Set shortly after the GAMM episode, Martha Meets the Captain.The Ghost of Gull Cottage and housekeeper Martha Grant get to know each other a little better. All regular disclaimers apply. We don't own 'em… wish we did!
Getting To Know You
Mary and Amanda
"M-o-o-o-m-m-m, do we have to go to this?" Jonathan asked for the tenth time. "Weddings are boring."
"Betty's an old friend, and she'd be hurt if we didn't come to see her get married," Carolyn patiently explained, again. "It'll be a nice trip."
"Grandma and Grandpa won't be there," Jonathan pointed out. "You said they were going to his Elk's convention."
"I'm sure we'll get to see them before long," Carolyn promised.
"Weddings are romantic," Candy asserted. "And when I get married, my wedding won't be boring. This one won't be either."
Jonathan rolled his eyes, but knew better than to comment. "Martha just got home."
"Yes, and I'll be right here when you get back," the older woman said.
"But, now she knows about the Captain, and that's so neat…" Jonathan tried again.
"I doubt I'll forget about him in two days' time," she noted dryly.
"Now, let's hurry up. Mr. Peavey won't wait forever to take us to the airport," Carolyn urged the kids. As she hustled them out the door, she looked back. "You two will be okay, won't you?"
Daniel nodded. "We will." His eyes met the young widow's, and though he did not kiss her goodbye, it almost felt as if he had.
"Don't worry about us," Martha agreed. "Just enjoy yourselves."
After the door shut behind the family, housekeeper and ghost stared at each other for a few moments.
"Well," Martha said. "I'd better get to work. I want to make some ketchup, but Jonathan complains about the vinegar smelling bad. That doesn't keep him from eating it. So, now is a good time to make a batch. It won't bother you, will it?"
"Not in the slightest. I've got sea charts to attend to," the Captain nodded.
"Sea charts? Are you going somewhere?" She frowned.
"It's simply a good idea to keep up with the changes in the shoreline," Daniel explained. "I'll be in the wheelhouse, if you need me."
"The what?" Martha blinked.
"The attic."
"Oh. Well, er, as you were. Should I salute?" she asked uncertainly.
"No," the Captain smiled, and then popped out of sight.
XXX
The rest of the day proceeded quietly. Martha had a sparse dinner alone. Her stomach had just adjusted to Florida time, then she was home again, and her insides were still on the other time.
With not much on TV and the Captain still ensconced with his charts, she decided to go to bed early. However, it felt earlier than that, even. After an hour or so of tossing and turning, she rose, and put on her favorite bathrobe. Now, Martha realized, she was hungry. Moreover, her mind wouldn't shut off. Going into the kitchen, she stared at what was there. Not much. She'd have to make a trip to the store the next day.
How on earth did they manage for two weeks without someone taking care of things like this? she wondered. Shaking her head, she realized what she wanted, was breakfast food. She was either very early or late, one. Still, why not?
The smell of pancakes drew Daniel down from the attic.
"Is it morning already?"
"Not hardly, Captain," the housekeeper answered with a smile. "I just realized I was hungry, and what I was hungry for was breakfast."
"Ah. Well if that is all, then I will leave you to your…"
"Wait, Captain," Martha interrupted. "Don't go. I mean…" she added, uncertainly, "You don't have to go unless you want to. I mean, I can't stop you if you choose to go, after, all, you're a… well, you know." She paused again. "Darn… blast it, I'm not saying this very well, but…"
"Would you like me to stay down here for a while, Martha?" The ghost smiled. "Would you care for some company?"
"I would, indeed," the housekeeper answered, relieved. "I'm having pancakes," she continued, flipping the hot cakes over in the skillet. "I'll be ready to go here in a minute. Would you like some? Can you? How about some tea? Or coffee? I could use a cup of tea, myself. I have the kettle on already."
"A hot cup of tea would be marvelous, Martha," the seaman said, settling himself at the kitchen table. "Thank you."
