SECOND CHANCES

Part Three

Carolyn sat in the quiet of her bedroom staring at a blank page in her typewriter. Although her deadline was fast approaching, her thoughts were with her children. She had thought that they had adjusted to life with one parent, and for the most part they had. Moving to Gull Cottage had definitely helped ease the transition.

And you know why. Why can't you just admit it? He helped us. All of us. And that is precisely the problem. We are not a one parent family, not since coming here. Not since...

Carolyn looked up, this time sensing the Captain's presence behind her. She spoke without turning to face him, her voice tense.

"What is it, Captain? I've got a lot of work to do."

The Captain maneuvered in front of her desk. Knowing Carolyn well, he was fully aware that she was upset by the events that had taken place in the kitchen, both between them and with the children. Unsure of how best to handle what he had overheard, he proceeded carefully. "I had rather hoped we might have a talk, Mrs. Muir. You don't seem quite yourself."

Carolyn looked at him for the first time since he entered the room. "Don't I, Captain Gregg?" There was a definite emphasis on her use of his formal name.

A bit confused by her tone, he pressed on. "Are you upset about something? Perhaps I can help."

"Help? No, Captain," she lied, "this has nothing to do with you."

"Madam, I overheard Jonathan and Candy in the kitchen earlier."

She stared at him, half relieved that he already knew the truth and half angry that he had caught her in a lie. "Well then you know you can't help with this one. Not unless you'd care to pop in at the ball game with Jonathan or take Candy to the dance."

"Madam, you know I would do all those things, and more, were I able."

She turned on him, unable to suppress her frustration any longer. It was bad enough when it involved only herself, but now she had her children to consider. "But you're not able, are you? No matter how much we pretend to be one big happy family, we are never going to change that fact. But don't worry, Claymore has agreed to stand in for you...again." There was a touch of sarcasm in her voice, which the Captain chose to ignore.

"Well, that's something, anyway. Poor substitute though he is, at least the children will have the opportunity to participate with their classmates." He rubbed his ear thoughtfully. "I'm afraid it seems this Father's Day is weighing heavily on their shoulders. I suppose it is sometimes difficult for them without their father on board." He stood straight and clasped his hands behind his back, not allowing his manner to show how distasteful he found both Claymore's involvement and having to mention their blood father. He was, however, satisfied that he had removed himself as the focus of the conversation.

Carolyn would not allow it. "I'm afraid you don't understand, Captain, it's not the classmates they want to be with, or their father for that matter, it's you."

She met his eyes with her own. Her emotions now getting the best of her, she was fighting back tears of frustration. It was a losing battle. "Jonathan's right, it's not fair." She put her head in her hands, leaning on her typewriter.

"Is this just about the children?" He knew full well the answer.

"No. Yes. I don't know. It's everything. I just feel like I'm on this emotional roller coaster ride, and just when we reach a peak we careen off into this empty valley and then pretend nothing happened. I can't pretend anymore..." Now crying, Carolyn was obviously distraught, but was also relieved that she was finally expressing the feelings which had consumed her the last few weeks. "I know you want to help, but the children need something right now that you just can't give them."

The Captain's lack of a physical form was not usually a matter for serious discussion within the household. Most often their feelings on the subject remained obvious, but unspoken. She paused, took a breath and continued. "And as for me..." She tearfully met his gaze, knowing her words would hurt him, but needed to be said. "As for me, how can I lean on you when I can't even...lean on you?" Carolyn shrugged miserably, knowing there was nothing he could say in return.

The Captain drew closer, bending to one knee in front of her so that they were eye to eye.

"Mrs. Muir," he said softly. He felt helpless. He wished he could just touch her, even for a moment.

Having him so near and the tender tone of his voice was more than Carolyn could bear. Exhausted and fragile, she so wanted to fall into his arms. She craved the intimacy that his voice conveyed and yet knew they were prisoners of the forced formality revealed in the words with which he addressed her. The constant contradiction, although a common fact of their daily routine, was too heavy a burden at the moment. She exploded in a tearful rage, flying out of her seat and moving away from him.

