"I was always taught that things have a way of working out for the best." Martha Grant had told Carolyn Muir, her friend and employer, more than once.
Carolyn had always responded courteously upon hearing it, knowing that her friend was sharing the thought in a show of support. Carolyn recognized the value of accepting things that couldn't be changed and maintaining a positive attitude. But she hadn't accepted it as fact, she believed it on a philosophical level.
Until…
Moving day was fast approaching. Carolyn had been shooting for the second week of June, right after the children got out of school. Then they received a call from her brother Castle that his little son, Henry, was going to be baptized in June, and they wanted Carolyn to be his godmother. Castle had asked Carolyn if she and Robert would be his child's godparents shortly after Lynn had gotten pregnant, and they had gladly accepted. But she had assumed after Robert passed, that her brother and sister-in-law would select another couple to serve in that role.
"Carrie, we asked you because we see what a great mother you are, and how you are bringing up Candy and Jonathan. You're still an amazing mother, and you haven't stepped back from your faith, even after all you've been through," Castle had explained to her when she admitted she had thought she was out of the running.
Lynn shared her thoughts as well."I know a lot of people pick godparents like it's some kind of popularity contest or something you owe to someone, but Castle and I have thought a lot about it and talked a lot about it. And our pastor talked about it in our pre-baptism sessions. She explained what the role of godparent is about, and it's not who can give the most glamorous presents."
It warmed Carolyn's heart, but also shook her a little. She knew that Castle and Lynn wanted her to take Henry should anything happen to them. That had seemed like a formality back when they asked. After all, they were young and healthy–then Robert passed, and she became powerfully aware that things happen to the young and the healthy too.
Taking guardianship of Henry no longer felt like an empty promise, but more like a solemn vow. She was glad she had over a year of parenting solo behind her as the baptism neared. She believed now, that she could do it, even without Robert. She would sign the baptismal certificate and the legal papers that would grant her guardianship in a worst-case scenario.
Now she was looking to the end of June for a moving day. She repeated Martha's words to herself and thought maybe she had a point after all. It didn't hurt to have a little extra time to pack, choose which furniture to bring and tie up loose ends.
What she hadn't been counting on, and probably should have, was her mother's plan to take part in the move. "But Carolyn, if you're going to wait that long, wait until after the 4th. Your father and I wanted to host the neighborhood picnic and we can't do that if we're in Maine."
"Why would you be in Maine?" Carolyn was truly dumbfounded.
"We'll be helping you get settled of course!"
"But Mom, I have Martha to help, and Mr. Gregg already promised he'd have some of the high school boys there to unpack the truck. And it will be enough getting beds set up for the four of us. I won't be prepared for guests," she'd argued.
"We're not guests dear, we're family. And you speak so highly of your friends' bed and breakfast.
"I mean if you'd rather. We can keep the kids while you and Martha set up the house then come down later in the summer." Her mother offered an alternate plan.
"No, the children are so excited. I couldn't bear to make them wait." Frustration brought stinging tears to Carolyn's eyes. Was there a way to tell her mother that she didn't want her help, without seeming like an ungrateful clod?
"The kids will feel more like it's their home if they help move things in," Carolyn explained.
"Darling, I think it's wonderful that you want them to feel part of things, but don't make it harder on yourself than it needs to be. Now, I think all of us girls could stand to get a new dress for the baptism, and Jonathan would look adorable in a suit. What say we go shopping tomorrow after school?"
Jonathan did not think he looked adorable in his new suit, especially when his grandmother made him wear it for a test run to Sunday school and church. She had insisted on a bow tie which he hated even more. He didn't understand why he couldn't have a regular tie, like the ushers at church wore, if he had to wear a tie at all.
He was even more displeased when they attended the baptism and the baby got to wear a "nightgown" and his Uncle Castle was comfortably clad in a polo shirt and slacks.
Carolyn felt his pain. She understood the sense of helpless frustration that came with trying to outwit her mother. Jonathan was usually an even-tempered boy but his face was stormy in all the many photos that Grandma insisted on taking, on top of the many that the paid photographer took outside the church and in his Uncle's house and yard after the ceremony.
Jonathan wanted to play with the other kids, who had been invited next door where the neighbor was having a birthday party with a bouncy house. How was a boy supposed to enjoy a bouncy house in a suit with a bow tie?
He sat glumly listening to the kids play and laugh on the other side of the fence, but resolute that he was not going to go over there (even with the tie off) wearing that shirt with the pleated front and black socks. Carolyn hugged him hard, but she didn't force the issue.
"I don't understand what he's going on about," her mother said airily. "It's really not like him. Jonathan usually isn't this stubborn, but I suppose he's upset about the move."
Carolyn held her tongue and kept mentally repeating that "things have a way of working out for the best."
Two hours later, she actually believed it. She sat in stunned silence while her brother Castle worked some serious mojo on their mother.
"What do you mean you're leaving tomorrow?" he asked their mother, aghast. "But we were hoping you'd stay all week. I really need dad's help putting some furniture together, and Lynn was hoping you could teach her some of my favorite recipes from when I was a kid."
"But your sister–"
"We know it's been hard since we lost Robert, but Mom, Carrie's kids have been getting all the attention. What about Henry? I thought it was finally his turn. What about Lynn and me? We need some support too. We've never been parents before," Castle went on.
Carolyn would have felt guilty if she didn't know that her brother was saying these things as much to get her parents off her back, as he was because he DID want them to help out and spend time with his branch of the family too.
He was laying it on a bit thick, but when it came to Emily Williams, that's what it took.
Castle managed to convince his parents to hang around another week at least, giving Carolyn the opportunity to get packed and on the road on her own terms.
The day her parents got home from Castle's, the truck was packed, the SUV full of suitcases, a doggie bed, and fragile items, and she and her crew were ready to hit the road.
"Just in time to say goodbye!" Carolyn hugged her mother and father warmly. "I know you two must be tired, won't it be nice to have a quiet house?"
For once Emily Williams was at a near loss for words. There was no point in arguing. It was all but done, and had been done without her direction. Martha was going to drive the truck, and Carolyn was going to follow behind.
"I'll miss you Grandpa." Jonathan hugged the man hard. "And our neat pirate ship."
"I'll miss you too, kiddo. But we'll come and visit real soon."
With tears, sniffles and wishes of luck, they were on their way.
