Old Ghosts - Part One

by murph6484

Harry returns to Nantucket, after nearly losing his life - Part One

Originally published on the Uncharted Waters site in October 2000, and rescued via the Way Back Machine

Admiral Harry Nelson wondered, as clearly as his fevered body would allow, if Doc planned to put him out before amputating his leg.

The glint of sharp, cold steel had held his fascination for what could have been minutes or hours, Harry didn't have a sense of time anymore, as Doc seemed to be sterilizing the scalpel, getting it ready for surgery.

If he'd been able to articulate his thoughts earlier, Harry would have told Doc to put his surgical tools away. If he couldn't walk the corridors of Seaview and explore the ocean reefs in scuba gear, his life was over. His was an active existence, and while research and teaching excited him, it was exploration that sustained him.

Still, this would be done Doc's way, and Harry was almost past caring.

He wouldn't miss the searing pain emanating from his right leg, just above the knee, or the feeling that he was burning up. The pain and fever had been his constant companion since the former Soviet premier shot him aboard their life raft. One by one, men in the raft had been picked off as water ran low, in the Premier's desperate bid to survive. The only reason why the bullet had buried itself in Harry's leg, instead of his chest, was the Premier's need for him to navigate the raft toward the shipping lanes.

"Doc?" Harry rasped painfully, as he saw the physician coming near him with the scalpel in hand. Something warm was on his shoulder, and it took him a moment to realize it was Doc Jamieson's hand resting there.

"Admiral? You're awake?" The physician sounded surprised.

"Doc, don't…" Harry's strength was ebbing.

"It's alright, Admiral. I just need to change these bandages."

As the blanket was removed, Harry felt his skin chill. His hospital pajamas had been altered, so that the right leg had been split halfway up the thigh, to accommodate for his bandages. Now, as Doc guided the scalpel toward his leg, Harry felt a surge of adrenaline.

"Jamie! Don't…!" He came halfway off the gurney in his attempt to push the doctor's hands away.

Doc's arms came out to steady him. Harry's hands rested on the bandages protectively. He didn't want the operation done, and he definitely didn't want to go through it awake. Didn't Doc know he was awake?

"Admiral… Admiral… you're okay. I'm not going to hurt you." Jamieson sounded calm and reassuring, but why was he still holding that scalpel?

Sweat stung his eyes and Sickbay seemed to turn upside down and then right side up. Harry didn't know how much longer he could stay awake, but as long as he'd gone this far, Doc had to know.

"Doc, don't… don't take it off… please…" Harry whispered into the physician's neck. He couldn't hold his head up and the edges of his vision were growing dark.

Doc paused a moment.

"Admiral… Harry… I'm not going to do that," Jamieson reassured, perhaps finally realizing that his commanding officer was not referring to the bandages.

"Look," the doctor said gently, holding the instrument in front of Harry's face. "These are just scissors,"

But, the physician's words were lost to Harry, as he slipped into darkness once more.

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Edith would have known if her brother was dead.

Despite the call from Lee Crane, Edith had kept the faith. Yes, Harry was in trouble and missing, she had sensed that, but he wasn't dead. When Lee called a few days later to confirm that they had picked up her brother at sea, that Harry had barely survived the ordeal, Edith quietly took the suitcase she had packed earlier and began the long drive to Santa Barbara.

On that ride, she reflected that it had been this way between them since ever she could remember. She knew when he was in trouble, and consequently, Edith was sure she would know if he had died. She never mentioned her unique abilities to anyone, least of all Harry. He had always been very low key about his hurts and disappointments. Her brother would have been upset to know that he couldn't hide those incidents from her, that the way her hair would stand up on the back of her neck gave him away every time, no matter where he was.

Sometimes, Edith wondered if he had that connection with her as well. Inexplicably, when things were darkest in her life, Harry had always been there, sea bag in hand or on the phone. His timing was uncanny.

She smiled to herself. Her grandmother would say it was the Irish in both of them.

"We'll be there in about five minutes, ma'am," a young officer informed her.

Now, as the Nelson Institute pilot boat brought her a few miles out to sea, where Seaview had surfaced, before it began its entry into its underground sub pen, Edith wondered if her link with Harry was some kind of cosmic restitution.

Their parents had been killed in a plane crash when she was only fourteen. Everyone had remarked on how unfair it had been for a young girl to lose her parents so suddenly. Maybe this connection she had with Harry was God's way of evening out the playing field.

When their parents had died, Harry had been a recent Korean War vet, and most definitely seen much of the horrors of the world. Still, Edith reflected that losing their parents must have been a terrible blow to him. Regardless, Harry had only spoken of what it meant to her and done his best all those years to make sure she didn't want for anything, assuring her with words and deeds that she could depend on him. In turn, she watched her twenty-four-year-old devil-may-care brother quickly transform into a young man with huge responsibilities. There were the family's large interests to look out for, his duties as a fast track Naval officer, and there had been Edith, his young sister.

All of this, Edith understood as she grew older and into her own twenties and thirties, must have been an incredibly large stretch for Harry to make. After all, he had been the third son in a family of five. No one would have expected the weight of all his father's responsibilities to fall upon Harry's shoulders, and she doubted he had been raised to think that they might.

"Coming alongside now, ma'am," a voice called out.

Still, her brother had been there when she needed him, all her growing up years and beyond. Now, as the pilot boat pulled alongside her brother's brainchild, the submarine he had longed to build his entire adult life, Edith knew Harry's job of raising her had long been over. For many years, he had her very best friend and confidant. Protective, yes - but responsible for her, no. He had fulfilled that task years ago, in a way that would have made their parents proud.

The waves pounded around them and the sky was dark, heralding an afternoon rainstorm. As she stepped off the pilot boat, and Lee helped her up the ladder, words of Harry's condition reached her ears. Together, they reached the deck, and she saw Chip Morton, Curley Jones, and Kowalski, all waiting for her.

As Edith turned and caught the hooded look in Captain Lee Crane's eyes, she sensed that if she ever had a thought of paying her brother back, in some small way, for all that he had done and been to her, now was the time.

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"Make sure the pilot boat is away, and order the approach, Chip," Lee instructed. "I'm bringing Edith down to Sickbay."

As they walked toward Sickbay, the tightness across Lee's shoulders lessened. Edie was here. At least the Admiral had his family on board, and while Lee had no doubt that his commanding officer was out of danger, Nelson still had a long, painful recovery to make. Edith would make it easier for him.

Days of hunting for the Admiral after the Premier's boat had blown up, had yielded little trace, until Lee had spied the small raft floating at the exact coordinates and time of the rendezvous. It was with his heart in his throat that he had climbed down onto the raft.

From above, Lee had seen that the former Premier, Alexi, was long dead. Once he was aboard the raft, Lee didn't bother to check for a pulse.

The Admiral was not moving, his hands still holding the makeshift rudder, testament to the fact that Nelson must have tried to the last bit of his strength to meet Seaview at the appointed time and place.

Spying the blood, which stained the front of his commanding officer's pants, the young captain knew it was unlikely his friend and mentor could have survived so many days at sea, wounded, with no medical attention.

His hands shaking, Lee reached forward, gently placing his fingers on Nelson's neck, and felt an overwhelming sense of relief when a weak rhythm belayed his fears.

That had been three days ago.

The Admiral was still feverish, even delirious at times. But, Doc had said he was getting stronger. He had even sat up under his own power earlier this morning, although the physician had failed to relay under what circumstances.

