DISCLAIMER: Any and all characters, places, or things that appeared in the original TV show belong to Fox and R.A. Dick. The rest belong to Mary and Amanda; no copyright infringement is intended, just fun. Yes, this skips over several months and events in the Day On universe, but Christmas needed a story, albeit belated. Thanks to Mary for being my co-writer and beta extraordinaire.
November 6, 1983
"And where are you off to this fine day?" Daniel Gregg asked his lovely wife as she brushed her hair in preparation for seeing to some errand.
"I thought I told you; Blackie received a large donation for the Society of St. Stephen's thrift shop, and he asked if I'd like to help sort." A small smile played along her lips. "Considering that the volunteers for that duty get first dibs on the loot, how could I say no?"
Scowling, the ghost growled, "My dear, we have risen above thrift shops, I do believe. However, he might wish to prevail on that skinflint's charitable inclinations and get him to take advantage of the situation."
"I know we are far better off than we used to be, but sometimes treasures you can't find elsewhere can be discovered at a sale like this. What's more, there's nothing wrong with being thrifty, long as you are not Scrooge. And, I do like to support the Society and the church."
"I cannot argue with such logic," he conceded. "If you think I could be of service, I will accompany you. From whence did this bounty come?"
"That reclusive old man, Jeremiah Milton, is in a coma and has been for over three months; it's highly unlikely he'll ever recover. His guardian has to sell off the estate in order to keep him in the hospital, and even if he does recover, a nursing home will be the next step. I understand it's his nephew, and he hates doing this, but has no choice. He's very dedicated to Jeremiah, but has to do what he must. The house will be placed on the market, but the contents have to go."
"Odd," Daniel mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "but a beneficial sort of odd."
"Not all relatives are like…" Carolyn began and then altered her words, "…Claymore's ancestors or Dash's descendants." She grinned. "And, not all of HIS are like the ones he griped about for years; just look at Bree."
"I think Blackwood is taking care of that job, admirably," the ghost quipped. "Will she be helping?"
"Possibly, after all, she's still sort of trying to put her home together, so needs good bargains. Plus, she likes doing for others." Nodding, the Captain leaned over to kiss his wife. "Keep that up and Blackie will be short a pair of hands," she whispered, but allowed one more lingering kiss before pulling back reluctantly. "The sooner I go, the sooner I can come home."
With a long-suffering sigh, Daniel allowed her to part from him. "Very well, but if this was not a good cause, I would protest."
"I would, as well," she grinned, and gave him a wink. "You may come, too, if you want. I understand his family has an extensive history. Maybe you will find something you want that goes back to your day?"
"Like the antiques your mother keeps sending us? Notice, I said THEY were antiques, not I."
"The only thing you have in common with antiques is you get better with age."
"For that remark, my love, I might just be a poodle for few hours and come into town with you, if you truly want my company. Then, we could have lunch and talk about an outline for the next chapter of our book."
"I'd like that, and surely the more the merrier on this project."
The ghost raised an eyebrow. "We could invite other members of the crew to join us, but we'll need a back table at Norrie's. We don't need anyone overhearing us. On second thought, maybe we could come home afterwards and have a picnic here?"
"I love the way you think," Carolyn beamed.
"Of course you do; that's why you married me," Daniel winked.
"Good point, but if we don't want to be late, or not show up at all, then you'd better put on your Daniel Miles face so we can get moving."
Daniel rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "I have to wonder after ten years... and another three, married to you, if I couldn't try showing up in town with a beard; I mean a real one, rather than pretending it was false. Everyone is used to us being married now. Maybe they could adapt to me that way…on a regular basis."
"It's not getting used to you that presents a problem, just keeping you incognito," she replied. "You would still look a lot like… yourself."
"We can work on it later," he smiled at her fondly. "It was just a thought." With that, he morphed into his quite handsome Daniel Miles face. "I shouldn't complain," he chuckled. "We never would have met Devon, Michael, and then Bonnie, if I could go to town appearing as my true self… though sometimes I have to wonder if it would make him happier if we didn't look rather alike. But he doesn't live in Schooner Bay."
"That would be confusing for our neighbors," she agreed.
Narrowing his eyes speculatively, Daniel mused aloud, "Perhaps he could purchase a vacation home here, though I do recall young Michael saying that he's something of... What is the term? A workaholic? Still, I would love to have him as a neighbor."
"And you like the idea of confounding the town," his wife teased.
"Of course," he laughed. "It's good for them. Now my dear, if you still want to get into town, we should be off. We can talk about the book on the way there. We need to figure out how to cover Tim Seagirt, and my poem to you. We can't leave that out."
"You may have to write a new one," she remarked as he opened the door for her, "Since we can't quote the real song without having to get permission and it would be recognized if we did."
Daniel shook his head. "Aye, though it seems a shame. After all, Adam did convince young Tim that I was responsible for the words to begin with. Still, it should not prove difficult to write another song about you, love." Teasingly, he tweaked her chin. "You could have just asked me to, not come up with an excuse to prompt it. Female, eternally female."
"Which is good, since you are very male, eternally so."
"Eternally, infernally so?"
"Aye."
XXX
Even delayed by kissing, Carolyn and Daniel were among the first arrivals. She had already begun to apologize for tardiness, but the handsome young pastor waved her words off.
"Being a touch late, or more, seems to be inherent in Presbyterians. I've considered changing all the printed service times to twenty minutes earlier so people will be on time."
"Good idea," Daniel nodded. "But as soon as they figure out what you are doing, they will adjust their arrival time by twenty minutes, and then you will have to adjust yours, and before you know it, instead of having an eight and ten o'clock service, you will have one at eight and eight-o-five."
"Until eventually, the next service begins on Monday," the pastor grinned.
"Exactly. So tell us, Blackie; how's business so far?"
"We're just on the sorting stage," he replied, looking a bit confused.
"I realize that, but have you found anything interesting, past the usual household goods and furniture?"
"It's hard to tell," Blackie admitted. "Jeremiah was a pack rat, and I suspect a lot of this is either collectable or pure junk, but telling which is what..."
Carolyn smiled. "He sounds like another man I know." She turned to her husband. "Now aren't you glad Dash, Sean and the rest of us tidied your wheelhouse, Daniel?"
