Barnaby

by cryptwarmer

Carolyn's new writing career is taking all her time and nerve. The Muir children are coping in any way that they can. Candy's search for blueberries leads to the discovery of a new friend.

3. Chapter 3: Lessons Learned

Barnaby Chapter Three: Lessons Learned

"There you are!" Carolyn called to Candy, who was jogging towards the cottage with Scruffy leading the way.

"Yup, I kept Scruffy busy, just like you asked!" Candy hugged her mom. Scruffy pulled towards the house, whining. "I think he smells those dogs."

"I think you're right. I know I sure did." Carolyn cringed at the memory. "So, what did the two of you do all day?"

"We walked up the street and saw a trail in the woods and a sign. Did you know if you start walking from the end of our street, and keep going for 500 miles, you'll be on top of a mountain?" Candy's tone was wondrous.

"500 miles!" her mother was suitably impressed.

"I'll bet that would take about a year." Candy hurried behind Scruffy until he stopped short and began sniffing a spot in the front yard.

"Maybe not if that's all you had to do every day, but I'm sure it would take a very long time." Carolyn considered.

"Then we took a nap, and then we played with Barnaby," Candy went on. She stooped to remove Scruffy's halter, but he was so intensely focused on the spot that he refused to cooperate. Instead, she unfastened the leash and let him have the run of the yard.

"Barnaby made a fire, and we cooked sausages!" Candy said excitedly. "And he showed me a neat way to make toast over a campfire."

"I've never heard of making toast over a campfire," Carolyn told her daughter.

"Me neither. Barnaby knows all kinds of things, kind of like an old man would, but I don't think he's very old."

Carolyn held the front screen door open, and they stepped inside. She was relieved that Candy had made such a good day for herself. She knew that the past two weeks she hadn't been much of a mother; certainly not the mother she wanted to be.

She didn't want the children left to amuse themselves all of the time, but she was happy that they, and their active imaginations, could do so when necessary.

She wasn't surprised that Candy's imaginary friend was an adult male; it made sense that she would try to replace the father she'd lost. Carolyn wondered where Candy had come up with the idea of a man who walks all the time and made toast over a campfire. She couldn't think of any television or book character who might have inspired that.

"I'm gonna go wash my hands. They got kind of messy playing outside all day." Candy held her hands out and indeed, they were dirty and smeared with black soot.

"Good idea." Carolyn ran a hand over her daughter's head and went to check on Scruffy. He was busy digging a hole where he'd caught the scent of another dog relieving itself.

"Oh no, If I don't get him in the house, he won't stop until he's dug halfway to Australia," she said, picking up the leash Candy had left on the bannister. "Scruffy! Time to come in."

He didn't want to leave his hole, but he obeyed Carolyn. All the way to the house, he kept his nose to the ground, fixated on the evidence that another dog—or four—had been in his house.

When Scruffy sniffed the spot on the foyer floor where the setter had left a pile, he lifted his leg.

"Don't you dare!" Carolyn gave the leash a tug.

"Martha, we need to spray this spot again or Scruffy will," she called.

Martha came out of the kitchen with a bottle of pet stain and scent eliminator. "I was afraid this might happen," Martha said, watching Scruffy to locate the exact spot to spray.

"We might need to keep him upstairs and out back for a few days, until the smell of the other dogs is gone," Carolyn said with a frown.

As they spoke, Scruffy was pulling on his leash, trying to enter the sitting room.

"That's all I need on the new couch, dog pee on top of dog drool and…" She wasn't sure what to call it.

"Mustard gas?" Martha suggested.

"Why is Scruffy on his leash?" Candy asked when she returned from washing her hands.

"The dogs that were here today weren't well behaved, and he's upset about the damage," Carolyn told her daughter.

"Why did they bring dogs, anyway?" Candy wondered, stooping down to pet Scruffy. She was sorry that he couldn't go where he wanted.

"The photographer said that dogs set a mood, and make a house feel like a home. People who read these magazines will look at the pictures and think that they could live in a house like this too, because it's even dog friendly, even if it looks sort of pretend," Carolyn explained.

"Our house doesn't look pretend." Candy stood up and looked around. "And why couldn't they just use Scruffy? He's a real dog."

Martha gave the spot on the floor a few more sprays for good measure. "Remember how it was for the wedding? They wanted to use this house, but they added decorations. It's pretty much the same thing. The dogs were decoration."

"And the grandparents too?" Candy asked.

"The grandparents too," Carolyn affirmed. "They were all here to give a certain impression."

Candy considered this. "Well, I'm glad the Zimmermans thought we were good enough to be part of the wedding, not like those stuck up magazine people."

"Don't forget, Angela Hocking was a magazine photographer, and she wanted us in her photos. Different magazines want to attract different readers. The magazine that was here today is for older people who have more money."

"Lots of money, but very few manners," Martha said with a frown. "At least if they're anything like Maurice."

"Barnaby has good manners, even if he isn't…fancy. You know what I mean? We ate lunch sitting on the ground, but he was polite and thoughtful, and gave me my stick first," Candy bragged. She was proud that her friend had good manners, and honored that he had treated her like a special guest.

"Gave you your stick first? Sounds like a true gentleman," Martha agreed, meeting Carolyn's eye.

"Well, it's not like you can set the table at a campfire," Candy pointed out.

"Wasn't there something about that in one of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books? When they were traveling in the wagon and ate dinner on the ground?" Carolyn recalled.

Candy nodded, "And Ma told Laura that it was bad manners to sing at the table, even though there wasn't a table," she added. "Ma always made them use manners."

"I think we need to remind Scruffy about the importance of manners. The way he pulls on his leash is terrible. He's trying to take us for a walk instead of the other way around." Carolyn motioned with her hand for Scruffy to sit. He did, but he gave a whine of complaint.

"I can take him to the backyard," Candy offered, holding out her hand for the leash. He went with her happily. He'd rather be outside than stuck in the foyer smelling strange dogs, but unable to investigate.

"I'm glad to hear her imaginary friend has manners. Lots of times kids make up friends that do and say the opposite of everything they learn at home, as a way to act out," Carolyn confided as she followed Martha into the kitchen.

"And to have someone to blame things on when they misbehave," Martha added. "I've dealt with a few of those over the years." She rolled her eyes.

"I wonder where she came up with the name Barnaby," Carolyn mused. "It's so old-fashioned. None of the characters in the books we've been reading have that name."

"No telling. She could have heard it in a song, or at her friend Maree's house. Didn't there used to be a restaurant named Barnaby's?" Martha put the bottle of pet spray on the counter. She was sure they'd need it again over the next few days.

"I think you're right! It's in West Chester. I don't recall taking the kids there, but my parents may have." Carolyn felt relief at knowing where Candy had heard the name, but she also felt a pang of guilt for the time her children had stayed with their grandparents while she had been at loose ends.

Looking back, it was obvious that the kids had needed her then, having just lost their father. But she had been reeling from losing her husband, and hadn't known how to be there for the children. She had truly believed that they were better off with relatives than having to experience the emotional paralysis that had her in its grip those first awful months.

They seemed about as well adjusted as two young children could be, considering what they'd been through. Still, she felt she'd failed them when they needed her most.

"Candy is a little old for an imaginary friend, but if it's helping her adjust to losing her father, there's no harm in it. I'm more comfortable with this than her latching on to Claymore," Carolyn admitted.

Martha nodded. "She's not so old. I remember having an imaginary friend when I was going through puberty. I felt like I needed someone to talk to and confide in, someone who thought I was wonderful just the way I am."

"I'm sure Barnaby will disappear once school starts. Then she'll have more friends than she knows what to do with." Carolyn got out glasses for lemonade.

"I doubt it will take that long. Things have been chaotic here lately, but now they're settling down. She and Jonathan will fall back into playing together and Vacation Bible School starts next week," Martha pointed out.

"I wish it had been this week," Carolyn sighed as she filled the glasses. "I've really not been myself, or if this is the real me, I could use some work."

They heard a thump, thump, thump coming from the stairs. Jonathan stood in the kitchen door. "I'm hungry!" he announced.

"Hello Hungry, I'm Cranky and this is Bashful," Martha said, pointing to Carolyn.

"May I please have something to eat?" Jonathan tried again. "BunBun too, because he hasn't eaten either."

"I'm not sure we have enough food to fill up a little boy and a rabbit," Martha warned.

"But we always have food," he wasn't in the mood to joke around. His tummy meant business.

Candy came in, wearing a wide smile. "Hi Jonathan! Hi BunBun!" She patted the stuffed toy on its head, to everyone's surprise.

Candy had always maintained that BunBun was stupid and dirty, and that Jonathan was a baby to carry him around.

Carolyn and Martha looked at each other in surprise. It seemed that having her own imaginary friend made her more accepting of her brother's.

"Miracles never cease," Carolyn said quietly.

Martha nodded, then attended to the issue at hand. "On a scale of one to ten, how hungry are you?"

"Ten!" Jonathan shouted. "And ten more for BunBun."

"Three!" Candy said, holding up three fingers.

"Nine," Carolyn joined in.

"And a seven and a half for me, let's see. If I add that all up…" Martha pretended to figure in her head. "It adds up to sloppy joes!"

A general cheer went up. Jonathan held BunBun up over his head and waved him around like he was rejoicing.

Carolyn smiled at her children, and at the warm camaraderie. It had been weeks since her mind and emotions felt relaxed like this. No more photographers. No more articles for publications that were impossible to please. No more putting the wrong things first.

XXX

Candy couldn't go to see Barnaby the next morning. Her mother declared that she simply had to get out of the house, so they drove to Top Side to do some early back to school shopping.

Candy usually loved back to school shopping. She enjoyed trying on clothes and twisting and turning in front of the dressing room mirror. She adored choosing shoes.

She overheard her mother telling Martha that Grandma Williams had sent money for the kids back to school needs. That meant Candy could pick out more things and nicer things that she'd anticipated.

She wasn't sure how the kids dressed for school in Schooner Bay. It wasn't a big city like Pittsburgh or Philadelphia. Her grandparents lived in an affluent neighborhood. Last year at school, Candy had worn very nice clothes. She'd felt as fancy as Laura Cantrell, who came from "old money". And her church dresses had been as nice as they came.

