Martha and the children were understandably befuddled when Carolyn announced in the middle of the night that they were leaving Gull Cottage, but there was a look in Carolyn's eyes that brooked no arguments. If she said they were leaving, then there must be a good reason.
Fortunately, they were able to get a room at the only hotel Schooner Bay had, and then settled down for the second time that night. At least, Martha, Candy, and Jonathan did. Carolyn could not shut her mind off and sleep. She just hoped Mister Gregg wasn't kidding about having another cottage available. This extra room expense was bad enough, but she'd also had to put up a deposit to cover Scruffy staying in their room. That little fur-ball had better be good, or she was out twenty-five dollars.
Bright and early Sunday morning, Carolyn rose quietly and dressed. Leaving her family still dozing, she made her way to Claymore Gregg's office. She observed a few people heading toward the church, but somehow doubted the landlord was among them. For a second, Mrs. Muir wondered if she should have awakened the kids and attended services, but they were all exhausted, and she was too upset and angry to even hear a sermon, much less let it penetrate her mind.
Drawing all her anger and courage together, she knocked on the faded door — determined to not leave until she had an un-haunted home.
XXX
"Wha-what?" Claymore groaned, coming to consciousness. "Who's there?" He moaned again. "Captain? Is that you?" He opened one eye, warily. No ghost hovered over him, but the pounding continued, and adding to it was the ringing of his front door bell.
"Just-just a sec!" he called, bounding out of bed, not even bothering to put on his glasses. As he made his way to the front door, he shouted. "Hold on! Hold on! Don't break down the door!" Reaching the entrance, he opened it, where his myopic gaze met Carolyn's angry one.
"Oh… it's you, Mrs. Muir…" he started, barring her entry. "Look, can you come back later? As you can see, I'm not dressed, and I…"
"I don't care HOW not dressed you are," she blazed. "I've seen men in pajamas before, even loud ones like yours…" She paused. "I want to talk to you, and I want to talk to you NOW."
"But-but I'm not decent…" he cut in. "And someone will see you come in here…"
Carolyn looked around briefly. The older couple she had seen earlier, heading for the church was gone, and at the moment the street was deserted.
"There's no one out here right now, Claymore," she answered. "But if you don't let me in, I will stay here and pound on this door and call you every name I can think of, and if I do that, what will the townspeople of Schooner Bay think of you?"
"All-all right," he stammered, peering outside, albeit fuzzily, to see if what the irate woman had said about no onlookers was true. "But you'll have to give me a minute or two to get dressed."
XXX
Carolyn sat in Claymore's office, steaming while the landlord clothed himself. Finally after taking as long as he possibly could in hopes that the angry blonde would calm down, he reemerged from his living quarters, two cups of coffee in hand.
"Now…" he began, trying to look cheerful. "I brought you some coffee… hope you take it black… What can I do for you today, Mrs. Muir?"
"Don't give me that innocent act, Claymore!" she answered. "You know perfectly well what is the matter!"
Claymore closed his eyes, dreading what was coming. "Oh, you mean…"
"Yes," she snapped. "That's exactly what I mean! Mister Gregg, Gull Cottage is haunted!"
"Bu-bu-but Mrs. ... Mrs. Muir," he stammered. "I did tell you that yesterday, and I…"
"I mean it's REALLY haunted!" she went on.
"I-I know it is," he answered tiredly. "By my great-uncle, the one I told you about…"
"Mister Gregg, you had no right to rent me a haunted house."
"I was desperate, Mrs. Muir," Claymore mumbled. "You see, the property taxes were…"
Carolyn cut him off again. "I don't want any excuses! What's the big idea? You promised me a nice, quiet house for me, my kids and Martha — where I could be off by myself and write and make a decent attempt at earning a living!"
"I'd love to read something you've written," Claymore interrupted, trying his best to look cheery. "Do you write stories? I love good stories — one of my favorite writers is Sylvester Strathstone… he writes the Don Speed books… I just started one called Don Speed and the Electronic Bird, and…"
"I am NOT interested in your reading habits, Mister Gregg," Carolyn retorted. "As I was saying, I rented your house, and what do I get? A house that hasn't been lived in for years, a big cleaning project, and then... then! Just as I get us all settled for the night, I am haunted by an overbearing, egotistical, aggravating, irritating, and exasperating ghost!"
"Well, I DID try to tell you!" the landlord protested.
"No, you didn't… you never came right out and said…"
"Yes I did!"
"Okay, you did, but you didn't say it loud enough, and…"
"I take it, you met him?" Claymore asked. "I thought maybe you would get discouraged and leave before he went that far."
"Yes, and I have never met a more infuriating, aggravating, insufferable…"
"Yeah, that's him," Claymore nodded. "I've been dealing with him off and on since I was twelve."
"Well, I have no intention of putting up with behavior like his for even twelve minutes." Carolyn's voice was rising again. "I've had ENOUGH of that behavior from men in the last few years! I demand restitution!"
"What do you mean, restitution?" Claymore blanched.
"I want my money back," she answered simply.
"But, Mrs. Muir, I..." he began, but she interrupted him again.
"Don't "but" me. I want my deposit back, and I want reimbursement for having to rent a hotel room last night, AND the gas money it took to get here!"
Claymore moaned. This was getting worse and worse every minute. Dealing with Carolyn Muir was every bit as difficult as dealing with Daniel Gregg.
"But, I can't give you back your money..."
"What do you mean?" she demanded. "My deposit was supposed to stay in the bank in escrow! It's a deposit! Not profit! You were ready to give it back yesterday! Un-spend it, blast it!"
Claymore was startled at "blast," but decided questioning the irate woman's choice of words was not a good idea. The wheels started turning in his head. In the cold light of day, with no ghost breathing down his neck, the thought of losing money hurt more than it did when fear was his prepossessing thought.
"I... I can't," he stammered. "You don't understand. The government has it. I used it to pay the back taxes on Gull Cottage. That was the only reason I rented the place to you to begin with. I had to. You are supposed to live there…"
"I can't live there. A ghost lives there!" she answered, her voice starting to rise again.
"Shh!" Claymore looked toward the front door, hoping that no one could hear. "Ghosts don't LIVE, Mrs. Muir..."
"You know what I mean..." she shrugged. "He doesn't want us at Gull Cottage, and he wouldn't leave, even though I DO have a signed lease, so I left."