XXX
"This is better than those old CB radios." Martha's voice came over the media console in the SUV. "Breaker Breaker this is Chatty Matty."
"10-4 Chatty Matty, This is Cat in the Hat and Things 1 and 2 back at ya!" Carolyn replied with a laugh.
A yap came from the back of the vehicle.
"Almost forgot, we've got the Flyin Fox onboard too," she added.
This little bit of nonsense, along with a game of "I spy" on the highway helped pass the time and loosened up any taught nerves.
The kids were delighted to see this sillier side of Martha, and thought it was great fun to talk between vehicles. They each got a turn sitting in the passenger seat of the truck while they were stopped, and Scruffy took a turn riding with Martha on the road.
He yapped at her phone when he heard the familiar voices of Carolyn and the kids on speaker.
An hour outside of Schooner Bay, Carolyn phoned Claymore to give him their estimated time of arrival.
"We're almost there!" Candy bounced in her seat when they pulled off the expressway and began to wind toward the shore on the two lane highway.
Jonathan craned his neck, but nothing looked familiar. Everything had been grey and brown when they were last there, and now everything was green and the roads were far more crowded.
"Watch out Chatty Matty we may have some rough road on a high climb." Carolyn's tone was less jocular as they pulled through town, then past town.
"Are you sure we're on the right road?" Jonathan asked his mother. He recognized an old sign and an upside down washing machine on the side of the road, but he was confused because this road was smooth as velvet.
"I think so. I knew they were supposed to fix it, but I thought they'd fix it the way they fix things in the city. Just barely enough to get by!" Carolyn's voice cracked.
"Wow…it's like a miracle." Candy peeked out and admired the new black asphalt.
"Well, would you look at this!" came Martha's voice. "Honestly Mrs. Muir. It was the last two miles of this trip I was most worried about and it's the best road we've seen all day."
Scruffy yipped happily in agreement, he was always excited when he heard joy in his people's voices.
Carolyn felt that it was a good omen.
Martha honked the horn as she pulled the truck into the driveway. Carolyn parked on the street. There was an old car and two bikes along the road as well, but she didn't see any high schoolers.
She and the kids got out and were nearly at the door when two boys in cut off jean shorts and no shirts jogged up. "Are you Mrs. Muir? We were down at the beach, we heard the horn."
"Yes, hello."
"We'll get the other guys. That truck isn't so big. It shouldn't take too long to get you moved in."
It was true that many hands made light work. The boys laughed and joked and emptied the truck like it was the easiest thing in the world. Carolyn had marked the boxes with the room they were to go in and the boys dropped them off accordingly.
Jonathan and Candy trotted along, carrying what small items they could and the boys were friendly with them as well.
Scruffy was terribly confused. At first, he barked at the boys. Then he disappeared behind the house. Unimpressed with what he found there he returned to the SUV and refused to get out. No amount of coaxing on Candy's part could lure him into the house.
"He doesn't know what to make of all the strangers," Carolyn explained. "And he doesn't know that this is our house yet."
It was nearly dark when they finished unloading the truck. Carolyn gave each boy $20 even though Claymore had already paid them and they told her to call anytime she needed help.
"I was kinda hoping we were going to hear the ghost." One of the boys said as he shoved the money into his pocket. "But I guess you wouldn't be moving in here if that old spook was around."
"Yes, I hear Gull Cottage has been calm and quiet for some time now," Carolyn admitted with a sigh.
"If you need help with the beds, I can come by in the morning." Another fellow offered. "My dad owns a furniture store. I know how to put all that stuff together."
"I'll call if we have any trouble," she assured him.
The boys made their way back down to the beach and suddenly things were quiet and the family was alone.
"Well." Carolyn stood in the foyer and did a slow turn, taking things in. "A lot has happened since we were last here!" She'd been in every room a number of times, but had been so busy carrying and directing that she hadn't really had a decent look at any of them. "I believe we should order some pizza!" she realized she could do that now. The road was fine for a delivery car to come to the house.
"Yey!" the children hopped up and down with glee.
"Scruffy, you can come in now!" Martha called, clapping her hands encouragingly, but the dog refused. He stayed on his bed, in the back seat and simply looked at her.
"Come on Scruff, we're home," Jonathan coaxed.
The little dog gave two short yaps and an uncertain growl.
"I've never seen him like this. Usually, anywhere we go, he follows right along." Carolyn's brows drew together in concern.
Scruffy got up to bark, from the window, at the pizza delivery woman. He hopped out of the car, sniffed along the road, did his business and went straight back in. He wouldn't be tempted, not even with a bit of pizza crust with some cheese on it.
"I guess he doesn't like ghosts," Jonathan said with a sigh.
"Didn't you hear what mom said? There are no ghosts here," Candy reminded him.
"Just cause he didn't want to talk to those boys, doesn't mean he isn't here," Jonathan argued.
"You didn't see any old ghost Jonathan Muir, and you'd better stop trying to scare me." Candy scowled.
"Time out!" Carolyn called. "I know you're both tired, and it's been a very long day, but we will not have screaming and arguing. It's time to get ready for bed. Martha has opened up your suitcases, get your pajamas on and I'll be up in a minute to get your toothbrushes ready."
"It's not my fault she's a fraidy cat," Jonathan whispered to his mother as he walked past her.
"Jonathan, don't call your sister names."
"But–" whatever he had planned to say next, he thought the better of it. Instead, he said, "Yes, Ma'am," and went into the house.
"Maybe when we're all in the house and he sees we're not coming out, Scruffy will change his mind," Martha said. "I'll put a blanket for him in the hall."
Carolyn nodded. She peered up the road. She thought she saw lights in two of the houses in the distance, or at least on their porches. The sound of laughter rose from the beach and she could smell smoke. The boys were likely having a bonfire. The beach might get busy now that the roads was so nice.
She turned back to the cottage and looked up to what she would now refer to as "her" window, a faint light from the hallway shone through it, but her eye was distracted by a shadow on the widow's walk. She saw something move near the railing, and then, it was gone.
The vines on the trellis were shaking, and in a minute a fat racoon waddled away.
"If he comes back, I think I'll name him Captain," she said with a smile.
"You'll what?" came an outraged voice. "I should say not. Madame, do you know what it takes to earn the rank of Captain?!"
Carolyn spun around, but saw nothing in the gloom.
"Captain Gregg?" Her voice was a mere hopeful whisper.
"Next thing, you'll be referring to that shaggy pile of hair in your conveyance as the First Mate." His disdain was clear.