A few minutes later, having brewed the tea, Martha joined him, and after what seemed, at least to her, like an achingly long time, the seaman spoke.
"So… Martha. We finally have a chance to talk a bit. There wasn't really time before you left for Florida. I would imagine you have, maybe, just a few questions, about me — my relationship with the Muirs, and so forth?"
The woman nodded slowly. "Well, yes, Captain, I have. I wasn't going to mention it — just sort of wait and maybe ask Mrs. Muir when she had a few free moments, but, yes… yes, I do." When the seaman nodded again, the woman's first question came out in a rush. "Captain, why wasn't I told about you sooner?"
Daniel sighed. "I knew that was going to be your first question. The simple fact is, Martha, you were not ready for the truth. Besides," he added, a smile coming to his blue eyes, "I had a feeling I'd be employed in spring cleaning the moment you found out." When the housekeeper grinned, he added in a more serious tone; "Also, my good woman, I do recall a few terms you used to describe me: ogre, laughing boy, and oh yes, rat. I had good cause to believe you might not be amenable to knowing me in the 'flesh,' as it were."
Looking chagrined, Martha met his level gaze. "Well, Captain, you do have a point." She sighed. "I thought it was the same thing it usually is when it comes to me... or at least the way men in general approach me."
Apprehending her thoughts, Daniel frowned, "That dentist was hardly a fit example of a man. You would not want a mama's boy like that. Moreover you would not want the mama, and they appeared to be a package deal. As to that cherry pie-eating constable of yours, he only moves fast when old sea dogs put the fear of something into him." He could not suppress a small chuckle, recalling how Ed had run out of the house once as if the hounds of Hades were after him.
"So that WAS you that first day. Figures," Martha smiled. "I agree with you about Doctor Rodman, and I was glad when he left town after his mother died. But really, Ed's all right. I'm rather fond of him, actually. He might even make a good husband some day, when he is ready to be. No, Captain. You aren't getting what I was saying. There are men, Men and MEN. I was thinking about... the way men in general see me. I'm afraid they just don't see me in a romantic light. Nobody has for a long time. I was thinking of the way I see people seeing me in general, in regards to you, or what I thought you saw, anyway."
"Then, allow me to say that the men of this generation are quite blind if they cannot see your sterling qualities. As you might guess, I'm quite taken with Mrs. Muir, but were I not..." Daniel hastened to assure her.
"Oh, come now, Captain. Seriously now. I was no more a tearing beauty at eighteen than I am now. Men... most men have never looked at me the way you look at Mrs. Muir. A blind man can see it... Heck; even Claymore could see it if he wasn't so terrified of you. No... I'm afraid most men look at me as the steady, reliable, dependable type... good in an emergency, but not to romance. Well, that, and well, not to pat myself on the back, but I'm not half bad in the kitchen."
Daniel's mien darkened. "Claymore could see far better if he wasn't so cheap he bought all his glasses at the drugstore, and would get a proper prescription. Blithering... but never mind, we're discussing you. Your qualities are those that do not fade over time, as many beauties' will. And as to your kitchen talents, they are without equal. Now, I believe you had some questions for me?" He wanted off this topic.
Equally relieved, Martha nodded. "A... a few... no, a lot, really. And I am sure I will think of more as we go along."
"Then, fire away. I will answer to the best of my ability," the Captain promised.
"Uhm... okay. Hmm. Now that I have your undivided attention, I'm not sure where to start. You really have been here since Day One? Since the day we moved in, and out, and back in again?"
"I was here long before Day One, a hundred years to be precise, ever since I kicked the blasted gas heater with my blasted foot and died of — I believe you would call it carbon monoxide poisoning now? And no, I do not haunt because of the injustice done my good name in that rag of a newspaper. If that were the case, I'd have moved on when Carolyn had that slithering squid retract his great grandfather's mistake."