Claymore sighed. Somehow he thought that when he hadn't heard from the woman within two hours of her arrival and his subsequent departure from Gull Cottage that his great-uncle may have softened. I should have known better. I should have known after all these years I couldn't pull anything over on Daniel Gregg… Giving Carolyn another look, he started calculating. I didn't become the chief land baron of Schooner Bay merely by inheriting my property. Can I possibly get something by Carolyn Muir?
"Mrs. Muir, I simply can't give you your money," he said firmly. "I don't have it, I tell you. I put the check for the taxes in the mail yesterday. Besides, your lease does say that a refund will not be paid unless..."
"I don't care what the lease says!" Carolyn was shouting now. "My family is not going back to Gull Cottage and I am not spending one more night in a hotel!"
"Couldn't you just kind of… go back and ignore him?" Claymore began. "You know, wear earplugs, or something?"
Carolyn gave him an incredulous look. "YOU did say you have met him, right? That ghost is NOT someone you can ignore!"
"Well, of course I have met him," Claymore pouted. "I was a boy, and…"
"…And to answer your question, no, I can't just kind of ignore him," Carolyn interrupted him. "Staying there with all his thundering and blasting and booming is like living in a bowling alley! Now you come up with something fast, or I'll go out to the middle of the town square and tell them precisely what kind of business you run! How would you like that?"
Giving the beautiful, irate woman another look, Claymore decided she meant it, and charted a different course. "I… I might be able to come up with some money in a week or so," he started. "You see, I figured you were staying — that Captain Gregg was kinda going soft, so like I said, I paid the taxes. Then I took the money I WAS going to refund you and I used that to pay the current taxes on… " He stopped as if hit by a sudden idea. "Well come to think of it…"
"Yes?"
"Well, I do have..."
"Have what?"
"Well, I do have another house for rent. It's just a titch smaller, and..."
"Oh? And is there a ghost there, too?" she asked, sarcastically.
"I've never heard of any," Claymore shrugged, not reading her sarcasm. "It's located about half a mile from Gull Cottage. Past it, actually."
Carolyn looked doubtful. "What's it like?"
"Well…" Claymore hesitated. "There would be room for all of you… one room for you — it's not as big as the master cabin at Gull Cottage, though. There'd be a little one for Miz Grant, one for the kids to share… no guestroom. Living room, one bathroom, laundry porch — couple of unfinished areas, cellar and what-not, but it's completely wired, and all and there's sort of a little lake in back."
"Would I have privacy to write?" she asked. "That's very important."
"Yes," Claymore nodded. "The only other house up that way is Gull Cottage and since nobody is living there..." he paused. "Well you know what I mean. There would be nobody to bother you."
"I don't know…" Carolyn shook her head. "…After yesterday, all that housework, it might be easier to take my deposit and go look for some place in Keystone or Pripet."
Claymore looked defensive again.
"Now Mrs. Muir, the lease you signed does specifically state that if our deal is cancelled that I have thirty days before giving you back your money. I'm afraid that if you don't take me up on this, which I DID try to offer you yesterday, I just won't be able to refund you anything for a month. That's more or less standard. And the cottage I am offering you does come furnished, too…"
Exhaustion, anger, and failed hopes threatened to crush Carolyn in a vise grip. She really did not want to go back to Philly. Too many bad memories haunted her as effectively as the ghost. And she could not take all the cloying sympathy; much less Ralph's overbearing manner of "doing what was best for you and the children." She could almost hear the "I told you so's" that would greet her return. She simply HAD to get away from their influence! Besides, if this weasely looking man wouldn't return her money, what choice did she have? Lawyers to fight him would cost more money that she did not have to spend.
"Is it as unkempt as Gull Cottage was? I mean, before we arrived yesterday? We did do a lot of work there, you know."
"No… well, yeah, kinda, I've been trying to sell it as is. It may need just a few things…"
"Then you are responsible for the repairs," she stated.
"Mrs. Muir," Claymore's voice took on an argumentative tone. "I can't possibly manage to do that and pay the taxes on both places. Gull Cottage, well you know… I can't sell it, I can't rent it and I can't tear it down or he might become a disposed ghost and start haunting ME."
"Well I'm not going to pay for all the repairs!" Carolyn said, aghast. "I don't even know what kind of shape this cottage is in!"
"You didn't know what kind of shape Gull Cottage was in either," the landlord answered logically.
She nodded. "True… okay. If I think we can make do for a while until I get my writing underway. I'll pay HALF of the bills on any repairs that are needed."
"But you won't ask for more than fifty dollars off the rent, to cover for repairs in any one month?"
"Right. But only on normal maintenance items," Carolyn bargained. "If the washer dies, or there is a hole in the roof, or the gutters need replacing, you either fix them, or replace them at your expense."
"Deal," Claymore said, wiping his brow. It was really too early for heavy negotiating. He hadn't even had his breakfast.
"Okay," Carolyn nodded. "You have a key, I trust. Does this place have a name, too? Like Gull Cottage?"
"Albatross Manor. I named it myself," he preened. "Kinda goes along with the sea motif in the area, don't you think? And like I said, it's about a half a mile past Gull Cottage. Kinda set away from the road, so the beach is a little further away…"
"Fine," she nodded again. "Let's go see it."
XXX
Normally, Candy and Jonathan Muir would have been thrilled to miss school for another two days, but staying home to help move into a house they didn't like was not a good impromptu vacation. Albatross Manor immediately proved it was aptly named. After treading on the front steps once too often, Martha was forced to stop everything and fix one of them. The much-anticipated hot baths were delayed until Mrs. Muir could repair the hot water heater. Fortunately, Claymore did live up to his end of the deal and provided a newer-used washer/dryer set when the clunkers that came with the place proved useless.
When the kids were able to go to school, their fame preceded them. No one had stayed in Gull Cottage for any length of time, so the Muir children had a bit of star status right off the bat. One or two of their schoolmates did sneer that they must have gotten scared off, but they were ignored.
Two weeks seemed to crawl by and fly by at once. Each day was a new challenge in the way of a repair that needed to be made, or something that needed to be cleaned. Only Carolyn's stubborn streak prevented her from giving in when her parents and former in-laws both called within days of each other, begging her to come home.