"That shaggy pile of hair is named Scruffy," she corrected, though she wasn't sure where to direct her words, as she had no idea just where the Captain was.
"An apt description. I assume his second name is Yappy."
"No, it's actually Barnabas. Scruffmeister Barnabas Muir," she informed him. "My late husband named him…"
"Ah, well. Barnabas is a good seaworthy name." The voice allowed. "Scruffmeister? Is he of German origin?"
Carolyn stifled a laugh. "I believe he's of English backround," she offered.
"We could have used him here earlier." The Captain went on. "There were a number of four legged inhabitants that were wont to leave."
"Yes, I just saw one run off into the grass." She pointed to where the racoon had disappeared.
"Captain, it's so good to…to hear your voice. But I need to get in to the children."
"Yes, of course, Madame. Do as you must. I just wanted to…" the voice stopped, almost as if there was a catch in it. Almost as if the speaker had a lump in their throat…except the speaker had no throat.
"Just wanted to welcome me home?" Carolyn finished hopefully after several beats had passed without a word.
"Yes, quite," was the quiet reply.
XXX
They were all pleased to find that the loud old toilet in the upstairs bathroom had been replaced with a modern low flow toilet. Jonathan still thought it was far too loud when you pressed the button, but he guessed he could get used to it.
The old sink and tub were as they had been and the mirror above the sink was a genuine antique, with dark areas of tarnish and a dim blurry reflection.
"We'll put a fresh mirror up on the door," Carolyn told the kids. "It will be easier for you to see in a low one anyway."
"We sure do have our work cut out for us," Jonathan said gravely.
"I think it will be fun!" Candy decided. She already had drawn several floor plans for her half of the bedroom.
"And we have to follow the house rules," Jonathan added seriously.
"I expect they will be the same rules we had at our old house. Don't you think Martha?" Carolyn said putting the toothbrushes onto the side of the sink.
"We may need a few new ones, seeing how close we are to the beach, but the rules of good behavior haven't changed," she agreed.
"I mean the house's rules," Jonathan tried to clarify.
"House's don't have their own rules." Candy rolled her eyes. "That's silly."
"This house does," he said matter of factly. "And everything will go slick as a cat's back as long as we don't break them."
Carolyn looked worriedly around the bathroom to see if there were more than just the four of them in there.
"Ok, time for bed." She ushered the kids out.
They rolled the prayer cube, recited their prayers, and said good night.
Carolyn was about to leave the room when Jonathan said "Good night Captain."
"Mom! He's trying to scare me," Candy complained.
"Jonathan, there's no one in your room but you and your sister," she said firmly.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Goodnight you two. I'll leave the hall light on.
"I think that's against the rules," Jonathan said in a loud whisper.
"It is NOT against the rules. I will not have anyone banging into a wall or turning an ankle in the dark." Carolyn spoke louder than she really needed to.
A window creaked as it swung in the breeze. There was the sound of a car door closing, and engine starting and a car pulling down the road. Then Scruffy exploded into a fury of barking.
"Oh dear, I'd better go check on him." Martha sighed. "Goodnight kids."
Carolyn stood in the hall watching Martha retreat. The kids were whispering to each other in the dark.
They were here. They had made it. From what she could tell the Cottage seemed quite comfortable. She hoped it looked as good in the light of day. She could hear Martha's tone, trying to reason with the dog, and him whining as she tried to carry him out of the car.
Carolyn had never seen him behave this way. Maybe it was true that dogs could "sense" things…ghostly things and spirits.
"I can't do a thing with him. I guess it won't hurt if he spends the night in the car." Martha came in and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Would you like something to drink before you go to bed?"
Carolyn shrugged back. "I don't know."
"It will all make sense in the morning. Things always get better after a good night's sleep."
Carolyn nodded helplessly.
"Goodnight, Martha, I guess I'll go to my room."
She went in, shut the door and leaned against it.
"You should be proud." She heard not only the voice, low in volume, but footsteps drawing near her. "It can't have been easy to move here, away from family."
"This is my family," Carolyn reminded him.
"Yes, but still."
"I expect I had some help."
"You are referring to your capable woman?"
She knew he meant Martha.
"No, I'm referring to you. Claymore Gregg didn't suddenly decide to sink money into the Cottage." Carolyn pushed herself away from the door. Martha would think she had lost her mind if she heard her talking to herself.
"Perhaps I…encouraged him a bit."
"I would have liked to see that," she admitted with a smile. She came to the window and gazed out.
"I was thinking about what you said. What would happen to me if Gull Cottage…"
"Was to slip into the sea?" she finished poetically. "And the verdict was?"
"I was not yet ready to find out," he said a tiny bit sheepishly. "This seemed the answer to both of our dilemmas."
She nodded. "A nice answer."
"Perhaps. Time will tell. And now Madame, I will bid you goodnight. There's much to do come sunrise." He was using his imperious Captain's tone now but she was too tired to take umbrage with it.
She was almost too tired to stop and put a sheet on. The children were sleeping on mattresses on the floor.
But she went through the familiar motions of dressing the bed, brushing her hair and slipping into a summer nightie. The window, of course, was open, as she fell asleep to the sound of the sea.
XXX
"I can't figure out what is wrong with that dog!" Martha said to Carolyn as she handed out, grudgingly, toaster pastries for breakfast. "He ate his food, but he still won't come out of the car, and I need to go grocery shopping. I can't have us eating…this." She waved her hand angrily over the breakfast table.
"I'm sure it will pass soon. After breakfast how about we head down to the beach with your shovel, Jonathan? Scruffy has never passed up a chance to dig a hole."
"Good idea, and while the three of you are down there, I'll sneak to town for food. I can't imagine what's gotten into him. Did he have a hard time adjusting to your parent's house?" Martha asked.
"No, he trotted right in and acted like he owned the place from day one. I'm sure my mother wished he would have been half as docile as he's being now." Carolyn sipped her coffee. "With all the work that's been done on the house, it probably smells too much like paint and plaster and not enough like a home." Carolyn empathized with the little dog.
"You don't think he's afraid of the Captain do you?" asked Jonathan dipping his pastry into the half cup of milk in front of him.
"Oh brother, there he goes again." Candy rolled her eyes. "The mysterious Captain."
"I don't see how he could be. Scruffy never came into the house. He hasn't even seen that painting," Carolyn pointed out.
