First thing in the morning Carolyn biked into town in spite of the wind and cold. She visited Laura for a cup of tea and a pastry before heading to the library to make copies of the file.

"You have certainly taken an interest in the old place." The librarian said to Carolyn who was diligently feeding dimes into the old copy machine and fitting the various items from the file on the scanner.

"Yes, it has character." She figured that about summed it up.

"A very specific character, no?" The woman asked with a knowing smile.

"Do you mean the ghost?" Carolyn had no time for dancing around the subject; if the woman had anything to share with her about the ghost of Daniel Gregg, she wanted to know it now.

"Well, we've all heard the stories."

"I suspect most of them are true." Carolyn surprised the woman by being both frank and agreeable. "I suspect the Captain doesn't care for the stories that were put out about him and just wanted to get someone's attention."

The librarian eyed her curiously. "And are you that someone?"

"I'm hoping I can be. I don't know if how the Captain died matters to anyone else, but it might matter to him that the record gets set straight." Carolyn realized she probably sounded a little too enthusiastic" "I mean…isn't that why people hang around and haunt a place? Unfinished business?"

"Then you don't believe the Captain committed suicide?"

"Of course not. If he was eager to be done and gone, he'd hardly be hanging around more than 100 years later," Carolyn reasoned.

"They say it's because he wasn't buried in consecrated ground." The librarian had apparently been doing her homework.

"He may not have been buried in consecrated ground but I have reason to believe he might have ultimately been buried at sea, which to him, was as sacred a place as any."

"Ah, the disturbed grave." The librarian nodded.

"Did people really think it was dogs?" Carolyn couldn't recall if she had read anything about who or what had disturbed the grave, or if she was repeating something that Captain Gregg had shared with her.

The librarian, rather than behaving as if she thought Carolyn a bit mad, spoke in an animated tone, "It will be hard to sort that out after all these years. He was buried outside of town in an unmarked grave. No one knows exactly where, and if a body was exhumed, there would be no way of knowing if it was him or another criminal."

"You think the Captain was a criminal?" Carolyn stopped what she was doing; this was the first she'd heard of this possibility.

The librarian explained herself."Suicide was no longer a crime, per se, but churches could still deny burial in consecrated ground. Unless a community had land set aside for those situations, they were interred in the same area outside of town as the criminals."

"That's enough to make anyone haunt a house." Carolyn allowed.

The librarian began to sort through the file and casually said. "I don't suppose Mr. Gregg told you, but he paid to have an exorcism done."

"On Captain Gregg?" Carolyn's tone was incredulous.Well, that would account for the bad blood between them.

"The exorcism was done on the house. It was less of a casting out than an invitation towards something better." The librarian went on

"So they didn't go full Ghostbusters on him?"

The woman shook her head. "My understanding is that a small blessed casket was prepared. It had birth and death dates, and an epitaph, just like you'd see on a tombstone. The idea is to lure the spirit into a consecrated item, which can then be buried so the ghost can finally rest in peace."

"You certainly know a lot about Captain Gregg." Carolyn was feeling a little suspicious, and a tiny bit jealous.

The librarian smiled. "Well, I'm kind of a local ghost buff. I belong to a society that shares stories on these sorts of things. It can be a real attraction for tourists. I've been talking to the Chamber of Commerce about possibly offering ghost tours during October, to encourage more tourism during the slow season."

Carolyn nodded. "And you'd include Gull Cottage?" she asked nonchalantly. She was pretty sure Captain Gregg wouldn't allow that.

"We'd like to, but it's a funny thing. There are all kinds of anecdotal stories about odd goings-on at Gull Cottage, but whenever any paranormal investigators have gone in, nothing. Crickets." The librarian shrugged. " Mr. Gregg has brought investigators over there a few times, with the hopes of being able to make some money using the haunted angle, but it's been a flop."

Carolyn smiled knowingly. Of course, it had been a flop. Captain Gregg knew the fastest way to stop that nonsense would be the silent treatment. He saved his high jinks to scare people away, never to attract them.

"Maybe he has performance anxiety," Carolyn said in a stage whisper.

The librarian laughed.