In the meantime, the Captain's life, or afterlife, was not faring so well.
One afternoon, about two weeks after the Muir family had moved in, and out, of Gull Cottage, the ghost found himself unable to concentrate on anything. The spirit hadn't touched his sea charts in days (if spirits recognized days) and he found himself almost irresistibly drawn to his telescope on the second floor balcony, watching not the sea before him, but the road in front of Gull Cottage.
"Everything has been so... quiet lately," he mused. Then, throwing his hands in the air, he burst out: "If only she weren't such an unmanageable female! The idea! Telling me to pack my bags! I'm a spirit! I don't HAVE bags! And Gull Cottage is my home! I did the gentlemanly thing... I told her she could stay! But that did not mean that I would go!"
The ghost dematerialized from the balcony and roamed through his 'ship,' invisibly. The cleaning the Muirs had done was still quite evident. Materializing, he glowered at the half-painted living room.
"Well, one thing I'll give her, she did run a taut ship... and sea green does suit these walls..." he admitted, albeit grudgingly. "...It brings out the colors in my portrait, and it does make the room look better. I almost regret scaring that painter away. Blast... If that woman wasn't so unreasonable, I might even miss her, but..."
"Jonathan! Stop! Hold on a sec!" a frantic voice called.
In a moment, the ghost was on the porch of Gull Cottage, invisibly, surveying the sight in front of him.
A little girl had leaned her bike against the stone wall bordering the front of Gull Cottage, and as he watched, a boy came back from further up the road, facing her. They looked familiar, he thought. Could they be...? It is! Jonathan and Candace... HER children! Now whatever could those two want now?
"What is it, Candy?" Jonathan inquired.
"My papers came loose!" she fumed, making a dive for the sheets that were now blowing across the road. "Blast it!" she shouted. "Stupid thing..." Gathering the last of them and taking the ones her brother had gathered, she snapped the book clip around the bunch securely. "This clip keeps coming loose. It's the bumpy road."
Curiosity getting the better of him, the seaman ventured invisibly a bit closer, now standing near his beloved monkey-puzzle tree, and watched the two children, who were now staring up at his house.
"I bet Gull Cottage is lonesome now," Jonathan said, sadly.
"Mom says houses don't get lonesome," Candy intoned, standing next to him and leaning against the stone fence.
"Well, I think they do," Jonathan maintained. "I think Gull Cottage felt a lot less lonesome after we moved in."
"Maybe," Candy sighed. "I know Gull Cottage made ME feel less lonesome."
"Martha says it reminded her of Halloween," Jonathan went on.
"Not me," Candy said, staunchly. She sighed again. "Ya know, Jonathan, I was kinda hoping that maybe Mom might change her mind after we saw Albatross Manor for the first time, but she didn't. So now I guess we'll never see the inside of Gull Cottage again."
"It sure was a neat place," Jonathan mourned.
"Yeah, it was," Candy nodded. "I loved the window seat. Our house now doesn't have one."
"Yeah, just a broken window," her brother added. "Mom doesn't know when she is going to get that fixed."
"And don't forget the back door you have to slam to close," Candy added, making a face. "If you don't do it just right, it blows open in the middle of the night."
"I don't mind that too much," Jonathan said, "But the toilet in the bathroom! It won't stop running. Mister Gregg said he was going to fix it last week, but he hasn't yet. The noise is driving me bonkers!"
"Well, Mom says she can fix it," Candy interrupted. "But she just hasn't had time... she's been so busy." She looked up at the house thoughtfully. "Albatross Manor just doesn't feel like home, like Gull Cottage did."
"That's 'cause Captain Gregg didn't move with us," Jonathan maintained.
If anyone could have seen the spirit's face at that moment, they would have seen his startled expression.
Candy rolled her eyes. "Oh, Jonathan... really!" she started, then paused. "You really think so?" she asked, turning to her brother, giving him a look that clearly said her question was a serious one.
"Uh huh," the boy answered. "I do." He looked up at the sky. "We better get going, Candy."
"I guess it really is the end of Gull Cottage," she said sadly, suddenly looking close to tears. "Come on, Jonathan," she continued, mounting her bike once more.
"Okay, Candy," Jonathan sighed, then, after getting on his own bike, he turned back and gave the house one last look. "G'bye, Captain Gregg."
The ghost of Gull Cottage looked after them pensively.
XXX
The next day, the ghost of Gull Cottage found himself waiting on the balcony of his 'ship' at three o'clock, just about the time that the children had shown up the day before. Sure enough, they did, but as their dog ran up to greet them, they only shouted their hellos to the terrier and sailed by the old house. Disappointed, the Captain vanished, grumbling, to his wheelhouse where he worked until late… or what would be considered late, by mortal's standards.
Day after day, the spirit watched the children ride by after school, but as in the previous days, they went straight past, once or twice giving the house a fast look, but never stopping.
Then one day, near the end of the second week of October, as the spirit paced his 'bridge,' a.k.a. the widow's-walk, he watched as they went by his house yet again. To his surprise, Candy stopped. Curious, he immediately dematerialized and materialized unseen near the stone gate.
I could almost say hello to them, he thought. But I suppose I better not… I wonder what they…?
"Hold on, a sec, Jonathan," Candy called. "I need to zip my coat."
Sighing, the boy turned around and came back.
"Told you, you should have done that earlier, Candy," the boy said, pleased to be 'one up' on his big sister. "It's getting colder in the afternoons now."
Candy shrugged. "Yeah, I know, but I start up the hill, and I get hot pedaling, and then we get on flat ground and I cool off, and..."
"…And you get cold," Jonathan cut her off.
"Uh-huh," Candy nodded, getting her coat fastened at last. "Stupid zipper keeps sticking." Breaking off, she looked up toward the house and she gave a little sigh. "Gull Cottage was closer to town, too."
"Well, it's only another half a mile," her brother answered, trying to look cheery. "That's not very far, and it's not really cold out."
Candy's face brightened. "Yeah, and Mister Gregg did say maybe we'll get to take a school bus after Christmas when the snow starts."
"But, what if it starts BEFORE Christmas?" Jonathan asked, his voice taking on a slightly plaintive tone.
"Hope that means we'll get one then," Candy answered, ever-practical. "At least on the snowy days."