The sun had scorched his skin, and the Admiral was drenched with sweat. Dehydration necessitated the IV's taped to his wrists, and Nelson had easily lost twenty pounds probably since the last time his sister had seen him. Still, Lee thought, to her credit, Edie approached the gurney where her brother lay sleeping or unconscious without hesitation.

"Harry," Edie whispered, gently shaking her brother's shoulder.

Nelson stirred under his sister's touch, and slowly opened his eyes.

"Edie," he whispered hoarsely, "What are you doing here?"

Edith paused, wiping the moisture that was threatening to spill from her eyes. Then, taking a deep breath, she picked up the wet cloth, which lay by the gurney. She then reached for her brother, lying one hand on his shoulder and placing the other on his forehead, running the wet cloth over his fevered skin.

After a moment, she replied, "I need you to help me pick out drapes for the house on Beacon Street." Edith smiled affectionately at her older brother, as she continued to wipe his forehead. "I know you'll try anything to get out of it. But, no such luck, Brother mine.

A low chuckle answered her.

There, Crane thought, he had missed Nelson's smile and good-natured laugh. Though a weaker version of what Lee was used to, he would take it all just the same.

Besides, Edie was just what Jamie would order.

"Six hours. Not quite the Flying Sub," Edie gently teased her brother. He wouldn't allow Lee or anyone else to take the time to fly them East. Still, as long as they were on their way, even on a commercial airline, Edith wouldn't argue.

A week in the Institute Infirmary had allowed Harry to regain just enough strength to ask for work, something that Doc was vehemently opposed to. Instead, Edie had suggested that the old family cottage on Nantucket was in bad need of attention, which it was, and that if Harry didn't come with her to figure out what to do with it, she was going to consult a realtor to get it sold, which she wouldn't, and her brother most likely knew that. But, Harry was just tired and sick enough to agree to come along, and he had always loved the old house on Nantucket Island. Edith figured all he needed was an excuse.

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Harry settled back in his airline seat and closed his eyes, not before giving her a knowing half-grin. Obviously, her point had been duly noted and conceded.

She was pleased enough with his progress. Usually, Harry made less than a stellar patient. While never unkind, he was impatient. He had too much energy to lie around in bed, even when it was in his interest to do so.

As she settled back in her own chair, Edie wondered whether, with all the talk about learning disabilities, if Harry had been born now, some "bright" school administrator might have tried to label her brother and mistaken the combination of energy and genius for hyperactivity or something like it. Of course, she didn't remember Harry as a very young boy, although her mother said of the four sons, he had been a handful and the hardest to get through school, because he was so bored.

"Always off chasing rainbows," Mother had said. "Rarely in trouble, just busy."

During the summer, Mother never knew where he was, saying that always Harry's frequent disappearances had something to do with water. The only problem with spending their summers in Nantucket, she said, was that water was in every direction. He could have easily been out fishing, water skiing, or jumping off The Bridge into The Pond with his friends. Their childhood haunts never needed a more formal title, each place held a mystique, which made such things unnecessary.

In fact, the only time Edith could remember her mother talking about Harry actually being in trouble was when their father had caught him at fourteen doing a back flip from the highest girder on The Bridge. Mother had told her about how Harry had quietly accepted his father's admonishment, grabbed a copy ofMoby Dick and dangled a foot in the ocean, while he read to Edie on the family dock during the requisite week he spent grounded.

After he'd served his "time", Edith didn't see Harry for the rest of the summer, only heard his footsteps, laughter, and rough housing with Sam, long after she went to bed. Sam was the brother between them in age, and their room had been next to hers. But, in that week they spent on the family dock, between the exciting passages of the book he read to her, Edie had seen, though not completely understood, the wistful looks in her brother's eyes, as the fishermen came in with their catch, the sailing teams raced around the buoys, and his friends came by in an outboard, asking him when he thought he'd be out of the snag with his father.

Finally, Mother told Edith, she had interceded on Harry's behalf with John, Sr., insisting that the month-long grounding be limited to a week. Harry wouldn't risk his freedom by doing something stupid again. By then, their oldest brother John, Jr. was off to war, and Joe wasn't far behind, in boot camp that summer in North Carolina. She was tied up getting Sam to sailing lessons and taking care of Edie. As long as Harry promised not to smash his head on a bridge abutment, he should be allowed a carefree summer. If the war would last much longer, there wouldn't be many more in front of him.

Only seconds after being given his walking papers by John, Sr., Harry was gone, who knew where, and Edith remembered how their mother only had a gentle smile on her face when asked where she thought he might be.

Now, thirty-three years later, Edith reflected as she felt herself drifting off to sleep, they were headed back to Nantucket.

Their parents had been killed together in a plane crash in 1951. They had lost both John and Joe in World War II, and Sam in Korea. Out of a lively family of seven, there were only two left - she and Harry - and only the two of them had memories of what the house on Nantucket had meant to all of them.

Edie gently squeezed her brother's hand as she thought how lucky she was. Certainly, if she were to be left with only one living relative, at least it had been Harry, the brother who, so long ago, had kindly spent the week reading sea adventures to her on their dock, while desperately longing to get out there and have one of his own.

Harry thought, not for the first time in his life, that Nantucket Island had never looked so good.

As the twin-engine plane taxied to a stop on the small airfield, he looked at the familiar hanger and felt a sense of well being wash over him. It had been too long, and even though he was exhausted from the cross-country flight to Logan Airport, and the transfer to the small plane for the jog from Boston out to Nantucket, he couldn't wait to see the old house. Maybe once he felt a little better, he'd have the boatyard put their father's old Chris Craft, which he had kept carefully maintained and stored at Crosby's Marine, into the water. Edie would enjoy that.

"Careful, Harry," Edie murmured quietly, so that only he could hear, as he made his way down the stairs. He was still getting used to his crutches, and it made entrances and exits onto the planes a bit precarious.

As he made it to the tarmac, his thoughts turned back to Crosby Marine. His childhood friend, Buck Crosby, had taken it over from his father, Al Crosby, with whom Harry's father had been friendly. Buck had married a girl on the island after returning from Korea, Mary O'Brien, and together, Buck and Mary ran the marina and were putting four kids through college. As far as Harry was concerned, they led a charmed life. Buck had obviously known a good thing when he had it. Sometimes when Harry was wrapped up in a world crisis and was rapidly running out of energy, Buck and his family, along with Edie, Lee, Chip and others, were the faces he called up in his mind, to summon the courage to keep going.

"Admiral!" a voice cut through his reverie, and Harry looked up to see one of the pilots coming toward him from the hanger.

Harry squinted with the approaching dusk and suddenly recognized the figure coming toward him. "Bob! Bob Bradstreet!" He stuck his hand out and felt himself pulled into a vigorous bear hug.

"Just want you to know that's the first and only time I'm gonna call you that, Harry. I just thought you might not answer to anything else nowadays…" his old friend playfully teased, patting his back. "Gosh, I'm glad you saw your way to get out here! You picked the best time of the year too! Weather's good, but the tourists aren't here yet!"

"Bob," Harry said, after the other man let him go, "you remember my sister, Edie, don't you?"

"Of course, I remember Edie." The older man's tan features were split by his wide white grin, as he took Edith's hand. "Can't believe we let someone so pretty off this island without marrying one of us! What were we thinking?"

Edith blushed and gave Bob a kiss on the cheek. "Oh stop, Bob," she said, but Harry could tell she was warmed by Bob's words. Edith had always felt like "the kid sister" around his old friends. Rarely, did she ever think they saw her as a mature woman.