"If you're interested in information on any of the other local ghost activity, I can point the way. We have a few books on hauntings in Maine and the Colonial states, plus the local files that I've put together. You'd be surprised, we still get two or three new ghost stories a year in the local paper."

"There's an active paranormal group in Philly too. I guess I never took it seriously before." Carolyn admitted.

"But staying in Gull Cottage has maybe changed your mind?" The librarian was clearly fishing for information.

"Well, so much of the cottage seems to be the way Captain Gregg left it. His belongings are in place. His books with notes in the margins. It does sort of feel as if he's still hanging around. I couldn't help but be interested in what happened to him." Carolyn made her case.

The librarian sighed. "I had heard that the Captain was quite a lady's man in his time. I guess I hoped maybe having a woman about the place might have woken him up."

Carolyn gave a little bow and laughed. "I appreciate the compliment if you think I might be attractive enough to catch his attention."

"You're the first person I'm aware of that's spent any length of time there." The librarian explained, somewhat dampening the compliment–yet in another way deepening it. Carolyn must have moxie if she had lasted four weeks with the temperamental Captain.

"It's a lovely place." She already had a wistful note in her tone. She knew it was time to return to her responsibilities, and the children, but she would miss the cottage and the Captain.

"You're not like most tourists," the librarian noted. "You fit right in, like you belong to the place. You don't behave as if you're just here to take what you can get."

Carolyn smiled a warm genuine smile. "I feel as if I belong," she admitted. "Schooner Bay welcomed me at a time when I needed warmth and acceptance."

The librarian nodded slowly. "I'm glad you didn't just hide away out there alone on the windy beach. Connection matters."

Carolyn felt a tear sting the corner of her eye. She nodded tightly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't. Lately, it seems that tears are always close to the surface, and you're right, it does matter. I'm afraid when I get back to Philidelphia…well, everything is different now. It shouldn't be, but it is."

Losing Robert shouldn't make her feel like an alien in her own hometown, but she just felt numb there, like she was going through the motions, hoping things would feel normal, but instead the place was laughing at her. She couldn't explain. It didn't make sense.

"I can't imagine, and you so young. And you have children." The librarian said gently.

Carolyn nodded. How many times had she heard people remark that she was too young to be a widow? In twenty or thirty years, she'd likely have company among her own group of friends, but at her age, she was the odd one out.

She gave an ironic laugh. "Young enough to start over…or so they tell me."

The librarian met her eye. "But we never really start over. We just go on from where we are." The woman echoed Carolyn's own thoughts.

"I appreciate your help with this pet project," Carolyn spoke so as to not get misty-eyed again.

"My pleasure. It's this sort of thing that keeps my job interesting. If it was just checking out books and shelving them, I'd lose my mind. People come in here looking for all kinds of help and information. I've learned so much along the way."

Carolyn hadn't ever thought of it that way. She hadn't exactly bought into the stereotype of librarians as spinsterish with no sense of humor and an obsession with fines and dog-eared pages, but she realized that her image of them hadn't been much better.

She'd never really thought about a librarian's job being interesting or being one of service–or that they might have interests like the paranormal or 19th-century burial practices.

Here was another woman in Schooner Bay with brains and initiative that Carolyn would never really get to know. Someone who could surely have become a friend.

Carolyn finished her copying and the librarian was soon busy helping the after-schoolers. The sounds of the children made her homesick for her own; she wished they were there with the other kids, searching through the shelves for a new picture book, or building with blocks.

She almost felt that if she closed her eyes and clicked her heels together three times she'd be transported to Philidelphia and this place–and the people and ghosts in it–would feel like a dream. All she would really have to prove otherwise would be a few shells, these papers she had copied, and Captain Gregg's ivory letter opener–which would have to remain a secret.

If she showed it to anyone she would essentially be confessing to stealing it. Claymore might not have known it was there, but he did legally own the house and everything in it, and she had no business walking off with a valuable souvenir.

She had an early dinner in town and Ken, her high school-aged friend, drove her back to the cottage, offering to bring more firewood. He was sad to hear that she'd be leaving in one day.

He hoisted the bike from the trunk. "If you could take it around to the back porch, that would be great," she told him. She wouldn't be needing it again and she owed it to the Captain–and Claymore– to leave things as she found them.