"Not the painting…" Jonathan drew out his words in frustration.
"If you say ghost one more time I'm going to bop you," Candy threatened. "I'll hide BunBun and you'll never find him."
"Don't you touch BunBun, and I said Captain, not ghost," he yelled back, before getting up and running out of the kitchen. They could hear his feet pounding up the steps as he hurried to get BunBun and keep him safe.
"Candace Muir," Carolyn's voice was low and stern. "You will not hide, or harm BunBun, nor will you threaten to. What a cruel thing to say to your brother."
"He keeps talking to that dumb ghost." She scowled. "He needs to make real friends and stop talking to things that aren't there."
"I'm sure he will as soon as school starts, but for now his imaginary friends and his sister are who he has to play with. If you don't believe in ghosts, why are you letting his imagination bother you? Just because a house is old, doesn't mean it has to be spooky." Carolyn's tone lightened.
"I don't want to be the weird girl at school whose brother talks to invisible people." She sounded more worried than angry now.
"And you won't be. No one is going to hold Jonathan's imagination against you. And you already made a friend when we visited. Maybe next week we can set up a play date with Maree. She can come over and we'll spend the morning on the beach," her mother offered.
"Really?" Candy's face brightened.
"Yes, as long as you stop tormenting your brother," Carolyn added firmly.
"It's not like you Candy," Martha said, sitting down with her coffee and frowning at the handful of Teddygrahams in the saucer in front of her. "I feel like it's snack time in Romper Room," Martha said to Carolyn. "Usually you and your brother play so well." Her disappointment was evident in her tone.
Candy sat looking down at the table with a frown and a wobbling chin.
"I know everything has been a bit of a mess. I think we'll all feel better when we're unpacked and feel more like ourselves again. Why don't you go to the market with Martha and pick out what we're going to have for dinner tonight?" Carolyn suggested.
Candy nodded and dunked her pastry in her milk.
A slam came from the foyer. Carolyn sighed and went to investigate.
"Jonathan?" She was pretty sure he had something to do with the noise. She'd heard him come down the stairs. The slam hadn't been loud enough to have been the front door.
"Jonathan?"
"Yes?" a muffled voice responded.
Carolyn opened the door to the closet under the stairs, and there was Jonathan and BunBun, sitting beside some boxes, a naked electric bulb burning over their heads.
"Come out please."
He shook his head and hugged BunBun harder.
"Jonathan, I spoke to your sister and she isn't going to touch BunBun, and you are not to talk to her about ghosts, spooks or spirits. You can talk to your imaginary friends–"
"The Captain isn't imaginary," he insisted, crawling out the short door.
Carolyn jerked her head to signal him to follow her. She sat on a step and patted it, he sat down beside her. "You and I need to have a very serious talk. Just between you and me. Understand?"
He nodded but looked like he was going to resist anything she said.
"I know that the Captain is real," she said quietly.
"You DO?" His eyes grew large.
"Yes, I do. I met him a long time ago, when I first came to Gull Cottage. Mr. Gregg is related to the Captain. The Captain built this house with the money he earned at sea, and he filled it with all the wonderful things he brought home from his journeys."
Jonathan scooted closer.
"I even wrote a newspaper article about the Captain. I learned a lot about him."
"Then you know!"
She nodded. "I know that the spirit of the Captain is still in this house, because he loved it so much just like BunBun has spirit in him because you love him so much."
"Love makes things real. Grandma read a book to us about it. It was kind of boring and had a lot of big words, but me and BunBun tried to listen because it was about a stuffed rabbit." Jonathan smiled at BunBun.
"I know that book." Caroyn smiled at him.
"And you think this house is the same way? It loved Captain Gregg so much that he got real?"
"Well, maybe not exactly that way, but maybe because we love the house as much as he did…he is real to us."
"But not to Candy and Martha." Jonathan drew his own conclusion.
"Seems so." She nodded gravely. "And I think it hurts Candy's feelings that he talks to you but not to her, so maybe…for now, we can not talk to Captain Gregg when she and Martha are around. I think that's the polite thing, don't you?"
Jonathan ran a finger over one of BunBun's bright black eyes. "I guess that makes sense. BunBun never talks to anyone but me."
"And I think that Captain Gregg only speaks to people he feels especially safe and friendly with like BunBun only talks to you." Carolyn was extra grateful to that rabbit, despite the trouble he'd caused the times he'd gone missing.
Candy and Martha came out of the kitchen together. Jonathan put a finger over his pursed lips and said, "Shhh," to his mother.
"I've made a shopping list," Martha informed them. "I'm only picking up what we need…everything," she finished dryly. "Kidding aside, if you can think of anything we need that isn't food, I'll add it to the list."
Carolyn ran her palms over the thighs of her jeans. "I'm sure we need so many things I don't know where to begin. Picture hooks. Light bulbs, those discs you put under the legs of furniture so it will slide and not tear up the floor," she suggested.
"How about if Candy and I go get groceries and when we get back you and Jonathan can hit the hardware store," Martha decided.
"I'm going to get my favorite kind of cereal," Candy said with a sniff.
Jonathan had been about to protest, but instead, he ended up stifling a laugh.
Carolyn was puzzled, even though she was pleased that his sister's attempt to rile him failed.
"What was so funny?" Carolyn asked him,
"The Captain? Didn't you see him?" Jonathan pointed to the area where his sister and housekeeper had been standing a minute ago.
"No, I'm afraid I didn't. I didn't know that you could see him either." She was a bit put out, why was he showing himself to her son, but not to her? "What does he look like?" she prompted. It was possible that Jonathan wasn't communicating with Captain Gregg, but instead was talking to a projection of his vivid imagination.
"Just like his picture. But without the hat," Jonathan said matter of factly.
"Very distinguished then," Carolyn mused.
"What's distinguished?"
Carolyn puzzled over that. "It's one of those things that's hard to explain, but you know it when you see it. I guess distinguished is when you look at a person you get the idea that you should pay attention to what they say."
Jonathan nodded solemnly. "That's him alright."
She smiled. It matched the Captain she knew as well.
XXX
Armed with shovels, wide-brimmed hats, and a blanket, Carolyn and Jonthan made their way down the steps to the beach. Scruffy trotted right behind, happy to be on an adventure.
"Well, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with Scruffy," Carolyn noted. "I wonder why he doesn't like the house."
"It's not the house, it's Captain Gregg," Jonathan said as if it was a certainty.
