SECOND CHANCES

Part Five

Carolyn awoke with a heavy head and an equally heavy heart. Her eyes ached from crying herself to sleep and she felt the haze of emotional distress like a cloud over her consciousness. Although not completely able to focus, she was aware of a nagging feeling that something was wrong. As sleepiness cleared from her head, she tried to convince herself that she was simply feeling regret over her harsh confrontation with the Captain. In the light of a new morning, she felt ashamed of her outburst. She knew her words had hurt him and that the Captain could no more change their situation than she could herself.

Sitting up in bed, Carolyn stopped just short of calling out for him. Under the circumstances, she wisely decided that it would do neither of them any good for her to greet him in her current state of undress, much less while occupying his bed. She decided to go to the attic where they could speak privately and without the distraction of the emotional intimacy of the bedroom.

She rose and dressed quickly, then ran a brush through her blond hair, her sense of panic rising with each stroke. Unable to decide if it was nervousness or emptiness she felt deep within her soul, Carolyn knew whatever the cause for her discomfort there was only one cure. She slipped on her shoes and reached for the door; only to be met by the pajama-clad figure of Jonathan on the other side. Carolyn felt her heart drop. The boy was cradling a highly polished, sheathed Navy sword. She tried to avoid letting her writer's imagination get the best of her.

"Jonathan," she began, a little more curtly than she had intended. "I don't think you should be playing with that, it's dangerous and... it doesn't belong to you."

"I found it at the end of my bed when I woke up," he said softly.

Oh God, no! There must be a perfectly plausible explanation for one of the Captain's most honored and prized possessions to suddenly turn up at Jonathan's bedside.

"Well, maybe the Captain just...forgot it. You know, left it there by mistake." Even as she spoke, Carolyn knew how impossible that particular scenario sounded. By the downcast expression on her son's small face, he apparently agreed.

"I tried to return it, but I couldn't find him," he looked up, his eyes welling with tears. "He's gone, isn't he, Mom?"

"No, Jonathan." She refused to admit what they both knew in their hearts. "He is not gone. He may not be here right now, but he'll come back...He always comes back."

My God, what have I done? She carefully took the sword from Jonathan's arms and sent him off to the bathroom to get ready for school. Holding it in her arms, she was aware of a strange feeling. Or was it the absence of a strange feeling? In the past, whenever she touched an object that was once one of the Captain's possessions, especially something personal, she always felt the sensation that he was near. It would begin as a warmness inside her and would often envelop her, as if drawing her closer to him. It was probably why she felt closest to him in the bedroom surrounded by his most personal effects, his telescope, his ship's wheel, his bed. But as she held the sheathed gleaming steel of the sword he once proudly wore with his uniform and wielded in his strong hand, she felt not his presence, but his absence.

Carolyn retreated back into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. "Captain? Captain Gregg?" Not since the very first night she arrived at Gull Cottage, had she called to him with less conviction. At least then she was mostly convinced of his ghostly presence in the house. On this occasion, all she could do was hope that her desire to see him again could somehow transcend whatever time or distance now separated them.

After gently placing the sword at the foot of her own bed, she glanced at the clock. It was time to get the children off to school, although she did not relish the thought of facing Jonathan at the breakfast table. He was just as in tune to the Captain's spirit as she was, perhaps even more so, although in a different, less complicated way. How could she ever explain that she practically told the Captain that they would be better off without him. How could she face her son knowing that she was the one who drove the Captain away, possibly for good. Presenting his sword to Jonathan certainly seemed to indicate a premeditated, and lengthy, absence from his life. And hers.

Carolyn collapsed onto the unmade bed, unable to stop the tears from flowing again. "No," she cried into the rumpled bedclothes. "Please, God, no! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me...don't leave me..."

It was some time before she was able to collect herself long enough to get to the bathroom to wash up. She looked at her watch and realized that the school bus had already come and gone. Splashing water on her face she saw the puffy eyes and reddened nose which stared back in the mirror. There would be no way to hide, much less truthfully explain, her present condition to Martha. Still, she felt she had to at least make an appearance downstairs and, in the back of her mind, she hoped that she would find some clue as to his whereabouts.

She fixed herself as best she could and made her way downstairs. Upon reaching the foot of the stairs she glanced into the living room, praying she would see an elegantly written note on the mantle of the fireplace indicating that the Captain's absence was perfectly explainable and quite temporary. When there was no such note there, Carolyn decided that, perhaps, there had been something in the bedroom. She turned and raced back upstairs, scouring every inch of the tidy room, inspecting every shred of paper for his handwriting to no avail. Refusing to give up hope that there was another reason for his absence, she went back downstairs this time turning in to the kitchen where Martha was washing up the breakfast dishes.

"Oh, Mrs. Muir," Martha said without looking up from the sink. 'Good morning, I thought you had slept in. There's coffee in the..."

"Martha, have you seen the Captain?" Carolyn interrupted, hoping he had told her of his departure.

"Why no, as a matter of fact, I haven't. I thought Jonathan was a little quiet at breakfast," she laughed to herself, "nobody was telling him giant squid stories over my oatmeal," She turned off the water and dried her hands, turning to face Carolyn for the first time.

"Mrs. Muir, are you...feeling all right? You look a bit pale."

"Yes, Martha. I'm fine, really. Are you sure you didn't see the Captain at all this morning?"

Martha shook her head. "Not since yesterday when Claymore was here." Although she sensed she shouldn't pry, she had to ask, "Why? Is something wrong? Can I help?"

"No, thank you. I'm sure it's nothing." She took her coffee and left the kitchen. She didn't look back when Martha called out to her, offering her breakfast. "Not hungry," was all she could manage over the sickening feeling in her stomach.

Martha watched as Carolyn ascended the stairs with the absent-minded gait of a sleepwalker. There's only one reason for a woman to be that miserable this early in the morning, she thought to herself, and it's not lumpy oatmeal.

Several long, lonely days and nights passed with no sign of the absent Captain Gregg. Carolyn had tried her best to keep up a brave front, assuring the family that the Captain had simply gone away to tend some pressing business and that she was sure he would return as soon as he was able. The children tried their best to believe her, especially Jonathan, who insisted on sleeping with the Captain's sword at his bedside until he returned to claim it.

By the end of the week, Carolyn had managed to complete her article, though she was by no means pleased with the result. As her deadline was Monday, she decided to drive the article into the magazine offices in Boston herself. Martha encouraged her to go, sensing that she needed to get away from the house for a while anyway.

"And it's too much of a trip to do in one day, Mrs. Muir. Why not stay overnight and get a fresh start back Saturday morning? I'll take care of things here."

Carolyn gratefully accepted her housekeeper's offer, leaving very early on Friday morning, although she hated the thought of not being at home when the Captain returned...If he returned.

She drove most of the way without the radio, choosing instead to listen to the voices in her own head. Some of which told her that things would be fine, that he was hurt or merely trying to teach her a lesson and would return, arrogant and unrepentant, as if nothing had happened. However, she was unable to shut out the small echoing voice in the back of her mind which screamed that he would never return, that he had left them, probably because he thought it was the right thing to do. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she considered the very real possibility that she would never see him again in this life.

After dropping off her article, she checked into a small motel just outside of Boston. She called Martha, letting her know where she could be reached. Too tired for lunch or to do any of the errands she had planned, she opted instead for a bath and a nap. Of course, she dreamed of a certain sea captain.