"I never claimed not to be."
"I know. But I just wanted to make sure you still feel that way." She shuddered. "You know, I love jumble sales, but this is different, even when his ancestor wants it. It all feels so... wrong, somehow but it would feel just as wrong if it happened after he died."
Blackie shrugged. "Yeah, but there's no real place to store all this stuff, except the thrift shop, and we'd be idiots to turn it down."
"I know," Carolyn nodded. "The first dining room table I ever owned I bought at a jumble sale in Philly. Yes, they have them there, too. I had it until after Bobby died... when I sold almost everything we owned and moved here." She glanced at Daniel.
"I do recall a statement you made to that effect, about the selling, though not the specifics. I trust my dining table has been an adequate replacement?"
"More than," she assured him. "The old table was… let's just say it sufficed, but it didn't really fit. I don't mean size, just…" She paused, trying to find words that would make sense to a man.
"I believe I comprehend your meaning, my dear. It was how I felt about all those who came before your family."
"But, I was very glad to get that table then, even if it wasn't perfect. It was MINE, not his mother's. So, even if it sounds cliché, one woman's trash is another's treasure."
"Yeah, but I meant, I think some of this stuff is j-u-n-k, and some might be valuable, and then some might be in between, or j-u-n-q-u-e, as Aunt Jess terms it. That's something that's not all that valuable, except to someone," Blackie went on.
The Greggs nodded. It was a concept they well understood.
"You could get Deke Junior over to examine it," Carolyn suggested. "I'm sure he'd give you an appraisal, maybe even for free."
The two men began to laugh. "Mr. Tuttle and free are words that do not go together," Blackie said between fits of mirth. "From all I hear, he's more close-fisted than his dad. The only one in that family you can get an even shake from is Stanley, Deke's grandson. I have to wonder how long that will last. I have tried to preach on generosity, rich men, camels, and the eyes of needles, etcetera, but Junioris delightfully deaf. Shame for it to happen so relatively young," the pastor grinned. "But, as fair Bree would say, in a caustic, British tone, "standing around chin wagging is not getting the work done", so…"
"…Fall to," the Captain concluded.
"Besides, first here, means we find the first treasures," Carolyn grinned. "Did I ever tell you about the time I recovered a real one?"
"Oh?" Blackie asked.
"Well, other people may not have thought of it as anything special, but I did. When I was sixteen, my grandmother let me borrow her antique compact to take to a dance. It held loose powder, and was either gold or brass and had engraved and painted elephants on the lid and I had always admired it. You can guess what happened. Somewhere along the line during the evening, I lost it. I looked everywhere after, even offered a reward, but nothing. Grandmother was very nice about the whole thing, but I couldn't look her in the eye for ages. Then about five years later, Iwent to a jumble sale at the church I was attending then. You guessed it… there was the antique compact. I bought it immediatelyand got it back to her as fast as I could get away from the sale. Then when she died, she willed it to me. I don't use it often… I keep it in my jewelry box, and every time I look at it, I thinkof her and how kind she was to me about it all."
"When it comes to such stories, do not forget the chart rack and Aunt Violet's breakfront you reclaimed," Daniel pointed out.
"That's not the same situation, though.Dash and Sean went looking for those items and managed to find them. Garage and jumble salesand antique shops are fun because you don't know ahead of time what you are going to find that is either just right, or something you can fix up… like a lamp, or a table that needs refinishing, etcetera. And sometimes you just find buy something because it is pretty, or interesting, and you like it… not because it is valuable."
"Like parasols and scrimshaw?"
"Exactly; it just... strikes your fancy in some way." The couple shared a smile.
"I almost wish now I had kept the parasol," Carolyn added softly, as she turned her eyes toward her husband. "It was a gift, and you were so sw..."
"Madam!"
"…Swell about it," she amended.
"Of course," he answered softly and looked around. "Where to begin is our question."
"There is no logical beginning," Blackie frowned. "Just grab a box and dive in?"
"Should we sort as we go along?" Carolyn asked, reaching for a box. "This one looks like linens, but I think theyare wrapped around knick-knacks of some sort… they aren't folded flat. And do youhave a table or tables where we can put everything by type? Or try to?"
"We'll just use all the banquet tables here in the parish hallfor arranging and taging. Put different things on different tables, until we run out of items, or tables. The sale will be Saturday, which should clear out a lot… and then I was thinking: leave the stuff that doesn't sell then outand give everyone a chance to look things over again on Sunday, after services, then what STILL doesn't sell, I suppose we could pack up and have Goodwill pick it up some time next week?"
"Sound plan; perhaps early Christmas shoppers hoping for bargains will snatch up the lot on the first day?" the ghost thought aloud.
"I certainly hope so," Blackie smiled, "Less stuff to clean up later. But as I said you all are cheap labor, so if you guys see anything you want, regardless what it is; you can reserve it now. No sensible offer will be refused."
"Will other helpers be arriving soon?" Carolyn asked.
"They should be here at any time. Not everyone can pop, you know."
"I cannot when traveling with my lovely wife," the ghost pointed out.
"This is true, on both counts."
"Now, as to reserving things, have you run across any unusual antiques? I do not mean of great worth, especially," Daniel asked with in an amused tone.
"Darling?" Carolyn prompted.
"I thought your mother might enjoy something."
For a moment, she considered whether or not he was insulting her mom, but realized he genuinely liked his in-laws and the gentle teasing was a measure of how comfortable he had become with them. "Well, I must admit, some of her gifts have me wondering what she was thinking."
"Just to be kind, I imagine," the Captain affirmed, validating her opinion. "It is only right that we do something in return, but the only thing that comes to mind she might gain equal pleasure from is my medieval watchamacallit." Even though they now knew what it was, a fire screen, (thanks to Martha) the old name had stuck.
"I can't part with that memory. That's another thing to cover, you know, for our book, without Mr. Hampton by chance reading it and realizing he lived that scene."
"I do hate to think how many antacids dealing with such a revelation would require him to take," Daniel grinned. "But we'll find a way… call it a "thing-a-ma-bob," and make it more like a sculpture, or something."
"A sculpture that does what?" Carolyn grinned, amused.