She paid Ken, then closed the door and rested her back against it. She slid down until she was sitting on the floor watching shadows deepen into darkness, breathing in the musty woolen scent of the upholstery and draperies that hadn't been properly aired for too many years.

This was all coming to an end. By Friday evening this would be nothing but a memory. Captain Gregg would be reduced to the subject of a human interest story on the social stigma of suicide in a long-gone age. She'd have to finish the seaman's story on her own…if she could find the heart to do so.

"Are you quite alright my dear?" The words resonated from the area of the stairs.

"Yes, Captain." She smiled at the sound of his voice, and his approaching steps. "I'm not sure how I'll feel in 48 hours."

She sensed that he was standing very close, looking down at her. She peered up but saw nothing–no glow or shimmer or mist. If he was a flesh and blood man, he would offer her a hand. Maybe he'd lead her upstairs and they'd make love and laugh together before falling asleep.

Carolyn didn't like to think that she would never feel the touch of a man's hand again, but she also couldn't bear to think of all that would have to take place first. She'd have to finish mourning Robert–or at least be quite a bit further along in the process. She had to make a home for herself and the children, and find a job. Then, maybe, in some year's time, she might meet someone new and interesting.

The door behind her settled back. She heard a sliding sound and a soft thud. She sensed the Captain was now beside her. He chuckled.

"What?"

"I've been here more than 175 years I've never had this view before."

She peered around, but it was too dark to see much. "Can you see in the dark?"

"Yes, but you can't."

She felt the slightest brush against her cheek and the light in the foyer blinked on, as did lights on the mantel in the sitting room.

"Thank you." She smiled at his chivalrous behavior.

"I suppose this is the dog's view." He sounded almost pleased with himself.

"Or a small child." She wondered what Jonathan and Candy would think of this house and the Captain.

"I spend all my time floating around, or stomping around, I've forgotten the sense of potential in a child's world." The Captain seemed genuinely tickled.

Carolyn was surprised. He was usually so full of self-importance.

He went on, "You know, looking for hiding places, somewhere I could hole up and listen in on the adults–hearing things I wasn't meant to hear." She could sense the gleeful memories in his tone. "Finding a place to hide an extra slice of pie or something I'd snitched from my sisters. Or something I had found outside that mother wouldn't allow."

"Frogs?" Carolyn guessed, recalling Jonathan coming home with a toad in his lunchbox one afternoon.

"A squirrel pup once. But more often it was the sort of things adults miss, but children see, being closer to the ground rings, buttons, coins, letters, pens, cigars. They were all treasures to me. I suppose I should have known better and returned them, but I'm afraid I lived by the philosophy of finders keepers."

"I'm intrigued," she admitted. "I'll bet you were a handful as a boy."

"I'm afraid my mother spoiled me. By the time my father took charge the damage was done. My head was full of fanciful ideas and I'd learned how to nick things and hold onto what I'd found."

"So you always had secret hiding places."

"Yes.."

"And that key in the desk?" She wondered if he intended for her to use it.

"Keep it." A few seconds went by. "I mean that–keep it. Not just take it with you, but hold onto it."

"But Captain…I don't know if I'll be back," she protested.

"You will…one day."

"It could be years." She knew how life could get ahold of you. You'd tell a friend you'd talk soon and a year or two would slip by–and she had no real reason to return to Schooner Bay.

"Trust me, Madam. I'll be here."

How different time must be for him. She supposed that if she came back fifty years from now, he would still be here, and they could pick up where they'd left off, as one does with good friends.

Time was not as forgiving for her. "I should get to bed. I have a lot to do tomorrow."

"If I can be of assistance," he offered.

"Make sure I don't leave anything behind. I want to leave it ship shape for you." She gave a small salute.

He made a sound, halfway between a hmph and a clearing of his throat, which had never made sense to her, seeing as a ghost had no actual throat to clear. "Perhaps I'll hide something quite important so you will have to return." His voice broke ever so slightly.

"I should think you'd be happy to have the place back to yourself again. You'd better be careful Captain. You might lose your haunting license if other spooks find out that instead of chasing people away you are trying to get them to stay."