She guessed things might not be that way here. Maybe all the girls wore pants to school. She tried to remember how it had been when she visited the school all those months ago. She remembered the rooms and cafeteria, but not the clothes.

It might be better to shop after school started, so she could be sure of buying the right things. It wasn't that Candy wanted to be a fashion plate, she just wanted to fit in and NOT be the kid that got made fun of for wearing worn out hand-me-downs or last year's style.

Life was just easier if you looked right for the part. That way, you could be friends with anyone you wanted to and get invited to all the birthday parties. When you had the right clothes, clothes were not an issue. It was only when you wore the wrong thing that you got into trouble.

Spending the day in Top Side meant that they'd go out to lunch. Schooner Bay had only two eateries, Morrie's Lobster House and the Sandwich Counter. The Sandwich Counter served breakfast and lunch and Morrie's served dinner. She liked both places, but she was tired of them.

Candy wanted to have lunch at Tommy Taco and get a Tommy's Terrific meal that came with a toy. The girl's toy this month was do-it-yourself jewelry. It was made of stretchy plastic. You could customize the pieces by putting buttons, coins or stones into the empty spaces.

She had been saving small shells from the beach. She felt sure they would fit into the DIY necklace. If she could find a fake pearl to put in the middle, it would be perfect!

She just had to convince Jonathan that he wanted to eat at Tommy Taco too.

As they went to the car, Jonathan, as usual, was carrying BunBun. Candy began to say something snarky, but stopped. Jonathan didn't have any real friends in Schooner Bay. Candy had Maree and Barnaby. All Jonathan had was that dirty old stuffed rabbit.

Maybe she could use that to her advantage. Tacos had lettuce on them, and rabbits like lettuce. Rabbits ate crunchy things and taco shells were crunchy. Jonathan would want to eat at Tommy Taco if it made BunBun happy…

Candy got into her booster seat and closed the latch. Jonathan tried to close his, but couldn't. He needed a grown-up to help him.

Candy noticed the back of her mother's head. Lately her hair had been messily combed and gathered with a band or scarf. Today she'd done her hair up, curling it and holding it with spray. This was a sign that her mother meant business in the good way. This wouldn't be a rushed trip where they bought the necessities and hurried home. It was going to be an adventure.

When they arrived at the shopping center, the first stop was the clothing store. The problem was that Candy had barely started looking and Jonathan was already done. Carolyn found a size and style of pants that fit him, then bought him three pairs in different colors. He wasn't picky about gym shoes as long as he could run in them.

Candy guessed it was easier to be a boy, but not as much fun. Luckily, Martha needed to go to other stores in the shopping center, and she was happy to take Jonathan with her. He was happy to be shopping for anything other than clothing.

"Now we can really shop," Candy said to her mother, rubbing her hands together.

Carolyn chuckled. "I suppose you're right, but remember, we're only looking for clothes for the first few months of school. You're growing so fast I don't dare buy too much."

"Yes, ma'am," Candy said with a sigh. She guessed her mom was right; no point in getting ahead of themselves. This was a good plan. If she found something she loved later in the school year, there would still be money left to buy it.

"I'll need some jeans," Candy mused, as she perused the several colors of denim pants piled in cubbies.

"I've made a list." Carolyn pulled a paper out of her purse. "It will give us a place to start."

Candy felt a flash of anger at not having been part of making the list. It was her wardrobe, after all.

"I found a checklist in an article I read online," her mother went on.

Some of Candy's anger dissolved. It wasn't as if her mom had gone behind her back and made a plan or anything.

"You can probably wear shorts for at least the first few weeks of school, and you have plenty of those."

She did have plenty of shorts, but most of them were from last summer, and several were cut-offs made from pants she'd grown too tall for. They were fine for the beach or playing in the yard, but not for wearing to school!

"These are neat!" Candy rushed over to a pair of red shorts with white stitching. Atop the rack was a manikin wearing the shorts and a striped t-shirt with cap sleeves. It had a tomboy vibe, but was still feminine.

"Those are cute, and they come in 5 colors!" Carolyn examined the clothes rack. "The navy blues ones are nice."

They were, but Candy wanted something more girly, and more autumn. "How about…" She walked around the rack looking at the colors. "Orange!"

Her mother gave her a curious look. Candy had never chosen orange before.

Carolyn found her size and pulled the shorts out. "Ok, how about a top to go with it?"

Candy eyed the striped top on the display. With orange bottoms she could get away with a yellow striped top. She didn't want to be too matchy matchy. She'd made that mistake last school year and Heather Davis had made fun of her saying, "Look at Candy, she looks like a mannequin at Ross!" Of course she had to make it a discount store.

Candy picked up a yellow shirt and carried it to her mom. She held it up beside the shorts and liked the effect. It totally read late summer, casual, not afraid to get dirty, but definitely a girl.

They chose three other outfits before heading to the fitting room. Candy stood patiently while her mother tugged, tucked, frowned, and fastened.

One outfit was a total no go, and another needed different sizes. They selected more clothes and tried again, and by the time they had three workable outfits, Candy was tired of clothing and starving.

"Let's just grab some new socks and underwear," Carolyn said, relieved that they'd had a successful trip with no major meltdowns on either her or Candy's part. Usually one of them ended up unhappy or raising their voice.

"I want the ones with flowers." Candy pointed to a pack of undies that was hanging on the wall.

"Those are cute! How about socks?"

Candy frowned at the selection. She didn't want to get plain old white ones. That was boring. There were solid bright colors, but that was dicey; she might not have the right color for the outfit she was wearing. Black was definitely out, and pastels got dirty so quickly.

"I don't know. I don't really like any of them," Candy said.

"But honey, they're just socks! Most of the time, no one is going to see them," Carolyn reminded her.

"I know…" but it was a big decision. Socks lasted a long time. If she made a poor choice, she would be stuck with it for an entire year at least. She gazed around the shop to see if any other girls her age were there and what kind of socks they were wearing. All she saw was a toddler wearing mismatched socks and a teen-age girl who was wearing sandals and no socks at all.

There was a package of socks that were decorated with characters from a video game everyone seemed to play. Candy and Jonathan didn't have the game system, but that game had been the big deal at school last year. The problem was that a new game could come out at any time that would be even more popular, and then it would be a disaster if she wore those socks.

"What about those?" Candy pointed to a little hanger that held three pairs of socks on it, silver, black and red metallic. They certainly were eye-catching.

Carolyn felt them. "I don't know, honey, they feel kind of scratchy. And they won't match anything."

True, but on the other hand, that meant they would sort of go with everything.

Candy grabbed the socks and held them down by her ankle. "What do you think?"

Carolyn frowned. "I don't like the way they're knit. They probably won't last long, and I'm sure they won't stay shiny after a few washings."

"Maybe they will." They reminded Candy of the ruby slippers from the Wizard of Oz. She looked up at her mother's face. She could tell from the tightness of her lips and the creases round her eyes that she was not pleased. If Candy pushed her too far, she might not let her go to Tommy Taco.

"Ok, those." Candy pointed to the bright colors. If she didn't have the exact color to go with her outfit, she'd just wear her old white socks.

Carolyn smiled, and Candy knew she had a win. She liked all the other clothes. If she didn't get her favorite socks, the ones she got would do. Maybe she could trade a pair of socks with Maree. She always had fun socks with dots or flowers or clouds on them. Maree didn't seem to care if they matched her outfit. She just wore them and never thought a thing about it.

"I'll carry the bag. Thank you for the new clothes, Mommy, and for helping me pick them out." Candy was laying it on thick, but she was sincere. She was happy to have new things and luckily, her mother had good taste. The few times she'd gone shopping with Grandma Williams had been awful. She wanted to dress Candy like a little girl from her own time in pinafores and little round collars. Candy had liked the patent leather shoes because they were so shiny, but the scratchy lace tights and hot furry hats had been terrible. Mommy never tried to get her to wear things like that.

"Can we eat at Tommy Taco? You know how much Jonathan likes that." Candy said, walking along, swinging her bag.

"I'd better text Martha. They may have already gotten something to eat. We were shopping for a long time," Carolyn explained.

Candy bit her lip, uncertain whether that would increase her chance of going to Tommy Taco. Jonathan liked it, but Martha wasn't a big fan. She waited while her mother texted. The bag was heavy, so she set it down on the sidewalk and leaned against the building.

In the same shopping center, around the corner, was a hair salon. Candy felt her hair. It had grown out this summer, and her bangs were falling into her eyes. For the wedding, they had combed her bangs to the side and kept them in place with spray. Candy looked at herself in the shop window. Her hair looked like a little boy's. Maree had pretty dark hair that hung past her shoulders. She could wear it down or up, with a bow, a scrunchie, or barrettes.

Candy couldn't do much with her hair. Mostly, it didn't bother her. She had liked when it was short and she could play without thinking about it, but she wasn't sure that was how she wanted her hair again.

"I think I need a haircut," Candy said.

"You and me both!" Carolyn ran a hand over her hair and fingered it where it fell against the back of her neck. "I know I promised not to bring up the article but, when it's over and I get the check, we'll be able to take care of some things."

"Do you think I could get hiking boots?" Candy asked.

"Whatever for? Are you planning to join scouts?"

"Maybe, but even if I don't. Maine has thousands of miles of spectacular trails," Candy repeated something she'd read on a website about the state.

"Maybe, but you can't go off into the wilderness on your own, and I'm afraid I'm not much of a hiker," Carolyn reminded her.

"But we could hike a little way into the woods, right? The trail is right at the end of the street!"

"Darling, we have a nice yard to play in, and we go to the beach at least twice a week. I've taken you and Jonathan to the playground at the school and the park."

Candy nodded. She knew from the tone of her mother's voice that the answer was 'no'. She was disappointed, but it wasn't a surprise; her mom had ever been one for going outdoors.

Carolyn's phone chirped. She checked the screen. "Martha says they haven't eaten and they're just about to check out at the fabric store."

There was a Tommy Taco right across the street.

Candy took her mother's hand as they crossed the parking lot to the car. She opened the door and a blast of heat poured out. They put their bag into the back and left the doors open to let the worst of the heat dissipate.

After a few minutes, they could hear Martha's voice growing louder. "Just remember I'm not a professional, so don't expect every seam to be straight."

"That's ok. I don't think sharks swim in straight lines anyway," Jonathan replied.

