Many thanks to Mary and Susan G for their editing talents and kind comments. Much obliged, ladies!
Lifeline
"'You come to age very often through shipwreck and disaster, and at the heart of the whirlpool, some men find God.' Hmm…" Carolyn sighed contentedly as she reread the words out loud. She looked up into the vivid blue eyes of Captain Daniel Gregg, who was sitting across from her, fiddling with his pipe. "What a wonderful way of putting it." She cocked her head quizzically at him. "Did you? Find God in the whirlpool, I mean."
The Captain raised an eyebrow at her, considering her question. He could tell from her expression that she wasn't teasing; the least he could do was attempt an answer. "I'll admit, I'm still thinking on that one," he finally replied quietly. He paused, studying her before he went on. "I do believe, however, that I caught a glimpse of you."
"Me?" Carolyn repeated, breathing out a laugh. "Really, Daniel – you're serious," she said a little uncertainly when she saw the look on his face. "Me," she repeated once more, looking a question at him.
He suddenly looked uncomfortable. But having admitted what he had, he couldn't go back. Emitting a small sigh, he gazed directly into her emerald eyes. "It's something I've never revealed to anyone in my lifetime, if only because I was convinced I was half-mad from exposure and exhaustion at the time." His features softened into a slight smile. "But now that I've met you, I'm not so sure."
Carolyn could only stare at him, spellbound. "Tell me."
For a moment, he looked as if he would refuse. Finally, he nodded. "It's only fair, I suppose. Very well. This happened when I was still young and fairly inexperienced at my trade…"
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The storm had come up frightfully fast, panic making everyone lose precious seconds as the long boat fought to make its way back to the ship. Daniel, in the brazenness of youth, had brushed aside the old-timers' telling of such ferocious natural tantrums as tall tales. Never again, for as long as I live, he vowed to himself as he clung drowsily to a piece of the boat he had managed to latch onto. If you live, the thought finished itself mockingly. He ran his tongue over his dry lips, thinking with a pang of regret about the barrels of fresh water he and his mates had filled on the island and were in the process of bringing back on board when the storm hit. All had probably been smashed by the raging waves by now; and even if that weren't the case, there was no way he could go out looking for one in his present condition.
He dipped his hand in the now-gentle swells and brought it to his lips, grimacing at the overpowering taste of salt. He lifted his head briefly to take stock of his current situation: the island they had landed on was but a distant outline, quite out of swimming distance, and he could see nothing resembling debris or a survivor from his bobbing perch. As far as he knew, he was the only one left alive from the ill-fated expedition.
Daniel put his head back down against the splintered wood and closed his eyes tiredly. When he had first become aware of his circumstances after regaining his senses, he had raged at the unfairness of it all and at the stupidity of what was sure to be his demise. A day later, exhausted, hungry and thirsty, he prayed only for a swift release. He sighed; and to think he was going to miss out on the naval engagement that was becoming more and more probable down in Mexico… "Serves me right for running away," he murmured fatalistically.
"Don't say that."
Daniel frowned, then relaxed. Must be how it starts, he thought without alarm. Now, I'm hearing voices.
"Daniel? Are you listening?"
He cracked an eye open, then the other and looked around him slowly. Nothing. He closed his eyes again, feeling his body grow heavy with fatigue. "Go away, madness," he grumbled tiredly, "I have no use for you."
"I'm not madness."
All right, I'll bite; it's not as if I have more pressing engagements at the moment, Daniel thought to himself wryly. "What are you, then?" he asked the empty air challengingly.
"Salvation, perhaps?" the voice answered after a brief pause.
Daniel snorted. "I doubt it. Salvation would be yards of canvas over the horizon and a friendly voice shouting 'Ahoy!'. Care to try again?"
Another pause. "All right. A lifeline, then."
He frowned quizzically. "A lifeline against what – death?" He snorted again. "I think you exaggerate your reach, my dear."
"Don't be so bitter, Daniel."
"And why not?" he snapped. "What else have I got to be, except dead?"
"You're not going to die," the voice replied soothingly.
"You say that with remarkable assurance," Daniel retorted sarcastically.
The voice, when it came, was incredibly gentle. "You're afraid, aren't you?"
No one could have been more surprised than Daniel was when the answer came. "Yes," he replied in a whisper. That rock had been sitting on his mind for the longest time – the fear of not being fast enough, brave enough, strong enough; the fear of finding himself in dire straits and realizing that he was a coward. One rarely, if ever, spoke of such things with one's shipmates; fear was a thing to be hidden, not discussed. But out here? Who was there to hear his admission but that voice in his head? A sudden sense of peace, of lightness, flooded him, as if a weight had rolled off his shoulders. Perhaps he could go to his death with a clear conscience…
"I've already told you – you are not going to die today. You must think good thoughts."