"I don't know. Holds candles… incense… is an ancient tie rack or something, or better yet, remains a mystery; Forever "The Thing." I haven't figured out yet how Martha knew what it was."
"She did travel a lot as one of the Red-Hot Mama's," Carolyn pointed out.
"But that was vaudeville... I hadn't thought of that as a way to find antiques," Daniel protested.
"There are antiques and there are valuable antiques," Blackie smiled. "Carolyn told me about your parasol andscrimshaw; how one became valuable, and the other only a collectable. Have you figured out how to fix that for the book?"
"Considering only family knows of the switch, it's not a major problem," Carolyn replied as she opened a box. "ThoughDeke could rememberJon trying to sell the scrimshaw first, and then Claymoretrying to sell it to him."
"Deke can barely see these days," her ghost countered. "Therefore, he does not read often."
"True but his son says he is still with it, as much as he can be for a man his age, and I understand he has read, or has BEEN read, everything Carolyn, or the both of you have written," Blackie said. "Yes, I know this book will be written under a pen name, but still, it could ring a bell with him."
"We'll work on it," Carolyn smiled. "Not to change the subject, but is Bree coming today?"
Looking as innocent as possible, Blackie asked, "And how should I know her schedule?"
"Oh come now, my boy," Daniel chuckled. "You forget; we spirits can see more than the average human."
"And it doesn't take a ghost to know how taken you two are with each other," Carolyn added. "Especially after the cotillion, and..."
"She'll be here in about twenty minutes," Blackie interrupted. "She got tied up with some kind of foundation business."
"Great! Does that mean Dash and Lynne will be coming, too?"
"Me, yes, my lovely wife, no," Dash said, materializing into view. "I left her and Siegfried at her office, but told me to tell you all, that she is looking for antique salt and pepper shakers, if you happen to see any. Why, I don't know, since she hates to cook."
"To put on the table, maybe?" Mrs. Gregg suggested. "She does eat, as do many people who use shakers. Or… to make her table nicer for you? Or it might be for a gift."
"Maybe she just likes to collect them," Blackie added. "The way some people collect angels,horses, dolls or cat sculptures. Aunt Jess collects shells… Aunt Lynne salt and pepper shakers."
"Well, I haven't seen any yet," Carolyn answered, pulling out a wooden chest. "Hmm. This is too light to contain silverware. I wonder what is in here? It's locked."
Smirking, the two ghosts offered simultaneously, "Allow me."
Reflexively, Carolyn opted to accept her husband's offer, rather than Dash's and with a wiggle of a finger, the lock clicked, and Carolyn lifted the lid to discover a bundle of old cotton cloth.
"Silly thing to keep in a locked box," Dash started.
"Shh," Carolyn scolded. "I think there's something wrapped up in here." Slowly, she started unrolling the fabric.
"What is it?" Blackie asked.
"It feels like more cloth," Carolyn answered. "Give me a minute."
"Why wrap up cloth?" the pastor frowned.
"Well, for one thing, I can tell you it was the only preservation technique there was in my time," Daniel replied. "We didn't have dry cleaners and plastic bags. Perhaps the same thing should be considered for what Carolyn is holding?"
"Considering the smell of dry cleaning, for once, I'll agree on that being good, Carolyn wrinkled her nose. "And mothballs aren't any better."
Blackie nodded. "Okay, I understand now… I remember Aunt Jess saying she had to send her wedding dress to the cleaners after she wore it to have it especially preserved, or something, too... the question is, what do we have here?"
"A tablecloth, I think," the blonde replied absently. "It's beautiful!" she gasped, gazing at the fabric in her lap. "Just look at this needlework!"
Carefully, she unfurled the ivory linen cloth so that the full impact of its intricate stitching could be displayed. Delicate angels, crosses, roses, stars, and doves were randomly scattered across the snowy plain in other shades of white.
"I believe we are reserving that," the Captain remarked.
"Even though it is so gorgeous I'd never want to use it on a table, for fear that something would spill. You know, not even repeated remedial lessons with Siegfried have cured Dakota of standing up against the table, dirty paws and all, when there's a roast, chicken, or turkey on it," his wife mused. "I'd be tempted to violence if she put tracks on this."
Frowning, Dash began to rummage through another box. "I don't suppose there are other such marvelous pieces of art scattered around here? Though my wife is practical and not given to excess fancy, I believe something like that would be appreciated. What's more, there should be matching place mats and napkins for your find, Carolyn."
"Since I was thinking about framing… or hanging it, somehow…" she began.
"I bet Aunt Jess would know something about how to preserve it; oops, sorry to interrupt," Blackie offered in a rush.
"That's all right," Mrs. Gregg smiled. "Dash, I suppose I could let Lynne have this," she added reluctantly, but politely.
"Heaven forbid, my dear friend. You are a true lady to offer, but no," the nobleman shook his head. "Though, perhaps if said napkins and or other accessories turn up, given that you wish this for wall décor, not table use, perhaps my dear doctor could use them in such a fashion?"
"Excellent plan!" Daniel exclaimed. "However, might I point out that whoever made this intended on it being used for the purpose that it ostensibly lends itself to?"
"You might, but it's too pretty to risk damaging," Carolyn insisted.
"Female, eternally female," he remarked to the ceiling, but with a smile.
"Maybe we could get to work?" Blackie suggested. "But don't work too hard. I'll need volunteers to help hang the greens, decorate the tree, bring in poinsettias that people have bought in honor, memory, and whatever of people."
"What does that have to do with now?" Carolyn asked.
"Principle; if you all work to exhaustion, I'd feel guilty about asking you to do more; but if you only work moderately, I can get away with it."
"Nonsense," Carolyn smiled. "We won't leave you in the lurch under any conditions barring a national emergency."
"And don't forget spirits are in-fatigue-able," Daniel added.Then, after seeing Dash's brow rise, amended, "Mostly, that is."
"Nevertheless, I won't have you wearing yourselves out," Blackie insisted.
"Who's wearing themselves out?" A voice came from the door. "Blackie, are you all right?"
The group turned to see Bree, Martha, andJenny standing there.
"No one, yet, and I want it to stay that way," was his reply.
"Which is why we are here," Bree responded.
"Yes, sorry to be late," Jenny added.
"Who's taking care of my grandchild?" Daniel rumbled.