Carolyn and Candy shared a confused look.

"I didn't know they sold sharks at the fabric store," Carolyn said, stooping to give Jonathan a hug.

"Martha's making drapes for her room, so she said she'd make me a pillowcase, and I got to pick the pattern," Jonathan explained.

Candy felt a pang of jealousy. She would love to pick fabric for drapes or a pillowcase. On the other hand, Jonathan didn't get to choose his own clothes. He just wore what their mother bought for him. So it seemed fair that he got to have a shark pillowcase.

"Did you get sharks too?" Carolyn asked Martha.

"No, I went with something more traditional, damask. It's a lovely shade of blue green," Martha explained.

"Looks like the ocean," Jonathan said with a smile. "And we got a surprise for Candy!" He was all smiles as he climbed into his booster seat with BunBun.

"Don't ask, because we're not saying another word until it's ready. Right Jonathan?" Martha gave him a level look.

He crossed his heart and then crossed his lips. "Mmm mmm." He shook his head.

"I love surprises!" Candy got into her seat and clapped her hands in glee. This was turning out to be quite a day.

As she fastened the seatbelt, she whispered to her brother, "Say you want to go to Tommy Taco. They have Transbots for boys right now."

"Ooohhh, that's right!" He grinned. "Can we go to Tommy Taco?"

Candy sat back and waited, silently praying to the gods of little girl's hopes, wishes and dreams.

"There's one right across the street," Martha said.

Candy waited for her to continue or make a remark about how she didn't care for it, but none came. Instead, they drove over and got into the drive-through lane.

Candy couldn't believe her luck. When she got her Tommy's Terrific Meal and dug into it, she found two of the customizable jewelry prizes, a necklace and a bracelet!

Jonathan only got one Transbot, but it was the blue one, so he was satisfied.

XXX

Candy had a few chores to do when they got home, but as soon as she had finished, she put Scruffy on his leash and headed up the road. She was sweating long before she reached the crest of the hill. The pavement had absorbed heat all day and was radiating it back. She kept to the side so Scruffy could walk on the grass and not burn his feet.

They came to the last pastel house, but she didn't see Barnaby. She walked into the woods as far as the sign, but no sign of Barnaby. Candy ran back to the pastel house. There was her sand pail filled with water. Scruffy took a long drink. They went around back and found a note held down with a rock, "Gone to Beach".

Candy was sorry he wasn't there, but she was happy that he hadn't left on another hike. She crossed the road and walked along the cliff top trail. There were several people on the beach but she couldn't tell which was Barnaby.

He could have been one of the people playing volleyball. He could have been one of the swimmers. Several people were looking for shells along the surf line, but she was pretty sure Barnaby wasn't one of them, because they were all wearing bikinis.

She wished she'd brought something to write with so she could leave him a note. The note he'd left looked like it was written with a piece of charcoal, but she didn't see any charcoal lying around. The place they'd had the fire had been cleaned up and covered with pine needles.

Candy needed to leave something, so he knew she had been there. She found a rock and went back to the pastel house. She scratched her initials CM in the concrete walkway. She didn't press very hard, it would weather away in no time, or it could be erased by rubbing a handful of sand over it. What mattered was that he'd know she'd been there.

Scruffy took another drink and they headed back home.

XXX

"It's getting so that if I hear another story about Barnaby, I might start believing in him myself!" Martha declared to Carolyn after breakfast, as Candy was helping Scruffy into his harness.

"It's good for Scruffy. He's getting more exercise than he has since we lived in Pittsburg," Carolyn recalled. "We had such a nice big yard there, and the kids were outside with him so much of the time."

Martha nodded as she sat down with her coffee. "There have been lots of changes," she said, studying her friend's face, trying to read her emotions.

"Except for losing Robert, they've mostly been good ones," Carolyn said, picking up her cup.

"That's one hell of an exception," Martha pointed out. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if he were here?"

Carolyn shrugged and sighed. "I guess I have a few times, but…it would never work. He needed to work with an architecture firm. The best we could have done is him staying in Boston during the week and coming up to Schooner Bay for the weekend."

"Lots of couples live that way around big cities," Martha remarked.

Carolyn nodded. "Yes, but Robert—" She swallowed down a sob. "He had so many social events, and times he went in on the weekend. We would hardly have seen him at all if we didn't live with him and near to his work."

The Captain sat on the counter, watching the women and listening to their conversation. He got an odd, conflicted feeling when Mrs Muir spoke of Robert, particularly by his first name. It was more personal than her saying, 'my husband' or 'the children's father'. Using his name meant she was remembering the man he was, not just the position he'd held in her life.

The Captain had never married nor had he wanted to except for one episode when he was young and foolish. He'd had no conception of what the institution of marriage truly meant. He'd wanted to bed the girl, and for her to be his and his alone. Young Daniel believed he would feel that way forever. But her family didn't approve of him because he had no money and few prospects.

He'd been brokenhearted, but he got over it, and that in itself was a valuable lesson. No matter what feeling or desire he had, it was temporary. If he continued moving forward, he would outrun it and find himself free once again.

Years later, he saw his old sweetheart. She had married well, borne several children and had a nurse to care for them. She had maintained her looks far beyond what poor women did. Her husband had money. She didn't have to labor or take in washing, or even do her own washing. She had a carriage and fine bonnets to wear against the sun.

She would not look thus had she married him. She'd have lived in a hovel caring for their children, scrubbing others' dirty laundry to get by while he was at sea. She would have been just one more lass who married for love and found that work and worry left little energy for that. By the time he had a ship of his own, she would have been a mere ghost of the woman she had been.

She had ridden right by him without recognition. He was not as she remembered; he'd grown tall and broad. He'd learned to carry himself like a man of rank. His skin, bronzed and creased from the Sun, set off the brightness of his blue eyes.

People liked to believe that love was enough, that love could conquer all, because it made a pretty story, but such stories were best left in books.

True love was born of respect and determination to meet the challenges of life together. That was why he'd never married. He was in no position to be a partner. The respect he could have managed, but the commitment to couplehood he could not.

The more he heard of this Robert, the more he questioned what manner of husband he had been. Yes, he'd earned money enough to keep the family comfortable, and it seemed he had taught the children some valuable lessons, but what of how he treated his wife?

Robert Muir had been lucky enough to have a woman who possessed not only great beauty and sense but also talent and creativity. He seemed not to have appreciated all of her worth. They had a serving woman; Carolyn could have pursued her writing, but it seemed Robert had wanted her at his beck and call to amuse his guests and patrons.

The Captain felt insulted on Carolyn's behalf. All God-given gifts were to be encouraged and used not only for the family's good, but for the common good as well.

"At least it's over and done with," Martha was saying as The Captain tuned in once again. "After what we've all been through, I can't wait to see the actual articles!"

Carolyn nodded and sipped her coffee. "But I can't rest on my laurels for long. I need to be on the lookout for my next inspiration. I'd love to write a story, but I believe an article would be easier to sell. "

"The last three fell into your lap," Martha slapped the tabletop with the flat of her hand. "I have faith that the next one will, too!"

Carolyn nodded, smiled and didn't mention that the articles had help falling into her lap in the form of The Captain's emails. She'd been so angry with him at the time, but he'd helped put the family in the black. She needed to not be too proud to accept help or leads for a story. If she could take advantage of a connection, she would! Robert held that as one of the most important rules of business.

"There must be lots of local lore I can mine for ideas," Carolyn said. "And you know people love to tell stories."

"My goodness, just the things that have gone on right here in Gull Cottage. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself," Martha agreed.

Carolyn smiled; Martha didn't know the half of it!

The Captain ran a hand over his beard. He could tell Carolyn any number of stories about the cottage, about the world! Stories that he had never had the time to record. Stories that would be lost forever unless he shared them with her.

True, they were not husband and wife, but they were partners of a sort— helpmates. They shared living quarters, if he could call it that, seeing that he was no longer alive. In a way, his stories were her stories. She'd be doing him a favor more than he would be doing her one!

"Mom!" Jonathan came running into the room. He had in his hand a small box to which he'd attached the wheels and axles off of one of his toy cars that Scruffy had chewed.

"What is it?" Carolyn asked.

"I need a big wheel." He held up his contraption.

"Do you mean a steering wheel?"

"No, I need to make an extra wheel to make this go." He pointed to the center of the box where he'd cut part of the bottom out.

"Like a lid. Or maybe two lids stuck together," he thought aloud.

Carolyn was still confused. "What do you want to make with it?"

"A wheel, then you wind it up, and you let it go and the car goes by itself," he explained.

"I think I know what he's talking about. When I was a cub scout leader, we used to make these cars that you wind up with a rubber band," Martha said.

"Wow, you must be real old Martha!" Jonathan said. After all, if she had been using the same technology as The Captain, that was ages and ages ago.

"I'm not so old, but that idea is. I'm sure we have something around here that we can make work."

The Captain tittered to himself at Jonathan's remark, and wondered what a rubber band was and how it could make the toy operate.

"We used to make boats that worked the same way," Martha went on as she walked to the pantry to check the shelves for potential wheels.

The Captain's ears perked upon hearing 'boats'. He'd never thought of that!

He sailed over to follow the search as Martha moved about the house with Jonathan right behind her, collecting strings, wires, cans, and notions The Captain was not familiar with.

Carolyn saw this was to be an undertaking, so she washed the coffee cups, leaving the table empty for their project. Then she put on her sandals and headed for the beach. There were a handful of people on the sand and wading in the surf.

Carolyn didn't mind the wind that whipped her hair. She slipped her sandals off and walked towards the water slowly, wiggling her feet into the sand and watching the gulls cruising just above the waves.

A boy and his father were fishing on the rocks. The gulls and fishermen reminded Carolyn that the ocean had secrets to keep. All she could see were the green gray waves that broke before her and beyond that, a dark blue vastness that stretched to the horizon. Far, far away, past the rocks and bay, was a lighthouse that looked like a pencil stub from where she stood.

It had only been three weeks, but it felt like forever since she'd been to the beach. She'd missed the healing combination of sunshine, wind and water that had soothed her when she'd first visited so many months ago. She was not yet reconciled to Robert's death and all the changes it had brought. She still needed the sea with all its vast power and secrets, pulling and pushing her along, reminding her that nothing stayed the same for very long.