"I'm open to suggestions."
"So much cynicism in one so young isn't becoming," the voice chided softly.
"You know nothing of my life," Daniel retorted, a frosty edge to his tone. He stared at the surface of the water sullenly, bristling from the comment. When the voice remained silent, he nodded to himself, satisfied, and settled more comfortably on his makeshift raft. The sound of the water, lapping gently against the wood, had lulled him to sleep earlier; now, it sounded strangely empty, cold – impersonal. He forced a swallow past his parched throat. "Are you still there?" he asked hesitantly a few moments later, like a boy who has displeased a parent.
"Yes."
Daniel closed his eyes and released a breath, relieved beyond measure. "I didn't mean to offend you. Forgive me."
A pause. "It is rare to hear such a thing from one of your years," the voice replied a little teasingly. "You're forgiven."
"Thank you," Daniel said softly, feeling inexplicably better. "I was taught as a child never to let the sun go down on my wrath in case there should be no dawning… I'm beginning to see the wisdom behind it."
"A step in the right direction," the voice commented, a hint of a smile lacing the words.
Daniel felt his lips stretch in a smile of their own, accepting defeat graciously. He closed his eyes again and relaxed, reassured by the presence of – what, exactly? He frowned inquiringly. "I'm curious -- who are you? And why are you doing this?"
The voice didn't respond right away, as if it were mulling over its answer. Then, it said, "I am one who loves you and cares for you, and I am doing this because I must."
Of all the things Daniel expected to hear, this wasn't one of them. He frowned in thought, fatigue muddling his brain badly. "One who loves me? Who – ?" He froze. "Are you… are you my mother, come to take me away?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly, a curious mixture of joy and dread coloring his words.
"No," the voice said firmly. "And I promise nothing will happen to you so long as you cling to me." The voice softened. "You must rest – save your strength."
Suddenly unable to keep fatigue at bay, Daniel settled against the wood, the rough surface rubbing against his cheek as he nodded in agreement before dropping off to sleep…
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"Daniel."
Delicate fingers trailed a tender path along the side of his face, light as a breeze and warm as sunshine, inviting him deeper into the realm of sleep –
"DANIEL!"
He jerked awake with a groan. "Wha – ?" He opened his eyes, only to see the same waterscape surrounding him. He ran a trembling hand over his face with a disgruntled sigh. "What in blue blazes did you do that for?!?!" he asked angrily. "I was having a very nice dream."
"I know," the voice replied, soft but unapologetic. "But it was dragging you down; I had to put a stop to it." A pause. "How are you feeling? Daniel?"
"Hmm?"
The voice grew more insistent at his lethargic response. "Daniel – please, you must stay with me. Do you hear? You must – stay – with me."
For a moment, only the echo of the waves slapping against the wood was heard. Then, "I'm trying," Daniel replied in a weakening voice.
"You're fading, love. You mustn't let fatigue get the best of you. You have to fight."
Daniel sighed, then frowned. "What did you just say?"
"I said, you have to keep fighting."
"Hmm," Daniel muttered to himself. He drew in a long breath and let it out slowly, trying not to succumb to drowsiness. "Why must you do this?" he asked suddenly.
"Come again?"
"You said you were here with me because you had to be," he reminded the voice. "Why?"
The voice remained conspicuously silent for a time, long enough that Daniel instinctively opened his eyes and looked around. As he was about to speak, it said, "Because my existence has no meaning without you." It made a sound surprisingly like a rueful laugh. "And yet, I would gladly give it up if it would save yours."
Daniel, for once in his young life, was at a loss for words. He swallowed painfully. "You're most kind, considering I am a stranger to you."
There was a definite smile to the voice when it sounded again. "Oh, you are no stranger to me, Daniel Gregg. Perhaps, one day, you will recognize me for what I am."
"And that would be?" Daniel asked as he lowered his head back down, unable to fight off exhaustion any longer.
The voice, warm and low, sounded close to his ear. "Live and find out…"
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The touch was back, but it felt different, somehow. It reminded him of the first time he had ever touched silk. A bolt of it had found its way to Schooner Bay and he and his aunt had been at the general store when the shipment had arrived. Daniel had never felt anything like it – soft as a feather and light as air. That's when he had known he had to run away to sea, so he could visit the land where that wonderful material had come from, and all the others between there and Schooner Bay…
"Daniel – you have to go back. You've come too far already – please, go back!"
