SECOND CHANCES
Part Two
Carolyn finished up her last few errands and loaded up the station wagon for the ride home. She wanted to be home before the school bus, so she could greet the kids and, hopefully, figure out why they had failed to even mention the Father's Day events. She assumed that it had something to do with feeling awkward about not being able to go with their own father. Although they had seemed comfortable with their new lives in Schooner Bay, perhaps they felt as she did; that small town life magnified their family situation tenfold. Certainly, Carolyn felt the 'poor, young widow' every time she went into town. And it seemed that everyone, especially the married women in town, had taken it upon themselves to locate a potential husband for her. And if Mrs. Coburn was any indication, they were now interviewing potential fathers for the children as well.
How could she explain that she had no interest in meeting any mortal man at the moment? It had taken her a long time to face her feelings for the Captain, to admit that he had reached a part of her that she had not even known existed. After months of denial, she was struggling to accept the facts of their very private and very impossible situation. Carolyn knew she had always enjoyed the Captain's attention, even solicited it. But she was much less forthcoming with her own emotions. At first, she found that it was easy to deny feelings that they had never acted upon and, in fact, would never act upon. At least not in this life, not in her life. However, as they grew more and more comfortable with each other they seemed to push the envelope of their relationship a bit farther with each stolen moment. And with each step forward there was an equal and opposite backlash of torment, suffered privately by both of them, building, growing, never to be eased by the spoken word..
Snap out of it, Carolyn, how can you even consider your feelings for another man while the kids are still feeling the loss of their father. Stop being so selfish. They need you.
As Carolyn turned her car into the property, she forced herself to put all thoughts of the Captain out of her mind, at least for the moment. She got out of the car, feeling guilty and focusing on the children as she brought her packages into the house.
She was unloading the grocery items in the kitchen when he appeared in the kitchen. "Not now, Captain. I'm very busy and I need to speak to the children privately when they get off the bus." She spoke brusquely, self-conscious about her latest private thoughts about him. She also felt that it would be best if he were elsewhere when she discussed her late husband with the children. "So if you don't mind..."
"I merely wanted to see how your excursion into town went, Mrs. Muir. You were gone quite a while..."
"Why, did you miss me, Captain?" She was not quite teasing but, rather, accusing.
"Certainly not," he straightened, bluffing. "However, as of late, I have become rather accustomed to your presence in the house, and well, when you are absent the house tends to...list to one side." He spread his hands unevenly in front of him. "It is a matter of balance, you see." He studied his hands carefully, evening them out as he finished.
"Perfectly. You missed me."
He smiled. "And if I did?"
Not now, Captain, please not now. "Look, I said I was busy..."
"Is everything all right, Mrs. Muir? Did something happen in town to upset you?"
"No, Captain, nothing. Only that I've discovered that Candy and Jonathan are keeping secrets from me and that half of Schooner Bay is playing matchmaker for the poor widow Muir and any unmarried man in the state of Maine." Of course, she failed to mention that she was also having trouble dealing with him at the moment.
"Matchmaker? Why don't those small town busybodies keep to their own affairs? What did she say when you told her to shove off?" He was obviously gleefully awaiting her response.
"What makes you think I told her that?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" He knew her so well. "Of course you did," he added, then just a touch insecure, "didn't you?"
"I don't know, Mrs. Coburn's cousin sounded very nice. He's very...well read." Why am I doing this? The kids will be home any minute.
"Another New England lothario in thick glasses, eh?" Once again self-assured, he smiled at her.
"Blast it, Captain! Is there anyone you would approve of for me?" She was now sincerely angry and tense, much more so than the situation seemed to warrant.
"I can think of only one with enough winning qualities to be worthy of you, Madam." The Captain, trying to cheer her, unwittingly struck a nerve.
"Really?" Carolyn's response was terse. "And who might that be?" She said, setting a trap.
"Why, me, of course." He playfully gave her a noble bow and sweep of his arm.
"Of course. But you fail to realize that Mrs. Coburn's cousin has one 'winning' quality that you don't. He's alive."
"Yes." The tone of his voice indicated that he had not missed the barb directed at him. "It's a shame that life is wasted on the living."