Jonathan looked happier. "Yeah, or Mom'll come get us. Or Martha. It's just right now Martha's working extra hard, trying to get the place fixed up."
"And Mom's busy writing," Candy nodded. "And Martha's helping her. We don't want to be extra trouble… we can manage for a while. And my teacher says the Farmer's Almanac says this year the snow won't start until late this year. So no bugging the grown-ups. They have enough to worry about."
It was Jonathan's turn to sigh. "Besides, next week Mom's taking that job in town at the Schooner Bay Beacon. I was really hoping she wouldn't have to do that. I know she's a writer, but I like it better when she writes at home." There was a brief sound of thunder, and Jonathan looked up into the sky. "That's strange. I don't see any clouds."
Candy didn't seem to hear. "And I don't think I like her boss. Mister Finley lectured in our class last week. I think he's kind of a creep, and he didn't seem to know very much."
"Mister Finley…" Jonathan said, shaking his head. "Yeah. Kyle Gorden... he's in my class... said his dad worked for him last year. He said he's really lazy, and a lousy boss."
The sky rumbled again.
"Hey, sounds like rain..." Candy said, looking up at the sky. "I wonder what…?" A bark at that moment interrupted the little girl's wondering as Scruffy appeared out of nowhere. "Hey boy! Came to get us, huh?" she asked, reaching down to pet the little dog. A bark seemed to answer her question. The little girl turned to her brother. "Jonathan?"
"Yeah, Can?"
"I've been thinking about what you said," she started slowly, almost as if the words were being dragged out of her.
"Yeah?"
"Well, it's just that — You were right…"
"What about?"
"About Gull Cottage, and our house."
The spirit ventured closer.
"Our Albatross?" Jonathan made a face. "I read about the Albatross. It's a bad luck bird."
Candy nodded. "Yeah, and the Albatross… the house, I mean. It's just that, well, I don't like it. It feels lonely. Not like Gull Cottage did. And it's not all the repairing and painting and stuff Mom and Martha have been doing, either."
"I told you, Candy," the little boy said smugly. "It's Captain Gregg. He made Gull Cottage not lonely, and there is no ghost where we are living now."
"You think maybe...?" his sister started, then stopped.
"What?"
"You think maybe HE's lonely?" Candy blurted out.
The little boy shook his head. "I think so, but Mom says he's a fig."
Startled, the ghost moved closer still.
"A what?"
"A fig," Jonathan maintained. "Of my imagination. She tells me that, anyway. But I'm not sure she believes what she is saying either. I know I don't."
"Oh… figment," Candy said, not taking the opportunity to tease her brother for his mis-speak. "Mom doesn't think he's real?"
"W-e-l-l…" Jonathan said slowly. "She says so, but I still wonder."
"Jonathan, you said he was real. You still think so, don't you?"
"Yes," the boy nodded his head, definitely. "I do. I know he is."
"Well, I'm beginning to think maybe... no…" Candy paused. "I know I didn't see him, but I think he's real, too. I've been hearing stories about ghosts, and…" She stopped again, and looked up at the sky. "C'mon, Jonathan. We better get going. We can talk a little more when we get home maybe. I have a lot of questions to ask you, and I want to tell you a little about what I have been hearing… about Gull Cottage, and Captain Gregg."
Jonathan's face looked happier. "Sure Candy — we can do that." He nodded. "I'm glad you don't think I am trying to scare you any more."
With a bark from Scruffy, the two children took off, taking the sunshine with them.
After the children had moved on, Daniel continued to watch the road for some time. Because of them, he did not thunder, instead, he paced the widow's walk and fumed.
Finley! How could she work for such a mongrel? His great-grandfather declared me a suicide on the flimsiest of evidence, and I doubt the later generations have improved any! Besides, I've heard rumors about that whelp. Blast it, if that woman just wasn't so stubborn... and why am I so upset?
He halted his pacing and vanished from the walk, reappearing in the wheelhouse — grudgingly admitting, if only to himself that not knowing the answers to his own questions was almost as troubling as the notion of Finley coming within ten feet of... of... the woman he hadn't forgotten.
October 14, 1968
These thoughts were still tumbling around in his brain when, the next day, at approximately the same time as on previous days, Candy and Jonathan came up to the stone gate very deliberately and stopped outside it. They stared at the house for some moments in silence, then finally Candy spoke:
"Jonathan?"
"Huh?"
"I was wondering…" she started, then stopped.
"What?"
"Well, I'm guess I… that is, I believe you, but I STILL don't see how you could see a ghost here if me and Martha couldn't."
Her brother shrugged. "I dunno, Candy. I just could. Really. You said you believed me last night. Besides, I wouldn't lie, not even just to you. Telling you there was a ghost when there wasn't would be a lie, and Mom punishes us when we lie. No dessert for two weeks. I like dessert!"
Candy nodded. "Me, too. Especially Martha's Blueberry Slump."
"I just kinda found him," Jonathan continued. "At first he looked cross, and maybe a little surprised that I saw him, but then he told me who he was and I got to talk to him. He seemed nice to me, and…"
The Captain started. All right. True. I was startled when the lad could see me, and at his lack of cowardice, especially after dealing with Claymore's idiocy for so many years! And I really couldn't bear the thought of scaring a child, but still… ME? Nice? I'm not nice. Or sweet, either.
Candy interrupted again. "Well, if he's so nice, then how come I didn't get to see him?"
Jonathan shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe because you kept saying there aren't any ghosts. You hurt his feelings."
"Well, I didn't mean to hurt his feelings." Candy's face was turning pink at the thought of hurting her brother's unseen friend. "Besides, that was later, when it was thundering and raining outside. He could have said 'hello' to me earlier. I'm not a sissy. I wouldn't have been scared of him. Besides, I didn't even know ghosts had feelings. Do they?"
"They used to be people," Jonathan said slowly, pondering his sister's question. "And people have feelings. Even Scruffy has feelings. So ghosts can, too… I think."
Candy bit her fingernail, working through this new idea. "So you don't think having feelings goes away when they die?"
"Nah..." Jonathan shook his head. "Captain Gregg was grumpy when I first met him, but I think he was mad at Claymore for renting his house, not mad at us for living in it. He seemed more like… like…"
"Like what?"
"Like he wasn't used to being around people and wasn't sure what to say to me. Maybe that's why he changed his mind and didn't say anything to you or Martha right away."