"Carolyn, Captain?" the housekeeper said, startled. "You two are on a first name basis? Hmm... I don't think I had ever heard you call her anything but "Mrs. Muir, or "Madam… not that is really any of MY business, of course..." Martha's voice trailed off, and she wondered privately if she had said too much.
The seaman looked embarrassed. "Well, now you've caught me out. Yes. I call her Carolyn. Only to myself, until now. I have for... some time."
"But you haven't called her Carolyn to her face?" the housekeeper asked, surprised again.
"Never." He shook his head and smiled. "But some day. Soon."
"Well, that story of yours that appeared in the Schooner Bay Beacon is a tale in itself..." Martha said, feeling it best to get off the subject of names. "So, you were responsible for the front-page retraction of the story that ran after you died, right? That was a great picture of you. You DO know I found that paper up in Candy's room, don't you? I think she liked you before she met you, too." Martha began laughing at something known only to her.
"What? Do you find that so amusing?" Daniel was not sure this was a good idea after all.
"No..." Martha wiped her eyes. "I was just thinking, Candy having THAT paper reminded me of the one I kept — I read it every time I feel blue. The April Fool edition... You had to be responsible... Spoiled lobster in bitter sauce, rotten dresses in appalling colors, stale baked goods, and my favorite... Crazy cottage for sale..."
"...By a fake!" Daniel finished, grinning. "Aye, that was my doing, also. That last one was rather on target. I couldn't resist."
"You do have quite a sense of humor, Captain. Did you have anything to do with Claymore's grating drama getting turned into a comedy?"
"Aye, but only because Carolyn suggested it first."
"She told you to sabotage his play?"
"Not in so many words..."
"Oh, I knew that. Mrs. Muir would have to be mightily provoked, like she was with that Wilkie fellow, to deliberately sabotage someone. I guess you pulled a stunt or two on him, too? Mr. Wilkie, I mean?"
"Only when I thought he was burglarizing my ship... our home, rather. I thought I'd, forgive the expression, die laughing when his superior officer walked over and asked you what you were doing and you said so matter-of-factly, "pulling a string." None of the stunts were mine, once we knew he was hunting ghosts."
"Best answer I could think of, at the moment, Captain. I was! I remember wondering at the time why Mrs. Muir got so elaborate with the whole thing. Personally I would have walloped him over the head with a frying pan, dragged him outside, and let him wake up thinking he'd had some terrible nightmare," Martha replied nonchalantly. "I guess Mrs. Muir's way was better though... getting him fired certainly means he will never come back here!"
"I do hope," Daniel said fervently. "Would it gratify your heart to know I did wallop him, with flour, not a frying pan?"
"That was a terrible mess you made, but considering the reason, a good cause," Martha said sternly, not able to bring herself to shake a finger at the regal man. Thoughtfully, she continued, "You know... I really should have known then... with all the excitement, it got lost in the shuffle. Lots of things have, but I really should have known, because there was really just no way he could get that messed up just by tripping and falling like Mrs. Muir said."
"Human minds have defense mechanisms that block out truth until they are ready to deal with it. As I said earlier, you were not ready to live with a ghost at the time. And, too, your attention was focused on scuttling the invader."
"That's true... I would have been just as happy if she had called the police!" Martha agreed, and then paused. "Captain?"
"Yes?" He looked at her over the rim of his cup.
"I was wondering... no, I shouldn't ask," she demurred, flushing.
"Well, now that you have mentioned it, do go on and ask, otherwise I shall wonder for eternity."
"It's... well, it's personal, and I guess it's not right to ask you if I wouldn't want someone to ask me a personal question, I..." Now, she turned red in earnest.
"Let's make a deal, Martha. If I don't choose to answer, I won't." By now, Daniel was terribly curious.
"Okay, fair... and you can ask me something, and if I feel like answering it, I will, and if I don't, I won't either. How's that?" Martha nodded.
"Fine."