The surf churned the sand, burying her feet to her ankles. She pulled them free and walked on, kicking up water, enjoying the foam that tickled her legs as it pooled around them. She looked up the cliff and saw Candy walking with Scruffy. Carolyn lifted her arm over her head and waved. Candy didn't wave back. Perhaps she didn't recognize her mother from such a distance.

Carolyn headed down the beach to watch the father and son fish. She stood a respectable distance away, but felt a keen excitement when the line grew taut. The reel snarled as the boy cranked it, his father calling out instructions. The line grew slack, then taut, moving back and forth as the fish fought. "Rrrrrrrr," whirred the line, giving voice to the tug of war between the creature of the land and the creature of the sea. Finally, the boy reeled in a striped bass. His father clapped him on the shoulder; the boy's expression was a mixture of pride and satisfaction.

Carolyn smiled too, then frowned as a pain gripped her stomach; Robert and Jonathan would never do this. They'd never do this or the thousand other wonderful simple things that fathers and sons did. Grief nearly knocked her from her feet.

Carolyn took several long, deliberate breaths. She straightened and pressed her temples. She could teach the kids to fish. They could learn together.

She wondered if a day would ever go by where she didn't feel the lack of Robert, where she wasn't confronted with something she would have to learn or do because he wasn't here. Sometimes it overwhelmed her. Sometimes she thought it would be easier to marry again just to halve the work and responsibility that fell on her.

What a blessing Martha was! Things that felt like too much were manageable because of Martha's capable hands. Between Martha and The Captain, Carolyn didn't feel such a desperate push to make things happen, to jump into a job, living situation or relationship that wasn't a good fit, just to get by.

Jonathan benefitted from having The Captain to go to for guidance, information, and support. Carolyn hoped that when school began, Candy might find a teacher or coach who could give her some of what she'd lost when Robert passed. Carolyn frowned. She'd heard that girls who lost their fathers grew up to be sitting ducks for boys and men when they started dating, because they were too eager to please.

Candy generally wasn't eager to please, but she seemed worryingly willing to forgive Claymore his foibles. "Ahhhhrrrrrgh!" Carolyn growled into the wind. On top of all the concrete and measurable things that had changed or lost along with Robert, she most resented the fear and second guessing herself.

Nothing felt automatic or simple anymore. She teased apart every aspect of a situation to determine if it was the best option out of all possible options. Good enough wasn't good enough anymore. It had to be foolproof and iron clad. So much of what had been carefree in her life had seeped away.

She'd hoped moving away from her parents' home would solve that. There would no longer be anyone looking over her shoulder, suggesting she should have done things a different way. But sadly, the sense of inadequacy had followed her here. Some days it nearly drove her mad.

The wedding had been an imposition, but it also provided a break from self condemnation. She had been doing something kind and positive. It had been good for the children and Martha, too. But the doubt had come flooding back in the past two weeks.

Carolyn kicked at the waves. She missed her sessions with Pastor Ruth. Martha had suggested several times that Carolyn join them for Vacation Bible School. Maybe she would. It was an easy way to meet people. A way to be organically folded into the community.

Holding herself back, under some idea that she was protecting herself, was likely doing just the opposite. She needed people in her life. She needed alone time to get her writing done, and dream up her stories, but she needed people as well, and she needed to be needed.

She turned around and headed back up the beach. A man with a patchy beard was standing knee deep in the water, holding a disposable razor. He tipped his chin toward the sky and shaved his neck. He held the razor in the surf to wash away the stubble.

'I'll bet there's a story behind that!' she thought to herself, smiling. He had no mirror. He was using some combination of memory and feel.

The beach was such an interesting place. All kinds of things and people washed ashore, and every bit of flotsam, and every person, had several stories inside of them. Either they got here by accident, which was usually an interesting tale, or they were here by choice and there was something fascinating driving them.

She watched the man a while longer and then returned her gaze to the sea. A small flock of pelicans flew in a tidy line a few feet above the water. They flapped in rhythm, looking neither to the right or left.

She looked at the man again. She wondered what his story was. He could be a widower for all she knew. Did it affect men the same as it did women? Maybe gender had nothing to do with it, maybe every person felt and handled loss differently.

In her mind, she imagined a football field. On one side stood widowed women, on the other widowed men. Red shirts against blue shirts, but both teams had big white W's on their jerseys and every jersey had the number -1 on it. A whistle blew, and both teams started moving, but they didn't move against one another like an actual game of football. Instead, the players ran chaotically all over the field.

She laughed at her absurd idea, though it felt accurate. No one knew what to do when they lost a committed partner. Not a mere romance, but a relationship where two lives had wound together—with kids, debts, property, families and expectations all in a tangle.

Carolyn had loved before Robert. She had gone through teenage break ups she thought she'd never survive. She'd been certain those were the worst pain she would ever experience…but this was different. Not just the pain, but the process. Yet, she believed that were she to lose Candy or Jonathan, that would be more painful still.

Pastor Ruth pointed out that it wasn't a contest. It wasn't necessary or possible to measure what was the most painful, or greatest, loss. No one could say whether being widowed was harder if you'd been married for ten or thirty years.

But Carolyn found her mind playing that game sometimes. She had laid in bed one night and wondered if it would be worse for Gladys if Harvey died the night before their wedding, or if it happened two kids and ten years down the line.

Carolyn wasn't naïve, she knew that at ten years married, many couples were ready to divorce. There was no way to know if she and Robert would have still been happy in five, ten or fifteen years. There was no way to predict if Gladys and Harvey would make it to their tenth anniversary or if Harvey would one day be standing in the ocean shaving because he'd been kicked out of the house.

She sighed and headed back towards the steps that led up the cliff. She collected her sandals, brushed off her feet as best she could, and began to climb. Candy was removing Scruffy's halter when Carolyn entered the house.

"Did you two have a good walk?"

"Yeah, we walked, and then we talked with Barnaby. But he wanted to go to the beach, and we aren't allowed, so we came home," Candy explained.

"I was on the beach. I waved. I guess you didn't see me," Carolyn told her.

"I didn't know that was you! Usually you're in your room writing." Candy sounded disappointed.

"Don't worry, you didn't miss any seals," her mother assured her. "Martha and Jonathan are working on a fun project. Why don't we see if we can help them?"

"Really? You don't have to work?" Candy was clearly shocked.

"Part of my work is writing, but an important part of writing is doing interesting things, with interesting people and getting ideas for new things to write about! My next story might be waiting in the toys they're building!"

Carolyn smoothed back her daughter's hair.

Candy threw her arms around her mother's waist and hugged her. Carolyn smiled. She must be doing something right!

XXX

"Now you have to hold the handle with the towel or you'll get burned," Martha warned Jonathan, who was holding a nut pick over a candle flame.

"When it's good and hot, hold it just where I made this mark. It will melt the plastic and make a hole. Do the same thing on the other mark," she instructed.

"Will it get hot enough to melt metal too?" the boy asked. "I don't think they had plastic in The Captain's time."

"No, it won't melt metal. To make a hole in a metal lid, we'd need a block of wood and a nail," Martha explained.

"Why were you a cub scout leader if you didn't have any kids?" Candy asked, as she watched her brother concentrate on the nut pick.

"They used to call them den mothers, but they called me Den Martha." She remembered. "They needed the help, and it was easier for me than a mother with a handful of little kids at home. I always did well in science at school, and I enjoyed the boys. Their mothers liked that I taught them how to cook and bake too," she recalled.

"I think it's ready!" Jonathan announced. Martha nodded at him and he did as he had been told. The plastic melted, curling away from the hole. A little plume of black smoke rose into the air. He poked the next mark. The pick melted the plastic, but not as easily as before. "I'll heat it up again for the other lid," he decided.

"I'll bet the mothers only appreciated you teaching them to cook and bake because you taught them to clean up when they were done," Carolyn guessed, taking a sip of lemonade.

"And wash the dishes. They didn't get the badge for cooking unless they left everything spic and span and put the dishes away. I was tougher than the Den Dads. They let their scouts earn a badge just for reading the book, without ever proving they could do it." Martha shook her head in displeasure.

Carolyn nodded her agreement. There wasn't any point in a badge if you had learned nothing while earning it. Her mother had been her Girl Scout leader for one year. She'd been strict too, but probably not as much fun as Martha. She had made the girls sew a small sampler to earn their sewing badge, including sewing two functional buttonholes and sewing two buttons on.

Carolyn recalled being embarrassed in front of the other girls when her mother was harsh with them. Some things she'd required had been funny. She had made them practice walking with books on their heads for good posture. The fun part was she let them have races with books on their heads. They even tried it with two books each and laughed hysterically over it.

Bike safety had been less fun. Not all the girls had bikes or could ride a bike. Carolyn and her mother brought two bikes to the Church parking lot. Teaching a novice to ride wasn't the work of a single afternoon. Eventually, Carolyn's father put training wheels on one bike so all the girls could run the obstacle course made of parking cones. They also learned to put on and oil the chain, and adjust the seat and handlebars. They learned to adjust their helmet straps, and use hand signals for making turns.

Looking back, those were worthwhile lessons to learn, but it highlighted the financial disparity there was in her girl scout troop. The girls from poorer families didn't have bikes and helmets. It might have been a better lesson for them to learn to use public transportation, or to teach them about how to access the community services available to underprivileged kids.

"Candy, can you get the scissors out of the drawer? We're going to need them for this next part," Martha asked.

Candy's face went slack and white. She put her hand over her mouth.

"What's wrong?" Carolyn asked, unable to imagine why such a simple request would upset the girl.

"I took them outside this morning and forgot to bring them back in. I can run and get them. I know where they are."

"That's fine. We need to tape these together first," Martha told her.

"Why did you bring the scissors outside?" Carolyn asked as she watched Candy slip her sandals on.

"Barnaby needed to borrow them. I meant to bring them back, but I guess I got distracted."

"Barnaby?" Carolyn was surprised that Candy was still talking about him. She had expected the girl to grow tired of her 'friend' in a day or two.

"Yeah, he said he's cut his hair with his knife before, but he didn't think that was a good idea with his beard." Candy smiled at her mom. "I'll be right back!" She ran out the front door.

"Apparently, Barnaby has our scissors," Carolyn said with a tilt of her head.