Candy's face turned thoughtful again. "Well, if he does have feelings, I'm really sorry if I hurt them." Then her face brightened. "You think maybe that's why Mom packed us up and left that night? If Captain Gregg didn't know how to talk to people, maybe Mom didn't know how to talk to a ghost."
"That must be it," Jon said, his face looking sorrowful. "She should have waited until morning. I think she was just kinda scared, what with the thundering, and all."
"And tired," his sister agreed. "Mom always tells me not to make any decisions when I am tired. But she did."
"The Captain even told me he LIKED that his house looked all shipshape again," her brother answered. "I wish she could UN-make a decision."
"Yeah. It was a neat house."
"With a neat ghost."
"Yeah, neat. I wish I could have met him," Candy agreed. "I really don't think I would be scared of him now."
"Guess we'll never know…" Jonathan sighed, but his face perked up at the sight of Scruffy, who came running up the road. "Hi, boy!" But, to the children's surprise, the dog went tearing past them, chasing a fat, bushy-tailed squirrel.
The children watched as the squirrel scampered up to the stone porch of the house, and with Scruffy making a beeline after him, dashed to the side of the house, past a broken trellis, near and then through a slightly open window. With a tremendous effort, the dog made a leap, and jumped through the same window after it, bound and determined to catch the creature.
Uttering an oath, the seaman willed himself inside.
"Scruffy! Come back here!" Candy shouted, and without preamble, made a run for the house, all thought of ghosts, one way or the other, forgotten. Her brother was right behind her. Reaching the window, it took them only moments to open it wider and crawl inside.
The two children didn't hesitate, even for a second, as they barged into the dusty old house, but followed Scruffy to the living room, where they found him by the hearth, barking shrilly at the fireplace.
"Scruffy!" Candy shouted. "Don't hurt the squirrel!"
Her brother snorted. "Don't be silly, Candy, that squirrel is long gone."
"Where?" Candy looked around.
"Up the chimney, probably," Jonathan answered.
"You sure?"
"Where else could he go?"
"Upstairs? Maybe to our room? I mean..." the little girl looked around. "Where our room USED to be." Scruffy stopped barking and let out a small whine, and Candy scooped him up. "Don't be sad, Scruff," she soothed. "Maybe you'll catch him next time."
"Fat chance," Jonathan scoffed. "That squirrel can run lots faster than Scruffy."
Scruffy jumped from Candy's arms at that moment, and started sniffing around the living room, still paying particular attention to the fireplace, but his whining stopped.
Candy looked around the dark room, lit only by the light coming through the windows, and sighed.
"You know, Jonathan, it's too bad. I really loved this house. So did Mom, I could tell."
Jonathan's sigh equaled his sister's. "You know, Candy, I was thinking, Mom must've met Captain Gregg that first night. They must've had a fight about us living here, and maybe that's why we had to leave."
"That makes sense," Candy shrugged. "You're too little, but I remember. Sorta. Mommy and Daddy used to fight a lot. I dunno about what, but maybe she just didn't want to fight any more." She looked up at the portrait over the mantle piece and sighed. "He really is cool looking..." Scruffy whined again and ventured closer to the fireplace.
"Yeah, and he looks even better in person," Jonathan agreed. "He doesn't look anything like the ghosts in the movies — you know, like Casper, or all transparent. He looks like a real person, except he can appear and disappear whenever her wants, and you can't touch him."
"Did you try?" Candy asked, her eyes filled with wonder.
"Yeah," her brother answered. "He let me. It was so cool. I got to touch... I mean, not touch his arm. My hand went right through it."
"I wish I had seen him." Candy mourned. "I'd love to meet a ghost."
A look of relief crossed her brother's face. "Then you really, really believe me, Candy? About meeting Captain Gregg? About seeing a ghost?"
"Yeah, Jonathan. I do," Candy answered, almost reluctantly. "You don't lie. I don't know why I didn't get to see him, but I wish I could've. And, well, I think his portrait is magnificent..." she added, gazing up at the painting once more. "...Just like Mom said."
"Thank you, young lady."
A deep voice came from behind them, and the two children whirled around. Scruffy whined, then sensing his duty as a faithful protector of the two Muirs, started to snarl at the apparition before them.
"Shh! Stop it, Scruffy!" Candy cried, picking up the little dog. The dog quieted, but a low growl still emanated from his throat.
"Hey, Captain!" Jonathan cried, not the slightest bit afraid. "You're here! You're really here!"
Candy, however, was just a bit more awed. "C-C-Captain Gregg?" she whispered. "Is that really you?"
Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Well, of course it is! He looks just like his picture! Can't you tell?"
"No, he doesn't, Jonathan," Candy swallowed, finally finding her voice. "He looks better. Lots better!"
"Thank you again, young lady. Now then..." he paused. "...What precisely are you two children doing in my house?"
Scruffy, collecting himself, jumped from Candy's arms and started barking at the spirit, furiously.
"Shush, Scruffy!" Jonathan scolded him. Bending down, he patted the little dog, who then quieted again. "Well you see, Scruffy saw a squirrel, and the squirrel came in the window and then HE came in the window and..."
"...And we came in to get him," Candy interrupted. "And we... uh... we..."
"We... what?" the ghost asked, looking stern.
"And well... we... I guess we wanted to see the house again," Jonathan confessed. "It's such a NEAT house, and..."
"...And?" the spirit said again. "Surely you have more you wish to tell me?"
"...And, well, Jonathan has been telling me there was too a ghost here and..." Candy broke off, looking embarrassed.
"Yeah, Captain," Jonathan cut in. "...and you know how girls are! She wanted to see if I was telling the truth."
The apparition before them seemed to grow a tad taller.
"I will never understand why women..." he started, but Candy interrupted him.
"I'm not a woman yet, Captain Gregg, and besides, Jonathan Muir..." she continued, glaring at her brother. "I TOLD you I believed you about the ghost. I just wanted to see him for myself."
"Females then," the Captain waived a hand. "You always expect the worst."
"Is that why Mom packed us up and left in the middle of the night?" Jonathan interrupted again. "Did she suspect the worst about ghosts?"
"Expected, Jonathan," Candy said reprovingly. "Did she, Captain?" she continued, looking up at the spirit.