"Well, I was wondering about Vanessa. Both of them. Mrs. Muir was ready to leave Gull Cottage again... did... did you ask her to? Did Vanessa Peakskill... did she really look like your old girlfriend? Did you ask Mrs. Muir to leave? And if you did, what happened?" The questions spilled out in a rush. "I'm sorry, Captain, that's not one question, it's four... and I'm embarrassed."
"Quite all right," Daniel smiled. "Vanessa was a young woman I loved once upon a time, a hundred years ago and then some. And yes, her great, great granddaughter was the image of her. But, by the time I died, I was over Vanessa. Seeing this century's version awoke some memories, and I was a bit infatuated, but no, I did not ask Mrs. Muir to leave, and when she decided to, I realized that the past is not where I wish to be, but the present. And the present involves not any version of Vanessa, but Carolyn, Candy, Jonathan, and yes, you, Martha. Now, I did write the letter that convinced Vanessa I was a cad, and sent her packing." As he said that, the ghost looked extremely smug.
"Ah... that was an interesting letter, but I liked the poetry of the early ones better! You should have been a writer, Captain," Martha said tactfully.
Pulling his ear thoughtfully, the ghost looked almost abashed. "Martha, do you recall that bit of — fluff in that woman's magazine... Maiden Voyage?"
"That racy story Mrs. Muir wrote?" The housekeeper's eyes widened. "I was always SO glad I didn't mail a copy to Mrs. Muir's mother when she asked me to... wait a minute! That was you, too? Captain! That WASN'T exactly the kind of writing I meant... I was thinking something a little more... romantic!"
"There are those who might consider that very romantic." Daniel laughed a bit. "However, I do take your meaning. Do you perhaps recall then, when young Tim stayed the night? The next day he sang a bit of doggerel..." He glanced over at Scruffy, who was watching for a stray bite to come his way.
Martha sighed. "That song was lovely! It..." She stared at the spirit in front of her. "You wrote that?! That was beautiful! Much more like those... other letters. Uhm... It was about Mrs. Muir? I mean because you can't touch her... and you want to. Then, I was right, you do care..."
"More than I ever thought possible. I know how impossible and unfair a situation we are in, but be that as it may, I feel as I feel, and believe perhaps my feelings might be returned." His expression became far away, contemplating for the moment, his dreams.
"Ah. I THOUGHT so!" Martha looked quite pleased upon that discovery. "You two look... so right together. She... I mean you both, deserve someone special. I can see by that look on your face you haven't come right out and told her. I wish there was something I could do..." She frowned, considering the situation. "You know, I should have known — I don't know — something, after the blarney Irishman... what was his name... Callahan... visited. They looked good together, but not quite right, you know? WAS he a relative of yours?"
Thunder rattled the walls. "That — great-grandson of an imposter is no kin of mine. I never met his great grandmother and should have keelhauled the great-grandfather before he could begat any whelps like that one."
"Hey!" Martha looked up at him, alarmed. "How many of the storms, thunder booms, and generally crazy Maine weather around here were really you, anyway? I'm sorry I asked! There IS a resemblance though... just don't thunder at me. I suppose that's how Callahan's great-great grandson ended up out rowing across the lawn in that dinghy." She laughed. That had been funny. "Okay. We all have things in our past that are better left unaccounted for. I believe you. He's no kin of yours. I have a couple of cousins I disown too." The woman thought for a moment. "I'm beginning to think that there is not a thing that has happened in this house that you weren't involved with, in some way. Did you bring that baby here at Christmas?"
"No, that was strictly Claymore, or more precisely, Claymore's car that the child's older brother placed the tot in. I did bring down the cradle and provide the dream, however."
"Now THAT makes sense. So you can really do that? Pop furniture from one place to another? Captain, you really are going to be a blessing, come spring cleaning... and don't thunder at me again. Not cleaning-cleaning — I mean you had a housekeeper for stuff like that. You're not used to it. Just to lift an occasional couch? And as for the dream, Captain, it was lovely. Except for a few modern convinces, I could have lived there quite happily, taking care of you and Mrs. Muir... only then you and she would be married to you come New Year's, so Mrs. Gregg then! And the children, and the baby — and any other children that may have happened, too. Don't tell anyone, I told you, but even though I told Mrs. Muir that dream was strange, I love re-living it. I liked being part of a family with you in it even though I didn't know there was a you yet." She scratched her nose. "You know, I don't think I called you names much after that. You seemed... too real. Not ogreish at all."