"Ah, of course." Martha smiled. "The perfect scapegoat. Next thing you know, she'll be asking for a second helping of ice cream so Barnaby can have some."

Jonathan thought that was a pretty smart idea. Maybe he could get second helpings of things for BunBun. Too bad BunBun was a rabbit and really only liked rabbit food. It would be better if he ate things like mashed potatoes, macaroni, and pudding. Jonathan took the cord that Martha had given him and threaded it through the holes he'd made in the plastic lids.

He had just about gotten the cord and lids taped up and where they needed to be when Candy came back, somewhat breathless.

"Here they are." She held the scissors out, panting.

"You didn't run with those scissors did you?" her mother checked.

"No, I just walked fast. I promise." She crossed her heart.

"They're wet," Jonathan said, wrinkling his nose.

"I rinsed them in the hose," Candy explained.

"Candy, I'd really prefer you not take our good scissors outside. You have safety scissors in your room that you can use," Carolyn told her.

"Yes ma'am. I just didn't think those would be sharp enough."

"There isn't anything you need to cut that you can't cut with those. If you need sharper scissors, ask Martha or I for help."

Candy nodded, but she had a far off look. Not so much of stubbornness, but of conflict. To her mother, it was the sort of expression that looked as if she was thinking of how to get around the rules, but in reality, Candy was pondering the conundrum of what was more important, helping a friend, or following rules about scissors.

"I'm not kidding, young lady." Carolyn was determined to head any misbehavior off at the pass.

"I know. I won't take the scissors outside again," Candy said solemnly.

That seemed to end it. In another minute, Candy was busily helping with the project of making a homemade wind up 'jalopy', as Martha called it. They used the scissors to cut cardboard from an empty cereal box to use as the sides of the car.

Carolyn predominantly played a supportive role. She half recalled her brother Castle making a similar contraption when they were kids. He'd been very proud of it, but she found it rather silly. After all, they had nicer store bought toys. She hadn't appreciated the pride he'd felt in creating something, or the physics he'd learned from the process.

"When we were growing up, Uncle Castle made a car from a frozen orange juice can," she recalled.

"We used to make them from oatmeal boxes, but I guess an orange juice can would work," Martha considered.

"I don't know if it was exactly the same as this, but he had a lot of fun with it," she said with a shrug.

"I guess that only goes to show you that as far back as there have been people and wheels, we like to make things go," Martha said.

"I think we should make a covered wagon," Candy said. "The kind people used to ride across the prairie and go where there were no cities."

"But those had horses that pulled them. We want one that goes on its own," Jonathan argued.

Carolyn clapped her hands. "How about, this week, we make wind-up toys and next week we can make covered wagons?"

"Next week is vacation Bible School," Candy reminded them.

"Ok, the week after. And we can read stories of people who rode in covered wagons too," Carolyn sweetened the deal.

Candy didn't argue. But she didn't care to read stories of how hard everyone had it, and how their animals kept dying, and the food ran out and they got sick all the time and had to leave all their nice things behind on the prairie.

She knew all that was true and sometimes she enjoyed reading those stories, or hearing them read, but for now she just wanted to imagine herself going somewhere new and adventurous. She guessed moving to Maine was an adventure, but so far, they hadn't done more than go to the beach.

Candy took a pen and a discarded piece of cereal box and tried drawing an ox, because that is what pioneers used to pull their wagons. Oxen were usually brown, like the color of the cardboard.

She would need wheels, but she wouldn't need all those melters and twine and rubber bands like Jonathan's project.

Finally, one of his contraptions was ready for testing. They all went into the foyer and Jonathan, following Martha's instructions, wound the twine up tight, then released it. They all expected it to shoot forward, but nothing happened. The wheel made from the lid just spun and the car made a donut in place, but that was it.

"Now, don't get discouraged!" Martha told everyone. "We just need to make a few adjustments. That's part of the fun."

Candy decided she'd had enough fun. She got Scruffy's brush, sat on the second step, and brushed him. As long as she was gentle, he enjoyed it. When she came across some burrs and grass seeds tangled in his coat, she retrieved the scissors so she could remove them. When they were close to the skin, she let her mother handle them, but today there was nothing too serious.

"Good Boy Scruffy!" she praised as she finished up. She hadn't done as good a job on his back legs, because he kept sitting down. But from the front, he looked very handsome.

She remembered the sailor's hat and the bow that Scruffy had worn for the wedding photos and giggled. The official photos of the wedding hadn't been released yet. Candy was eager to see how she looked as the flower girl. For some reason, she believed that she would look far more elegant in those photos than in the ones her mother had taken with her phone.

After all, it was the photographer's job to make people look their very best. Otherwise, why were they paid all that money?

Since the kitchen table was covered with craft items, they made sandwiches at the counter and carried them outside on paper plates to eat on the porch. Candy put a handful of kibble on a paper plate for Scruffy.

"This reminds me we don't have a place for a meal if company comes," Carolyn said. "The house doesn't have a dining room. We could fit a table in the sitting room, I suppose, but that's one more expense." She sighed.

"We could get a folding table, or maybe you could find a secondhand table at a thrift store. Lots of people are doing away with dining tables," Martha pointed out.

"I have to do something. I can't put my mother off much longer and I know she wouldn't be comfortable eating on the porch, no matter how nice the weather."

"What about a picnic on the beach?" Candy asked. "Then we wouldn't need a table at all."

"Or those trays with legs that Grandma Marjorie has," Jonathan suggested. "I like those."

"I wonder what Captain Gregg was thinking when he built this house for aging sea captains. Where did he think they would eat?" Carolyn assumed he was listening and that sometime soon she would get her answer.

"He wasn't thinking about your mother, that's for sure. Men see life in an entirely different way. Since he installed Mr Belvedere, he probably anticipated that a woman would prepare the meals and send them upstairs so the men could eat in their rooms," Martha guessed. "Probably just as well. A table full of crotchety old men would hardly be restful for anyone."

Carolyn imagined a dozen Captain Greggs sitting around a table. Some missing limbs, others hard of hearing or with eyes clouded by cataracts. They'd be banging their canes on the floor, spilling soup, and comparing tall tales in accents from many lands.

Martha was right; eating in their rooms was far preferable. After dinner, they could gather in the sitting room to smoke cigars, enjoy the fire, and doze.

"I could buy a folding table, but then what would we do about chairs? I don't know why I'm fretting over it. After all, if my parents come to visit, it will be to see us, not to be wined and dined," Carolyn said, knowing the words were only partially true.

When Robert was alive, they had a dining set with three leaves. Entertaining was a given. She didn't want her parents to think now that Robert passed, she was a pathetic, struggling widow. She wanted them to be reassured that she was doing well, and the children had a stable home.

"It's not that I want to impress them. I just don't think my mother would be comfortable sitting in a metal folding chair," Carolyn reframed her thoughts.

"That's ok, she can use one of the beach chairs instead!" Candy suggested. "They have that woven stuff."

Carolyn smiled at her daughter's kindness and inventiveness. She saw the world with fresh, optimistic eyes. She believed every problem had a straightforward solution.

"I hadn't thought of that Candy, thank you," Carolyn said gently.

"There are a few chairs in the attic, but the seats are…" Jonathan made thumbs down with both hands.

"I can imagine," Martha said. "I'll bet the glue has come loose and the wood has rotted."

"I don't know. There's a lot of furniture around that's older than Gull Cottage. Maybe we could have the seats redone and use them," Carolyn said hopefully. "I need to talk to the upholsterer about the couch anyway, after those dogs." She frowned. For the time being, she'd thrown an old blanket over the couch. The photographer promised Carolyn that she'd be paid to have the couch cleaned or reupholstered—again. That was one more thing that needed to happen before she could invite her parents. At least one room had to be clean, comfortable, and attractive.

"Look! It's a frisbee!" Jonathan turned his paper plate upside down and sent it sailing.

Carolyn's first thought was to tell him that wasn't appropriate mealtime behavior, but it wasn't as if he was tossing china around. Besides, it fit in with the theme of the day, physics, and how things worked.

He didn't get the chance to do it again before Scruffy went running after the plate and chewed it to bits. Jonathan sent Scruffy's plate sailing too, but the wind caught it and Scruffy had to go tearing across the yard after it as it tumbled over and over. It went over the wall and blew past the driveway into the field next door.

"Sorry," Jonathan said gravely.

"I'll help you catch it!" Candy offered.

"Let Scruffy get it! I don't want you two going in that field. There could be ticks or snakes," Carolyn told them.

The kids let Scruffy out the front gate and watched as he ran, barking after the plate.

"Today seems to be all about how things go," Carolyn told Martha.

"Too often they go in one ear and out the other," Martha remarked. "I have a feeling, now that we've talked about it, a dining set will find us."

"I wish I hadn't given ours to Castle and Lynn," Carolyn admitted. "But it took up so much room, and I felt that without Robert, we'd never sit around it as a family again. And I certainly didn't need all the extensions that we used for his work dinners."

"That's normal. We can only see where we are, not what's ahead of us. We can't make plans for a future we can't predict," Martha said. "Oh dear, if I went back through all the furniture, equipment, clothing and books that I've gotten rid of only to wish I had them in the future…but it's always worked out, because someone else is getting rid of something they think they don't need, and I can take advantage of it."

Carolyn nodded. "You're right, things go around and around."

"It's better that way, more efficient. But there are a few things I've had the good sense to hang on to no matter what!" Martha declared. "My grandmother's pie pans, my father's Bible, and my complete set of Donna Parker and Trixie Belden books. You know I still read those, even after all these years?"

They heard laughter and happy barking.

"You're right. There are some things that I didn't even have to think about. I knew I was keeping them, no matter what," Carolyn realized.

The kids came back, Candy held the mangled plate, and Scruffy trotted proudly behind her, like a hunter back from the kill. Jonathan stopped to pick up the chewed bits of paper from the front lawn.

The simple scene warmed Carolyn's heart. Kids and their dog under a blue sky over an expanse of blue green water. This was a moment that she couldn't have concocted. It was a moment that came together as the result of good ingredients allowed to bake and simmer until they burst forth in a gentle sort of happiness.

People could dream, plan and realize a fancy wedding, or magazine worthy photos, but they couldn't create something like this. This was what made it all worth it. This was the essence of life.

XXX

"So you've always been a city girl," Barnaby noted.

