Chapter Twelve - 2:00 - 4:00 p.m.

Samuel Beckett had spent the afternoon 'lurking,' as Albert Calavicci so delicately put it. He took a walk on the beach, willing himself to an invisible state so Carolyn couldn't find him. The walk was invigorating but did not solve any of the problems at hand.

Sam moved himself to the attic. For an hour or so, he poked around in what had to be Captain Gregg's desk and found his ship's logs. They were not what he expected. He had hoped to find something more like a diary; instead it was a day-by-day account of the voyage of the Captain's last command, 'The English Rose,' and although the journal was interesting, he found he couldn't fully concentrate — too many other thoughts crowded his mind, chiefly his guilt for avoiding Carolyn Muir and his concern for the safety of Candy and Jonathan. Mostly, however he found that he was bored. Incredibly bored. Lurking, or hiding, was just not what he did best. He looked around the attic again.

Wow, he thought. If I'm bored spending a lousy two hours up here, how on earth did Daniel Gregg bear it for a HUNDRED years? I'd be stir-crazy in a week! Feeling the attic walls close in on him, Sam willed himself once more to the widow's-walk.

GLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLGL

"Captain?" said Carolyn, coming up the stairs, "Are you up there?"

"Uhh . . . Yes . . ." Sam braced himself.

Carolyn stepped up into the open space and looked at him. "Martha said you might be up here," she started. "You told me last night you wanted to get back to work on the Memoirs today."

"Yes . . ." Sam mumbled, ". . . But, uhh, you're the writer . . . Ca . . . Mrs. Muir. I figured you could probably do it without me. I've been sort of . . . busy today."

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Uhh . . . just . . . things . . . Mrs. Muir . . ." he trailed off, lamely.

"What happened to Carolyn. . . Daniel?" she stopped again. "That's my name after all . . . Carolyn. You called me Carolyn last night . . . why are you calling me 'Mrs. Muir' again?"

"I . . . uhh . . . " Sam replied, grasping for something to say, ". . . I wasn't sure you . . . liked it."

"I did like it, Daniel. I've been waiting for you to call me Carolyn for two years. What possibly made you think I didn't like it?"

"I don't know." Sam said, truthfully.

"So . . . are you ready to get back to work on your Memoirs?" Carolyn asked, ready to start over, "We should be able to get a hour-and-a-half's worth of work in before the kids get home."

"Well . . . maybe we should take a break . . . " Sam answered, thinking of Candy and Jonathan, "We can pick up on it in a few days or so . . ."

"Why are you being so wishy-washy all of a sudden Daniel Carolyn asked, the frustration evident in her voice, "Don't you want to work on this project any more? After all, the whole thing was your idea!" She paused, "Or is it me you don't want to work with?"

"No — it's not that — " Sam said miserably, "It's just that now's not a good time . . ."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice rising, "Is writing a little more time consuming than you thought? Are you getting frustrated? Bored? Just tell me what the problem is!"

"I don't know . . ." Sam responded, watching her grow more and more agitated.

"Daniel . . ." Carolyn said, "Listen to me. I know the last week or so has been strange . . . first Harriet was here and stirred things up . . . that led to Mom and Dad planning a wedding for heaven's sake, but . . . " she paused, trying to collect her thoughts.

"I . . ." said Sam.

"Please, don't interrupt me again." Carolyn said, continuing her speech. "I just want you to know, that . . . that the last two years here have been very important to me. I wouldn't have missed them for anything in the world. Finding Gull Cottage — and you — when I did, probably saved my life in some ways. You being here gave me the courage I needed to stand on my own. I don't even know quite how, exactly. Maybe because I can fight with you . . . bounce ideas off you. You make me believe in more in myself each day . . . you do it every time I have to prove I'm right and you're wrong. When you say you liked something I had written. What I told you the night I brought back the Monkey-Puzzle tree still goes . . . It does get dull with just 'humans' to talk to — You're company for me in a way that Martha and the kids just can't be.

Carolyn gazed into 'her Captain's' eyes. "Something's bothering you Daniel. You haven't been quite yourself all day. You've lost interest in your Memoirs. You've been avoiding me. I . . . don't want you to worry about last night. You know, the wedding and all that . . . I mean. Mom goes a little overboard sometimes, that's all . . . and I don't want you to give what I said last night another thought either. Don't tell me that it's over between us — that you are going to leave. Don't give up on you and me and our . . . our friendship, I know at times what we feel can't be totally expressed, but there's no such thing as hopeless, if you believe that things can work out."

Her voice began to speed up. "I just want you to know that Gull Cottage WOULD be a palace if you were alive and here, but it's fine if you're not alive — I mean I'm sorry you're not alive, but I'd really rather just have you here and with me. I really don't want it any other way . . . because I lov . . .She stopped and turned away, overcome, then turned back to him, a tear trailing down her cheek.

Totally forgetting what he was, Sam reached out and brushed the tear away. "Don't cry . . . " he said softly. "You shouldn't cry . . ."

Carolyn's eyes grew wide. "You touched me!"

"Uhh . . . Well . . ." Sam said, realizing his mistake.

"I KNEW there was something different about you today!" she exclaimed, I knew there was something different! This morning! You gave Scruffy a belly rub! I could SEE you do it! You played the piano! I SAW you do it! You didn't have to turn invisible before you picked something up or touched something! "Two years you've been playing this game?" she cried, "Why did you lie to me? To all of us?"

"I haven't lied to you — " Sam began.

"Then what do you call it?"

"Well . . . " Sam said again, "Sometimes the things you think could never happen, happen just like that . . . " he smiled weakly.

"That's not an explanation." Carolyn said darkly. "I'm not finished yet!"

"What is it?" said Sam, exasperated, "Why are you so angry? I thought you'd like . . . " she interrupted him.

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything, because you were acting so strangely already, but it's because — on top of everything else, last night you DID say you LOVED me . . ."

"I did?"

"Well . . . you didn't say it to me . . . you said it to Claymore."

"Claymore? Your landlord?"

"And your great-nephew! There you go again! Acting like you don't know what I'm talking about! You were yelling at him. I was busy with Mom and Dad. He said 'hi kids' to Jonathan and Candy, and you said, "Is that any way to greet the children of the woman you love?" to Claymore! I know you said it! Are you going to try and tell me I dreamed it?"

"Well, I . . ."

The Imaging Chamber door opened on the widow's-walk and Al Calavicci practically ran through it.

"Sam! Ziggy figured it out! This is it! It's the kids!"

Sam looked over to him. "No Al — that can't be right! Adam and Quentin are with them, if it had been today they would have been mentioned in the . . ."

"Captain, who are you talking to?" Carolyn demanded, "If this is some kind of a trick . . ."

"Sam!" Al shouted, "Pay attention! I don't know who Adam and Quentin are, but Candy and Jonathan are in an underground cave about a half a mile up the beach! The cave will be flooded with sea-water in about five minutes!"