"So, what in hell happened to you anyway?" Bob exclaimed, stepping back and motioning to Harry's crutches. "Did your crew finally mutiny?" More quietly, he said conspiratorially, emphasizing his accent, "They find out you really don't know poaht from stahb'd?"

Harry smiled and joked. "No, that's one secret I've been able to keep from them." He then took a deep breath and looked at his old friend, silently asking him not to ask anything more about it. "I'm gonna be here a while, Bob."

Bob Bradstreet knew when Harry couldn't discuss certain things. Instead of pressing for more, he took the hint, and went to grab their bags from the small airplane. "Let me get these, and I'll give you a ride out to the old place, okay?"

Harry was about to tell him it wasn't necessary, he could call a cab, when Bradstreet shook his head. "Don't wanna hear it. You'll look better after you been here a few days, but right now, you look like you need to go home. Let's do it."

Edie took him by the hand and together they followed their old friend's retreating form. "I think that's the best offer we've had all day, Harry," she said.

Home. Let's go home. Feeling the exhaustion begin to wash over him again, Harry thought that sounded like an awfully good idea.

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Ellen Bryce put down her binoculars.

It was what she thought she saw. While eating in the small airport's tiny restaurant with her former sister-in-law, Kate, who had just come in on a plane from New York a half hour before, she had spied the Nelsons coming off the plane from Boston. Harry was on crutches and his sister was with him. She remembered her, but just barely. Edith had only eighteen or nineteen when Ellen had been introduced to her. Still, the auburn hair and the fair skin pegged her as a relative. It had to be Edith. She looked about the right age.

"What is it, Ellen?" Kate asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "You look like you're in shock."

"Well, not shock," Ellen countered thoughtfully. "Just a little surprised, though I shouldn't be. I knew he had a place out here. I've been there. There's no reason why he wouldn't… I just thought…"

"You thought what?" her sister-in-law asked, now sounding concerned. Then, she took the binoculars out of Ellen's hands and looked through them. "Why… that's…" Then, ever the lady, Kate handed the binoculars back to Ellen, keeping her own council.

Why wouldn't I have thought he'd be out here one of these days? And, I haven't even called him. He called me several times after Walter was killed. Checking on me, making sure I was okay. I never called him afterwards, though. I just didn't want to talk about it, and of course Walter thought that we were starting an affair on that trip.

I should have left Walter, the marriage was so bad, but I never would have been unfaithful to him. And talking to Harry, it just seemed to remind me of all that… I felt Walter staring at me, accusing me.

I don't think Harry would even know that I'm in Nantucket. Maybe he doesn't have to know… Oh, this is silly. It's a small island… Someone will tell him.

I wonder what happened to him? Harry wouldn't put up with crutches unless there was something seriously wrong…

Oh, Lord! Kate! How can I be so uncaring?!

"I'm sorry, Kate." Ellen looked her sister-in-law in the eye and placed the binoculars into her bag. "I'm being rude. Where are you staying this week?" she said, recovering.

"Oh, at the Jared Coffin House," Kate replied kindly, with no trace of recrimination. "I'll treat you to dinner there sometime this week, if you want. I hear that the food there is fantastic. You know, they say there's a real ghost there. Wonder what Walter would have thought of that? "

Then, she paused, and seemed to consider something before going on, "You know, Ellen, I'm doing a lot of work on my book this week, so I hope you won't feel badly if I can't get together each day. My editor has been really tight on this deadline. I guess the plan is to get the book out by Christmas."

She's so like Walter, aware of subtleties. Only Walter would jump to the wrong conclusions in the end, and Kate's only afraid of being in the way. Well, Kate, there's no worry. Harry and I are friends and that's the way it will always be. No matter how mad, no matter how abusive Walter was in the end, I can't do that to him. He was always jealous of Harry, always afraid I'd rather of married him. Well, things worked out the way that they did, and that's that.

Taking a deep breath, she looked back at her sister-in-law. "You take all the time you need, Kate. But, I'm planning on doing a lot of sight seeing this week and will be glad of your company when you'd like to go. I've been so busy with my research that I haven't had a chance to see much of the island. So, just come with me when you want to, and I'll leave you in peace when you need to work. Deal?"

"Sounds good, Ellen," Kate replied, her smile understanding. Gathering her things, she made ready to go.

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"Are you okay?" Edie's voice sounded in the distance.

Harry started from the light doze he had fallen into since arriving at the house. He'd hardly looked around before spying his father's old over stuffed chair and easing himself down into it.

He looked up into the concerned face of his sister and reached for her hand, pulling her down to sit on the hassock his feet were resting on.

"You don't ever stop worrying, do you?" he teased. "You know, you've taken awfully good care of me. Are you going to settle in, maybe take a hot bath – if we've got hot water – and relax?"

"I'll stop worrying if you'll change into some pajamas, let me settle you into bed or on the couch or something and give you the meds Doc wanted you to have. You look a little worse for wear, Harry," she replied, squeezing his hand. "It's been a long trip, hard on someone who is actually feeling well."

Harry smiled in resignation. "If that's what it takes to get you to relax, I'll have to go with it. Besides, doesn't sound like such a bad idea," he said as he moved his leg off the hassock and momentarily turned white as a sheet.

The room spun for a moment and he thought the lights had dimmed. He felt Edie's hand squeeze his shoulder, reminding him of the early days when she'd been with him in the hospital.

"We'll take this slow, okay?" Edie said gently, as she gave him a hand getting up and let him lean on her instead of the crutches.

"I guess that's the only option available," Harry replied, trying not to sound discouraged, but afraid that he might have. "We can look around the old place tomorrow, hmmm?" There, that sounded a little better.

"We've got plenty of time, Harry. All the time you want." Edie assured as she helped him up the stairs, while Harry silently hoped that he wouldn't trip or pass out or do something else to blow his sister's image of him.

Feeling the deep throb in his leg and watching the light dim around the edges of his vision, Harry ruefully acknowledged to himself that maybe he'd need more time than he originally thought.

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Well, here goes nothing.

Ellen took a deep breath and knocked.

And heard… nothing.

Taking another deep breath, she knocked a little louder.

This time, she definitely heard something. The something sounded like a lamp crashing and maybe someone crashing to the floor.

Ellen wondered if coming here so soon might have been a mistake. At war with herself over whether to go in… no one ever kept their doors locked on the island… and make sure Harry wasn't lying unconscious on the living room floor or run for the hills, she almost didn't notice when the door finally opened and she found herself face to face with an unshaven, barefoot, bathrobe clad Harriman Nelson.

His sleepy blue eyes widened in surprise, and he just stared at her for a moment, as though he didn't believe she was truly there.

"Ellen!" he finally exclaimed, his grin widening as the seconds ticked. "How in the world?" Harry said as he fumbled to open the screen door. When he was finally successful, Ellen felt herself pulled inside directly and was enveloped in a warm embrace.

Her arms automatically went around his waist, and her cheek was tickled by the ginger-colored hair peeking out of his bathrobe. She had always felt so alive when he hugged her, and this one felt so good. It had been too long since she had seen him last, and it was time to see him under happier circumstances.

Still, as Ellen spied Harry's bare feet and pajama pants, and the untied robe, which must have been hastily thrown on to answer the door, Ellen wasn't sure if Harry was here on Nantucket under happy circumstances. Obviously, he was convalescing from something and whatever it was had been quite serious. She wasn't sure if it was the excitement of seeing her that flushed his cheeks, or if he was running a fever.

"Oh, Harry… What happened to you?" Ellen asked, placing her hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth there and aware now that he was feverish. "You look awful."