"Isn't that supposed to be 'youth is wasted on the young,' Captain?"
"The message is the same, Madam. People don't appreciate what gifts they've got until they are gone. Youth, life..."
"What about those of us who are waiting to die so we can start living?" Carolyn found herself startled by her own words and turned her back on him to put the last of the canned goods into the cabinet.
"Would you care to explain that last remark, Mrs. Muir?"
"Not really, no." She turned again and looked into his blue eyes and knew at once that he had understood very well the significance of what she had said. "I didn't think I'd have to..."
The Captain met her gaze and sensed the need in her expression. They had always played a cat and mouse game of true confessions, but their private moments had often lately fallen prey to bickering and stony silence, as usual around the time things got too personal for comfort. He sensed a difference, though, in that while Carolyn had always seemed to welcome, if not respond to, his declarations of affection in the past, she now frequently seemed to resent them. He had noticed that Carolyn had become increasingly serious and distracted of late, but he told himself that it was due to the pressure of her latest writing project. This was the first he had allowed himself to consider that, perhaps, there was another reason...
He was about to respond when Scruffy's barking at the front door signaled the arrival of Claymore.
Carolyn covered her face with her hands. "Oh, blast! Claymore. I completely forgot..."
The Captain was equally upset at their interruption, but pleased that he would have the opportunity to take it out on his nephew. "Claymore? I'll soon have him turned into chum..."
They heard Claymore in the entryway, being let in by Martha.
"Oh, no," said Carolyn, trying to hold up her end of the bargain, although her heart was not in it. "You'll do no such thing. I told him he could come."
"Hello, Mrs. Muir, Captain," greeted Claymore as he sheepishly entered the kitchen. He was carrying his toolbox, which was most likely intended to create, and not fix, a few more 'problems' before Mr. Anderson's arrival. He leaned in close to Carolyn, as if to speak privately. 'Did you ask him? Is... is it all right?"
"Ask me what? Is what all right?" asked the Captain impatiently, turning his attention from one to the other as he spoke.
"Mrs. Muir, you promised..." pleaded Claymore.
"Captain, Claymore has invited an appraiser to come and examine Gull Cottage..." Carolyn explained.
"For what purpose?" The Captain narrowed his eyes, knowing Claymore did not do anything unless there was something in it for him.
"To assess the fair value of this historic homesite," said Claymore, the confident salesman. He placed his hand over his heart in reverence.
"Value which has, no doubt, increased in recent years," offered the Captain, still suspicious of his nephew's motives.
"Well, Captain. It is a very old house, you know. Lots of creaks and groans, (no pun intended, of course) and I wouldn't be surprised if the value has actually gone down..." He shook his head in sad disappointment.
The light of understanding shone in the Captains icy blue stare. "Bringing your property taxes with it?"
"Hopefully, yes," said Claymore, then catching himself, "No! Captain, that is the furthest thing from my mind!"
"Out! Out, you sneaky, malicious misrepresentation of manhood...This is a home, blast it! Not a cash cow!"
Claymore turned and ran, leaving his toolbox on the table behind him. "Mrs. Muir, we had a deal!"
The door opened seemingly by itself to find Mr. Anderson, slightly early for the appointment, just about to knock. He was nearly run over by Claymore fleeing the house.
"Mr. Gregg! What's wrong?"
"Never mind! Run for your life!"
"What about the appraisal?"
"Forget it! I love taxes, the higher the better! Ahhhh!" Claymore jumped into his car, ducking his toolbox which had unceremoniously followed him out the door.
Mr. Anderson stood frozen for a moment, clipboard in hand. He jumped as he heard Martha's voice from the doorway behind him.
"Hello," she said smiling, as if nothing had happened. "Welcome to Gull Cottage. Won't you come in?"
Mr. Anderson paused for a moment and then bolted for his truck.
Martha shrugged and closed the door. "One thing we never have to worry about around here is company overstaying their welcome."
Back in the kitchen, Carolyn had seated herself at the table and was running her hands through her hair. She nervously checked her watch. "I don't know where they can be, they must have had trouble with the bus again..."