But why? Daniel asked a bit plaintively, not realizing that his voice hadn't sounded at all. It's nice here – and I can hear you so much better…
"Oh dear – Daniel, you must trust me when I say you shouldn't be here. This is not the place for you – not yet."
But you're here, he retorted simply, as if that were explanation enough.
The voice blew out what sounded like an exasperated sigh, which was followed by a long silence. Soon, the absence of sound was replaced by silky fingers gliding down Daniel's cheeks with infinite tenderness. "Listen – if I promise you that we will meet again, will you go back?"
…Back?... Where?
"Where you belong," the voice replied with great sadness.
Out on the floating piece of wood, the body of young Daniel Gregg hardly moved or breathed. It didn't even react when the ethereal touch he found so comforting became more tangible, turning his head slightly. Something like a caress moved over his lips, but he made no reaction to it until he felt a rush of air suddenly filling his lungs and he nearly choked from the sudden intake. Coughing, he managed to open his eyes a fraction, and in that brief, magical instant, he caught a glimpse of something that triggered such a sense of longing and recognition in him that it very nearly robbed him of his newfound breath. It was gone within the space of a blink. He let his head roll back with a sigh, hardly noticing the splashing sound in the distance.
"Ahoy! Ahoy, there!"
Daniel tried to raise his head to look, but finding the effort overwhelming, lifted a hand instead, quickly letting it flop back down, too tired to hold it up.
"He's alive, by God! Pull, you beauties, pull!"
When Daniel became aware of his surroundings again, it was to the feeling of water being gently and patiently dribbled on his lips by way of a soaked handkerchief. Instinct quickly took over and he grabbed the hand holding the piece of fabric, bringing it to his mouth with the last of his strength, desperate to quench his thirst.
"Easy there, mate, easy!" a man's voice said soothingly even as fingers carefully pried Daniel's hand loose. "There's more where that came from. But you need to be careful – we don't want you getting sick, do we?"
Once again, the handkerchief was brought to his lips, and once again, Daniel made a grab for it. But his benefactor was ready for him, intercepting the hand and pushing it back down gently to the young seaman's side. As they rowed back, Daniel regained enough of his senses to suddenly start looking around him, a slight frown on his face. "What's the matter, mate?" the seaman cradling his head asked kindly. "Lost something?"
Daniel let his head drop tiredly, a sense of loss such as he had never felt dragging him down. "No," he answered softly, his voice all but gone. Someone – I lost someone. But I'll find her. I swear…
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Captain Gregg's voice fell silent even as the reddish disk of the sun began its slow descent into the waters of the bay. The telling had left him strangely drained, bringing the deeply-buried memories – and feelings – sharply back into focus. He lifted his eyes to the open French doors, his back to Carolyn, unable to face her. His attention was suddenly drawn to his side when he heard her bare feet stop next to him. The look on her face tugged at his heart and soul; there was such wonder, longing, hope in her green eyes!
When she spoke, her words were hesitant, almost as if she had just had to relearn how to speak. "Do you really think – ?" Carolyn asked, unable – or unwilling – to finish the question.
"I have wondered about that, long and hard," Daniel replied huskily, "and I truly have no idea." He found it within himself to smile at her. "But it IS a pleasant fantasy to entertain, isn't it?" Suddenly uncomfortable with all this disclosure, he straightened up and started fiddling with the sleeves of his turtleneck, avoiding her eyes. "My, it's evening already! I've taken quite enough of your time, my dear; I'll leave you to your work."
Carolyn instinctively put her hand out, making to stop him from vanishing. "But I will see you later, won't I?"
Daniel stopped, his eyes drawn to her face like magnets. "Is that your wish, Madam?" he asked softly.
Carolyn smiled and nodded. "It is."
Daniel smiled back and gave her a small, courteous bow. "Then it is my command. I'll wait for your call – until later, milady." And he was gone.
Carolyn turned toward her desk, then moved instead to the doors, her steps taking her all the way to the wheel by the balcony's rail, where she raised her hands to the spindles and rested her cheek against the ancient wood. "It certainly is a pleasant fantasy," she said wistfully to the empty air, "but it would make an even sweeter memory." She smiled crookedly to herself, rapping her knuckles lightly against the wheel. "Here's hoping for a trip down amnesia lane." Her smile growing thoughtful, she moved back inside and closed the doors behind her, intent on getting some more work done before meeting up with Daniel.
But she didn't write another word the rest of the evening.