"Thank you, ma'am. Can't say the same for you, though," Harry replied, his arms still around her. "You look absolutely wonderful. How did you know we were here?" he laughed. "What are you doing in Nantucket?"

He finally let go of her and motioned her into the large foyer. There she saw evidence of the crash she'd heard. She'd been right, a lamp had been upended.

"I see we had a casualty," she said referring to the glass on the floor, helping him to steer around the broken glass. If he stepped on it with his bare feet, it could cause a nasty cut, and although his hug had been strong, he didn't look very steady on his feet, particularly his right.

Directing Ellen into the living room, Harry grabbed his crutches and made his way into the living room after her. His obvious joy at seeing her was infectious, and soon Ellen had no second thoughts about the wisdom of coming to see him.

She carefully helped him to a chair, which had a hassock in front of it. This way, he could elevate his feet, and Harry seemed to settle back into it gratefully.

Reaching for her hand, Harry gazed at her as though he thought she were perhaps a figment of his imagination. "Now, Dr. Ellen Bryce, tell me, what are you doing here?"

Ellen smiled at him. Despite whatever ill was bothering him, he didn't have time to discuss it. "Actually, I'm here on the island doing research."

"Research?" Harry's face brightened even further. "Good for you!"

"Yes, there's a species of fish I had written my dissertation on, but I never really had a chance to follow through with it. There was Walter and his work, and it just never happened," Ellen shrugged her shoulders. "So, here I am."

She did her best not to notice how handsome he looked, even unshaven with his hair unruly from sleep, nor the way his untied bathrobe lay open, revealing his strong chest. No, she wasn't here to think of him that way, she reminded herself. Or, at least that was what she had told herself when she had set out this morning.

"So, you're living here? On the island?" he asked, his blue eyes locked with hers.

"Yes, not far from here." Ellen replied, "I saw you and Edith land last night. I was picking up Walter's sister, and we were grabbing a quick bite at the restaurant there. That was Edith, wasn't it?"

Harry grimaced and adjusted his leg. "Yes, that was Edith. I think she's out at the grocery store getting food right now."

"Now, tell me," Ellen said, placing her hand on Harry's arm. She knew he might now be able to tell her much, but at least it would be helpful to know what he was dealing with. "What happened to you?"

Harry tried to wave it off, but he was obviously in pain. His eyes were too bright. At first, Ellen thought that it was just the excitement of seeing her, but now she could tell he was uncomfortable. "I had an accident at sea," he said. "I'm going to be here for a while."

Ellen wanted to ask him a little more about his accident, but knew there were some things in Harry's line of work he couldn't talk about. "Well, I can tell that you're in pain and that you have a fever. I take it that you just got up, so you probably haven't had your medications yet. Can you tell me where they might be?"

"Upstairs. First bedroom to the right. On the night table." The fact that Harry hadn't tried to divert her from the subject at hand told Ellen that he needed those meds sooner than later.

"You stay right here. I'll be right back." Ellen instructed, patting him on the arm, and heading directly upstairs.

When she reached the top floor, she entered the first bedroom to the right. Obviously, it was his. His jacket lay folded on a chair, and the bed wasn't made. The prescriptions were right where he told her. Taking a little more license than she thought maybe she should, she held the prescription bottles up and read the contents. Demerol in one, but only prescribed for the next week, Percocet, and Tetracyclene. Ellen didn't mull over the implications, as she hurried downstairs, drew Harry a glass of water and brought him the medicines.

"Thanks," he acknowledged as he took the pills and water from her and downed them. He was quiet a moment, as she stood there, and then he reached for her hand, urging her to sit on the hassock near him.

Finally, as though brought before an angry schoolteacher, he said, "I was adrift at sea for about a week, after the ship I was on was blown up." He took a deep breath. "You could say that things got a little hairy on the raft," Harry averted his eyes and ran his hand over the side of his head, nervously, "and I was shot in the leg. That's why I'm hobbling around like Quasimoto here. That's all I can tell you. It's probably more than I can tell you."

He finished and looked at her, obviously searching for some reaction. In the past, Ellen had shied away from the military aspect to his career, and apparently he thought that maybe she would be disturbed by the reality of what had happened.

She was disturbed all right, but not for the reasons that he might assume. That would explain his marked weight loss, among other things.

"How long do the doctors say you'll be recovering?" Ellen asked, trying to keep her reaction from her voice.

"Doc says I'll be a few months." Harry replied. "Edie thought it would be best to come here." He yawned. "Sorry."

"Well, I'd say your sister is a very smart lady," Ellen commented, squeezing his hand.

"Well, I'm glad to see, Harry, that you're keeping company with the more elegant and discerning women of Nantucket," a familiar voice called from the kitchen.

Edith walked into the living room with a bundle in one hand and her pocket book in another. Her face lit up when she saw Ellen.

"Ellen! Ellen Matthews, isn't it?" Edie said, her delight apparent, as she put her bundles down and rushed forward to clasp Ellen's hand.

Ellen chose not to correct Edith on her last name. Harry's younger sister was too sincere with her enthusiasm to have any correction, however slight, take it down a notch. Ellen was glad of Edith's reception. Obviously, Harry had only had positive things to say of their friendship, despite the fact that she had married Walter.

"It's so nice to see you, Edith. How wonderful you're here on the island!" Ellen greeted her in return. "I saw you and Harry land last night at the airport and wanted to come by."

"Well, I'm glad you did. I'll enjoy your company, and my brother can use some cheering up." Edith said, looking over at Harry, apparently expecting him to refute her last comment, but found he had nodded off instead.

"I gave him his medicines, Edie. I'm afraid he might have over exerted himself trying to answer the door, and we also have the remains of a lamp to lay to rest." Ellen observed, none too surprised to see Harry asleep. He had been fading since that great burst of energy he'd had when he first saw her.

"I'll get him a blanket, and after I clean up the lamp, we'll catch up." Edith said, laying a hand on Ellen's arm.

"Tell you what… you get him the blanket, and I'll put on the tea. We'll clean up the lamp together, and by then, the water should be boiling, and we can have a nice talk," Ellen suggested. Edith smiled warmly at her and headed upstairs.

Looking over at Harry one more time before going into the kitchen, Ellen noted the high color in his cheeks and the sweat beginning to form at his forehead.

Darn, she had come over to the Nelson cottage vowing not to get involved, but rather to make a polite social call, lest Harry find out that she was on the island and had been ignoring him. Now, as she looked at his rugged face, and remembered his words, she felt herself doing exactly what she had vowed not to do.

Ellen was becoming involved. Though, by how much, she hoped she still had control. She felt Walter's angry stare, accusing her, despite the fact that he was long gone.

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"I'm sorry, Ellen. You know I drew a blank there. Harry had told me about how you lost your husband last year. I guess you just looked so much like you did when we first met…" Edith stopped, afraid she was venturing into uncomfortable territory. She mentally kicked herself. Usually, she was much more socially adept than this.

Edith then sipped her tea and cast a glance over at Harry. Edith had to note that her brother looked more comfortable now that he had his medication and was asleep.

"Walter was a brilliant scientist, Edith. I guess that's what drew me to him at first. He was always there. Nothing had the potential to take him away to a place where I couldn't follow…" Ellen took a deep breath, looking into her tea, as if trying to find answers inside the cup. She then looked up at Edith, her eyes saddened, and continued, "That was, until we lost our son to that huge whale. Then, Walter became lost in penchant for revenge against a dumb animal, which only acted on instinct. I couldn't follow him there. Couldn't help him. Heaven knows I tried… Harry tried… but Walter was bent on the destruction of that whale."