"What do you mean?"
"He says dogs don't belong indoors." Jonathan took a two-footed jump from one step to another.
"When did he say that?"
"He told me last night, when Martha couldn't get Scruffy to come in."
"Yes, but who told Scruffy?"
"I think Captain Gregg had a talk with him."
"Oh, he did, did he? Well, it sounds like I'm going to have to have a talk with Captain Gregg. Scruffy is part of the family and he's going to be treated like one. The Captain knew I had a dog before we moved here."
It was a beautiful day and there were several blankets and umbrellas already on the beach.
"Come on Scruffy, let's dig!" Jonathan ran off towards the surf, the dog barking at his heels.
It was just as she had imagined it would be. Carolyn watched them from a distance. Even in childhood, work didn't seem hard when it was something you found totally engaging, and boy and dog were 100% committed to the hole they were digging.
Soon two other children joined them with their own shovels. They were plastic and flat, not designed for moving earth the way Jonathan's spade and Scruffy's paws were, but that made no difference. Between them, the three children came up with a plan and began to execute it.
They didn't waste time with doubts and fears, they dug first and asked questions later. Their complete absorption in their task was commendable. None of the children noticed the sea drawing near until it rushed up over their ankles and knees and began to steal their hole right before their eyes.
"Dig faster!" The little girl ordered, and they dug faster. Scruffy barked at the edge of the surf whenever it neared, but he couldn't frighten the tide. The children ran giggling after their plastic shovels when the waves tried to carry them away. Finally, they gave up as the sea covered their hole and did not retreat.
Carolyn guessed Jonathan and herself had gotten enough Sun for one morning, and she hoped Martha and Candy were back from the store, because she dearly wanted a sandwich and a glass of milk.
The mother of the two children was folding up her blanket as well, so it was easy to get Jonathan and Scruffy to head back to the house.
"Jonathan, you know you must NEVER come down to the beach on your own. Only ever come here with a grown-up," Carolyn told him as they climbed the stairs.
"What about Captain Gregg? He's a grown-up?"
"I mean a flesh and blood grown-up, and only ever if Martha and I give you permission. Same goes for your sister. Like you saw this morning, the sea can be very unpredictable and strong. It's far too easy for an accident to happen."
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, glancing back to where his hole had been, but was now under two feet of water.
"Even if Scruffy comes down here, you don't chase him. Come and get a grown-up," Carolyn emphasized.
Jonathan nodded.
"What were your friends' names?" she asked, on a lighter note.
"I don't know. We were too busy digging to talk about names."
Scruffy saw the SUV was back and ran barking towards it.
"Looks like he's as ready for lunch as I am." Carolyn laughed.
"Me too!"
They gave in to the mysterious draw of bologna sandwiches.
XXX
Candy took it upon herself to make the list of things they needed for the house. She propped her whiteboard up in the foyer and when a new item was identified she wrote it. Her spelling was not always accurate, but was extremely creative.
TAYP, Pohlish, taks, lite bolbs,
Scruffy had agreed to leave the SUV, but he would only come as far as the low stone wall. Shade fell on either side of it, the outside in the morning and the inside in the afternoon, and he was small enough that he could curl into a ball in even a sliver of shade.
Carolyn knew she was going to have to take the Captain to task about it, but she had so many other things to do, and Scruffy was safe enough, that she would let it wait until evening.
She tied a scarf around her head, and dug in. It wasn't that the house didn't have enough space for their things, it was just that their things looked out of place in the house. New style furniture in a historical building had a rather jarring effect.
The children's bedsteads were a classic spindle post style and matched their room quite nicely .Jonathan declared he wanted to use the trunk that was already in the room for his clothes, and Candy claimed the old wardrobe, so that part was easy.
They left the leaves out of Carolyn's modern dining table so it would fit into the kitchen, but it's modern style stood in ridiculous contrast with the iron stove and wooden counters.
The sitting room was worse yet. The ceiling was newly painted, but the walls remained covered with ugly old wallpaper. The pattern reminded Carolyn of nothing so much as Chicken wire laid over an orange background with narrow faded puke green stripes and and occasional nosegay of faded flowers.
She tried to imagine that at one point it might have been the height of fashion, and perhaps in the original colors, unfaded by years of sea air, it might have been attractive. But her imagination wasn't that good. The pattern was ugly and no combination of colors could have rendered it otherwise.
It was depressingly ugly. She guessed she hadn't really noticed it before because she hadn't spent much time in the sitting room. It had been dim, the furniture had dust sheets over it. She had spent most of her time in the kitchen, her room, or outside. But now, there was no escaping it.
She couldn't truly claim to know the Captain's aesthetic tastes, but she found it hard to believe he had chosen such a pattern, and harder still to believe he had paid to have it installed in his home.
"That one wall where the fireplace is looks fine," she said to Martha, "But the rest of this room."
"I know. Why in the world didn't they do something about that paper?" Martha wondered aloud. "Claymore is an odd bird, but not even he could claim to like it."
"I have a feeling that price tags make more of Claymore's decisions than taste or lack of taste." Carolyn mused.
"Well, perhaps that accounts for his odd wardrobe choices as well. But he isn't living in the house. We can't entertain guests in here," Martha said decidedly. "Those drapes have to go as well. They look like they'd fall apart if you so much as touched them."
"I guess Claymore put the money into our bedrooms and upgrading the plumbing and electric." Carolyn realized. "I guess with a big job like renovating a house, you have to pick your priorities, but honestly, how much could it cost to paint over it?"
"If the ceilings weren't so high, we could take on the project, but I'm not taking these gams," Martha pointed to her leg, "up on any high ladders."
"No, of course not." Carolyn sighed. "Well, I'll talk to Claymore about it. I'll bet we could get those boys back here and they could knock it out in an afternoon."
"I'd happily make some chocolate cream pies to reward them with too," Martha declared. "I guess we need to have Candy start a second list…just for Claymore."
"And it would be wonderful if we could get this paper done before my parents arrive." Carolyn said with a shudder.
Claymore showed up late that afternoon. "Well, how do you like it?" His grin was wide as he stepped into the house the minute Martha opened the door.
"Hello to you too, Mr. Gregg," Martha said with forced nicety.
"Isn't it a wonder? Isn't it delicious?" He spun on his heel. "It took a lot of work, but I think it's fair to say that Gull Cottage is a thing of beauty."