"Dave's doing some work at home, so it's Daddy/daughter time," the young woman smiled fondly.
"I remember those days," Daniel reached for his wife's hand. "And miss them... with both Candy and Jon." He smiled, "Though in his case, the word is son."
"Aye," Carolyn answered softly.
There was a pause, and then Martha spoke. "Well, family, we need to get busy here." She looked from the reverend to the Captain as she inquired, "Orders?"
"Divide and conquer, I do believe," the spirit answered. "But do keep and eye out for any other linens that look like this." A moment later the cloth was out of his wife's hands and held invisibly up in the air.
"Since non-family might show up, is it wise to show off?" Dash asked.
"No, but once in a while, I must," he grinned, and let the cloth drop back into his wife's lap.
"If you get caught, we'll have to pretend Claymore's decided to do another talent show and you're going to be a magician," Carolyn remarked.
"Good excuse as any," Daniel answered. "But the cloth is down and nobody but us has seen anything unusual!"
"Let's get to work and keep it that way," Martha said dryly.
XXX
Five hours later, the aforementioned crew, Tris and Barnaby, along with seven or eight other townsfolk, who had drifted in to help had finished the job. When the non-ghost-knowing helpers had departed, Carolyn dusted off her hands and glanced around at the tables at the plethora of junk, junque and collectables they had uncovered. Depression glass, old bottles, numerous knick-knacks, linens, books, not to mention small tables, a chair or two, and almost everything else you could think of, and a few you wouldn't.
"I think our hard work deserves a reward," she declared. "How about we go down and find a table at Norrie's, or better yet, call Jess and Adam and whoever else we can think of and try that new pizza place in Midvale?"
"I second that," Blackie grinned.
"Which?" Bree asked brightly, "Norrie or pizza? I must say, I rather like pizza."
"Ah… pizza, to please a lady and to be different," he answered as nonchalantly as he could.
"Good," Bree smiled. "But only if everyone else is happy with the idea. "Anything but anchovies, though."
"No one likes them," Martha promised.
"Good," she smiled, "Icky, hairy little things. I don't know why anyone does."
"Some things, my dear," her great-great grandfather commented, "will forever be a mystery. There is no accounting for tastes."
"I agree," Blackie grinned. "But my taste, and my stomach, say I am ready for supper."
"We did skip lunch," Jenny pointed out. "But I really need to go home and feed my family…"
"Maybe Dave and Amberly would like to join us?" Carolyn inquired. "If he has been working and caring for her all day, he might not have even thought about dinner, and I happen to know my grand-daughter loves cheese pizza."
Jenny grinned. "She gets that from me, plain cheese, unless I add onions, green peppers, and extra tomatoes. But, she's too young for the onions and peppers."
"I wonder if Abby will have her parents' affection for hot peppers." Dash mused.
"Bell peppers are not hot," Jenny protested.
"I know, just thinking, dear girl, rambling really. I'll join you all, if my fair wife will come along. Yes, I am a poodle, but if a sea-dog finds a comfortable lap, then he is wise to stay in place," Dash grinned.
"I'll go along and see about Brother Dear and possibly Bronwyn," Tris offered.
"Why don't we round up as many of our crew as possible?" Bree asked. "Though, I do admit, I'd love a shower before I eat." She rubbed absently at a smudge of dust on her nose, only making it worse.
Daniel leaned forward to whisper to his wife, "So much for our picnic, my darling."
She smiled. "Another time," was her whispered response. "It's really too late and chilly for one now, anyway." Carolyn glanced toward the rest of the crew. "So how do all feel about meeting at Martini's at six-thirty? That will give everyone who needs to time to clean up and change."
"And find the rest of the crew," Daniel added.
Carolyn reached for the box with the antique tablecloth. "I don't want to lose this," she declared. "I'm taking it home now, unless you have an objection, Blackie. How much do I owe you?"
"Well," he frowned. "I don't know. Never been much on garage sales, myself, I'll admit. But, I know Aunt Jess has shopped them and I think she got a decent table cloth for a dollar at one."
"Blackie, this is worth a lot more than a dollar! Whoever did it, it must have taken months… a year maybe to complete it. This is recreational sewing. It has to be at least forty years old: Back then, dressmaking and mending came first!"
"Back when? Is there a date on it?" he frowned.With a helpless gesture, he added, "You pick a fair price; I have no idea."
"Well, I love it, and it's for the church, after all, so how about twenty-five dollars?"
"That's too much, Carolyn!"
"Nonsense."
"But… you should not pay more for used stuff than you might for new!"
"But you do pay more than thenorm for antiques, and that is what this is, and besides, I love it."
"You said that."
"Maybe you could take half her offer? Blackie, you really are NOT supposed to argue when someone wants to GIVE you money. Mama Carolyn should be trying to get you to come down, not the other way around," Jen shook her head.
"I won't take no for an answer," Carolyn insisted, and reached for her purse.
"But... you helped with the sorting and tagging all afternoon..." Blackie protested helplessly. "...That should count for something!"
"Take it from me, lad, you are fighting a losing battle." Daniel smiled down at his wife fondly. "She is the one and only person who ever defeated me in an argument."
"When did I do that?" Carolyn asked innocently.
"Must I publicly confess my failures?"
"No," she grinned. "But we'll be talking more about this later." Carolyn finished writing the check with a flourish and handed it to the pastor. "There. Your first sale! I am rather sorry we didn't find any place mats or napkins for you, though, Dash."
"But, I did find a salt and pepper set," he grinned, "and silver, at that."
"There's a lot of interesting stuff here," Jenny added. "I didn't see anything Amberly would like… but then again, right now, her favorite toys are my pots and pans and a wooden spoon." She smiled, "And the eggbeater."
"Candy and Jon did the same thing at her age," Carolyn said. "Okay, all, if we are going to meet for dinner, I badly need a shower, so we'll be on our way. Bree, can we drop you off?"
"If it's no trouble, yes, please."
"And I can pick you up... in about an hour, Bree?" Blackie asked.
"I think I can repair myself that fast."
"You look fine to me," he smiled. "The only thing you might want to fix is the smudge on your nose, and I think it looks cute."