Inclining his head, the Captain smiled slightly. "Thank you. I've never tried to 'pop' anything overly heavy, but the cradle was no effort at all. I assure you, if by some miracle Mrs. Muir and I had a child, through adoption or other means, we would find a better name than Slugger." He shuddered. "As to the furniture moving, I am willing to do so, from time to time." His eyes twinkled.
"Thanks, Captain. I'll hold you to that! I promise, it won't be a habit." She paused for a moment. "So... did everyone else find out about you right away? I mean I guess, looking back on it, of course Claymore was right, there was a ghost. And you would have told Mrs. Muir, and Jonathan started picking up your language habits right away, but Candy was really convincing... She kept telling Jonathan not to scare her... did she? And have you had any other ghost friends visit? If so, I would really like to be told — not left in the dark."
"That's another multi-part question. Claymore has known about me since he was a boy. Unfortunately for both of us. Jonathan encountered me before Mrs. Muir, as you might recall, he reported that I looked 'cross' and wanted the place made 'ship shape.' That evening, Mrs. Muir and I met. She asked me to leave, I refused, so — you all left — for a few minutes, anyway. Candy did not meet me until you had lived here for about a year, so she really did want Jonathan to quit trying to scare her. I would never scare a little girl. Except, perhaps, that Hinklepecker girl she has mentioned being so cruel. However, I do think she had picked up on some clues, and so was ready to know when the time came. As to other ghosts, yes, there are other ghosts out there. One of them has visited, but you sucked him up in your vacuum cleaner. Elroy Applegate. I would like some warning if he were coming again. In fact, I would be in favor of all of us leaving first. He would try the patience of a saint."
"I sucked him up in the vacuum? How on earth did I... did he...? I take it he's not a very good ghost!"
"No, Elroy is not a good ghost. He wasn't much of a seaman either," Daniel interjected.
"Okay — next time the breakables get put away." She blinked a few times, absorbing this. "You know, Captain, I'm surprised."
"Hmm...?"
"Well, I must not have inherited the gift," she went on.
"What gift?" Daniel looked perplexed, not sure what she could possibly mean.
"Whatchamacallit — being ghost sensitive. ESP, being a natural sensitive to things not of this world, like Madame Tibaldi. I would have thought, maybe I would have picked up on you sooner — I mean something other that so many obvious things, now that I look back on it. Mrs. Muir and I foiling those hooligans... sprinklers going off in the middle of the park for no reason. Claymore being outstanding in the Centennial games. Don't give me that look, that must have been you, too — and bouncing antiques around. But the only times I really thought maybe you could have been here is when you weren't here."
"What?" This made no sense. Daniel wondered if he would ever learn to speak 'femaleze.'
"Well, there was the time Mrs. Muir chopped down the tree and went around... she and Jonathan looked like lost souls... and with Vanessa... and after Madame Tibaldi exorcized you. You... did Mrs. Muir get you back?"
Daniel looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then began carefully to reply. "Now, as to the monkey-puzzle tree, I must admit that I did go off and sulk for a time. It was all very unnerving to have so much of my 'life' being tossed out. I felt as if I did not matter to the living. However, I did get over it, and was coming to try to reconcile with Mrs. Muir when she arrived home with that feeble excuse for a tree. Madame Tibaldi did not exorcize me. I simply exited for a time; otherwise that nitwit would have kept on parading paranormal practitioners through the house until he'd given us all migraines with the tomfoolery. I doubt she could exorcize her way out of a closet. For the record, demons are what is exorcized, not ghosts. We leave when we choose; though it is quite insulting to be exorcized."