"Mr. Gregg." Carolyn stepped out of the kitchen and greeted him.
"Mrs. Muir, welcome home. Welcome, home!" He clicked his heels together and spread out his arms. "And what a home it is."
"Yes, you and your workers have done a wonderful job, but–"
"Who says you can't turn a sow's ear?" he quipped.
Carolyn swore she heard someone clearing their throat, and the light fixture in the foyer swayed ever so slightly. Someone didn't like their home being referred to in such terms.
Claymore's eyes darted around the space and he ducked slightly.
"Mr. Gregg. Can I offer you some…lemonade?" Carolyn suggested.
"Why that would be lovely. I do feel a bit parched," he accepted.
Carolyn recalled that when you were going to offer corrective criticism, you were supposed to first offer a compliment, and a show of gratitude when possible. So as she poured Claymore his drink, she told him how pleased they were with the new toilet, the modern water heater, and the velvet smooth road (even if he wasn't actually responsible for that).
"Well, that's me, Mrs. Muir. The Greggs were never ones for doing a job halfway." He lifted the glass she handed him as if in a toast.
"I'm so very glad to hear that, because of course, Gull Cottage is a work in progress."
"What do you mean?" He seemed to almost choke on his lemonade. "Mrs. Muir whatever can you mean? This house is 100% liveable. I assure you." He knocked on the wall in emphasis, only to be answered by a whoosh of plaster dust in the face and an ominous creaking.
Carolyn cocked her head at him.
"I mean, perhaps there are a few tweaks here and there…" he agreed.
"And I'm afraid that we are likely to find more as we get settled in," Carolyn explained. "But the first thing I want to call your attention to–"
Claymore pointed to a spot behind her near the ceiling. "Oh dear, is that the time! Why, how it flies when you're with charming company! I'm so glad you and your family made it here safely but I'm afraid I need to go. Now, right now." He drained his lemonade glass, plaster and all and turned on his heel.
"Mr Gregg!" Carolyn's tone meant business. "Before you go, I really need you to look at one thing."
"One thing? ONE thing." He held up a finger.
"Yes, follow me."
He did, looking none too pleased about it, and seemed puzzled when she took him to the sitting room and pointed to the wall.
"I'm sorry?" He had no idea what she was getting at.
"Look at that wallpaper!" She pointed.
"Yes? Yes, oh yes. The wallpaper. That, Mrs. Muir, is one of the crowning glories of Gull Cottage. It's original…well, not exactly original, but put in shortly after the passing of our dear departed Captain Gregg." Claymore put his hand over his heart and bowed to the painting above the mantle.
"It's hideous!" Carolyn snapped. "Absolutely hideous and I will not have it on three walls of an otherwise lovely room!"
"Mrs. Muir, I'm sorry. My hands are tied. That wallpaper has been identified as one of the finer examples of it's kind in the nation. We can't just go willy nilly tearing it down. It's a national treasure. You knew from the start that any work done to Gull Cottage would need to pass muster with the historical nature of the home."
"You're telling me nothing can be done?" Carolyn was aghast.
"I'm afraid not. Any changes we make MUST be in keeping with history. This wallpaper could only be replaced with other historical wallpaper, or removed at an astronomical cost, for preservation in the archive of historic New England wall furnishings."
She studied him, trying to decide if he was telling her a whopper or telling her the truth.
"Well, let's cover it with some paper that won't harm the paper underneath," she said in a decided tone.
"I'm afraid that would be stepping into very swampy territory. I mean, this paper is nearly 200 years old, it's very fragile. The fact that it's still here at all is practically a miracle in itself." He touched it reverently, then pulled his hand back as if it was so precious it shouldn't even be touched.
"This could be a very lovely room except–" She tried again.
"I"m sure if you give it just a little time, it will grow on you. In three weeks, I'll bet you have fallen in love with the paper. You'll wonder why they didn't cover all the walls with it." He waved his hand around and followed the path with his gaze. "I see that they covered most of the walls with it." He swallowed down his horror at that reality.
"IF there is anything haunting this place, it's this paper," Carolyn spat. "It's awful, would you want it in your office?"
"Perhaps if you put up a lot of pictures. Photos of your lovely children! Pictures of your extended family…wall to wall." He gestured dramatically. "You know the Victorians were very fond of hangings of all types. Paintings, wreaths, shelves of knick knacks, photos and clocks. Why I'll bet you would hardly notice the wall paper at all." He seemed very pleased with his solution.
The sitting room was a large room. It would take generations worth of photos to even half cover the walls.
"You are honestly telling me that NOTHING can be done?"
He shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not Mrs. Muir. My hands are tied, and my pockets are empty."
"Wouldn't putting up all those pictures damage the paper by making holes in it?" Martha, who'd been listening to the conversation asked.
"I think you'll find, if you examine the walls closely, that there are any number of nail holes already. Hooks too. Why I'll bet you wouldn't have to make any new holes at all. Just poke a nail in an voila! Ready to hang."
Carolyn was fuming. But as they stood looking at the paper a strange thing began to happen, a strip of it loosened and began to slowly peel itself from the wall.
"Well, would you look at that. The paper even thinks it's ugly. It's so ashamed of itself it's jumping off the wall," Martha said admiringly.
"No, no. no!" Claymore pressed the paper back against the wall. "I'm sorry. I have to go and the paper has to stay."
"We are not done with this conversation," Carolyn assured him, following him out the front door and down the walk. "Do you hear me Mr. Gregg?"
"I hear you and I bid you adieu." He walked faster as he went, then leapt backwards as a furious Scruffy rushed towards him snarling fiercely.
"Scruffy!" Carolyn ran forward and snatched the dog up, but he had given Claymore Gregg a good scare.
"Leash laws Mrs. Muir. Schooner Bay has leash laws!" He waved a finger at her. "Thanks for the lemonade!" He jumped in his car and tore off down the road.
"Well, he can't blame us if the paper is so ugly it scares itself off the walls," Martha said hopefully as they walked back to the house.
The moment they neared the porch steps Scruffy began to squirm and whimper. Carolyn put him down and he ran back to his spot by the gate, that still hung crooked on one hinge.
"Do you think it's the lions he's afraid of?" Carolyn asked Martha.
"It's probably that wallpaper," Martha offered. "How much trouble do you think we'd get it in if we just painted over it?"
"I don't really know. I've never dealt with a historical society. Robert would have known." She realized. "But if Robert were alive, we would never have come here."