Silently, Dash remarked to his oldest friend, "He's got it bad, whether he knows it or not, doesn't he, Danny?"
"Extreme case, in terms your Lynne would use."
The two spirits watched as Bree turned as red as a rose. "I still think a wash and brush is in order," she said, "But thank-you, Blackie."
Shrugging, he replied, "No trouble."
"It is, too," Daniel retorted, still unheard by all but Dash. "Bree's house is in the opposite direction of Midvale. He'll be doubling back."
"True love pays no attention to boundaries," Dashire responded. "You, my old friend, should know that better than anyone."
"True, but I am still no poodle."
"Of course not, any more than I am."
"You admitted you were, after a fashion."
"I'll go home and tell Ed what's happening," Martha added. "I was planning on leftovers, tonight, so I am sure he won't mind."
"Ed never minds food," Carolyn noted.
"This is true, but he likes to be prepared," Martha grinned, "So adieu; and I will see you all at six-thirty." With a salute, she was out the door.
"Martha's got the right idea, as usual," Jenny said. "I... We want to be on time, so all mortals need to head out." Daniel held out her coat for her to put on.
"Sorry to keep you all so late, but there was more... stuff than I thought there would be," Blackie answered sheepishly.
"Not your fault, lad," the Captain assured him. "It was in the name of a good cause, at the least." Dash popped Carolyn's coat to Daniel for her to put on. "So when is the sale again? Saturday… and Sunday, if needed?"
"Just Saturday," Blackie answered. "Wait, I take that back. We did say we would leave the leftovers through Sunday; people can look again after church. My brain is getting fuzzled due to lack of nourishment."
"In that case, we all need to break ranks," Daniel rumbled.
"Sounds like a plan to me."
The crew did just that, waving goodbye outside the church, happy with a good afternoon's work.
November 25, 1983
Dakota's supposedly menacing, or at least the Captain was sure it was meant to be so, bark halted his progress with his charts. He just did not have time to keep them up-to-date as well as he once had, not since becoming a true family man. Yet, that did not bother him one bit.
Because Siegfried had trained Dakota to only bark in certain circumstances, the ghost assumed that someone was knocking on the door; he therefore arranged his features into his public face and popped downstairs to see who had come to visit. Whoever it was, he decided they were lucky he had adapted; he would not say mellowed, of late. The person he had been not so long ago would have let them in just to terrify them into leaving, as recompense for being so rude as to just drop in unannounced.
When he opened the door, however, all irate thoughts faded out to be replaced by concerned curiosity. "Blackie? Whatever is wrong?" he asked as he let the young man enter. Normally, Blackwood was among the most calm, unruffled, and blasted cheerful souls. Distress was written all over his face now.
"Sorry to just land on your doorstep, Captain," Blackie apologized reflexively. "I DID try to phone, but the line was busy." He glanced around, expecting to see Carolyn somewhere. "Where's your lady?" The ghost was not one to chit-chat on the "blasted machine."
"My wife is off shopping, with Molly, Bree, Bronwyn, and your aunts." Then, realizing what had led to the query, he sighed. "I was speaking with Candy. I suppose she won't mind me telling you this; you may have heard it from Thom already. Their efforts to adopt are proving most discouraging, even with Adam's help."
Blackie shook his head as he followed the Captain to the front parlor. "I had not heard that, but blast. Even though I didn't think it'd be easy, still, I hoped it might be." He sighed; "Just one more thing going wrong."
"She's determined to persevere; after all, she is my daughter," Daniel affirmed. "What else is going badly?"
"Well, tomorrow is the hanging of the greens and all the decorating we need to do in the church for Advent."
The seaman nodded, absently stroking the cat who had hopped onto his lap.
"When I opened the supply closet and started getting things out," he began, shaking his head sadly, "I discovered that the seventy-five year old Advent altar cloth is… essentially trash. Granted, for the last few years, we've been careful to make sure one side faced toward me and not the public because it was getting frayed looking. But now, thanks to moths, there's not a good side, period. What's more, some candle wax and soot are so set into it that if we try to remove the stains, as delicate as what's left is, we'll have antique rags."
Daniel winced. "And how can I help?" He assumed that Blackie was not here to simply unload his worry.
Hope flared in the other man's deep blue eyes. "I was rather wondering if perhaps ghosts CAN do a little magic and you could…" he waved a hand, "…fix it?"
Shaking his head, while mentally chuckling at the slight Britishness of the query, Daniel apologized, "Sorry, lad. But I can't do...as Claymore would say...a "ghostie" of some sort and restore your cloth to its proper glory."
With a sigh, Blackie leaned back heavily. "Had to ask, even though I suspected as much. Ordering a new one will take weeks for it to arrive; and first, it will have to be approved by the Session. I guess we'll just have to use the everyday cloth, which is okay with me, but I'll get flack."
"Jane Shoemaker."
"Bingo. Recently, the National denomination has approved women being Elders, and I am praying until my knees hurt that none of her clique will try to become one."
"What a terrible thought!" the ghost agreed. After a second's thought, he half-declared, half-asked, "If someone were to donate a new cloth, then the budget approval step would be eliminated, correct?"
Blackie frowned, "Yes. With cash donations, they do need to vote to accept or not, but surely nothing like that is large enough to warrant a special budgetary meeting if it's a gift, but who would? And, there's still the problem that there's no way it could get here in time. I understand that they are especially ordered, can take several weeks to make, and the makers are not always here in the states, though I cannot be positive of that. I will have to check what would be true in our case."
"I'm certain Carolyn would concur if I wished to fund the blasted thing," Daniel said, "not that I require her assent! It is better, though, to have her in line with my thoughts. As to getting it here punctually, if you will provide a location of where to get it, that should be a fast trip for one as gifted as I."
The pastor nodded his head this time, looking somewhat bemused. "After all this time, you startle me, Daniel. I was thinking ghosts, special powers and I forget the more obvious that traveling distances in... in… not the wink of an eye, at least faster than a human could fly would be possible. And it would be faster that UPS... not to mention less costly."
"Then if Carolyn agrees, the matter is settled."
"Daniel, I can't ask you to handle the entire cost."
"No, but I think the rest of the family would kick in."
"By tomorrow?"
"You could use the regular linens, and when the new one comes in, change it."