The Captain reappeared to her, brushing his hands together, happy to be rid of both intruders. It was obvious to him that she was still very upset about something and he assumed it somehow involved him. He was about to speak when he was interrupted again, this time by the horn of the arriving school bus.
Carolyn stood up. "Captain, I really do need to speak to the children alone."
"Perhaps I can help..." His offer was sincere, although not totally directed at whatever concerned the children.
"No." She whirled around, desperate for him to leave. She didn't want the Captain to hear them discussing her husband and she didn't want the children to feel they were slighting the Captain by thinking about their father. And she didn't want to admit that she felt guilty herself. After all, if she was going to be in love with a dead man, shouldn't it be her late husband? "This is a family problem and it doesn't concern you."
"I see," came the quick reply. He disappeared.
Carolyn closed her eyes, wondering why she kept hurting him. The kids rushed in to the room, tossing their books on to the counter.
"Hi, Mom."
"Hi, Mom."
"Hi kids, how was school today?"
"Okay."
"Okay, the bus had a flat tire!." Jonathan always found bus trouble exciting.
"Anything new at school?"
They both shook their blond heads in reply.
"I saw Mrs. Coburn in town today..."
The kids looked at one another, obviously guilty to an experienced mother's eye.
"Kids, why didn't you say anything about the Father's Day dance or the bus trip?" She knelt on the floor beside them, to put them at ease.
Candy and Jonathan looked at each other again, reluctant to answer. Finally, Candy spoke.
"We just don't want to go, Mom."
"May I ask why?" After getting no response, she directed her next question to Jonathan. "Jonathan, doesn't the bus trip sound like fun?"
"No," came the quiet reply. "Who wants to go on some dumb bus trip anyway? I hate buses...and baseball."
"Really? Since when?"
"Since all the guys are going with their fathers. Everybody keeps bragging about how their dad is the greatest..."
"Oh, Jonathan," she put her arms around him to comfort him.
"...and I have the best dad in the whole world and I can't even tell anyone!"
"What?" Carolyn sat back on her heels in surprise.
"It's not fair!" The boy was near tears.
"He's right, Mom. Penelope Hassenhammer says her father is a such a great dancer. And he's already ordered her the biggest corsage in Boston. They're shipping it in special, just for her."
"Well, honey, you could still go to the dance. Claymore said he'd love to take you, and we could get you a great corsage..."
"Oh Mom, I don't wanna go with Claymore, I wanna go with Captain Gregg. We'd show that Penelope Hassenhammer. I bet Captain Gregg is a terrific dancer..."
"He is.. I mean, I'm sure he is, but..." Carolyn tried to comprehend the unexpected turn of events. She looked at her children. "Is that what this is all about?"
"Sure, Mom. What else?" Candy shrugged.
"Jonathan?" Carolyn turned to her son.
"Gee, Mom, it wouldn't be any fun to go without Captain Gregg. Besides, Claymore would probably get carsick anyway."
"You mean bus-sick," corrected Candy.
"It's the same thing!"
"Okay, kids, you go on up and change into your play clothes. We'll figure this out later."
Carolyn watched them leave. She got to her feet, suddenly aware of the true magnitude and scope of the 'family' problem. Her children were not upset about not having a father, they were upset at not being able to show off the one they had. The Captain was the father they were mourning. For all her recent focus on the Captain's presence in her life, she had failed to consider how vital he was to them.
How could she have missed it? Even Claymore had picked up on it. Go as the Captain? he had asked, indicating that even he was fully aware of just whose place he would be taking. Carolyn had selfishly believed that she was alone in her need for the Captain, alone in her need for more from him. She now realized that the children, in their own way, wanted and needed him in their lives just as much as she did.
She again sat down at the table. Preoccupied, with her back to the doorway, she was unaware of the Captain's troubled presence behind her. Not usually one to eavesdrop, his concern and curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had silently witnessed most of the conversation with the children.
Carolyn, overwhelmed and frustrated, buried her face in her hands and wondered what she could possibly tell her children to ease their burden. She wondered what she could possibly do to ease her own.
The Captain's eyes never left her as she rose and ascended the stairs to the bedroom, closing the door behind her.