"Expected… suspected… I have no way of knowing how your mother's mind was working," Daniel Gregg said loftily. "She simply chose not to stay..."
"I told Candy I bet she was worried about living with a ghost," said Jonathan, matter-of-factly.
"Not to mention Martha living with a ghost," Candy added. "I wonder what she'd think?"
"Martha'd want him to help clean!" Jonathan answered. "After all, Gull Cottage was his house first."
"I do NOT do housework," the seaman interrupted, looking grim. "That is for females. When I was alive, I had a housekeeper." There was a roll of thunder.
"Sounds like rain," Candy commented. "Jonathan, I left my books outside, we..."
"Don't be silly, Candy!" her brother laughed. "That was the Captain who did that! I TOLD you he was cool!"
"Really?" The little girl gazed up at the Captain, a look of pure adoration on her face. "What else can you do?"
XXX
From that day forward, time stopped dragging for Candy and Jonathan. Rather the opposite, it flew. Visiting Gull Cottage on the way home from school became a habit. If anyone had gotten over their fear of him enough talk to the spirit and ask, Daniel would have grimly denied that he was attached to the two children. Yet, as the days elapsed, he found that he 'lived' for the half-hour they spent after school with him each day, and for what time they could make available on weekends.
There was never any set in stone plan for the adventures the children and the seaman's spirit shared. Some days were spent fishing; though their catches had to be released, of course. Daniel's treasure trove expanded somewhat with their finds from beach combing expeditions. Shells became cherished possessions for the first time. Although they had seen the house somewhat in their brief stay there, exploring it with the master of Gull Cottage was altogether different. Captain Gregg even allowed them into his most cherished room, the wheelhouse — the attic to landlubbers. However, the two kids might not be considered 'landlubbers' in the strictest sense. Under the Captain's watchful eye, Jonathan and Candy learned to tie knots, use the telescope properly, and "shoot the sun" with a sextant. Of course, some of this bled over into the mundane aspects of their lives…
"Kids, I was wondering, what would you like for your birthdays?" Carolyn asked one afternoon, hoping it would be something small; not only were the choices rather limited in Schooner Bay, but so was her budget.
"How about a harpoon? Or a telescope?" Jonathan asked.
"A telescope?" Carolyn blinked.
"Yeah, like the one at… I mean, the one that was at Gull Cottage," the little boy elaborated.
"Um — I don't know if I can find a telescope in Schooner Bay," Carolyn said, remembering the ghost's spotless one. "And harpoons are o-u-t, out. So could you give me another idea or two? Maybe a little less elaborate? How about you, Candy?"
"Hmm… some ropes? Or a sewing kit?" the girl suggested thoughtfully.
"I didn't know you wanted to sew!" Carolyn was a bit relieved, but this was puzzling.
"Yeah. I'd like to make a sail," her daughter nodded.
"A sail? Not a pretty outfit?"
"No — that's something that water-rat Penelope Harpoonlicker'd want to do," Candy made a face. "No, I want to do something useful, even if back a hundred years ago only seamen sewed sails. If they could do it, I can!"
"Sails and knots," Carolyn repeated, then clicked onto what else her children had said. "Water-rat? Harpoon — Candace! Jonathan!"
"Well, she is!" Candy replied, shrugging. The girl put aside the book she was looking at and turned to her brother. "Want to go practice knots, Jonathan? I still can't get the clove hitch one right. I tie it, but it won't stay. You know how to do it."
"Can't do a sheepshank, though," Jonathan said, getting up. "I don't know what I am doing wrong."
"We'll get it," his sister replied. "The…" she stopped. "…I heard it's supposed to be easy. Maybe we're trying too hard." She gave Carolyn a kiss. "See you at dinner, Mommy."
Martha, who had come into the room halfway through the conversation, looked after the retreating figures, dazed. "I wonder what's gotten into those two? You realize they haven't been bickering at all for the last few weeks? I tell you, it's unnatural."
Carolyn shook her head. "I'll have to agree with you there, Martha. But I guess I should be grateful for the peace and quiet." She glanced at her watch. "Dinner in an hour? That might give me enough time to finish up the obits Mister Finley wants me to write… then if I hurry, maybe I can get the articles on the city council meeting and the school board done tonight, too… Then I can start on that article about the show Claymore Gregg is putting on next week."
Martha nodded. "He cornered me when I was in town at the hardware store yesterday. Wanted to know if I would be assistant director!" Seeing Carolyn's worried frown, she continued, hurriedly. "I said no."
"Thanks, Martha." Carolyn looked relieved. "I can't tell you what to do with your free time, but…"
"Who has free time?" Martha grinned. "Especially for that show! I was duly warned. Assistant director for Claymore Gregg means everything BUT directing. And all back stage stuff, right up to and including pulling the curtain rope! Fine, fat lot of nerve that man has… assuming I have all the free time in the world with THIS house to take care of!"
"We could MAKE time if you wanted to do it, Martha," Carolyn said, looking guilty. "You do so much here. Much more than you signed on for."
"All part of the package," Martha smiled, and gave Carolyn a pat on the shoulder. "These house repairs can't go on forever…" she paused. "Speaking of which…"
Carolyn's lower lip trembled. "NOW what?"
"I think you are going to need to get the roof looked at."
"No…" Carolyn buried her head in her hands. "I just can't afford it this month!"
"Well, maybe we can get up there in the next few weeks," Martha sighed. "It might just be the gutters, but something is funny up there, and there's an area in the laundry porch that was leaking when it started raining yesterday. And the gutters are sagging. Why this house hasn't fallen down around our ears, I don't know. It certainly enjoys living up to its name. I don't relish climbing up there to look, but maybe you and I together can work something out in the next couple of weeks or so."
"I'll see what I can do, Martha," Carolyn sighed again. I finally did get another real writing assignment… its due in a couple of weeks. Maybe then I can afford to get Mister Peavey out here again."
"I could try bribing him with a pie," Martha chuckled. "Millie — you know her, she's the telephone operator here, told me he's partial to cherry pies. It might be a good source of cheap labor if I can get him to try one of mine."
"Well, we won't get anywhere if I don't get started," Carolyn said. "Could you do me a favor and put on another pot of coffee? These articles are going to keep me busy… I might as well just forget dinner and get moving."
"Now don't you do that," Martha scolded. "I'll bring you something in your room on a tray."
