For Inspiration: You'll Never Walk Alone by Celtic Woman

Chapter 5: Dealing with Storms

Lucy huddled under her covers. A great clap of thunder had jolted her from a peaceful slumber only moments ago and now she lay shivering, frightened and alone. Looking around, she strained to see about her in the dark and still unfamiliar room. A sudden flash of lightening illuminated the small chamber for only a second; not long enough for her to get her bearings. She had been so very tired when Mama had put her to bed earlier, the toils of the day and the excitement of moving into her new home had welcomed sleep, but now, the raging storm outside drove sleep from her.

Fear replaced the shattered fragments of a sweet dream. In the rumbling blackness and wailing wind she now remembered with dread the stories she had heard of fiends who lurked in the shadowy corners of old houses. She had overheard Mrs. Lucas telling Mrs. Clark in hushed tones about the ghost of a sea captain who was said to haunt the house Mama had bought and moved them into. They said he had committed "sue-aside." She had no idea what that was, but surmised it was something bad. They said his spirit walked about the house, laughing and thrashing anyone who went inside; that a terrible fate awaited anyone who crossed him.

She hadn't given these things much credence then; after all, Mama had been in the house and hadn't told her these things happened to her. Besides, Mama would never bring her to a home where anyone would hurt her. Hadn't she moved her from Grandmama's house where people made her feel like she could never do anything right?

A rumbling clap of thunder accompanied by a brilliant flash of light shook the room, eliciting a muffled cry from the child's lips. Cold fear settled over her and as she listened to the rain striking the window panes and the relentless wind whipping against the frame of the house. Her heart was pounding in her chest and the child trembled, her eyes darting about in the darkness for the shape of some nightmare to rise up and seize her. She wailed, "Mama!" as another clap of thunder thudded the house, drowning out the child's cry.

"There now, lassie," said a soothing masculine voice, "what's all this fuss?"

Dread seized the little girl, and she huddled deeper under the thick patch-work quilt, and began crying in earnest.

"Ah," the voice continued. "It's just a wee storm is all. Nothing to lose yer head over." A moment passed as the mortified child continued to sob. "Well now, maybe a little light would be of help."

A moment later, someone struck a match and the candle on the bureau came to life. Peeking from under her covers, Lucy saw a man standing in her room, dressed in a dark coat and breeches. His dark eyes looked kindly on her, and she could see a friendly grin inside a rough beard. He looked very much like the man in the portrait hung in Mama's room and she
whimpered in fear.

"Lassie, donna cry," he said, crossing the room and coming to stand near the bed. "I'll no hurt ye."

Unconvinced, Lucy looked up at the apparition standing solidly before her. "But you're a ghost!" she wailed. "You hurt people!"

"Now who told ye that, lass?"

"Mrs. Lucas said it!"

The captain shook his head indulgently, and kept his voice low and comforting. "Is this the same Mrs. Lucas who lays out a plate fer her husband at supper?"

Lucy stopped crying, but continued to sniffle as she pondered the question for a moment before answering with a small, quavering voice, "yes, sir."

"Ah!" The ghost winked at her. Crossing his arms over his chest, he appealed to the child's logic. "Then Mrs. Lucas knows a thing or two about livin' with someone 'lingerin' a bit from the next world." He uncrossed his arms and gripped the foot of the bed, leaning conspiratorily toward the small child. "But, Mrs. Lucas was wrong about me, well, in this case. I'll no' hurt ye lassie." When the girl continued to stare at him and looked ready to bolt for the door, he added, "Besides, did ye not set a place at the table fer me earlier this evenin'?"

Still sniffling, Lucy nodded.

"Well, thank you for that, young lady. Ye'd agree that it would be vera poor manners indeed fer me to accept so gracious an invitation an' then set about to scare ye, now wouldn't it?"

Somewhat calmed, she continued, "Mrs. Lucas said you scare people."

"Did she now?"

"Yes."

"Well, she may be right about that," he conceded. "But, to be fair, I didna' want anybody in me house."

Lucy, now subdued, peered at him cautiously. "It's our house now."

"Aye, that it is," he conceded.

A great clap of thunder sounded outside and the child cringed against her pillow and began crying again. The captain sat on the bed beside the girl and placed his hand on her head, petting her soft hair. "Ah, now, yer not a'frightened by a little storm, are ye?"

"Yes!" she bawled.

"What?" he said incredulously. "A big, brave girl such as yerself afraid of a wee bit o' rain and wind? This tiny bluster is nothin'. Ye should see a great Northern come up on the high seas."