"That's if we find one. I'm sort of guessing on the possible cost: I haven't had the nerve to look yet, and I fear the catalogue I have is rather out of date."
"How out of date?"
"Nineteen... eighty one? We haven't ordered anything for a while, and if you don't order once a year, you are dropped from the mailing list."
"That'sabsurd. Just because you don't happen to need something for one year doesn't mean the church will never need anything again."
"It might be the company's way of cutting costs. They know there are limited suppliers of such items and I will be in touch with them again."
The ghost shook his head. He believed in thrift, but it seemed that some people cut off their noses to spite their faces in the name of that virtue. "Phone them, see what they say, and we will chart our course from that point."
"I'll have to..." Blackie began, but a second later, the catalog was in his hands. "It IS handy having a ghost for a friend." He flashed a winning grin at the Captain. The phone was the next thing to appear beside him. "You're spoiling me, sir." Blackie began dialing and was able to reach someone in customer service with no time on hold. Before he could count that as a miracle and a good sign, the conversation began to turn south. Daniel tried not to listen in, but could not help it. Finally, when his young friend concluded on the words, "Yeah, I understand; Merry Christmas to you, as well."
"We have barely had Thanksgiving," the Captain grumbled. "And, we still have Carolyn, Jess, and Jenny's births to celebrate."
"None of those three, worthy as they are, counts as a national shopping holiday," Blackie shrugged. "They can provide a plain one, which we have, immediately, for a fairly doable, as Fontenot would say, price. But, to get a special cloth done for the Advent through Epiphany Season, will take four weeks, unless we pay for a rush, then two."
"No point in paying for a rush job then," Daniel frowned. "Surely they are not the only supplier of such things?"
"The only one the Elders have approved a contract with," Blackie smiled tightly, and then thunder rumbled. "I second that," he nodded pleasantly. "We'll just have to make do with plain this year and try for something better next. Maybe I can do a sermon on how mean and lowly the circumstances of the One whose birth we celebrate was, and therefore, how we are honoring that fact with the simplicity of our ornamentation."
"Don't give up the ship yet, lad."
"I'm not giving up... I am facing the inevitable. I just don't see anything else to be done at the moment. Any other Presbyterian churches in the area will be using theirs, you can't poof one out of the air, and Martha can't knit one!" He shrugged. "I guess I really shouldn't be surprised. The ones for holidays are ornate, and each one ordered is for such a thing is special. Not like the sellers can pull if off a shelf, throw it in a box, and drop it off at the post office. And even if I did have approval to call another distributor, they are all going to be in the same position this close to Advent and Christmas."
"Blast."
"I agree…" the young pastor's voice trailed off.
"Blackwood, what is it?"
"Nothing."
"Blackwood Algernon O'Ryan!"
The younger man sighed. "I can't get away with anything, can I?"
With a smirk, the ghost shook his head, "Not between me being both a Captain and relatively recently, a parent. Both roles have to see quite a lot. So, what is it?"
"I have to say, this altar cloth thing has me more than a little worried. I'm a bit afraid, between it any my budding relationship with Bree, that some of the more... shall we say vocal and/or powerful members at the church will se it as a reason to oust me."
"You? I can't believe that!"
"Such a thing has happened, for more ridiculous reasons."
"To you?"
"No, but to a friend of mine who graduated seminary before I did."
"Names. Whoever tries it, I want their blasted name. They'll be lucky if they only wind up rowing a dinghy in a tree!"
"That won't be necessary. Nothing specific, exactly, except for the vibes I get around Penelope and Darlene Hassenhammer."
"Blackie, this is obviously bothering you. What happened to your friend that makes you so worried that it could be repeated?"
"He was, still is, but in a severely reduced ministry elsewhere, a good man and pastor, but like me, young. He also wouldn't make nice to the 'right people,' put up with dead weight or the choirs' prima-dona act. So, the first sign of personal trouble, and he found himself fighting for his job and making his family suffer. Finally, he left. I don't want to face that; I LIKE my church and my town."
"Blackie, you have to believe that with Carolyn and myself, Thom and Candy, Dash and Lynne, Claymore, Jon, when he is here, Dave and Jenny, Ed and Martha, Adam and Jess, ESPECIALLY Adam, we would all go to bat for you. Besides, if it is just a matter of a woman scorned, or in Miss Hassenhammer's case, ignored, since you never dated her to begin with, I really do think that there aren't any other townsfolk, except possibly the Shoemaker bunch, that would start anything against you. And if you did start, as you say, making nice; bending to the "right" people, I wouldn't respect you."
"Nor I myself," he sighed. "However I did allow a cherished bit of history to turn into rubbish."
"Mistakes happen and moths are fearsome creatures. Don't EVER tell Carolyn this, but if I hadn't been so blasted stubborn, my first monkey-puzzle tree might still be here. You know that story; about it getting dangerously top heavy and Carolyn chopping it down. But in truth, I never topped or trimmed it after I originally planted it. Claymore tried once or twice to just that when he took "ownership" of Gull Cottage, but I would have none of it. No one could touch the mast of my "ship." I terrified the man into leaving it alone. By the time Carolyn moved in, it had become and out-and-out danger and she had it removed. If I had paid a bit more attention to it, it might still be here,but as Jonathan would say, I "blew it"." Luckily for me, Carolyn understood, and brought home a smaller one… and planted it further away from the house!The difference between my actions and what happened to you is you can't help moths: especially in a storage closet where they weren't discovered right away, and as you pointed out, it was getting rather worn, regardless."
Not wholly convinced, Blackie nodded. "I still have to wonder if it is another strike against me... at least where the Shoemakers and Hassenhammers are concerned."
"Jane?" A voice came from the doorway. Carolyn's. "What has she done now?"
"Yes, Martha added, "Hi, Blackie… Captain. I met Mrs. Gregg in town… Jane or that chit, Penny?"
"Both or neither, I'm anticipating troubles before the fact," Blackie admitted.
"Not out of the clear blue sky, Blackie," Carolyn protested. "You aren't the type. Now what is it?"
Ruefully, he explained.
"I wouldn't worry," Carolyn tried to assure him. "At least, not about Jane and company; you do have a lot of powerful people on your side, and I do think God put you here. Arguing with Him is not smart."