Martha put a hand on her shoulder. She did not say anything about things working out for the best.
XXX
"Captain, what have you done to scare my dog?" Carolyn demanded that evening after she had gotten the children into bed.
"Why Madame, whatever are you talking about. I should think you'd be happy that he's taken up watch guarding the perimeter. No muddy paws or tufts of hair about the house, and I saw how he behaved towards Claymore. He can be quite fierce when it's called for." The Captain's tone was admiring but Carolyn was not placated.
"Jonathan told me that you said dogs don't belong indoors. Well that may have been true in your time–"
"My time? I'm still here. This is MY house and it's still MY time!" The voice boomed around her.
"Keep your voice down, I just put the children to bed!" she demanded
"Don't worry, they can't hear me. No one can hear me unless I intend them too. Why I could be shouting at one person while in the room with 100 and no one would be the wiser other than the person I was speaking to," he explained.
"Is the same thing true about showing yourself? Jonathan told me he has seen you."
"Yes. I choose who is allowed the privilege of my company. One only has so much energy and one doesn't want to waste it on fools and wastrels." The voice was quieter, but nearer now. She guessed he was near his beloved binnacle, perhaps looking out to sea.
"Why Jonathan?" Carolyn was genuinely curious.
"I never had a son. Well, none that I was certain of. It was one of my few regrets. Your son seems a fine young man. I see potential in him, and if I can offer him some guidance, and friendship. He lives in a houseful of women and a bit of male company can do him no harm."
Then the voice was further away. "Do you not approve?" The tone was uncharacteristically tentative.
"I, I think I do approve. I was a little concerned at first, but. I trust you won't put any…inappropriate ideas in his head," she said.
"I'm a man of honor!" The voice was aghast. "Do you think that I would teach him anything that would ever reflect badly on me…or you?" The Captain sniffed.
"No, I suppose I don't. It's just. This is all new to me. I've never lived with a ghost before, and you and I…we're still nearly strangers," she reminded him.
"Living in as close quarters as we do, I don't think we'll be strangers for long." There was a hint of teasing in his tone.
"I supose not," she allowed.
"I wish you would show yourself to me. It's very disconcerting never knowing where you are or which direction I should turn in," she complained.
"I didn't think you would need the same sort of reassurance and proof as a child." His tone was superior once again. "You've seen my portrait, you know what I look like. Isn't that enough?"
Carolyn frowned, she thought that it should be enough, but her emotions longed for something more. She wanted to see his expressions. She wanted to know if his eyes twinkled when he smiled. All in a rush she realized that deep inside she was lonely.
It was silly, of course; she had the children and Martha, and until a few days earlier she'd had her parents, Pastor Ruth and friends at Church. Still she was lonely for a friend who would smile with her over the little events of the day. She was lonely for some of the things that being married to Robert had provided, namely simple companionship.
"Does it really take all your energy to…what's the proper term? Materialize? Her eyes roved around the room. Even if he didn't show himself full force, it seemed he could at least muster up a shadow or shimmer for her benefit.
"Materialization requires a great deal of both skill and energy. It means taking on a form with which I could interact with your physical world. Showing myself to your boy is rather different. Indeed, he is keen to see me, and because of that it takes very little energy at all." There was a softness and a sense of wonder in his tone.
"I'm keen to see you," she admitted.
She heard steps and guessed that he was pacing.
"Captain?"
"Yes…if only it were that simple." He sighed with frustration.
"Why is it simple with Jonathan, but complicated with me?" There was no accusation in her tone. She simply didn't understand the powers and constraints of ghostly beings.
He gave a sarcastic chuckle. "Why indeed are so many things complicated between women and men?"
"But we're…I mean…We're friends, you and I. Right?" Her voice cracked a little as she spoke.
"Of a sort, if indeed men and women can be friends. But that's the rub, isn't it? You are most definitely a woman, but I?"
"From my limited but very interesting interactions with you, I'm quite sure you are a man." A teasing smile tweaked the corner of her lips.
"You know…I haven't seen myself in well over 100 years." He offered as explanation. "I don't have a reflection."
"Oh? Oh!" Carolyn thought she understood.
"I don't know what happens to a spirit over time. I like to think my appearance hasn't changed. I even heard somewhere that after one dies, they return to a state of perfect health and vigor. Why I might be as young as you! Or I might be…"
"Jonathan said you look just like your portrait," Carolyn offered as encouragement. "Are you afraid I won't like the way you look?" Her tone was tentative.
He chuckled again, but good naturedly, and at himself. "I suppose I've always had a vain streak. I was quite dashing in my day, but times have changed, styles have changed, perhaps I have changed."
Carolyn considered his dilemma, or perhaps it was their dilemma. In her mind, she imagined the Captain exactly as he looked in his portrait. She knew she would be disappointed if he turned out to be a hunched over, white haired man, or a glowing green silhouette. She wanted to promise him that his appearance wouldn't matter, but she wasn't certain it was true.
"I've shown myself to Claymore, and he's always been terrified. I wouldn't want you to be afraid in your own home," he said gently.
She nodded. "I don't think I would be afraid. I don't know you very well, but I think I know you well enough that you would never harm me or the children."
"Or your woman servant or even your damnable little dog," he added.
"Her name is Martha, and she's my housekeeper, not a servant. And Scruffy is a wonderful dog. He's a good watchdog and he'll scare away any critter large or small, that threatens his home or family." Carolyn set the record straight.
"He does bear some resemblance to the dogs we brought on board from time to time to address the rats," the Captain recalled. "If he has the commendable manners that the rest of the family displays, I see no harm in him bunking on board."
"Thank you! We all appreciate it. Scruffy is a contributing member of the family. Martha has even taught him to help pick up around the house." Carolyn bowed her head in gratitude.
"I understand that you don't feel ready to…reveal yourself, but do you think maybe you could glow a little, or throw off a little mist? I feel ridiculous talking to thin air, and never knowing where you really are." She hoped he wouldn't be offended by her request.
"I've never resorted to parlor tricks," he said stiffly. "But perhaps we can reach a compromise. After all, it isn't really fair that I get to see so much of you and you get to see nothing of me."
Carolyn ignored the suggestive lilt in his tone. The reality of the situation gave her pause if she thought too much about it. Instead, she reminded herself that he'd been denied both the company and sight of a woman for a very very long time, and considering that, his manners were quite good and usually respectful.