Candy nodded. "Well, at least until I moved here. I mean Schooner Bay isn't really big enough to be a city, and we live outside it. But it's not the country either!" Candy frowned, trying to make sense of it.

"It's a bit of town life and a bit of wilderness. I'll bet you see animals here you didn't see in the city," he mused.

"People see seals on the beach, but I keep missing them. There's a raccoon that hangs around, but there were raccoons in the city, even if I didn't see them. Seems like there should be a lot more wild animals, don't you think?"

"There are, but they prefer the peace and quiet of the woods. I've seen all kinds of things on my hikes," Barnaby assured her.

"In Maine? Or on your other hikes?"

"Right here in Maine!" he assured her, banging his walking stick on the ground for emphasis. "Thing is, they hide. You can look right at them and not see them until they move," he explained.

She looked into the woods and frowned. She didn't like the idea that there might be many pairs of eyes looking at her that she didn't know about.

"What's the biggest animal you've seen? Was it a grizzly bear?"

"No, they're mighty large, at least when they're well fed. But grizzly bears don't live in Maine. They live out west. But here you have moose." He raised his eyebrows as if that was an impressive fact, but Candy didn't know why.

"Aren't they just big deer?" She'd seen pictures of them in books. Mostly cartoony pictures in storybooks. "With big antlers." She put her thumbs to her temples and held her fingers out to mimic moose antlers.

"Yes, and yes, but I wouldn't say 'just'. They're majestic animals, and they're huge!" He motioned with his arms to signify both height and width.

"Taller than me?" Candy asked. Honestly, she wasn't sure how big a regular old deer was, either. She'd seen deer at a petting zoo. They didn't look very big, but it was hard to tell. She'd been standing on a deck above them.

Barnaby laughed and slapped his thigh. "Moose are taller than me!" He stood up and placed a palm on his head. "Far taller than me. I'm not very tall for a man," he pointed out.

"The top of a moose's back is above my head!" He raised his palm nearly a foot over his head. "And that's just the back! The top of its head is way up there." He raised his hand as high as he could and stood on his tiptoes.

He was no longer wearing the worn hiking boots. He had bought a cheap pair of slip-on sneakers when he'd caught a ride into town.

"And if you put the antlers on top of that…well, I couldn't even jump high enough to touch the tips."

Candy tried to process what he was saying, but she couldn't really imagine it. "That's about as big as a dinosaur, I think!"

"Bigger than some dinosaurs," Barnaby agreed.

"Are they as tall as the branch on that tree?" Candy pointed to a tree on the edge of the forest.

"Taller! They could use that branch to scratch their arse…I mean rump."

Candy's forehead drew into a concerned crinkle. "But how could something so big hide so you couldn't even see it?" That part made no sense whatsoever.

"It's the mystery of wild things. There are so many secrets in the wilderness, and only sometimes are we privileged to understand them." His tone was reverential.

"How long are they?"

Barnaby held out his arms, looked from fingertip to fingertip and shook his head. "Bigger. Come here beside me."

Candy did, and Barnaby sized her up and down. "Stretch out your arms," he instructed, then looked from her fingertips to his far ones.

"I think that's about right!"

Candy craned her neck to see. "That's pretty big. Do they make noise?"

"Oh, so many noises." Barnaby put his arms down. "They snort and moo and sometimes they bark like a dog or squawk like a duck. The first many times I heard them, I didn't know what I was dealing with. It nearly made me believe in Bigfoot!"

"After Scruffy chased away a raccoon, Mommy looked them up online and we watched a video, and they made so many funny noises," Candy recalled.

Barnaby nodded. "People think we're the only ones with a language, but that's not so. Most animals have an array of different sounds, not just one. I've often thought it would be a fine thing to be like Doctor Doolittle and be able to talk to them."

Candy giggled at that.

"You can laugh, but let me tell you, when you're alone in the woods, and you didn't know there was anything around you but birds and you hear a moose call so close and so loud you have to cover your ears. It makes you think a time or three about who's the king of the forest."

She nodded. "We had a fence thing on the side of the house for flowers to grow on. It was loose and would bang and bang and bang. And even though I knew what it was, I'd sometimes get scared. I was afraid the raccoons were climbing up it and would come in my window."

Barnaby was nodding, but he was also studying the ground. "If we smooth the sand out here, I believe we could draw in it!"

"What do you want to draw?"

"Why a moose, of course! Life-sized!"

Candy looked at the ground. It was sand, covered by a layer of sticks, pine needles and leaves. If Moose were as big as Barnaby said, they were going to have to clear a lot of things out of the way.

"First thing, we need to make an outline," Barnaby explained. He took his wooden walking stick and counted steps as he paced out a rectangle he deemed the right size to hold a moose. He even laid down on the ground to test it against his height, and make adjustments.

He drew a line for the back and then drew lines about where legs would be.

"They've a loooong neck," he told Candy as he made lines to represent that.

"You're drawing a stick moose," she reasoned.

"This is just the beginning. When you make a drawing of an animal, or person, and you want it to look real, you mark out the rough form first to get proportions right."

"What are poprotions?"

"Pro-por-tions," he corrected. "That is how big one part is compared to another!" he explained as he drew. "Once you have that right, filling in the rest is easy."

"My daddy was an architect. He drew pictures of houses and buildings and they had to look real."

"I'm sure your father was very careful about proportions," Barnaby said with a nod.

"Not careful enough. One day he went to look at a building they were making from one of his drawings, and it fell on him and he died."

Barnaby stopped what he was doing and walked to her. "My dear, I had no idea. That's terrible." He stooped down to look into her face. A tear was making its way down one cheek.

She sniffed and nodded quickly, but another tear fell, and another.

"Oh Candy," Barnaby said sadly. He waved for her to come close and wrapped her in a hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Sometimes I miss him a lot, and sometimes I don't hardly think about him," she said through her tears. "He was a good daddy, but I'm glad it was him and not Mommy who died."

Barnaby nodded but said nothing. He understood that for a little child, no matter how they loved their daddy, mommy was their anchor. After losing one parent, there must automatically be a fear of losing the other. The impudent confidence of childhood was broken.

"Daddy wouldn't have liked it here. But I do. I'm glad we moved here," she declared, sniffing and pulling back. "I do like it here!"

"I like it here too," Barnaby told her.

Candy wiped at her nose with the back of her forearm. "We have a storybook with a cartoon moose in it, and he has a big nose."

"They do have quite substantial noses. A regal profile, if you may."

She looked at him blankly.

"A profile is the way a thing looks from the side. That's what we're drawing here." He motioned to the lines in the sand.

"Profile, pro-por-tions, portrait! I know what that one is because we have one hanging in our sitting room. It's not of anyone in the family, it's of someone who's been dead a long time," she explained.

Scruffy was stretching and yawning and getting up from where he'd been napping on the pine needles. He walked right across the moose drawing, stopped in front of Candy and barked three times, then looked at her expectantly.

"I guess it must be lunchtime," she said sadly. "I'd better take him home."

"No need to look down. I'll finish our drawing!" Barnaby promised.

Candy smiled at that. "Do you like lemonade?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Our Martha makes the best lemonade. I'll bring you some."

"I would be very much obliged." Barnaby bowed to her.

Candy picked up Scruffy's leash, and they headed home. He pranced with his head high, stopping to sniff and pee all along the way.

"There you are! Didn't you hear me calling you?" Carolyn asked when she saw the two coming up the walk.

"I'm sorry, I was busy drawing in the sand. I didn't hear, but Scruffy did."

"Martha made grilled cheese sandwiches and you know they aren't any good cold," Carolyn ushered the girl into the house.

There was no doubt about it; a grilled cheese sandwich was great when it was all melty and hot, but Candy had eaten them cold before and they were still delicious.

Martha had poured Kool-Aid for Candy and Jonathan. A plate of sandwiches cut diagonally (which was Candy's favorite way) sat in the middle of the table. Each person's plate had a serving of potato salad and a serving of cut fruit on it.

Jonathan said grace, which was fine with Candy since he usually chose a short one that didn't have a lot of extra thank you's tacked on. It was only seconds until she was biting into the heart of a perfectly golden, melted masterpiece.

Candy focused on eating, while Jonathan chattered on about some improvement he'd made on his wind up car thing and the plans he had for making a boat.

Candy helped herself to another half sandwich. This time she took three bites from the center, and then nibbled her way around the outside, eating the buttery crust. Then she took a bite of potato salad then a bite of sandwich until it was gone. She saved her fruit salad for last, like dessert.

"Jonathan, it's been very interesting hearing about your project, but don't you think you should give someone else a chance to share?" Carolyn suggested.

"Yes, ma'am, sorry ma'am," he said with a sigh. Clearly, nothing anyone else had to say would be very interesting to him.

"How about you Candy? Did you say something about drawing?" Carolyn prompted.

"Yes, Barnaby and I are drawing a moose. He's seen them before, but I never had. He said they are super tall, like…" she looked around the room. "At least as tall as the doorway! We want our drawing to be that big!" She stretched her arms out.

"That sounds like quite a project! Where did Barnaby meet this moose?" her mother asked.

"In the woods. He said they live here in Maine, but most of the time they're invisible, and they make scary noises!" Candy was proud to know about something that no one else did.

"I guess they'd have to be invisible if they're that big, or we'd see them everywhere," Martha reasoned. She ate her grilled cheese with a fork and knife.

"He said you can be standing right next to one and not even know it's there until it roars and hurts your ears."

"I never knew moose roared," Martha said with a smile. "Learn something new every day."

Candy nodded. "They bark too!"

"Is there anything they can't do?" Carolyn asked, catching Martha's eye as she did so.

"Well, yeah. I mean, they can't read or drive cars or anything. They can only do moose stuff," Candy explained.

"Well, that's all very interesting. I never knew you knew so much about them," Carolyn praised her.

"I don't really, but Barnaby does. He's been all over and seen all kinds of animals. Mommy, could you find a picture of a moose on your computer and print it out? It sure would help with our drawing."

"I'd be happy to. I printed out some plans for one of Jonathan's cars earlier. You two are both so busy with interesting things!"

Candy stayed to help Martha clean up. "Can I have the leftover sandwiches for later?" she asked. She wasn't sure if Martha or her mother would be ok with her giving food to Barnaby.