"Hmm… It could be enjoyable to see a bit of smiting done in Jane's direction," Martha mused to the Captain, and he nodded.
"After all, Blackie, Claymore and Ed like you and they are in positions of relative power around here, and you have the local news media firmly in your corner," Carolyn went on with a smile. "Also, there's Elvira Grover. She likes and respects you… she has since you and Jon invited her to the Epiphany tree burning celebration. Jane, Penny, Darlene, and Margaret might want to fuss, but they don't have a leg to stand on. Okay, the antique cloth is ruined, but we could perhaps have the pieces framed and put in the museum, to preserve them. Spin this as… as… upgrading our current… linens, while keeping the artistic heritage of the church and town safe for future generations."
"That could work," the young man nodded slowly, absently reaching over to pat Dakota as she stuck her head onto his lap. "But, we still need something to cover the altar on Sunday."
"I can't do it that fast, but maybe if Molly and I work together," Martha offered, "We could hand-stitch you something nice, if you provide some cloth... any nice piece of linen will do, and that's available at any fabric store.It might not get done until the second week, but that would certainly beat nothing. Does it have to be blessed or anything?"
"No, there's no ceremony for that in the Book of Order."
"That should say something," Daniel commented. "If decorations were highly important to this denomination, wouldn't there be one? I believe the message is more important than the trappings, which is as it should be."
"Agreed, but the congregation might differ in its opinion." Blackie rolled his neck and sighed before continuing. "Maybe a week of plainness won't get me strung up. Thanks, Martha, but I hope that's not TOO much to ask of you and possibly Molly."
"It's not. Both of us would like to do more for the church, this is a way to help."
"You don't have to have the ordinary time cloth tomorrow," Carolyn said suddenly. "That is, if you are sure that there's no special thing about it being consecrated. The tablecloth I bought from the jumble sale is big enough, and pretty as any formal altar cloth I've ever seen, and it has all the right symbols on it. Why can't you use that?"
Blinking, Blackie looked at them all in turn. "I guess we could, and it is a beautiful piece of work, if I'm any judge of that kind of thing. You don't mind loaning it to us?"
"I wouldn't have mentioned it if I DID."
"Then, I accept."
"One problem down," Martha nodded.
"As to the other potential source of contention, none of those harpies want to trifle with anyone under my protection, or let Dash hear that they do not think well of his grandchild," the ghost added darkly. "Bree is a good girl, and while she may not be a formal member of our church, she is there quite often, supporting it, and she does have faith. I am sure of that."
"Me, too. If she were a total pagan, there'd be reason to be concerned about me… dating evangelistically," Blackie admitted. "But, she's not. She's still new to town and wasn't raised in this denomination. Anyway, it's not like we are engaged or…" he turned red, "…doing things that are supposed to only happen inside of wedlock."
"Hopefully, you are at least tempted," Daniel murmured.
"I take the fifth, but my convictions and fears of being keelhauled, flayed, and strung up a mizzenmast, for starters, kind of get in the way of acting on any hypothetical temptation."
Sensing the young man's distinct discomfort, Carolyn asked, "Has there been any word on how Jeremiah is doing?"
Blackie would have flashed a smile in thanks for the escape route, but given her topic, it would not have been appropriate. "No change, I am afraid. There's brain activity, just barely, though. If it were not for that, life support would be discontinued. Personally, if I were him, I'd be inside myself screaming to pull the blasted plug."
Carolyn and Martha nodded their agreement as Daniel sighed, "While medicine has accomplished wonders in these last years, sometimes, they just don't know when to say when."
"Agreed."
Sunday, November 27, 1983
Despite all of Blackie's nervousness, the cloth looked beautiful draped on the altar with the fresh greens and delicate candles arranged atop it. In fact, he would have dared think that it was even lovelier than the original option.
However, he'd have laid money on the fact that more people paid attention of Sean's solo performance of Ave Maria than they did the church furniture. Well, there were probably a few mentally griping that the pews were uncomfortable, but that was a weekly event. It was also just the way of pews.
Still, he was a bit more tense than usual as the congregation filed past him for the weekly handshakes and in a few cases, hugs. All the children loved to hug Reverend Blackie. Because it was her birthday, Jess found herself forced to stand beside her nephew, who looked more like her brother, so that everyone could wish her a happy day, much to her chagrin. Since her birthday was the following day, Carolyn also stood with them.
The final visitor was a middle-aged, or perhaps even on the edge of elderly, woman, wearing a hesitant expression.
Prompted by his inner guide, Blackie asked, "May I help you?"
Relief flooded her eyes. "I… it's not exactly help I need, but I was on the front row…" Her soft voice trailed off uncertainly. Blackie nodded encouragement; he recalled seeing her. "And, well, your altar cloth is just beautiful. It reminds me of a tablecloth I made long ago, but it was in my hope chest, back home in Wales. Well, my original home was Wales. I had to evacuate during the war, and was able to take some of the contents of my chest, including my table linens, but as things grew more dangerous, my American grandmother decided to send for me so I'd be farther away from the bombs. It was all a hurry up and go sort of exit, and I had to leave almost all I had behind." She paused and flushed; her age melting away as she did so. "But, I left it with my fiancé', and he promised to take good care of everything for me, for us, really. Unfortunately, I never returned to Europe and we lost contact."
Sniffing a bit, Jess asked, "Did you ever marry?"
"Yes, and had a good life, but I never forgot Thad, or his uncle who was taking care of both of us at the same time. He was a capital gent, not much older than we were, actually." She paused. "Walter... my husband, passed away about fifteen years ago."
"We can understand the age thing," Blackie grinned. "Thad, did you say?"
"Yes, why?"
"Short for Thaddeus? If I am not mistaken, that is Jeremiah's nephew's name."
"Jeremiah was the first name of the man who had care of me!" the woman gasped. "It couldn't be! How did you come to have this?"
"I hate to tell you this, Ma'am, but Jeremiah is on life support and Thad had to sell his treasures to pay for his care," Carolyn replied
"Oh, no!" Turning pale, she gasped in a choked voice, "The poor dear man. Do you think I could see him, or them?"
"I think that can be arranged," a deeper voice announced from the back of the sanctuary. "Ellen? Is that you?"
