Chapter Nine
Albert Calavicci came into the Waiting Room and the door snapped shut behind him. "Captain Gregg?" Al said, stepping forward.
The seaman turned from the computer screen he was facing and looked at Al. "Admiral? Sir?" he said, staring at the colorful figure in front of him. "Your attire has certainly changed from the last time I saw you!"
Al chortled, and smiled back at the seaman. "I suppose I should have said something earlier! Actually I hate uniforms. Don't wear them unless absolutely pressed to . . . especially while I have been working here on Project Quantum Leap. Most of my clothing taste leans more in this direction . . ." and he gestured to the electric blue turtleneck and white slacks he was wearing.
"And no one reports your attire to your superiors?" the Captain asked, curious.
"I report to Sam . . . Dr. Beckett. And he's in Maine, at the moment, remember?" Al paused and let the seaman consider what he had said. "Have you been comfortable here? Ziggy keeping you busy and off the streets?"
The seafarer smiled. "Actually, I think she is irritated with me. Our last chess game was a draw, and she tried to talk her way out of it."
Al guffawed. "That's a hoot!" he exclaimed. "Ziggy has this ego, like I said — refuses — absolutely refuses to admit that she can make a mistake. Hates it when she loses. It gives her a complex. Even been known to gum up her circuits for a few hours!" He patted Gregg on the back by way of congratulations and motioned him to sit. "Would you like a cigar?" asked Al, in a more serious tone. "I have a few more questions for you, and I need some straight answers. We can start with some easy ones . . . but I'm not letting you off this time. It's important. Really important. Vital one might say. You are just gonna have to trust me on this one."
"Thank-you . . . Yes." The Captain nodded. "This concerns Carolyn — and the rest of my family doesn't it?" The Captain asked, a frown growing once again on Sam's features.
"I can't answer that." said Al, giving the Captain a look.
"But it does." said the Captain, looking fiercer still.
"I need you to answer my questions, Gregg. You'll know what you are allowed to know, and the more cooperative you are, the better it will be for everyone concerned." Al said, giving him another look. He sighed. Maybe I should have stayed in uniform! he thought to himself.
The Captain rubbed at the non-existent beard on Sam's chin, Al lit the Captain's cigar and the Captain leaned back in his chair, resignedly. "Ask away Sir. Obviously I am not going anywhere until you get the answers you need, and you have hinted that the welfare of my family is at stake. I will do my utmost to be cooperative."
GLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGL
Al began.
"Captain Gregg, why are you here?"
"You explained that . . . your time experiment is FUBAR'ed . . ."
"Don't get smart!" Al snapped. "I'll rephrase the question. Why are you haunting Gull Cottage in the year 1970?"
Captain Gregg tugged on his ear and thought for a moment. "That is really a two part answer . . . " he started, and then stopped.
"Start with the beginning. That's what they always say," said Al.
"Well, as I'm sure you know, I built Gull Cottage. I built it with the idea of getting married there, raising my children there, and eventually dying there . . . at a ripe old age I might add!" he paused.
"According to our records, you committed suicide there." Al baited him, hoping for a reaction.
"I did NOT commit suicide!" the Captain roared. "As I have said, NUMEROUS times before, it was an ACCIDENT! There was a storm that night and it was blowing straight through the bedroom window, so I closed the window like any sensible man would. Then I kicked the blasted gas heater on with my foot in my sleep. The pilot light on the heater was not working properly and the gas did not shut off, as it should have. With the window closed, I inhaled the gas fumes and I DIED blast it! My idiot cleaning woman testified that I always slept with my windows open — " the Captain continued, fuming. "How the devil would she know how I slept? I never slept with her! That's when the coroner's jury brought in a verdict of suicide! Damn it! Look, at your blasted records again!"
"Calm down, Captain Gregg." Al said, looking at the hot-tempered seafarer calmly. "We have those records here. Ziggy had them pulled hours ago. But you still haven't answered my question. Why do you haunt?"
The Captain stared at the floor; the cigar forgotten in his hand, and continued. "Carolyn asked me the same question the night we met — almost two years ago. The simple truth is, I died without a will and with no direct heirs. My wedding plans with my betrothed, Vanessa, had been terminated. She had decided she could not marry a man who would be away from home so much." Al flinched, but the Captain did not see it, and he continued. "The agreement to break our betrothal was amicable, and she went to Boston. I had planned to make a will — so in case something did happen to me at sea, my home, Gull Cottage, would be turned into a home for retired seamen. I knew I could always change the will again were I ever to find my heart's desire and marry. My wife, and/or children would have the house, if anything were to happen to me, and then it could still be bequeathed as a seaman's home later."
"Sounds sensible," Al said. "What happened?"
"I died before I had the will drawn up," said the Captain. "Blast it, this happened over a hundred years ago! I cannot remember everything! And I certainly could not make my voice heard in the state I was in then!" the spectre paused again, trying to remember all the events of the last hundred years. "I kept haunting my house," he said, continuing with his narrative. "I reasoned that if I could not have my way, that my blasted would-be relatives would not make a nickel at my expense either! The house could not be sold and could not be let. Besides . . . " he added, ". . . I did NOT commit suicide and I couldn't leave without blasted proving that. I reasoned that sooner or later I could somehow get the records changed and then it could be turned into the seaman's home as I wished it to be. I would not be remembered forever as a coward, sir, and I could not go back on my oath."