Wide-eyed and breath hitching, he drew closer to the youngster as she stilled and listened. "Clouds as black as midnight fill the skies, blockin' out all light 'til ye canna see yer hand in front of yer vera face. They bring with 'em great howlin' winds that'll freeze yer blood, and cut through ye to the bone. The rains are fraught wi' ice and hail as big as yer fist, all peltin' the decks and makin' ye slide to an' fro. Then, the seas rise up again' ye and the wind and the rain seem like nothin' next to the waves tossin' ye up and down, tryin' to smash ye and take ye to the bottom!"

Awed, Lucy whispered, "weren't you scared?"

"Aye, lass, and right well, too!" The captain smiled conspiratorially. "When all of creation comes again' ye, ye best be scared. But, ye canna let yer fear get the better of ye."

"What did you do?"

Cocking his head he continued, "I did what needed to be done. I had me a fine crew, well trained to deal with the likes of a storm. We worked to hold our ship together, every hand on deck securin' the riggin' and bailin' the waters tryin' to weigh us down."

"And it worked?"

Winking at the child, he affirmed, "aye, it did; got us safe to shore time and time again." He reached out with long fingers and gently wiped away the tears lingering on her cheeks. "Now then, this here house is fixed solid to the ground; no sea at it's underbelly to reach out and suck it under. And, it's built of solid timber so it will resist any wind or rain that comes again' it!"

"So, the wind won't blow the house down?"

"No, lassie; ye'll no be hurt by the wind nor the storm."

Lucy considered this as that very wind and storm assaulted the house, seeing the truth of his claims. Of course, there was still the matter of his intentions, and biting her lower lip she looked up at him with puppy eyes. "What about you? Are you going to try to scare us?"

Smart girl. "No, I'm no goin' to scare ye," he promised. She looked at him skeptically, and his heart warmed to her irreversibly. She was every inch her mothers' daughter, he could plainly see, and he knew she'd gotten the better of him without even trying. Offering her a sincere smile, he leaned in closed to the girl and offered, "I'll make ye a deal. Ye stop worryin' over this here storm, and no more cryin', and I'll watch over ye whilst ye sleep."

Lucy considered his offer. He hadn't tried to scare her, had, in fact, spoken gently to her. Deciding he was telling the truth, the child offered her hand to him, sealing the deal the way she had seen adults do. "I'm Lucy," she said, introducing herself.

Taking the small hand in his own, he returned, "Pleased to make yer acquaintance. I'm Captain Gold."

Scrunching down under her covers, she allowed the captain to fluff her pillow and tuck the quilt in around her. He ruffled her hair and gave her a quick wink, and then crossed the room to the bureau and blew the flame of the candle out. The room was now as dark as it had been before, but the walls seemed now more secure and the wind and rain sounded less threatening. Another flash of lightening briefly illuminated the room, and she saw him sitting on a chair near the window, his arms folded over his chest and his gaze trained on the storm outside.

His presence made her feel content and safe.

"Captain Gold?"

"Aye, lassie?"

"You're not what I thought you were. I'm so glad."

Smiling, a feeling of warmth engulfed him. What am I coming to? "Well, don't tell anyone, dearie."

XXXXX

Isabelle spun in front of a full length mirror on a stand in her room. She wore a sky blue silk blouse with a high collar and long tapered sleeves over a matching skirt that was fitted along her hips without being too restrictive, flaring a bit from the knees down. Her hair was brushed back from her face into a loose bun just above her shoulders. Smiling brightly at her reflection, she felt almost giddy and turned to Martha standing nearby. "Well, what do you think?"

The maid, dressed in a green gingham work dress covered by a starched, white apron, her white sleeves rolled up to her elbows, smiled back. "You look wonderful, Miss."

It was her fourth week in the house, her fourth week of living her new life. She had now completed her year of mourning for Gerald. Casting aside her "widow's weeds" in favor of "real clothes" gave her the sense of freedom she had longed for. Those black dresses had carried the weight of shrouds every day she had worn them, tying her to Gerald as if he were merely in the next room. Packing them away had felt so freeing, as if she had found the key to the shackles hindering her from living, and she felt almost weightless in the light and airy dress she now wore.

In the past few weeks, Isabelle had acquainted herself with the hamlet of Storybrooke, and she was now ready to rejoin the world of the living. She and Lucy had tramped through the little port town, meeting new people and exploring all of the shops and stores. The beautiful widow and her daughter were a welcome addition among the citizens. Martha had made inroads of her own, making arrangements with the local grocers, and the ice and dairy suppliers, so that the pantry was now stocked with canned goods and fresh produce, and the icebox had a few days supply of meat, fish, eggs and milk.