"I'm sorry. I meant to offense, truly. I just feel a little — lost you know? Like being brought up to speed, as it were. Probably just as well I didn't learn about you right away. I don't adjust well, sometimes. Joe used to accuse me of that." Sadness crept over her face, and Daniel felt bad for causing it.
"None taken. It was Claymore who insulted me after all. The very idea... Joe... he would be your late husband?"
"Yes. He's been gone... thirteen years now. I lost him shortly before I came to work for Mrs. Muir. Cancer. Nothing could be done. It would be silly to ask if you knew him or had ever seen him. You're here... he's gone on. I know that. But it doesn't make me NOT think of him." She wiped a tear away as unobtrusively as possible.
"I wish I had known him, but no, I never have. My condolences, I do offer, however belated. I'm quite sure he was a fine man, and you are quite right to think of him as often as you wish." Daniel started to reach out to her on reflex, but settled for a kind smile.
"You would have liked him. Everyone liked him. Losing him was a shock, even though it was slow, not quick, like an accident, or something. I feel blessed to have him in my life for the five short years he was, rather than live with a cad like Robert Mu..." She caught herself up sharply. "Uhm... Forget I said that."
The ghost raised one brow, as if asking if she really expected him to do that, but did not pry. He'd rather suspected something of the sort. Instead, he continued, "Well, do you have other questions then?"
"Only at least a hundred or so — past, present and future questions. Something did occur to me, though. There was a time, quite a while ago — shortly after we moved in. Doctor Jim came to visit, old friend of the family, then Mrs. Muir went to Boston, then she came home and was miserable for two days. Did you two have another fight then? She seemed so unhappy, I just wondered..."
For a moment, she wasn't sure he would answer. The ghost pinched the bridge of his nose as if in pain. "Doctor Jim thought Carolyn was barmy, and convinced her to go see a psychiatrist who then persuaded the dear woman to think I was a delusion. Naturally, I was not at all pleased by this turn of events, and as determined, as she was to prove I did not exist, I became to prove that I did, and do. I was most relieved when she finally decided I was real. Being a figment, much less a "fig," is most disconcerting."
"Fig..." Martha paused for a moment, and then shook her head. "All right. That explains it. I remember now — Jonathan walking around the house about the same time, a half-dazed expression on his face saying "he's just a fig, he's just a fig." Mrs. Muir must have told him, too, and naturally he told you that you were. You know, that was another very odd time around here... just for a day or so, but strange... more strange than the norm, I mean." She shook her head, and then moved to a new topic. "Okay — So let's see... as I recall, the kids said they were giving what I thought was their imaginary friend a surprise party last November... 13th, wasn't it? So, what kind of cake do you like, Captain? I'll mark it down in my recipe book and make sure to add yours to the list. Do you realize that makes four November birthdays we have in this family now, not to mention Thanksgiving?"
"Whatever you make is fine, Martha. You are, after all, an excellent cook. I might point out that November is not the month in which I was born. April is. The children asked Claymore when I was born, and he gave them the date of my death. Of course HE would want to celebrate that date more than the date of my birth." Daniel grimaced, thinking of his nephew.
Martha let out a belly laugh. "Maybe not, Captain, considering. I mean, learning the ways you have made him miserable while being a ghost, I doubt he would want to celebrate the day it started, either... so… What's the date? April the what? I still want to write it down. Unless you are sensitive, of course. My birthday is a state secret, too."
"I might as well tell you. I have a feeling one or two people we share quarters with won't let the issue rest. Those children are as stubborn as their mother, as charming as well. April eighth — and chocolate cake with coconut icing is a combination I've never had, but it does sound quite tasty."
"All right, Captain... April eighth, it is. Other than bake, I haven't a clue as to what one can get a ghost, but I'll think of something. Maybe I can tidy up the attic for you. Speaking of tidying..." Martha looked as if a light bulb had gone off over her head. "Ages ago — when Mrs. Muir asked the kids to help me while she finished an article... you dried Candy's dishes, right? And vacuumed for Jonathan? Oh, dear... and I accused Mrs. Muir of spoiling the children! I need to say something to her! That was sweet of you. I didn't even know ghosts knew how to use a vacuum cleaner."