"Harry said that he couldn't see how you wouldn't blame him," Edith said quietly. "But, I can see that you don't."

"It was going to happen, regardless." Ellen replied directly. "I'm glad that Harry was there when it did. A different man might have handled it poorly and others could have been hurt or worse."

"I'm sorry, Ellen," Edith said, feeling entirely inadequate. In the last year, the older woman had lost her only son and her husband. Yet, she had the strength to come to Nantucket and carry on, starting a new life. She was caring enough to come visit Harry, when she could be lost in her own bitterness. Edith wondered if she'd be able to do the same, had the situations been reversed. "How it's in the Lord's plan to have such terrible things happen to good people, sometimes I don't know."

"It's because it wasn't the Lord's plan, Edie," her companion replied gently. "If Walter had followed the Lord's plan, he would have left well enough alone. As soon as he saw what a behemoth that creature was, he would have turned our boat around and he would be here today, as well as our son." The older woman sighed heavily. "But, I can't change that now."

The two women allowed a companionable silence to follow, as Ellen's words sunk in. Looking out at the ocean, Edith wondered how many other creatures existed like Walter's whale, and how many of them her brother would have the good sense to avoid.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Ellen stated, "Enough about me. I'm moving on with my research, and I've made good friends on the island. Your brother was very kind to me then, Edie. I don't think I could have got past the difficult part of it so quickly without him." Meeting Edith's eyes, she inquired, "So, you're here on the island looking after your brother. How is that working out for you? You must have had to drop everything."

Edith smiled, "Well, there are a few charity organizations back in Santa Barbara which are very unhappy with me right now. There were several fundraisers that someone else will need to take the reigns of. It's always hard to find someone last minute. And, I have work that I do for the Institute as well, but obviously everyone there was accommodating. Harry has a very loyal following."

"It's good of you to drop everything and help him," Ellen commented.

"Well, he'd do," Edie paused, then corrected, "has done, the same for me. We only have each other. Harry hasn't seen his way clear of his submarine to finally settle down, and me, I'm still waiting to meet a man who is interested in me, who isn't intimidated by my brother," she joked. "They all get a bit weak in the knees, you know."

"With good reason, I might add," Ellen commiserated. "I doubt anyone would want to run afoul of the great Admiral Nelson," she laughed. "But, surely, there must be someone…"

Edith shrugged her shoulders. Yes, there was someone whom she admired from afar, who wasn't afraid to speak his mind with her brother, but that someone didn't seem to notice her as anything other than the Admiral's kid sister, even though she was just the same age as he.

"I'm sure it will happen someday." Edith said with good nature. "Miracles do occur."

"Oh, Edie, it wouldn't take anything near a miracle. You just need to find the right person, and it will happen sooner than you think."

Edith wondered silently if that sentiment referred to Ellen's early relationship with Harry, or if she was referring to her late husband. Lee had told her that it looked as though Ellen might still be carrying a torch for her brother and vice versa, but neither one had acted with anything less than the utmost propriety aboard Seaview. Did Ellen still have feelings for Harry? Was that why she had come?

"The doctor says that Harry needs to take it easy for awhile. It could take several months before he's ready to go back. Did he tell you anything of what happened?" Edith ventured.

"Yes, he said as much as he could about it. He's lucky to be alive," Ellen conceded, straightening her skirt, obviously disturbed by the thought of Harry's "accident at sea".

"Everyone thought he was gone. That was, except for Lee. They searched and searched, and then Lee decided that if he knew Harry, he'd make it to the rendezvous at the appointed time. That making sure they were there was the best chance of finding him, and lo and behold, when they arrived, they found the raft." Edith glanced over at her sleeping brother. "Lee said, and I quote, 'We didn't find him. He found us. It must have been one hell of a piece of navigation.'"

"Some people always seem to know how to find their way in a storm, don't they, Edie," Ellen commented.

Aware that Ellen's words had a broader meaning than the praise of Harry's navigational skills, Edith smiled knowingly, and together with the woman whom she had once seen as potential sister-in-law material, she gazed out to the ocean as they finished their tea.

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Something cold was now on his forehead, and it startled him out of a deep sleep. Blinking his eyes, Harry watched the fuzziness coalesce into something vaguely resembling his sister.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," Edith whispered. "Your fever's a little high. I thought that a cool cloth might help."

"Wha – where's Ellen?" he said, sitting up immediately, searching the room. Damn, he'd fallen asleep on her!

"She'll be back tomorrow, Harry. She thought that maybe you'd need your rest today," his sister answered firmly.

Settling back in his chair and allowing Edith to wipe the sweat from his face, he sighed. "I can't believe she's here on the island. I had no idea."

"I had a nice visit with her, Harry. She's a very strong lady," Edith commented, sitting near him. "When I first saw her, I didn't place her as Mrs. Bryce. Then, I remembered everything you told me about that trip. She could be so bitter, but she's not."

Harry looked up at his sister. Edith always saw the best in people, but she was also a good judge of character. "She was always a very special person that way," he acknowledged.

"Well, she would have had to be, brother mine, to set your heart pitter pat all those years ago. How did you meet her anyway?" Edie inquired, settling back on the couch.

"She was a student of mine. Remember when I was on sabbatical that year, and I was at Villanova?" Harry's original intention had been to pick a school near where Edith would be beginning her first year of college. As it turned out, Villanova, Edith's alma mater, had an opening in the Biology department, and he had decided to take it, figuring he could take a much-needed break from the Navy and keep an eye on Edie all at the same time.

Edith sat up, looking at him with mock indignation. "Really, Harry, hitting on one of your students, and in such close proximity to your impressionable sister. You were lucky you weren't the talk of the campus," she giggled.

Harry thought back to that day almost 20 years ago when he walked into that classroom and did his darndest for an entire semester not to notice the pretty Ellen Matthews, who sat not three seats from the front of the class. Of course, she made it hard, laughing with her friends at various points in the lectures, and at that time, he had no idea what they were commiserating about. He wasn't sure whether to throw her out for disrupting the class or give up and count the weeks until the end of the semester.

One afternoon, several weeks after the semester ended, the department secretary knocked on his office door.

"Harry, a Miss Matthews from your fall Marine Biology class is here to see you," she said, her eyes twinkling.

Later, he found out that the whole Biology department had been taking bets, on how their youngest colleague would deal with the unusual discipline problem, which had existed in BI 402.

He had rubbed the back of his head, and sighed, "Okay, thanks, Anne."

Ellen had then tentatively entered his office and looked up at him with a mixture of shyness and resolve. Taking a deep breath, Harry assumed for courage, she began, "Professor, I've come to speak with you about my grade."

"Yes, Miss Matthews," Harry leaned back in his chair, trying to convey a sense of casual innocence.

"You gave me an A-."

"That's right."

"I've never received anything less than an A in the sciences. I would have had a 4.0 this semester, if it hadn't been for this course." Ellen had stated simply. She had not sounded petulant, but rather confused. "I thought that I had done alright on the final. Could you show me what I did wrong?"

"You got a 98 on the final," he answered simply.

"And, all my other grades were 95 or above," she said, her features showing her growing bewilderment.

"I also graded on classroom participation," Harry said and watched Ellen's face drop.

He let the statement lie for a moment, and then he had plunged ahead, not necessarily with great comfort, and asked, "Miss Matthews, could you tell me, now that the semester's over, what was all so fired amusing about my classes?"

Her cheeks flushed red, and she began to gather her things. "I'm sorry, Professor. You're right. I should be satisfied with my grade, and I think I'd better go."