Mornings usually consisted of some household chores after breakfast. Around mid-morning, Lucy occupied herself in her room or on the porch and Martha brought tea to Isabelle's room, always in the lovely tea set that had come with the house. The maid ceased on the third morning to lend a quizzical eye regarding her insistence that she always bring two cups – the chipped cup and one other – to this morning ritual. She used this time to do correspondence and take care of the finances. Some of the time she spent speaking with the crusty apparition who shared the home with her, finding the interaction surprisingly invigorating.

Daniel himself was not much for talking, usually stationing himself at the telescope and surveying the beachfront or the harbor, while Isabelle shared with him the passages from the many books she had been accumulating over the years but had seldom had any chance to read. He, a man of action, endured these moments with longsuffering, listening until something she had read struck him as wrong, which it often did, and he took the opportunity to address the misinformation. Isabelle, having a voracious appetite for knowledge, questioned and debated him until his patience was exhausted and he withdrew himself into whatever nether region he occupied when he wasn't in her presence.

During the afternoons when they weren't going to town, she allowed Lucy to put on an old dress which she had raised the hem on and escorted her to the beach. The little girl made friends and played with the local children, running along the beach and splashing in the frothy water that ebbed and flowed upon the sandy shore. Together, they collected buckets of shells, driftwood, sand dollars and other treasures cast upon the shoreline, carrying some home and depositing others in the surf to be reclaimed by the sea. Isabelle conversed with the mothers who accompanied their own children, and sometimes she took a seat on one of the benches along the sandy stretch, immersed in tranquil thoughts.

She loved the play of sunlight on the waters as it slowly traversed its course overhead. Light refracted on the restless turquoise surface of the deep, sparkling like a cascade of diamonds spilled over a bed of velvet blue. She had always loved the sea, had felt its call deep in her veins. In the years between her mother's death and her marriage, she had dreamed of adventure, of sailing over the abyss to foreign lands, of meeting strange peoples and marking distant shores with her small footprint. She had stifled that dream during her empty marriage to Gerald, had despaired that her life was to be one endless round of social engagements and family intrigues. Here by the shore, the endless motion of the sea soothed the tension from her soul even as the salty air invigorated her body. True, living in this little town wasn't the same as sailing to far costs, but being here with Lucy and Martha was more than enough adventure for now.

In the early evening, the two would return to the beautiful Victorian house to lend a hand to Martha, finishing the chores she had started and allow the maid time to prepare dinner. Often, she found herself tending the small vegetable garden in back of the house, or turning her hand at taming the wild tangle of rosebushes struggling to grow in the previously neglected landscape. After dinner, the ladies of the house bathed, and then read or sang together at the piano in the parlor. An hour or so after the summer sun had set, the house settled and each retired to their own rooms. Occasionally, Isabelle spent another hour in the kitchen in discourse with the Captain over a cup of tea before bidding him a good night and retiring to her room to drift off to sleep.

Today marked one year and one day of her widowhood, and her period of mourning was officially over. She had just finished packing away the black dresses, veils and hats in one of her traveling trunks to be toted to the attic when the handymen finished the task she had hired them to complete in the garden. It was a beautiful summer day, the sunlight spilling through the open window and a cool, lazy ocean breeze dancing through the curtains. Martha left the tea tray on a low table and retreated to the kitchen. Isabelle felt the now familiar sensation that heralded the captain's presence: a cool shiver on the back of her neck. Smiling, she began pouring tea into their respective cups. "Good morning, Captain Gold."

"What have you done with me monkey puzzle tree?" he demanded with no preamble.

"Is that what it's called?" she asked, stirring sugar and cream into the chipped cup. Turning to him, she attempted to pass the cup to him, but he stood fast, hands on hips, and glared evilly at her. "I expect it's chopped for firewood by now."

Clenching his jaw he responded, "Hang it all, madam! I planted that tree with me own two hands!"

"Why?" Her azure eye stared expectantly into his.

"Because I wanted a monkey puzzle tree in me garden!"

"Oh. Why is it called that?"

"Because it defies the ability of monkeys to climb the blasted thing!"

"Well, there are no monkeys here." Placing his unwanted cup back on the tray, she took up her own, completely unperturbed by his attitude. "Think how much prettier a bed of roses will look there."

Roses she said. "I hate roses! I hope the whole blasted bed dies of blight!"

Sighing, Isabelle shook her head. Men, even deceased ones, were such babies sometimes. "I wish you wouldn't swear. It's so ugly."

"If you think that's ugly, it's a good thing you can't read me thoughts!"

Refusing to be baited into quarrelling, she teased, "You seem pretty earthy for a spirit!"

Daniel, unused to resistance in any form, was simply exasperated. "And ye, madam, are enough to make a saint take to blasphemy!" He noted her serene pose, determined as she was to wait for him to change course. "Blasted women! Always make trouble when ye allow one aboard."

