With the engine belching smoke, Claymore had to admit it was not going to move under its own power, "Men! Pushing positions please!" The volunteers quickly moved to the familiar spots, and with Carolyn lending a hand, they finally started on their way.
"Thank you Mrs. Muir!" Claymore called out, as they rumbled away. Standing by the gate, she waved a friendly good-bye to the company.
"And so Madam, you are reduced to supplementing that antique's engine power?" the Captain said, as he appeared with a frown and distinct growl to his voice, "Hardly suitable for a lady I think!" Wiping her brow, Carolyn leaned by the gate. Looking down the road she was happy to see that the engine's motor had finally started at the bottom of the hill, and it was on its way to old 17's final public school resting place.
"Actually, like you, I was merely helping put things in order, so things settled where they belonged," she offered with a sly grin and raised eyebrow of her own. "If you might recall, we had some similar words regarding how you put the whole 'Sean Callahan' situation to rest, true?"
She smiled to see that he had, to her amusement, resorted to tugging on his earlobe again. Ever since they had arrived at their more intimate personal resolution, she knew that he hadn't felt the need to express his discomfort so indirectly. "Daniel, what's disturbing you?" she asked gently, "Surely you didn't think I was oblivious to what happened then? That Sean suddenly forgot ever seeing you, that he recalled thinking of me as a 'dear sister in writing' how could I not know it was you?"
"As we've discussed all too often," he grumbled, "it was clear I could not let that Irish imposter be allowed to importune upon our lives with his fevered imaginings, could he?" "Hardly imaginings, my dearest," she corrected, never letting her eyes leave his face. "Imposter? I still think we both agree it likely you played a role in his ancestry. Imaginings? Well, we both know that couldn't be the case, true?"
With a heave of his chest, he turned to face the woman who held his heart, and had captured his soul as well, if he were honest with himself. "Dearest," he paused, "Martha is at the wash, the children are off with Claymore, don't you think there might be . . . other things that could capture our attention?"
"Other things?" she said with a tease in her voice, "especially now that you've dispatched your doppelganger and you are the one and only Daniel Gregg in my world?"
"As it should be my dearest, now and always! But as I was saying . . ." She smiled as she watched him gesture toward the balcony of their Master Cabin. Without another word, she stepped into his arms, and silently he disappeared them into a world of their own, without Irish writers, children or even antique fire engines!