Barnaby didn't need her food, but he'd shared his food with Candy, and it seemed right to share some in exchange.

"Sure, wrap it up in foil, but you make sure Scruffy doesn't get a hold of it. Grilled cheese doesn't agree with his tummy."

"Thanks Martha, and could you put some lemonade in my canteen?" she asked as she put the potato salad into the fridge. "There's nothing better than lemonade on a hot day."

"No need to butter me up. You can have lemonade, but mind, you don't wreck your appetite for dinner." Then Martha stopped and looked at the girl. "Well, I guess you won't. There's nothing like a day of playing outside to work up an appetite, and I know how much you like grilled cheese."

"You're the best!" Candy wrapped her arms around Martha's waist. "I'll go get my canteen."

Candy went digging through the toy box. She'd received a plastic canteen as part of a safari kit the previous Christmas from her grandparents. She had thought it kind of silly and babyish at the time. It came with a cloth safari hat, a butterfly net and a bug keeper and fake binoculars. But the canteen would come in handy today.

Candy had wanted to get rid of it, but her mother had told her to keep it because Jonathan might like it.

Before heading downstairs, Candy went into her mother's room. Carolyn had pulled up some photos of moose on her laptop and was looking at them. "How about this one?" she asked.

Candy shook her head. "It has to be a profile, like that." She pointed to a nice clear image with nothing obscuring the moose's outline.

Carolyn printed it off, and Candy rolled it up and hurried downstairs with her canteen.

"I guess she liked the safari kit after all. She just needed a moose hunt to get her interested," Carolyn guessed with a shrug.

In a few minutes, Candy was on her way up the road, her food and drink in her sand pail, and her moose picture in her other hand. This time, she left Scruffy at home.

Barnaby was sitting against a tree, chewing on a long bit of grass and reading a book.

"Candy! I didn't hope to see you so soon!" He sat forward.

"I have some stuff." She hurried over. "Look, here's a picture to help us with the drawing."

"And in the pail?" He peeked over the edge.

"Oh, yeah, I brought you a grilled cheese sandwich and some lemonade."

His eyes grew wide and a little wet. Candy was pretty sure it wasn't because he was sad. She knew that grownups sometimes got confused and cried when they were happy.

He sure looked happy eating that sandwich. He savored every bite. And when he tasted the lemonade, he wore an expression as if angels were singing.

"That was maybe the best meal I've ever eaten, certainly the best I've had in years." He pressed his hands together as if praying and bowed to her.

She was pretty sure that this was an example of exaggeration, but the look on his face was pretty convincing. She thought this might be what her mother meant when she said that sometimes people say something because it's true at the moment, even if it may not be true for all time.

Martha did make the best grilled cheese and lemonade.

"What is that you have there?" He pointed to the roll in her hand. It was a little crumpled now.

She grinned widely and unrolled it. "I thought it would help us get the picture right! My mom printed it for us."

Barnaby nodded his head. "It's just what we need!"

"And it's in profile and everything!"

Barnaby stood up, and they walked over to their drawing. Now that they had the printout, Candy could see how they had misjudged the length of the moose. They were also missing the hump on its back.

Barnaby made a few changes and stood back. "Sand is more difficult to draw in when it's dry, but it is easier to erase." He stepped forward and blurred some lines with his foot.

He took up his walking stick again and made some new lines. "In the far east, drawing, and even writing is done with the entire body. The body moves with the lines, following the strokes." He exaggerated some curves. "It's a physical and spiritual exercise. People practice for decades learning to get the strokes just right."

"What's a decade?" Candy asked, as she mimicked some of his moves.

He smiled at her. "A decade is a very long time. I don't suppose you are familiar with martial arts?"

Candy nodded vigorously. "I went to a few Taekwondo classes when I was staying with my mother's cousins after my dad…" She didn't want to go into that again. Instead, she assumed a starting position, which was about the only thing she recalled from her classes.

"Well, there are many forms of martial arts. You notice they use the word art. Some forms are about fighting and focus, some are about strength and balance, and others about fluidity of motion and moving energy." He moved gracefully as he spoke.

"The motion involved in drawing and calligraphy is very similar." He hit the ground with his stick three times in quick succession.

Candy recalled something else from her classes. She did what he had done just a short time earlier. She pressed her palms together and bowed at the waist.

"Together!" Barnaby dropped his stick, and they bowed to one another, then to the moose.

"And now we move energy around?" Candy checked.

"I think…" Barnaby picked up the printout. "That what we want to do is take the energy from this photograph, pull it into our hands, and then send it out into the ground to form our image."

He put one hand over the printed image and breathed in slowly, as if he was sucking in the moose's essence, like a milkshake through a straw.

Then he picked up his stick and slowly extended his arm. He exhaled, the moose essence out through the stick. He studied the picture, then drew fluidly.

"You got the hump just right!" Candy clapped her hands. Somehow, the hump changed everything; it stopped looking like a deer or horse and grew moose like.

"Do you know about positive and negative?" Barnaby asked.

"That's when you talk about happy things or bad things," was her child's answer.

"Correct, but they are also used in art. Positive is when you add something, and negative is when you take away. An artist can make a sculpture by adding clay to form a body, or by chipping away at a stone until only the shape of a body remains," he explained.

Candy imagined what he was describing in her mind, but she couldn't see what it had to do with the moose.

"Our moose here could benefit from both positive and negative. Once we have the outline done, we can remove the pine needles and things around the moose so it's easier to see. And we could fill in the moose's shape with pine cones and needles to make it stand out."

Candy was beginning to see it in her mind, too.

"When we take things away, we're using negative space and when we add things, we are creating positive space."

"What about the antlers?" Somehow, they didn't seem to fit into either negative or positive, since they should stick out.

Barnaby looked around. "Well, perhaps as we work, something will come to light. Driftwood would look very realistic, don't you think?"

"I don't know. I never saw moose antlers. The ones in the pictures look kind of dark."

"We don't have to worry about it now. For now, we will focus on the outline, and the negative space around it."

Barnaby set Candy to work, removing the debris around the moose's legs, since most of that area would be negative space. When he finally worked out the outline of the legs. Candy added debris from outside the outline to the inside of the outline.

"Do you think I have the snout right?" Barnaby pointed his stick to the moose's nose.

Candy compared it to the printout. "It's not long enough, and it needs to be more…" She didn't know the word for it, so she motioned with her hand to her own nose, holding her hand as if she was holding a baseball.

"Bulbous," Barnaby supplied. "I see what you mean!" He scuffed out his line and tried again. The third time, he got it just right. "It's as if the moose is coming to life right before our eyes!"

Candy nodded. That was how it seemed.

Barnaby worked on the ears, but in the dry sand, the delicate shape didn't hold its definition. "It's believed that the cavemen drew images of the animals they hunted before they went on a hunt. Drawing what they hoped would happen created a sort of energy vortex, calling their wishes into being."

Candy didn't understand vortex, but she understood drawing something you wanted to help it come true. Before she learned to write, her mom and dad used to tell her to draw what she wanted for Christmas.

"Do you think our drawing will make a moose appear?" Candy asked in wonder, unsure whether she would like that or not.

"Oh dear, I hadn't thought of that," Barnaby admitted.

"That would be neat, but really scary," Candy thought aloud. "I saw a movie once where this girl used to think up all kinds of crazy things and whenever she ate some magic berries, whatever she thought about came true."

"I hope I never come across those berries," Barnaby said. "Because my mind thinks so many odd things. I wouldn't like to have to live in the world I have up here!" He tapped on his forehead.

"It would be ok if you could decide which thoughts came true," Candy decided. "But in the movie, she didn't get to choose."

"I'm sure there's a lesson there beyond being careful about which berries we eat," Barnaby said solemnly. "But I'm not sure what it is."

"I want to see a moose, but I'm not sure I want a real moose this close to home," Candy admitted.

"I think…" Barnaby poked the stick and made an eye for the moose. "That we get to choose how our moose energy gets used. We could say, 'I want this moose to come to life!' Or we could say—" He outlined an elbow on one of the beast's long front legs. "That we want to send our powerful moose energy into the nearest moose so that it has a long and healthy life!"

"Can we really do that?"

"Of course! Have you ever heard of praying for people? Or telling them to have a good day, or wishing them good luck? That's just pushing energy in different directions, and there's no reason we can't wish well on some lucky moose!"

Candy knew about praying, but she'd never thought of it as pushing energy around. It made sense. It made so much sense that she didn't understand why someone hadn't told her that before.

"Can we name our moose?" Candy asked.

"I don't see why not! Of course, we will give it a name in our language, which may not coincide with its name in moose talk," Barnaby pointed out.

"I saw a movie like that once, too. This lady's name was 'Ka we ka li' in the Iroquois language, but in our language it meant water lily," Candy recalled.

"Exactly like that! Or how some people have nicknames that their family or close friends call them? We'll be giving our moose a nickname."

"Candy is my nickname, I guess, since my real name is Candace."

"When I was younger, my family called me Barney," he told her.

She thought for a minute then said, "I like Barnaby better."

"So do I," he said with a smile. "But I think I prefer Candy for you."

She nodded. "Everyone likes Candy."

"But what shall we name our moose?" Barnaby passed his stick over the form of the moose.

"That might take a while. Do you think we should give it an Iroquois name?"

"I think that the word moose is derived from a native language," he explained.

"You sure know a lot," Candy said.

"I have a lot of time to read," he allowed.

"Well, I don't know about what a moose does, or what it eats or anything. That's how the people in the movies come up with names. It describes something about the people. So Scruffy would be 'one who eats squeaky toys' or something like that."

"Then your name, Candy, fits you, as you are both sweet and one who brings joy." He bowed to her.

She felt her cheeks grow warm so, rather than speak, she bowed back to say thank you.

They worked a little while longer on the moose until Barnaby yawned and excused himself for a nap. Candy left the moose photo with him and walked home, thinking she needed to read about moose so she could come up with a perfect name for one.

'Funny looking deer with a big nose' didn't seem quite majestic enough for their moose. The name had to be just right.

XXX

Jonathan pulled back the thingamajig they had made and let it go. It worked a little better than it had before. He'd added a rubber band around the plastic lids for more traction. But it still only went a fraction as far as his store-bought car did.