Setting her cup down, she turned on the settee, crossed her forearms over the back of the seat and rested her chin on them. Smiling brightly, she suggested, "Captain Gold, if you insist on haunting me, you might at least be more agreeable about it."

"Why should I be agreeable?"

"Well, as long as we're living…I mean, if we're to be thrown together so much…well, life's too short to be forever barking at each other."

What cheek! Still, her determination to remain pleasant melted his agitation and he caught himself moving toward amusement. After all, the tree was rather ugly when he thought about it, and he had been quite drunk when the thing had been shoved at him. Abandoning his angst, he offered her a crooked smile. "Yer life may be short, madam. I have unlimited time at me disposal." Well, that wasn't quite true, but it sounded good.

She grinned wider, drawing him in with those fathomless eyes. "Why don't you say something pleasant?"

Lost in those eyes, he could think of a great many pleasant things to say. "That's a pretty rig you're trussed up in."

"Thank you, sir!" She picked up his cup and offered it to him again.

Taking it from her hand, he continued mischievously, "Much better than all of the ugly black ye've been smothering yourself in!"

"I happen to have been wearing mourning for my husband."

"Whom ye didn't love," he observed coolly.

Shocked, Isabelle's breath caught. Offended, she asked, "How dare you say that?"

The captain rounded the table and took the chair opposite of her. Oh, but you're beautiful when you're riled! Staring unflinchingly into her stormy eyes, he said gently, "Because it's true." When she began to object, he held up his hand. "Oh, ye may have been fond of him, but ye didn't love him."

She held his gaze for a moment and then dropped her eyes to her hands folded in her lap. Worrying her lower lip in her teeth, she sighed. "You're right. I didn't love him." She raised guilty eyes to his while she made her confession. "In the end, I wasn't' fond of him, either. I loved him when we married, but I soon discovered that he wasn't who I thought he was."

The stalwart captain found himself at a loss. He had only meant to tease her, but now he had unintentionally struck a nerve in her, and confound it if he knew what to do now as he was unused to being the recipient of women's confidences. Truth be told, he had had few friends in his life who would ever have thought to share their secret thoughts with him, and now here Isabelle was, acknowledging his observation was true and silently waiting to see if he would pursue it or leave it. Here were uncharted waters indeed and, for all he knew, a colossal reef to flounder upon. This Belle was a strong woman, one who, no doubt, kept much to herself as she sailed her course. Deciding he had nothing to lose by allowing her to continue, he quietly asked, "Why did you marry him?"

Isabelle rose from the settee and walked slowly to the open French door overlooking the balcony. She stood quietly for a moment, bathing in the warm glow of tree filtered sunlight spilling through the opening. "I suppose I thought I was in love. It was what I thought it meant to be grown up, to be part of the whole wide world." Looking over her shoulder at the man seated patiently behind her she continued, "Does that make sense to you?"

"Aye, it does. Ye're not the first to make the mistake in marryin' the wrong mate. With the right mate, it would have been quite the adventure." You would have made it quite the adventure.

Smiling, she took a deep breath and then released it. He understands. She turned and leaned against the doorway, continuing sadly, "I thought I would find love like my parents. Gerald was everything I thought a husband should be: handsome and adventurous and confident. He courted me like he thought the moon was hung in my smile. After the wedding, it didn't take long to discover that Gerald hadn't married me, but my father's shipping business."

"Ah!' he interjected. "Ye're father was a seaman. Ye've the sea in yer blood."

"Yes. He built a shipping company with his own two hands, and my husband helped his family take it from him. After my father died, Gerald had no more use for me." She walked back to the settee and sat down, brightening. "But, I have Lucy and Martha, and a new life here in Storybrooke."

Anger seized him, a wave of protectiveness evoked in what remained of the man who stood before her. "Ye're husband was a fool, dearie."

Reaching across the table she placed her hand over his. "Thank you, Captain." Rising, she fluffed her skirt. "Well, I've no need to think of that now. We ladies are going to town to buy some rose bushes."

Rolling his eyes, the captain stood to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. "Roses!"

Taking up the tray, Isabelle walked to the door. The captain gestured with his hand and the door swung open for her. Turning back to him, she dipped in a pretty curtsy and said, "Good day, Captain Gold."

He bid her good day as she passed over the threshold. Turning to face him again, her lower lip caught in her teeth, she apologetically offered, "I'm sorry about the tree."

He grinned widely and shook his head. "No matter, dearie. Ye were right…it was ugly!"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Again, some of the dialogue here wasn't mine. Oh, and there really is such a thing as a monkey puzzle tree, and it really wouldn't be very pretty in a garden!