dark wood paneling, created a sense of security and warmth she'd never enjoyed in her marital bedroom in Philadelphia. Daniel Gregg stoked the fire regularly, inuring her from the elements that defined the Maine coast. Their heavy bedroom door kept the world at bay, creating a universe within for fighting, writing and simply staring meaningfully at each other when desire obviated the need for words. Jonathan and Candy sensed, rather than understood, the growing attraction between their mother and the Captain, and were more than willing to cut a wide swath around the Captain's former bedroom.
The cabin's beautiful, small-paned bay windows welcomed the sunshine each morning and locked out the damp sea air at night. Their little white curtains reminded Carolyn of small, fluttering nautical flags when they billowed in the morning breeze, signaling her fixity in this, Captain Gregg flagship.
And the bed, the big antique bed, with its custom-made, violet-sprinkled comforter, now cosseted the only woman who'd ever spent more than one delightful evening there. Carolyn was titillated by her growing tenure there, and soon took to brazenly pushing covers indelicately down around waist, under the guise of sleep. As she drifted from pretend sleep into drowsy slumber, she'd feel the covers drift up to her shoulders. In the morning, she'd flush or smile ruefully, remembering the dreams that frequently accompanied these enticing forays into unrequited desire.
Then there was the telescope. Shiny, well-polished, and long. It was where the Captain materialized each morning and the last thing she saw each night. Daniel Gregg's portrait may have fascinated her, but the telescope obsessed her. It gleamed authoritatively in the morning light. Golden hues flickered on finely milled tool in the evening firelight, after they turned off the lights, the television, checked on the children and drifted dreamily upstairs, daring to yearn for something neither could admit. Carolyn knew better than to mess with this last bastion of Daniel Gregg's now impotent masculinity. He could spy from it, following her every step during daily three-mile walks on the beach. Jonathan could track the movement of ships traversing the horizon or watch, as the Captain explained seamen's take on cloud formations. Candy could spin it idly while waiting for Carolyn to get off the phone.
Without saying a word, Daniel Gregg made it clear that Mrs. Muir was not to fiddle with this prized possession unless explicitly invited to touch it. At first, Carolyn found this unreasonable demand amusing. Phallic objects and all that – she wondered if even knew about Freud. Could the telescope really represent his yearning for her? She fervently hoped so. Coolly nautical, precise, extremely focused yet delectably male, there was more of Captain in the mirrored chambers of the seemingly inanimate object than in every brushstroke of the painting below. Is it more than just an object, she ruefully mused over Madeira.
One evening, striding purposefully around the Master Cabin, elucidating, pontificating (so she thought) over the difference between schooners and whaling vessels, the Captain paused in front of the telescope. It was too cold to visit the balcony, where he preferred to spin the ship's wheel whenever Carolyn flustered him. Absently, he ran his fingers to and fro, up and down, stroking the cold metal until even he could feel the heat his meager warmth engendered. Carolyn's jaw slackened. She stared at the Captain, not wanting to interrupt a moment whose poignancy was more than physically painful. Her breathing became ragged and she rose from her comfortable position on the divan. The Captain turned from the window to face her. He ran his fingers from the eyepiece, up to the telescope's midsection then stopped, as he realized his actions betrayed more than a gentleman should ever reveal to a lady.
Non-plused, Carolyn continued her advance, aware the fire now roaring in the hearth would likely render her nightgown transparent as she approached him. The Captain stood on the raised platform, riveted, feeling a heaviness and weight he hadn't felt in over 100 years. Which of them was really the spirit? Who haunted whom? Tentatively, she stepped onto the platform and placed her hand next to the Captain's. He gasped, audibly, his grip tightening on the shiny surface.
Carolyn stirred. "You've been dreaming, Mrs. Muir." He sat, staring intently. Her green eyes widened, and she raised herself hesitantly onto her elbows.