"Hold it right there," he said, sitting up straight in his chair, doing his best to look authoritative. "Now, I listened to you and your friends giggle your way from single cell amoebas to the humpback whale, and I'd appreciate knowing what was so funny."

Ellen had met his eyes for a moment and reminded him of a deer caught in headlights, but Harry had continued to stare at her, willing her to say something that would help him make sense out of everything.

Finally, she began to say, "We were wondering…."

Then, she mumbled something unintelligible.

"You were wondering what?" Harry pushed.

Ellen sighed with obvious resignation, aware that Harry had no intention of letting her go until he knew the whole story.

"Well, one of the girls had a crush on you, and we were wondering which one of us might be your type." She rushed through the last part, and quickly got up to leave. "I really need to go now. I'm sorry, Professor."

Harry had felt like he couldn't have heard her right and replayed the words over in his mind. Ellen was almost out the door when he shouted reflexively, "WAIT!"

Ellen startled and dropped her books, and feeling like a heel, Harry had sprung out of his seat and around his desk and immediately set about helping her to pick them up.

"Oh damn, look what I did. Really, Ellen, I'm sorry, " he said kneeling down and passing her the books which had fallen on the floor.

When he stood up, they were both standing in the doorframe close together, and Harry found himself staring into her snappy brown eyes.

"Oh, for God's sakes, get it over with. Kiss her, Harry," Ben Whittaker had muttered walking by the two of them in the hall outside Harry's office.

Harry's head had snapped up as he did a double take, watching the crusty sixty-year-old Department Chair retreat into another professor's office.

Sighing in frustration, his cover blown, Harry had straightened and leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Miss Matthews, I'm afraid I can't change your grade. That wouldn't be fair to the rest of the class. But, if you promise me that you'll never take another one of my courses," he pleaded, "I would like to take you to dinner tomorrow night."

Several months later Ellen had finally confided, away from Harry's office, the identity of the woman in class who had been nursing a crush on him, although Harry had already happily guessed that very afternoon.

"God, Harry, they could bring you up on charges now for doing something like that, or at least kick you off the faculty," Edith's voice brought him back to the present.

"No, of course they couldn't. It wasn't like she was under age. She only had one more semester of undergraduate study, and then she was going on to graduate school. Besides, Edie, I didn't ask her out until the semester was over, so technically, there was no conduct issue," Harry explained. "You make me sound like some middle-aged lecher. I was only five years older than she."

"You still are," Edith said quietly.

Harry understood his younger sister's implication, but somehow right now, he wasn't up to thinking more about the possibilities between he and Ellen Bryce. It was all so complicated now, and what they had back then had been so innocent and simple. Back then, she had been Ellen Matthews, and that had been a whole different story.

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"I can't believe we still have this," Edie commented, holding a yellowed wedding invitation.

The sun was setting, casting purple and pink hues against the clear sky. As he gazed from Edie back to the window, Harry could agree that Madaket truly was the place to watch the most beautiful sunsets. Maybe that was why his parents had loved it so much here.

His parents had maintained an exceptional marriage. Sometimes Harry wondered if that was why he was so particular about that subject. After all, John and Elizabeth Nelson were widely admired for their success both in the home and with their businesses. None of their children had ever been in any serious trouble, but rather most of them had a reputation for being polite and earnest. At times, Harry was somewhat intimidated by that example, as he could well remember how difficult it was at first to have the care of Edie and the businesses upon his shoulders. At times, he was sure he would screw it up. Now, Johnny would have been a much better choice for that responsibility, but as things turned out, Harry hadn't done such a terrible job.

Certainly, as Harry gazed over at Edie, he reflected that nothing about his sister had turned out badly at all. Rather, she was inherently the sweet person she had always been, despite some rough treatment by fate.

Although Harry didn't like to think of it much, he could still remember the night his CO pounded on his door in the BOQ at New London. The news his superior had carried left him completely numb. His parents were dead. And, he had wondered, afterward, as with trembling hands, he carefully packed his duffle bag for the trip home, shouldn't he be crying? Shouldn't he be angry?

Inexplicably, he didn't feel much of anything. Later, Harry would liken the feeling to dropping a cement block on his foot. There are a few seconds of nothingness before the pain begins, where the body is in shock from the blow. Once he started to feel something, Harry had known that it was going to hurt like hell, and that was too scary. There were details to take care of. Relatives to inform, and most of all, there was Edie. His mother had tried to teach him to be gracious in the face of adversity. That night as he packed, he'd focused on his gratitude, reminding himself that at least he was not at sea when the accident happened. At least, he could hop on a plane and get to his sister, who must surely need him.

"I wonder if they have wedding pictures around here, Harry," Edith mused as she looked over the invitation. "I'm sure they probably only would have had one or two taken. But, I could swear Mom showed me a picture, and we were here."

Harry listened, but directed his attention from his sister back to the sunset. That familiar ache was tugging in his chest. He had experienced deaths of close family members before his parents. His brothers had died in the war, and those events had left him deeply hurt. He had seen friends killed in battle. However, as tragedies in his life went, very little compared to losing his parents suddenly. He had been close to them, close enough that he could come and go and know that it was okay. The love was always strong, and it always remained. It was unconditional. And, Harry knew, they were proud of him.

He had long conceded that he had worried less about his parents' anger than their disappointment. Disappointing them was much, much worse, because he loved and respected them so much. In the end, Harry had known, without a doubt, that any past transgressions had been easily forgiven. Still, when they died, he felt his sense of security jerked away. At that point, Harry would have certainly reconciled his own death better than theirs. After all, he was a military man, in harm's way. The possibility of death was part of his job description. Not in his parents'. They had seemed to lead a gracious, yet responsible, life. Any ill falling upon them which could not be overcome seemed at odds with the grand scheme of the universe.

"Oh, I suppose we should get rid of this old place, shouldn't we, Harry." Edith sighed.

Her words brought him back to reality with a start. "Wha—Why? Why do you want to do that?"

"Well, we can't take care of it very well. We're hardly ever here. Really, it's falling apart." Edith said, looking around with concern. "Mom and Dad wouldn't want us to treat it like this."

That sentiment brought Harry up short. He had been about to protest his sister's point of view, except as he looked around, he could see the neglect. When his parents had been alive, the house had been spotless. Now, it looked worn and tired. Wallpaper looked dingy. Outside, a shutter leaned off its hinges.

A deep, familiar melancholy settled over him, but he had always been good at hiding it from Edith. Years of practice, he mused. He disguised the movement to wipe moisture from his eyes as one of fatigue. He often had said to Edith in those early years that his eyes were tired. As far as he knew, she had always bought that story. Or, at least she'd had the grace never to say differently.

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The next morning, Harry pulled himself painfully from his bed.

He hadn't slept well.

Unsettling images had plagued him all night. He had dreamed of walking through the old Nantucket home with his mother and noticing all the changes, and he had been worried about her. Worried about how she'd feel about the changes she would see in her beloved home. Still, he felt a sense of togetherness - that she hadn't left him. That it was very natural to walk with him in his dreams and visit. But, without exchanging a word, Harry had shared a silent communion of longing with her, longing for how things used to be.

"Harry, do you need help?"

Edith had obviously heard him fumbling around for a pair of shorts, rather clumsily, and as he buttoned his favorite worn khaki set, he felt the sweat beading on his temples and dripping down his back. He sat down on the bed and rested his forehead on his knees. He had to find a shirt somewhere. He'd look in a minute.

The soft knock seemed miles away. A shuffling of feet alerted him that Edith had not waited for him to answer.