They all turned to see an average-looking man whose face bore the marks of emotional aging that was fading as he beheld the woman, Ellen apparently.
She nodded, tears gathering in her eyes. "I can't believe it's you."
"A bit older, not much wiser, but… it's me. This has to be a miracle. I just had the sudden urge to come over and thank Pastor O'Ryan for all his help and concern during these last few weeks. No, there has been no change," he added as an aside before Blackie could ask. "And, here you are."
"Here I am. I… I'd been dreaming about a church, about going to church. I was visiting my grandchildren over in Skeldale, and they suggested this one. Yes, it could well be a miracle, a Christmas miracle. I wouldn't have stayed, except I had to ask about the altar cloth."
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I'd donated your hope chest until it was gone," Thad looked ashamed. "Then, well, after so much time…"
"Of course…"
Jess applied one of her infamous ankle-kicks to her nephew, indicating the couple needed privacy. "I really ought to feed Abigail, you know," she interjected. "I have a pretty new baby, you see, and she needs her Mama."
"I did promise to… help Martha… do something," Carolyn nodded.
"Right. And I should go to the fellowship hall and do my… preacher bit." Out of the corner of his mouth, he added, "I'm not Adam, Aunt darling. No kicking."
Just then, Daniel strode in, wearing his mortal face. "Thad? The hospital just phoned, and the call came to the Hall; they thought Blackie or you might be there. It seems your uncle has passed away, about fifteen minutes ago, actually." He frowned. "The nurse said that he was smiling in his sleep."
Thad sat down on one of the pews. "It's for the best, of course. You can't call what he was doing being alive, but…" He swallowed thickly.
"I'm so sorry," Ellen blinked. "Of course, if he hadn't become ill, we might never have found each other."
"Silver linings," Carolyn whispered.
"Romans eight," Blackie hissed back. In a more audible tone, he added, "Now, my preacher thing needs to be announcing this death. The congregation will want to know, and want to help however they can."
"The funeral was pre-planned, all things considered," Thad remarked absently. "Knew it was coming, you see?"
"When you are ready, the Fellowship Hall is easy to find," Carolyn inserted. "You have my sympathy."
"All of ours," Jess whispered.
Quietly, the four members of Daniel's family filed out, giving the reunited couple privacy and time to collect themselves in their grief.
Blackie went straight to the stage, where he gestured to get the milling bunch's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure some of you noticed our lovely altar cloth today; it came from Jeremiah Milton's estate. You may recall we recently benefited from a rummage sale that cleared the house of its contents so it could be sold. Mr. Milton passed away today. His nephew, Thad, is in the sanctuary now and will be joining us shortly, along with the lady who made the cloth. As it turns out, once they were very good… friends, and while today is somewhat muted by our loss, it is also a joyful day for Jeremiah has been freed of his illness and two people were reunited who should have never been parted. I'm sure many of you will want to help Mr. Milton and express your condolences, but I would ask that you wait until he is ready to come over here, rather than going back to the sanctuary."
There were murmurs of dismay, and the Captain was quite certain his supernatural hearing detected Claymore urgently, under his breath, asking Sean if that meant the combined birthday parties for Jess and Carolyn would be delayed; he'd been looking forward to the cake, even if it was angel food.
Sean did not know, but reasoned it could be for the best, since Jon had spent Thanksgiving with Emily and Brad Williams, who had wanted to see the Catskills for the holiday. As the next day was his first day back in college, he would have no time to visit the rest of his family.
Standing near enough to hear the exchange without ghostly senses, Candy Muir Avery rolled her eyes twice, once for herself, once on behalf of her absent sibling.
Long minutes later, Thad and Ellen, hand in hand, entered the Hall. Immediately, they were surrounded by church members.
Carolyn grimaced at the well-intentioned throng. "I really need to talk to Ellen, and see if she wants her cloth back."
"If she does, I'll work double hard with Martha to get a new one ready," Molly O'Casey promised.
"It's handy being you," Martha commented.
"Aye, but I've gotten used to being able to sleep," the lady ghost whispered.
Recent returnee Fontenot rumbled, "Now, don't let Old Dragon-Breath hear you, child. He'd gripe for a decade about our kind going soft."
When it became clear from the slightly desperate, "get me out of here" expressions on the newcomers' faces that it was past time for the crowd to clear, Blackie stepped over and said he really did need to discuss arrangements and so forth.
"Thank you, Pastor," the older man sighed.
"No problem," Blackie managed a smile. "Uh, my… Aunt Carolyn needs to ask you something, Miss Ellen." He looked around and gestured for Mrs. Gregg to join them.
When she had, Blackie indicated that she should make her inquiry.
"Your tablecloth is the loveliest piece of needle craft I've ever seen," Carolyn began. "But, now that we've found you, its proper owner, what I'm trying to say is, if you'll just give us time to clear the altar, it will be returned to you."
For a moment, the woman seemed perplexed and then shook her head. "Oh, my goodness, don't do that. It's serving a better purpose here than it would in my home. I'd just store it away again, and really, I've done without it for more years than I care to say. Please, keep it and enjoy it, either as an altar cloth or keep it in your home, my dear. I'd love it if you considered it my thanks for bringing the man I… my dearest friend, back in my life."
"If you are certain," Carolyn glanced at Blackie.
"I am."
"Then, I at least will be happy to have it and Blackie may use it as long as he needs," Carolyn smiled. "You will let us know if you need anything at all?"
"Yes, but I doubt we will," Thad sighed. "As I said, this has been prepared for; it was just a matter of when."
"Yes, it's almost a relief, and if it is you need to not feel guilty. It is for him also," Dash murmured, squeezing his wife's hand.
"It sounds as if he died peacefully," Daniel added. "Did I tell you that the nurse said he was smiling?"
"You did; it's almost as if he knew in his ending, what went wrong got set right," the man nodded.
Standing near, but not too near Blackie, Bree shivered. Moving closer, she whispered, "I need to talk to you later, about joining up officially. Miracles like this one… I… it's time for this step."
Even in the grim circumstances, the young man could not hold back a brilliant grin. "And this makes a full set of miracles."
Once again, Daniel heard the whisper, thanks to ghostly audio acuity. Smiling, he thought, At least for today.