"Martha, I do not require gifts. But I do appreciate the thought. The wheelhouse is fine as it is. That's the attic, in lands-women's terms, remember. Yes, I did help the children, somewhat, but I am not sweet. I simply wished to help them, and their mother. The vacuum was somewhat of a minor challenge, but not too difficult to master." He tried to look stern as he delivered this minor lecture.
"Agreed. All right. So your birthday is April eighth, we know you did NOT commit suicide, you like to write, but wont admit it, and you love this family — Captain, you did help arrange it so I could stay here and not go back to Florida and take care of my mother, didn't you?"
"Martha, allow me one or two secrets. Suffice it to say, I am most gratified that you are staying. This ship needs you."
"And I need this ship, Captain. And all on it, and I do mean, ALL. Thank you. If I think of anything else, may I ask you? I mean, in private, just so there aren't any embarrassing questions or remarks accidentally?" The woman looked uncertain again, not sure if she'd asked too much already.
"Certainly. I won't promise to answer everything, but I will as much as I am able."
"Uhm. Okay. Attic is off-limits, but one of these days, Captain, you really should do something with it, if just to remove the dust bunnies. It just needs a little organization..."
"No... Not now. Maybe one of these days," Daniel conceded.
Privately, Martha resolved to ask Carolyn Muir about THAT.
Sensing the conversation was drawing to an end, Daniel smiled. "You know, once I remarked that liking a woman is impossible. You, kind lady, have proven that I made that statement without enough information, and now must revise it. It is quite possible to like certain women."
"Why, thank you, Captain! I believe that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," Martha grinned with delight. "So... now that I have eaten entirely too many pancakes, what were your plans the rest of the evening? Up to the attic — I mean, wheelhouse? Work on your sea charts? I can find something to do here. Maybe I can still find something on the television..." Grabbing the TV guide, she leafed to the proper page. "Yes! I'm in luck! Captain Blood is on tonight followed by Reap the Wild Wind — the first one starts in twenty minutes. I can watch it and learn more about your life... or life in your time. And good old Errol isn't bad to look at, not to mention Ray Milland. Maybe you'd…" Her voice trailed off, unsure again.
The ghost hesitated. He had neglected his sea charts somewhat, as Mrs. Muir had needed his help a bit more while Martha was gone. However, he didn't want to just abandon the woman.
"Would you care for some company watching your movies?" he asked, guessing her unspoken question. "I can leave Gull Cottage, but have not indulged in the cinema, and there has been no television in the house until recently."
Martha gave the ghost a delighted smile. "I'd love it. I really don't get too much of a chance to stay up late and indulge. And when I go out with Ed, he prefers westerns." She made face. "What do you say I pop some corn? I assume you can eat, at least a little, because you seem to have enjoyed the tea tonight, and I realized while we have been talking that the cigar smoke I have smelled around here occasionally wasn't Mrs. Muir celebrating, it was you. We can make an evening of it. You play hooky from your sea charts and I'll promise not to iron, or darn anything."
"As I recall, Candy and I shared popcorn shortly after meeting officially, but the power was out, so we could not watch television. Yes, it takes a bit more focus to eat or drink, but I learned. Dying is one thing, but giving up my Madeira would have been unthinkable." On this note, he looked absolutely appalled.
"Hmm... I'd feel the same about Blueberry Slump and ice cream. I've never had Madeira, only brandy — and a little sherry once in a while, for my nerves, like right after I found out about you!"
"Would you care to try it, or would a glass of brandy or sherry be more to your taste?" Daniel offered genially.
"Madeira, please. I'd like to try that, Captain. Thank you. Meet you in the living room in about ten minutes, then?"
"Aye."