"Harry… oh goodness, you don't look good at all…" Edie's hand rested on Harry's bare shoulder, as he wondered listlessly how she knew he was so sick.

C'mon, Nelson, suck it up. You're supposed to be a tough military hero. Now, you're weak as a kitten. How does that feel, Hero? Now, your sister's got to nurse you 24 hours a day. Maybe she can spoon feed you.

Methodically, Harry breathed, willing the dizziness to depart, wondering why he was hearing voices. However, the room took a sudden shift sideways, and next thing he knew, he was staring up at the ceiling, and his back hurt. There was something hard and cool against it. Could it be the floor? But, that wouldn't be right, hadn't he just been sitting on the bed? And that was the last question he pondered before he was devoid of conscious thought.

She always wanted to be with you.

Even years after we were married, she still talked about you.

I couldn't do anything about it then. But, I can now.

She will not end up with you, Nelson.

You will die first.

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Ellen shivered as she gazed out toward Brant Point Lighthouse. Maybe the weather had turned. She should get her sweater. Still, the young tourists ambled by in their shorts and Birkenstocks. None of them seemed to reach for sweatshirts. Lord, she hoped she wasn't coming down with a cold. No one should be visiting Harry with a cold right now, she reflected, and felt a more violent shudder.

Must be the east wind coming in. These tourists, who often paid between $2,000 and $10,000 a week, would never acknowledge less than perfect weather. On cold, rainy summer days, you could still find them out on the beach, having put too much into coming to the island to lose a day.

She turned and started up Easton Street, back toward town.

Walter had never liked Nantucket. Thought it was too quiet. Too boring. Of course, that was before the invasion of tourists was quite as pronounced. Back then, Nantucket had been affordable and quaint. Now, at least it was still quaint. Still, Walter wouldn't like it now. He'd see it as frivolous. The artists… the landscape… the attitude… the people. He'd never get it. He'd be itching to spend all of his time at Wood's Hole Oceanographic Institute, 30 miles to the west of the island, on the mainland. He'd never understand why she would choose to be here. Caught up in the politics at WHOI, Walter would never have tolerated a sentimental attachment to this place.

Walter's large life insurance policy had left her well able to live where she wanted. Although real estate had skyrocketed on the island, Ellen had been able to afford a cottage in Scionset. As she turned onto South Beach Street, she reflected that the Nelson place in Madaket would be untouchable now to anyone but the very affluent. Ellen doubted that when a young John and Elizabeth Nelson bought it, they would ever envision the 2 million dollar price tag the property would certainly carry presently.

Of course, Harry had never seemed caught up in all that. Ellen had seen new people move to the island, their noses firmly stuck in the air over the acquisition of a relatively insignificant property, insignificant if one had spent time living on the island, and knew where the very beautiful places were. And, often, she'd thought of how she rubbed elbows every day with members of the old families in Nantucket, who quietly owned properties, which put anything the newbies had to shame. These homes, which never were sold, but rather passed down from generation to generation, like a trust, a beautiful gift one family member gave to another, and they remained humbled by it.

The Nelson family had owned many homes, but Harry had never spoken of any of them with the frequency he mentioned Nantucket. Although Ellen knew it wasn't so, Harry could give the impression that the only important times in his childhood were spent on the island. One could mistakenly assume that he had grown up here. Although he spent the rest of the year in Boston, on Beacon Hill to be exact, perhaps to Harry, he had grown up in Nantucket, everything else paling in comparison.

It's of no matter to you.

Ellen stopped in her tracks.

If she could will herself to turn around, she could swear that she'd see Walter. His presence bearing down upon her, suffocating her - his hot breath, she could almost feel him breathing down her neck.

"You have no hold on me now, Walter. Besides, I haven't done anything wrong." She said it aloud, more for her benefit than anything. After all, Walter was gone. She had loved him once, but that was before the obsession, which dominated a great deal of their marriage and ended in madness.

It's what you're thinking of doing.

"And so what if I am!" she shouted, whirling around and staring back toward the lighthouse. There, Walter was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't speaking to her.

But, as she turned on her heel, and moved back toward the town of Nantucket, she felt the hairs on her neck stand on end.

If you think I'm not serious, call the hospital.

He's not at home, you know.

Ellen whirled around again.

This time, she thought she just caught sight of a large malevolent shadow, which ducked down Sea Street. There, but just out of sight.

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"Edie, he's got a high fever. His blood pressure is off the map. Has he been taking his meds?"

Doctor Kate O'Brien shook her head. Harry had always had a penchant for adventure, even when they were kids. However, this last adventure was costing him dearly.

Watching her old clam digging buddy's sister shift nervously, Kate knew the answer didn't lie there. Harry and Edie were sensible people. If a doctor had prescribed an antibiotic, Harry knew the consequences for not taking it.

"He seemed to be getting better every day." Edie sighed, "I knew it would be slow, Kate. But, he just got up this morning and collapsed on the floor. He didn't look like that last night."

Kate was a long time fixture in the Nantucket community. Her father had delivered most of her generation, including a few of the Nelson kids, if she remembered correctly, and she had delivered the next. A doctor on an island thirty miles out to sea had to be multi-talented, especially the one on duty at the Nantucket Hospital emergency room.

"The infection isn't in his leg, though. It's a more generalized thing. It seems unrelated. The antibiotic that he was taking must have set off something else. That can happen," Kate mused aloud. "Anyway, I'm switching the antibiotic, and I'm giving it to him in IV. We packed him in ice and brought his fever to a more manageable level. Don't want him going into convulsions."

"Can I see him?"

"Sure, the ice is gone. Now, we're just doing cold compresses. It's just a mystery, that's all. This shouldn't be happening." Noticing Edie's frown, Kate added, "But, hey, the Doctors O'Brien have never lost a Nelson yet."

Kate smiled and put her arm around her old friend's shoulders. "Don't worry, Edie. He's just a puzzle right now, and you know that I'm very good at puzzles."

"Yes, I do, " Edie rubbed her eyes, looked at her old friend, and sighed, "Remember the 1000 piece puzzle my mother had out on the porch? It took all of us the entire summer to put it together."

"But, we did, didn't we, Edie. Harry, your brothers, you, me, Bob, Dot, all our friends… we solved it. And with a little teamwork, we'll solve this one too."

"God, I hope so," Edith replied, squeezing Kate's hand.

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"ADMEERHAL," a voice sneered. "You tought you von, but you see, I alvays survive."

Harry shook himself from his stupor. Looking around, he could see he was still on that blasted raft, the salt stinging his wounds, a madman still bent on his destruction. Nothing had changed at all. The time home with Edie, Lee's rescue, it was all a fantasy born out of delirium, he supposed.

Alexi wasn't dead. His hatred filled countenance was staring him down, willing his composure to break, willing him to show fear.

Harry would have none of that.

He would die here. He knew that now. If Lee had not rescued him, Nelson knew that by now, he would not make it. Infection had set in. He was feverish, delirious. He was of no use to Alexi. The Premier would soon pitch him over the side.

Nelson doubted he'd be able to keep his head above water. And, if he didn't drown, the sharks would certainly make short work of him. Neither was a very pleasant death. Though with the life he led, he never thought that he would pass from this earth from old age in his own bed. It was a decision made long ago.

He would not dignify Alexi's comments with a response.

"You wanted my wife, Nelson. You'll never have her."

Harry's head shot up.

There, in Alexi's place, was Walter Bryce. Puffed up, blue, and bloated, it was a grotesque version of the man that Harry had known. No, Walter must have appeared this way not long after he drowned trying to kill that monster whale.