"About the only way I can eat in there," Carolyn scowled. "Blasted room is so cramped!"
"Blasted?" Martha blinked.
"Did I say that?" Carolyn shrugged. "Good old-fashioned word. The kids have been using it — along with a few other colorful phrases. Guess I picked it up. Sorry!"
"Don't be," Martha grinned, heading for the kitchen. "Good word. Blasted roof, blasted rain, blasted gutters, and blast Claymore Gregg for owning this albatross of a house!"
"And blast ME for getting Martha and the children… and myself into this fix to begin with!" Carolyn muttered, a single, solitary tear sliding down her cheek. And from the other room, through paper-thin walls, Candy and Jonathan listened.
XXX
As the days progressed, Candy, Jonathan, and their new friend continued to discover different things about each other, the past, the present, and life in general. With the Captain, mundane schoolwork became interesting. Whereas once Daniel had tolerated this century, never enjoying it, now, seeing it through their young eyes, he discovered it had much to offer. His own era stopped being simply a time he missed, but a fascinating period of time to share and see in a new light. Without realizing it, the trio formed a bond with each other, the children acquiring a substitute father-figure and the Captain getting a taste of having children of his own.
Even Halloween, once a time for the ghost to either wander the beach alone and unseen, or create a thunderstorm to chase away the inevitable pranksters that would make their way to Gull Cottage on a dare, was different that year for Daniel Gregg. The children, all too keenly aware of the financial troubles Carolyn was facing, insisted that they could create a costume without resorting to buying a ready-made one at Ollie Wilkins' general store. Both costumes had a nautical theme, of course. Armed with their meager savings, money given to them by Ralph and Marjorie, their father's parents, before they left Philadelphia, they hit the local thrift store after school, two days before Halloween. With the Captain's invisible help, Jonathan found a pair of white bell-bottomed pants and striped shirt, red kerchief and sailor's cap and was transformed into a very satisfactory "Seaman," he explained later to his mother. "Sailor is a landlubber's word."
Carolyn had sighed at that point, remembering a certain ghost making the same comment, what already seemed like ages before. Amazing what things they pick up at school, she thought.
Candy, not to be outdone, and despite the Captain's objections that such things were not really at all in keeping with all things female, found a white peasant blouse, a red skirt, slit to the waist, and black shorts. That, along with a black eye patch and her boots made her a pirate, she insisted, and no amount of invisible cajoling would persuade her into anything different.
Much to the ghost's delight, and surprise, his favorite seaman and pirate stopped on the way home after the Halloween parade at school, announcing that they had both won a prize for best original homemade costume for their classes, beating out their respective nemeses — Danny Shoemaker and Penelope Hassenhammer. That night, Martha, breaking loose for an hour, took them trick-or-treating in town.
XXX
"Your birthday is Monday, Jonathan," the ghost remarked the next day when the children met him, as usual, after school. "Have you thought about anything you would like? Not that I can promise anything, but any clues at all would be appreciated. Candy…" He turned to the little girl, who was examining, for perhaps the fiftieth time, the statue at the bottom of the staircase. For some reason, it fascinated the girl. "…Candy, yours is coming up, too, on the ninth. I was thinking maybe there was something in the wheelhouse that might appeal. An ivory fan? Maybe I can find you that…"
"Don't worry about it, Captain," Candy answered, biting a fingernail.
"Don't bite your nails, Candy," the spirit reprimanded gently. At her reproachful look he added, "You did tell me you were trying to stop. And you have, mostly. Tell me…" He paused, watching the two children steal glances at each other. "What's the problem?"
"Nothing, Captain," Candy sighed, and flounced over to the bay window, sitting on the window seat and curling into a ball, her chin tucked between bent knees.
"Nothing, Captain," Jonathan echoed before the seaman could ask him the same question.
"Now, don't give me that," Daniel frowned. "If there is one thing I have learned, is when you two say "Nothing, Captain," in that tone of voice, it's not nothing, it's something. Now what is it?"
The only answer he received was a shrug. Knowing better than to push, he decided to try a different tack.
"So… how has your mother been lately? Are you all settling into your new house well?"
The children let out a collective sigh. "Okay," said Candy, her voice flat.
The seaman raised an eyebrow. "That "okay" didn't sound very okay. What's wrong? What has you so blue this afternoon?"
"Nothing," Candy blew out another breath and looked up at the ceiling.
Children… Daniel sighed to himself, and tried yet another angle. "Well, how are you doing then? Everything is all organized there, isn't it?"
Jonathan shook his head. "Not really. Nothing works right. Martha's always fixing something. Mom, too. Gull Cottage is a much better house than the Albatross is."
"Besides, we miss Mom," Candy added.
"Miss her?" The ghost looked puzzled. "Where did she go? Is she on a trip? I'm sure she will be back soon."
"Mom didn't go anywhere, Captain," Jonathan cut in. "She's just always busy, working."
"And she hates working for Mister Finley," said Candy.
"I would have thought that she would like writing for the paper. She is a writer, after all." The spirit asked, tugging an earlobe. "Isn't that her job?"
"Yeah, Captain, but she does EVERYTHING," Jonathan said patiently.
"But why is she so busy?" the seaman prodded. "How much time does it take to write? I rather got the impression, what little time I did see her here, that she was a writer partly because it DID mean she had more time to spend with you."
"Supposed to be, but it hasn't worked that way," Jonathan grumbled. "She leaves early in the morning, when we are just getting up, not even dressed, and then she gets home about the time we are ready to take our baths and go to bed."
"Yeah, sometimes she's even later, and on the weekends she's still trying to write her own articles, so we don't see her too much then," Candy added. "She's been getting outside assignments, but not enough."
"She could get enough if she didn't work for Mister Finley twelve hours a day," Jonathan argued. "He makes her do everything. I heard her talking to Martha about it."
"I have, too, Captain," Candy said sadly. "She has to do all the writing, and goes all over town for interviews and getting information, like at the library, you know? Besides, Mister Finley makes her sell advertising, and write them, and do the layout and the proofreading, and answer the phone whenever she IS in the office, and get him coffee when he wants it, and water his plants and sweep the floor every two days!"
"Yeah, and when she isn't working, she's too tired to go anywhere, or do anything fun," Candy elaborated.