"I would appreciate it," she said. "Oh, and I have a question. What in the world induced you to put up that wallpaper in the sitting room?!"
Now his laugh was hearty. "Please, don't insult me with the suggestion! That pattern was chosen by none other than my sister's mother-in-law. After my death, my sister moved in and since the house was spacious, her in-laws joined her. Veracity Barstow was her name and wreaking havoc was her aim." He enunciated the words very crisply.
"At first I was horrified by her behavior and the manner in which she commandeered my home. I was not yet practiced in the art of haunting, but she brought out the devil in me! In eighteen months' time I turned her from a tyrant to a toad. She left my house, shouting that she would never set foot in it again, but not before her sanity and nerves were frazzled. Sadly, not before she had chosen that wallpaper and a number of other tasteless furnishings."
"Well, it looks like Veracity has gotten the last laugh. Claymore told me that we can't paint over OR get rid of the wallpaper. It's 'historic' and would cost too much to replace," Carolyn explained with a sigh.
"Where there's a will, there's a way." Came the cryptic reply, in a tone of chilling delight that gave Carolyn the impression that the ghost was rubbing his hands together in glee.
"Do you love a challenge in general, or just when it involves Claymore?" she checked.
"A bit of both. I didn't become a Captain by backing down from a worthy fight," he pointed out.
"Well, this is more a fight of finances than a fight of will. I guess I should be grateful for the second bathroom and forgiving about the wallpaper."
"All this historic nonsense," the ghost muttered. "The fascination with things old and useless. Even though I'm dead I can see that the world is meant for the living."
"Says the man who has haunted a house for a century and a half," she reminded him.
"So you say, Madame, but might I remind you that when a worthy occupant presented itself I not only cooperated but helped fund the renovation."
"And I deeply appreciate it. I agree with you, some places and things are worth preserving for what they can teach us about our past, but ugly is ugly, no matter what the time period and that wallpaper was a mistake from the get go."
"This historic society, what can they do if you remove it? Once the paper is gone, it's gone," the Captain pointed out.
"I honestly don't know, but Claymore has been terribly helpful so far, I'd hate to get him into trouble. Still, there must be some way to remove it without harming the paper. I mean, what kind of glue did they use that it's still hanging after all this time?"
"What's sadder still is the wood the paper covers up. That woman couldn't bear to see an unmarked space. She'd rather cover every wall, floor, ceiling and surface with something cheap and ugly than suffer the indignity of encountering an area over which she had no evidence of control. She was insufferable."
Carolyn swore she sensed a disruption in the air brought on by the Captain's anger.
"She must have been formidable if it took YOU eighteen months to drive her away."
"You must remember I did not yet have my full faculties at the time. I wasn't aware of what I was capable. In a way, I have her to thank, for she drove me to embrace more of my powers than I was likely to had I been left in peace."
"I feel for your poor sister. She must have been miserable living with such a mother-in-law."
"If you're going to lend any emotion, let it be to Mr. Barstow who was married to that cacophonous cow. As if her words and manner weren't venomous enough, she took to poisoning the old fool!"
"Poison! And did you do anything about it?" Carolyn guessed it wasn't gossip if the parties involved had been dead for more than one hundred years.
"Of course not. The sooner the man was put out of his misery the better. He was a damned fool to marry her in the first place and more a fool to let her carry on. He should have set the rules straightaway and silenced her with a sound beating."
"Captain! How could you suggest such a thing?"
"Madame, I would never lift my hand against a woman who had not first resorted to violence against me. Veracity Barstow set out from day one to not merely crush, but twist the life out of any manhood she managed to get her hands around."
Carolyn wondered if he meant it literally or just figuratively. The image in her mind was not a pretty one either way.
"The pity is she poisoned him a little at a time. Had she given it to him in one dose he would have knocked off straight away and saved himself years of torment, misery, and shaming," the Captain explained.
"It's no wonder you didn't want anyone living in your house if that's what you had to contend with."
"I'm not unreasonable, but yes, I learned the value of peace in the most preposterous way. But there's no reason you should have to live with the barbarous choices of that evil woman. Surely there must be a way."
She could hear him pacing once again.
"Well, I'm open to suggestion, as long as it doesn't involve poison or….manhood twisting." She smiled at the expression.
"Don't play coy with me. You've handled Claymore rather deftly from what I have seen. I'm guessing you have had some experience in the less than subtle handling of men."
"What are you suggesting?!" Carolyn stood up in her indignance.
"That you recognize when getting to your destination matters more than the manner in which you conscribe your crew." The Captain resorted to seamen's terms. "Oh, stop your blushing. I'm offering you a compliment. Foolish men, and both you and I know Claymore is one of them, need be handled rather than reasoned with. They bring it upon themselves. At least it harnesses them into usefulness. They'd be nothing but wastrels if someone didn't take them in hand."
"I don't want to be even a little bit like Veracity Barstow." Carolyn realized her fists were clenched. "I admit I've sometimes appealed to Claymore's less than admirable traits–"
"Enough! You've done nothing wrong. If you've taken advantage of his greed it's only because it looms so much larger than any other part of his character. A man with a big nose can't be surprised when others take notice of it."
Carolyn sat back down. "You have a point."
"So we're agreed. We'll concoct a way to get your wallpaper down."
"That won't get Claymore into trouble," Carolyn stipulated.
The Captain sighed heavily, "And that's why women are referred to as the weaker sex."
"Is that how you see morals and integrity?" she challenged.
"Sometimes you have to beat a horse to get it moving."
"I prefer to dangle a carrot."
"Ah yes, the womanly art of persuasion. Just another term for seduction." He pronounced the last word with contempt.
"Haven't you heard that you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Or hadn't those been invented in your day?" Carolyn could give as good as she could get.
"Enough!"
She heard what sounded like a distant clap of thunder, the lights blinked and she felt a puff of cool air against her cheek.
"Captain?"
No reply. She smiled at their little discourse. So they'd had a spat; that too was part of that human companionship she'd been missing. She didn't have to be cordial with him all the time. She didn't have to tiptoe. Even though he'd gone off in a huff, she was confident that he'd be back and tomorrow they'd be teasing and scheming once again.
A little pain stabbed at her heart. She was one step further away from Robert– relating to another person, another man, in this way. A step away from Robert meant a step towards something else, but what? She didn't know but she felt a pang of guilt over her excitement to find out.
XXX