"Don't come near me!" She nearly spat her words at him, needing someone to blame for their situation. "No! We must keep our polite distance, mustn't we? 'Mrs. Muir', 'Captain Gregg' Madam'." She mocked his accent. "My God, this is just one big formal tea party to you, isn't it? You get to play the proper gentleman suitor, popping in and out as the mood strikes you. You toy with our emotions and then retreat behind your invisible wall of formality." She looked at him accusingly, her pain very real and very evident.

Shocked, the Captain slowly rose and approached her. They had quarreled before, they had enjoyed many pleasant, even loving, moments together but in all their time together, he had never seen her so openly emotional with him. They had both always pulled back before crossing that line of unrestrained expression. Although concerned for her, he was also injured by her words.

"Tea party? Is that what you think? You think I enjoy all this? Do you think I enjoy seeing the children hurting, or you for that matter, knowing that I am at fault?" The Captain looked at her, searching her eyes for some indication that she was aware of his own true feelings and pain.

Finding his honesty comforting, her expression softened somewhat, the worst of her fury over. Still, Carolyn still needed to see this conversation through to some sort of end. She wiped her eyes took a shaky breath. She forced a small laugh to try to regain her composure.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't blame you. It's my fault, really, I've let this go too far. The children have come to see you as their father, which is wonderful, but can you blame them for being confused? Poor Jonathan worships you and he can't even admit you exist outside this house! The same goes for Candy. I mean the other kids have normal families with normal fathers who don't walk through walls and who can take them to dances and ball games."

The Captain's frustration and anger at himself and their situation reached a boiling point. "Really. Well then, if those are the criteria, perhaps Claymore would be a better permanent choice for them. Maybe you should meet with that Coburn woman's cousin or brother or whatever he is, after all. Or perhaps you should marry one of those fair-haired dandies that are always leering at you as you walk through town. Is that what you want?"

"You know it's not." Her voice breaking with emotion, she walked away from him, out on to the balcony and leaned on the ships wheel, wrapping her arms around the spindles. She knew quite well that this was as close as she would come to actually touching him.

The Captain watched her go, regretting his tirade, cursing his spectral state, his heart breaking with every tear she shed. He followed her out, stopping very close behind her.

"And that's the problem." Carolyn's voice was barely above a whisper. "We both know what we want, don't we?" She turned around to face him. For a long moment they stood very close, her last words hanging in the air around them.

The Captain's voice lowered to that soft, melodic tone which Carolyn often heard in her dreams. "I cannot give you that which I do not possess."

His manner was kind, but firm. He was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation and felt that they were in uncharted waters. Knowing in his spirit's heart that Carolyn needed more from him but also knowing that once the line of intimacy, in their case verbal intimacy, was crossed there would be no return. Their safe haven of self-imposed formal distance was their only defense against the agony of their physical separation. He pulled away and crossed to the edge of the balcony near the opposite end of the French doors, putting some distance between them but he turned to her again before he spoke. "I am sorry for what has transpired here today. You know, if it were possible, I would give you and the children the world..." It was a small admission, but the best he could safely offer under the circumstances.

Carolyn smiled mournfully and shook her head. "I don't want the world." She looked so tired and sad. "Right now, all I want is a hug."

Seeing the stricken look on his face, she regretted her words immediately. She suddenly wanted the conversation to end. She tried to quickly fix her appearance and compose herself again. Her tone changed, becoming more matter-of-fact. "That brings us back to our original problem, which is, I believe, where you came in." She crossed in front of him and re-entered the bedroom. She sat down at the typewriter, unable to face him any longer.

"Thank you for your concern, Captain, but I'm sure we'll all muddle through just fine. It's all this Father's Day nonsense. We just need some time, that's all." She pulled out the blank paper in the machine and replaced it with another, equally blank piece. "Now if you'll excuse me, I really do have work to do..."

Captain Daniel Gregg stared, thunderstruck, at Carolyn's back, still reeling in the wake of her outpouring of feelings. He had absolutely no idea what he could say to help Carolyn, or the children. It was obvious that she no longer wanted to continue their conversation, and he felt no small relief at that. But still, he thought, I must say something...

"I...ah, that is..." he didn't even know how he should address her. "Are you going to be all right?"

Without looking up she responded, "Yes, Captain. I'm fine. Really. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone."

"As you wish, Madam." And he was gone.

He didn't see her wince when he called her 'Madam,' and he never saw the shaking sobs which followed his departure from the room.