"If you had cared more for her than your revenge, you wouldn't have to worry about it, Walter," Nelson replied with surprising strength.

"No, you would have tried to take her away," the repugnant apparition taunted. "No matter what, Nelson, you would not have respected our marriage vows. You were probably bedding her the night we came aboard."

Harry shook his head, thinking about his single sized berth and the atmosphere aboard the submarine. It was the least conducive place to romance he could imagine.

"Bryce, what was between me and your wife ended before you got married. She chose you, damn it. She didn't wait for me." Harry felt himself slipping into a void again. This being was not going to accept logic.

"She didn't wait for you because she thought you were dead. Imagine my surprise, Nelson, married to her for two months, a baby on the way, and she finds out you're in one piece. She was never mine again, after that."

"You're mad, Bryce. Even in death, you're mad." Harry wheezed.

"And, you'll be joining me in death very soon, Nelson. Then, we can argue for an eternity."

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The world always had an uncanny sense of balance, Ellen decided as she climbed the stairs to Nantucket Hospital.

Looking at its weathered gray shingles, a Nantucket Island trademark, Ellen might have conceded that this building didn't look like a cold and technical hospital, but rather a very friendly and inviting place. That was, if she had not been so desperate and depressed.

No, just when she was beginning to feel a hint of excitement, just when she was beginning to feel like her struggles had all been toward a greater goal, that she might be vindicated for having made such a foolish decision so long ago, her past was literally coming back to haunt her.

There was no chance to separate from that earlier life. That depressing life, where everywhere Ellen turned, she encountered persistent defeat. Her husband had never been really happy with her.

He had spent the first few months of their marriage extolling his far superior attributes to that of her old boyfriend, their old professor, Harry Nelson. Certainly, it was unfortunate that Harry was missing at the hands of the Chinese, presumed dead, but she could have ended up married to him, and that certainly would have made for a lesser kind of a life – that of a Navy wife, always waiting for him to come back to port. Yes, Walter and she could work together, and she need not ever be alone. The Lord had a way of making these things work out for the best, and certainly, Walter said, Ellen had made the right decision.

The right decision, she pondered, opening one of the hospital's heavy front doors.

The right decision came clear to her the day Harry walked up her steps, his arm heavily bandaged and immobilized in a sling, his smile not reaching his eyes, wishing her well, telling her that he understood.

Walter had been apoplectic at the sight of him, a tight vein pulsing in his forehead as he gazed out the window. Whatever the Chinese hadn't been able to accomplish, Ellen was sure that, had there been no witnesses, Walter had been ready to finish.

Sure, Walter coolly welcomed him back, but had not invited Harry into the house – not that their old professor would want to come in anyway. No, Harry was being gracious. He didn't want her to find out from someone else that he was back.

Eyeing her expanding stomach, Harry had brushed the side of her cheek with a kiss, given Walter a cursory handshake, and then, turned on his heel.

Ellen now knew that the right decision would have been to run after him. Surely, there would have been a bitter custody battle over the baby. Walter was too litigious and too egotistical to let her go without a fight, but he would have ultimately been his own worst enemy

After that, life with Walter was unbearable. He was jealous, paranoid, and competitive. No longer a specter, Harry Nelson was a real living, breathing rival for his wife's affections. And, Walter had been wrong. Harry hadn't been killed outright, the body someday to be unearthed while Ellen's grandchildren played happily at her feet. Walter had not saved Ellen from a life of loneliness.

Even though Ellen had stayed at the top of the steps with Walter at her side that afternoon, they both knew it wasn't her first choice.

Was his kindness to her during the dark months, which followed Harry's disappearance, worth a lifetime of repayment?

Apparently, they were. Or, at least she had allowed them to be.

Now, she would never be vindicated for the mistake she made all those years ago. Ellen hadn't had patience. She had lacked faith. Thus, she had spent most of her adult life in a loveless marriage, and there would be no silver lining.

And, still, a good man was paying for that mistake. Ellen was now certain of it. She would find Harry Nelson here. Who knew in what condition? And, a vengeful spirit had something to do with it. Walter Bryce could not let go.

Well, Harry had paid for her mistake once with a broken heart. He would not pay the ultimate price. Somehow, she would stop it, even if it meant her very existence.

And then, she stopped, as she almost walked smack into the man in question.

voyagevoyagevoyagevoyage

The room was still shifting side to side. A bit like being on the deck of a small sailboat, but Harry was used to that. And, into his field of vision came the loveliest person, save Edie (as she was his sister, after all), that he had seen all day.

"Oh, thank God. Are you alright?" Ellen exclaimed, taking his hand, turning and moving with them toward the exit.

Since Edie had his other arm, he kept his forward momentum.

"Just needed an adjustment in the meds," Harry assured her, though his dreams had left him stunned. Despite wearing the Nantucket sweatshirt Edie had bought him in the hospital gift shop and the warm weather, he shivered.

"He spiked a fever, Ellen. How did you know?" Edie explained

"Oh, you know, it's a small island," Ellen said casually.

"They wanted him to stay, but you know my brother. He wants to be in his own bed," Harry heard his sister comment. Her voice still seemed far away, like she was in the next room, instead of right next to him.

"I'll stay with him, while you go get the car," Ellen stated, gripping his hand warmly, and they watched Edith walk toward the parking lot.

Some things were always rock steady, Harry contemplated, turning his attention to his old friend. And, some people too. They never changed. They were always true blue.

But, his dreams… they'd been vivid. Someone warning him about something, an argument, he couldn't quite remember. It had something to do with Ellen.

Well, he'd had a fever. It wasn't unusual for him to have unsettling dreams when he was sick. He had just been sick.

That was all.

He was now approaching the age his father was when he died, and as Harry looked at the woman next to him, he pondered whether he truly could leave this world knowing that he could have been with Ellen, should have been with Ellen, and hadn't made the attempt.

"We were supposed to be together, you know," Harry said, not quite believing his words, but with his head feeling so woozy, he didn't feel all that emotionally vulnerable. Blunt honesty wasn't going to cost him anything.

There was a quiet sigh of resignation.

"Yes, I know," Ellen replied. "I made a mistake."

"No, you did what you thought was right. But, let's not make a mistake now."

"Harry, I don't…"

Nelson shook his head, staring at his feet. Edith would be here in a minute and there was something that needed to be said. "Listen, I know we missed our chance. I don't want to miss another one because we're afraid of old ghosts."

Harry didn't know quite why he picked that term, until total recollection of the dream came flooding back to him.

However, instead of recoiling at the threat, Harry held Ellen's hand tightly. He'd fought aliens, paranormal beings, and a host of other things for a broader global goal. This was now personal.

"Ready to go?" a voice permeated his consciousness. Edie was now calling over the roof of the car.

"Yes. Absolutely." Harry answered, hoisting himself off the bench he shared with the woman he would have felt most comfortable sharing Nantucket and everything else with. He didn't know where it would lead, but no person or thing was going to deny him the chance.

"Coming?" Nelson asked, holding his hand out to her.

Gazing down at her, searching her face, he saw indecision and fear. She was afraid of the same thing that he was, that was obvious - a restless spirit, Bryce, who still wanted to insert itself into their lives, just as he did all those years ago, to try to keep them apart.

Then, after several long moments, she seemed to draw herself up. Slowly, she got to her feet and reached to take his hand.

"Yes… gladly," Ellen whispered in his ear.

And, as a shadow cast over them, Ellen helped Harry to the car.

Just the beginning…