"It's almost like she WAS gone. Either that, or she is writing her own stories. She has gotten a couple of other things to write, but she never has enough time anymore. And if she DOES stop working, it seems like there is always something at the Albatross that needs fixing, Captain," Jonathan continued.
"Yeah," Candy agreed. "Martha says the roof is going to go next, or part of it anyway. And yesterday she and Martha were trying to decide if it would be easier for her to be on the roof to patch and hammer, and Martha, go up and down to hand her stuff, or the other way around."
"I don't think she should be up there, Captain," Jonathan spoke up again. "Candy and I said we would help, but Mom said we're too young to be crawling around on roofs."
"I agree with your mother there," the ghost said firmly. "You are."
"The laundry porch where the roof is leaking is only a little bit taller than the jungle gym at school…" Jonathan protested.
"Or the top of the rings," Candy added. "You know, up at the very top where the chains are hung? I go up there all the time with Quentin Coopersmith and untangle them when the big kids fling them up in the spokes."
"I don't think your mother would approve of that, Candy," the seaman said, trying to look stern.
"It's not nearly as high up as the crow's nest, Captain, and you said the cabin boys on your ship learned how to climb the ratlines AND go in the crow's nest when they were younger than me..."
"Younger than I, and I still wish you would be careful," the Captain sighed. "In my day…"
"In your day girls had to wear dresses all the time and didn't get to do anything fun," Candy grinned. "I promise I'll be careful, Captain Gregg."
"Hey! I know what!" Jonathan interrupted. "Captain, could you fix the roof? You know how. I bet you had to fix the roof at Gull Cottage when you were alive! We could help you… you know, hand you stuff…"
"I think not, Jonathan," the seaman smiled. "I can't get any supplies without stealing. I have no money. And besides, how would you explain the roof fixing itself?"
"You could show US how to fix it," Candy interjected. "You know, watch, and tell us what to do."
Captain Gregg shook his head again. "My dear child…" he said, as gently as he could. "Aside from MY feelings, as I said, I don't think your mother would approve of you climbing around on an outside ladder. I'm afraid my answer has to be no."
"Gotta be something to do," Jonathan muttered. "I'm tired of Mom working all the time. We never get to play or go for walks or anything. It's going to be too cold and too rainy to have any fun at the beach soon."
"You know what would be best, Captain?" Candy asked, turning her face to the seaman once more.
"What, my dear?"
"If we could all move back into Gull Cottage and Albatross Manor fell to the ground one night, that's what!"
The Captain grinned in spite of himself. "I agree with you wholeheartedly about the second part, Candy, providing none of you were inside when it happened." He sighed. "But I am afraid the first part of your statement is highly unlikely."
"Why?" Jonathan queried, curious.
"I just… don't," the seaman said, suddenly feigning acute interest in a half-done ship model Jonathan had left on a low table. "Your mother and I were… too different. We just didn't… get along."
"Sure it would've," Candy wheedled. "You guys just didn't talk it out enough. That's what Mom makes Jonathan and me do when we fight. I bet if you had talked more, Mom wouldn't have left."
"And we love this house… and you," they said together.
"Maybe," the spirit said, conceding just a bit. "But I did not force your mother to leave. It really has to be HER choice to come back." Inwardly, he sighed, irritated with himself, wondering if he had willed the woman's car back that first night, perhaps they could have worked out an equitable arrangement after all. He looked around the room that seemed to brighten every time the children set foot inside it. Maybe it would be better for my ship if she lived here...
"So maybe we can ask her about it?" Candy's face brightened. "That would be…"
Daniel cut her off. "You will ask her nothing. If your mother wants to see me… that is, come back, she needs to decide it without any coaxing from you two."
"But…" brother and sister said together, but Daniel stopped them.
"That's enough of this talk for now. Let me think about this. Maybe there is some way I can help with the roof, at least. In the meantime, Jonathan, I left my sextant and handheld telescope in the wheelhouse. And I think you left some homework, or papers of some kind up there. I didn't want to disturb your things. Why don't you go sort them and come back here? You do that and we might have enough time for a quick lesson in shooting the sun before you two go home, all right?"
Nodding, the boy headed for the stairs.
"We could work the other stuff out if she didn't spend so much time at the Beacon," Candy said, almost to herself. "Mom told Martha she has lots of articles and stories planned in her head, she is just too tired to write them. She was even talking about writing a story that takes place on board a ship. And she says Mister Finley spends all his time in his office napping, saying he's thinking. Captain, if you are a boss, can somebody report you for not being a good boss?"
"No, child," the seaman smiled. "The only thing that can happen is after a while, no one wants to work for you any more. I saw a few bad captains sink like that."
"Wish that would happen to Mister Finley then," Candy sighed.
"Some things never change," Daniel commented almost to himself. "If that whelp is anything like his great-grandfather"
"What, Captain?" Candy asked, looking to at him, interested. "Is what, Captain? Please tell me."
"I'll tell you… sometime."
"Tell me now."
"Jonathan will be back soon."
"You can talk fast and I can listen fast. Betcha you were thinking about Mister Finley because of what I heard about you when we first moved here…"
There was thunder in the distance, and Candy looked alarmed. "That was you, wasn't it?" She cocked her head and listened. "Yeah, it was. Captain, I have been meaning to ask you about that. I mean, about how you died. I heard in school that well, I know you know what I heard… Captain, it's not true, is it? I won't tell Jonathan if it is. He doesn't even remember Dad dying. I do kinda. But is it right? What I heard? Is that why you are still here at Gull Cottage?" She blushed. "Jonathan will be back in a few minutes, but we have time. I'm old enough to know. What's the real story?"
Quickly, the spirit told the girl the truth, and after both children had left for the afternoon, he paced the rooms of his 'ship,' resolving to do something about the sad state of affairs at Albatross Manor.
XXX
Candy and Jonathan's birthdays came and went. Carolyn was able to find the gifts they had requested. Jonathan did receive an inexpensive telescope, and while it was nothing as elaborate as the one she remembered in the master cabin of Gull Cottage, the boy seemed happy with it. Five days later, on Saturday, Candy was equally pleased with the super-deluxe sewing kit Carolyn had finally located at a small shop, during one of her interviews in Keystone. The repairs at The Albatross, and her job at the Beacon, however, went on.
END PART TWO