She pretended to miss his point because she didn't know what to do with it. This might all be in her head, and the only thing crazier than her actually thinking and behaving as if Gull Cottage was haunted, would be her thinking the ghost had taken a shine to her.

She could imagine the faces of her parents and friends when she explained she had to return because the local spirit had requested it. They'd have her sent to a rest home and put on medication…and they probably should.

Apparently, the Captain conceded. The light at the top of the stairs went on, and she could hear the bedroom door opening. He really was sweet, in his old-fashioned way.

Carolyn had hoped for good weather on Thursday morning so she could take a walk on the beach, but it was windy and spritzing. So she spent the morning cleaning up the kitchen and bathroom and packing.

"I'm going to miss this typewriter." She ran a hand lovingly over it. "I'm all for modern technology, but I'm not sure I can finish our story properly without the old tap tap tap and ding."

"You are welcome to take it," the Captain said hurriedly.

"And have Claymore accuse me of theft? No thank you. But I will take the paper if you don't mind."

"No, no, of course, you must."

What she did do, after packing up her things, was to ask the Captain to give her a proper tour of the cottage. For all the time she'd spent here, there were rooms she hadn't stepped in, and she was certain he had stories to tell. It would be a better, happier use of their last hours together than her feeling sad about leaving.

Laura had called, and rather than being picked up from the Cottage on Friday morning, Carolyn was going into town late in the afternoon to stay at the bed and breakfast for the night. She had jumped on the invitation as soon as her friend offered it. She'd never been scared of the Captain himself, but the idea of spending that last night alone in the house with him frightened her.

As they made their way through the house, she wished she had thought of this sooner. It was a fascinating place. There was a cabinet in the larder that still held various cleaners and polishes, plus a bucket of sand for scrubbing pots and floors. A dumb waiter went from the larder to the upstairs hall, and down to the coal cellar.

The several window seats opened and dust covers and seasonal items were stored there. He showed her the cedar chest that held his old uniforms and sweaters, safe from dampness and moths. He was proud of his home, and rightly so. She guessed it must have been considered very convenient and modern for its time. She noticed that all the silver in the cottage was dark with tarnish, but anything brass gleamed. She wondered how he kept it polished but guessed that even a ghost was allowed his secrets.

Carolyn wound the clock in the bedroom for the last time thinking that the ticking would keep him company for several days after she had gone. Then she heard the horn of the old taxi. It was time to go.

She hurried down the steps and opened the door waving Mr. Peevey in so he could help with her bags. She only had two suitcases and a tote, but if he was busy putting her things in the trunk, she'd have a last few minutes to say her goodbye.

The lanky man approached the porch, but scratched his head and looked uncertain when she told him she'd left her suitcases at the top of the stairs.

She knew why he hesitated, but she was also sure that the Captain was going to behave himself.

"I can get them myself if you're afraid they're too heavy," Carolyn said, knowing that questioning their strength was a sure way to get a man to prove himself.

"Naw, that's ok M'am, I'll get it." He straightened his back, took a deep breath, and strode into the house as if he was about to go into battle.

She did notice that rather than make a second trip, he clumsily manhandled both her bags at once, swaying precariously as he came down the steps.

As soon as he had stepped off the porch she called to him. "I'll just be a minute. I want to make sure I've turned everything off."

She closed the door. "Captain?"

"Mrs. Muir." His words were formal, but his tone was warm. "I don't think you will be surprised to find that I will miss your company. Unlike many of your sex, you've been an intelligent and considerate house guest…and a friend."

"And I appreciate you making me feel welcome and at home."

They both sighed, there was nothing left to say. They couldn't hug or shake hands. "I guess this is goodbye." Carolyn wiped away a tear.

He cleared his throat but said nothing.

"Ok then…" She slipped out the door, turned the key in the lock, and felt her heart sink heavily into her stomach.

The Captain watched the lock turn from his side of the door and murmured, just barely loud enough for her to hear. "Until we meet again."

Mr. Peevey watched her with some concern, via the rearview mirror, quietly sobbing most of the way back to town.

Silently Carolyn clicked her heels together and reminded herself, there's no place like home. In 24 hours, this would be but a memory and she would once again hold her children in her arms.

The end