"So what did happen?" Al asked, "What changed?"
"A hundred years happened." the mariner replied soberly. "Just . . . time. Progress . . . disasters . . . wars . . . There was World War One — World War Two — The Korean Conflict, I think they called it, and now this new one I'm hearing about on the television – in a place called Vi . . . Vie . . ."
"Vietnam." Al said, his voice flat, but inwardly he was cringing. "Go on."
"A hundred years of haunting . . . alone . . . seeing people only every now and then. Learning what sort of spectral powers I had. Learning to control them. A man, or a spirit can get very jaded in that time Admiral. Also very . . ."
"Lonesome?" Al offered.
The seaman nodded. "Aye, much as I hate to admit it! The ownership of my house eventually passed to my great-nephew, Claymore Gregg . . . At least he calls himself that, and I am not in a position to prove otherwise. He's a spineless jellyfish. He knows I'll keel-haul him if he were to ever try to sell the house, but he has refused to do any upkeep on the place at all."
"It's rented now." Al offered.
"Aye!" A smile lit up Captain Gregg/Sam's face. "Claymore rented Carolyn . . . Mrs. Muir the house without my knowledge. She and her family showed up on my doorstep in June of 1968 and my life hasn't been the same since." He continued, a faraway look in his eyes. "Carolyn, Martha and the children moved in, bag and baggage. I was not terribly pleased about it at first, but . . . " he shrugged, "I allowed them to stay . . . on trial. Carolyn and Martha and the children . . . they are hard to refuse. They cleaned up the place . . . they made Gull Cottage into the home it never had the chance to be." He smiled again. "We've become a family – albeit an unconventional one! The children have told me they think of me as a father . . . " His voice trailed off again, as he cleared his throat and pulled on his ear, pensively. "It was touch and go there for a while! Over the last two years, at one time or another we've both had a chance to leave but chose to stay . . . " The Captain paused, thinking about the argument Carolyn and he had had about his tree, and about how she had almost left over his infatuation with Vanessa's great-great-great granddaughter, and his equal jealousy over Blair Thompson and Sean Callahan. "We have certainly had our ups and downs along the way! Navigated some very stormy seas indeed!" he concluded with a smile.
"But you're still there Captain." Al said. "As I said, we've pulled the public records. Your name has been cleared of suicide. A new seaman's home has been built in Schooner Bay. You don't need to bequeath Gull Cottage to be a seaman's home any more, so why do you still haunt?" He looked closely at the seaman. "Captain, I need an answer. That's an order!"
"I told you before, it's personal!"
Al gave the seaman a look that very clearly said, 'You aren't fooling me a bit.' and cleared his throat.
"I've got you pegged, Captain. I know 'the look.' I've seen it in my mirror . . . once. That's the second part of your answer. You are in love with Carolyn Muir aren't you? I'm sure if it! And I'm almost positive you were getting ready to leave . . . withdraw . . . whatever it is ghosts do, permanently, last night when Sam 'leaped' into you. Am I right?"
"So what if I say my answer is 'yes?'" the seaman growled, giving Al Calavicci a fierce look, "Your point is what?"
"I believe I asked you about this before, Captain Gregg." Al said, the smaller man matching the Captain's look. "When we first met, remember? Now I'm asking you again. You can be solid any time you choose to be. I know it. The sixty-four thousand-dollar question is why won't you tell Carolyn Muir that? Why can't you TELL her you love her and be happy? Why were you going to leave?"
The Captain looked at the man across from him and sighed. "My life is over, Admiral. I lived it once. After last night, I decided that I could not spoil Carolyn's life, or Jonathan's or Candy's or Martha's or even Claymore's by interfering in them any more than I already have." Then, in a low voice he added, "Fate did not deal me a fair hand when it comes to family, Admiral. Carolyn should have been my wife. Jonathan and Candy should have been my children. They all should have been my family." The Captain paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "You are right of course. I discovered that my ability to feel and be touched . . . to be solid again had come back shortly after Christmas. I don't even know how it happened. Certainly nothing was communicated to me! As far as I am concerned it's a miracle. I even waited for a while; just to make sure my newfound abilities did not vanish with the dawn, or a new moon. I almost gave myself away a few times actually! I love Carolyn. I can touch her now — hold her — make love to her every night — but all that will do is further ruin her life, for I have nothing else to offer her but my outdated self." The seaman's voice cracked. He collected himself, and continued. "Carolyn told me last night 'If you were still alive, Gull Cottage would BE a palace.' I can touch her now, imitate life, but I'm NOT alive. All I can do is complicate her life more." Daniel Gregg gave Albert Calavicci a look of total agony. "That's why I was getting ready to leave. No arguments, no guilt, no blame. Just withdraw and give her a chance to live her own life." The Captain paused again. His voice had dropped almost to a whisper.
Al looked at Daniel Gregg in astonishment. "Ruin her life?" he exclaimed, "You were going to leave without saying anything? How do you figure that would help her Captain? Or the rest of 'your' family? You don't have the corner market on ruined lives! I'd really like to knock you upside the head! You can argue that fate wronged you, but you are not the only man in the world who has not had a fair shake of things! Now it's your turn to listen to me Gregg! AND THAT'S AN ORDER!"
Captain Gregg looked at the smaller man, astounded. Rank or not, it had been years . . . MANY years since he had been spoken to in such a manner! Daniel Gregg listened.