He sat back on his heels and frowned. He'd put a lot of time and effort into this car, and it was barely working at all. Martha said that testing and improvement was how everything got better, people and machines, but he was losing patience.

"I think it would benefit from more weight," The Captain told the boy. "It needs something to hold it down so the wheels maintain contact with the ground."

"But I thought that weight slows things down," Jonathan groaned.

"Too much weight, yes, but in matters such as this–" The Captain chose his words carefully. "It requires the proper balance between gravity and friction."

"I know about gravity; that's what makes things fall, but what is friction?"

"Friction is things rubbing against one another. Tires have to press on the ground in order to move a vehicle forward."

"Like my tennis shoes press on the ground so I can run and jump?"

"Exactly! If there was no friction, things would just slip and slide and never get anywhere," The Captain pointed out.

"What about airplanes? They aren't on the ground. They're up in the air and they move forward. They fly really fast," Jonathan argued.

"There's friction even in the air. That's how the wind blows things around. Even very large things like ships with sails," The Captain countered.

Jonathan got up to retrieve his thingamajig. It had five wheels, and it looked nothing like a car. "How heavy do you think it needs to be?" he asked The Captain as he examined the contraption of cardboard, rubber bands, lids and wheels.

"Perhaps we can add a few coins? Then we could add or take away until we got it right," The Captain suggested.

The ice cream truck money was right there on the foyer table in a wide mouthed glass jar. Jonathan reached in and grabbed a handful.

He added several coins and tried the contraption again. It rolled a little further, then four of the coins flew out.

"I guess I should have added seatbelts," Jonathan said, sharing a smile with The Captain, but The Captain looked puzzled.

"Those are what we wear, so we won't fly out if there's a car accident," the boy explained. "You didn't have to do that with your wagons?"

"No, but we used ropes to secure the items in the wagon bed for a similar reason," The Captain recalled.

"Maybe I can use tape." The boy went into the kitchen to retrieve supplies.

They did several test runs, and while adding weight helped, it didn't help very much.

"Martha says the paddle boats work better," Jonathan said as he removed tape from the coins and returned them to the jar. "She says you make a little paddle wheel and wind it up and it goes." Jonathan motioned something whizzing along with his hand.

"I think it would be great fun to build a boat!" The Captain smiled. "Perhaps, after we build one of Martha's designs, we could build a ship with a sail."

"And race them!" Jonathan added.

"Indeed! A capital idea!"

Carolyn started down the stairs. "What are you two planning?" she asked.

The Captain stood up and pulled his coat straight. "We're making plans for a regatta!" He shimmered in and out of sight, having been unprepared for her arrival.

"We are?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, a regatta is a boat race," The Captain told him.

"Yeah, that," Jonathan agreed. "This car thing isn't working very well." He scrunched his nose at the disappointing toy.

"But I'm sure you've learned a great deal by building it," Carolyn nudged him to find the lesson in the experience.

"Yeah, I learned that stuff you buy at the store works better," Jonathan agreed.

"Tch! Jonathan, is that all you learned?" Her disappointment was obvious in her tone.

"I learned that Martha used to be a cub scout leader," he added.

"And that innovation requires diligence!" The Captain said enthusiastically.

Jonathan didn't understand all those words. He looked to his mother for an interpretation.

"Most inventions aren't successful on the first try," she summarized.

"We had lots of first tries," Jonathan explained his reluctance to keep going.

"Martha said we could use a meat tray to make the boat. That way it won't sink," Jonathan told his mother.

"A meat tray?" The Captain could only imagine something very large and wooden, which was unlikely to sink, but would require a large body of water to test it in.

"Yes, they're…well…" Carolyn wasn't sure how to describe styrofoam to someone entirely unfamiliar with it. "They're like a plate, and made from a material that is very lightweight."

The Captain nodded, uncertain of what she was referring to, but at least he had a better idea as to the size of said trays.

"Can I make a sailboat from one of these meat trays?" The Captain wasn't certain at this point if the tray was meant to hold meat or used when meeting someone.

"I guess that depends on how much time and effort you're willing to put into innovation," Carolyn teased.

He smiled back and shimmered into full view. "Are we well and truly done with the photographers and intrusions?" he asked.

Carolyn's lips drew thin as she considered how to answer. "For now. They've accepted my copy, even though they may have to make some changes once they've gone over the photographs. So, from our end, everything to do with that article is over."

"But?"

"While I can't foresee any further articles about the cottage, hopefully my work as a writer is just beginning," she explained. "And I can't promise that it won't be disruptive from time to time."

"I always assumed a writer wrote their story here and sent it there and that was the end of it. I don't understand why there needs to be so many pictures. Indeed, they can't use more than a handful, but the blasted photographers took thousands. Why they took photos only to decide where they wanted to take more photos!" The Captain was clearly perplexed.

"Think of it this way. After all the time, money, and hard work you've put into the cottage, and all the decades of overseeing it, other people will finally have the opportunity to appreciate it. That makes all you've done worthwhile," Carolyn reframed it.

"I suppose you're right. In the same manner that having your family here makes it worthwhile, since I failed to have a family of my own," he allowed.

Carolyn nodded slowly. The Captain could be irascible at times, but usually he was willing to look at things another way when invited with a certain amount of charm. Carolyn compared it to the spoon full of sugar that helped the medicine go down.

Jonathan, having gathered together the bits of the failed car, placed them into his mother's hands. "BunBun and I are going out back to play pirates," he announced.

She and The Captain watched him walk away.

"I'm sorry this project was such a disappointment for him," Carolyn said once Jonathan was out of earshot.

"I'm not," The Captain declared. "We need our challenges. They shape us, build character and teach us empathy. He'll be more understanding of other people's failures and frustrations from now on," he predicted.

"I know you're right. It's just that he was so excited when he started, and now he looks dejected."

"Very much as you have been looking the past several days, Madame." The Captain gave a little bow.

"The thing is, now that I have the articles written, I have to beat the bushes for more opportunities, and in between work on some of my own stories."

"What about our story? The one we began when you first visited?" The Captain reminded her.

"We really should finish that. The problem with fiction is that once I write the story, I have to send it around hoping someone will want to buy it. At least with articles I can send inquiries out before I've put all the time and effort in," Carolyn explained.

"Surely there's a world of things to write articles on," The Captain noted, following her into the sitting room.

"There are, but I have the children to consider. I don't want to spend a lot of time traveling places for my writing and leaving them here with Martha. I want to find a way to be a mother and earn money with my writing."

She went to the front window and looked out on the lawn. "Summer is more than halfway over and I still haven't planted any flowers."

"I hardly think that's a useful rubric for measuring your worth as a parent," The Captain noted.

"Maybe, but it's a goal I set for myself. I mean, really, what would it take? I spend one afternoon weeding, and then another planting something I picked up in town. It shouldn't take more than a few hours!"

"You could task the children with pulling the weeds," The Captain suggested.

"Or Scruffy. If I pointed to the place I wanted to plant and told him to dig, it would be done in no time." She laughed at the image.

"Not unlike young Jonathan and his toy car, you are finding parenting without your husband challenging in unexpected ways," The Captain said, trying to simplify it for himself as well as her.

"Luckily, I'm not really alone. I have Martha…and you," she acknowledged. "But in a way that makes me feel worse. If I was on my own, I could at least blame that for the things that don't get done."

"Look at that view!" The Captain pointed out towards the ocean. "Why are you fretting over a few flowers when one of the wonders of creation is laid before you?"

Carolyn gazed at a view that was so beautiful it was almost too much to take in. She nodded tightly, then felt a sting in her eye, because Robert wasn't here to share it—would never be here to share it. What right did she have to the view, and the house and the children, when he would have none of it?

She didn't speak his name, but somehow The Captain could feel that in her mind she'd moved away from him and was thinking of her husband. She had gone to the place where he could not follow, so he took his leave and drifted to the attic.

XXX

"Mommy, how do you find out what a name means?" Candy asked during supper. "Grandma said my name meant bright light, but how does she know? And why doesn't my name mean sweet?"

"Well, most names are just words in one language or another. So if you find out where a name came from, you can find out what it meant in that language," Carolyn explained.

"What does my name mean?" Jonathan asked.

"It means a gift from God," his mother told him.

"Well, I'm not sure I'm fancy enough to sit at the table with two such amazing personages," Martha said. "Bright light and gift of God! My goodness!"

"Buy your name must mean something too," Candy pointed out.

Carolyn usually banned phones and tablets from the table, but since this was an educational conversation, and they were nearly finished eating, she pulled her phone out and did a search.

"Why, this is perfect!" she said with a laugh. "Martha, your name means mistress or lady of the house!"

"Well, I am a lady and I am all about the house, but I'm not sure mistress fits," Martha allowed.

"What about yours Mommy?" Jonathan asked.

"Oh dear. Apparently, no one can make up their mind. In German, Carolyn means brave, but in French it's little feminine one, and in Italian it means a joyful song!"

"So you're a small brave singing woman," Martha summed it up.

"Brave and woman perhaps, but I'm not especially small and I can't really sing," Carolyn owned.

"But can you go the other way?" Candy pressed. "Can you come up with a meaning and then find a name that fits?"

"I don't see why not. What are you looking for a name for?"

Candy felt silly telling them it was a moose. "Someone with a big nose," she said instead.

Jonathan laughed.

Martha smiled, but then put on her thoughtful face. "Shnauz!"

"Is that a name?" Candy asked.

"It means big nose," Martha assured her.

"How about Nasone? That's Italian." Carolyn read from her phone.

Candy didn't think either of those was good for her and Barnaby's beautiful moose.

"Do any names mean black stockings?" she tried again. Moose looked like they were wearing long black stockings.

"In French it's bas noirs," Carolyn read.

Candy wrinkled her nose. "That's not a name."

"I'm sorry, honey, but there don't seem to be any names yet for those things," Carolyn told her.

"Who do you know with a big nose who wears black stockings?" Jonathan wondered.

"A very ugly ballerina," Martha suggested. "Finish up so we can have dessert."

"How about antlers?" Candy tried again.

"I doubt there will be anything…" Carolyn typed into her phone. "There is something, Cernunnos, the horned god of the woods."

"I don't know if I can say that."

"Ok, how about Buck?" Carolyn offered. "Or Hershel, that means deer. Lockhart, Oscar and Roscoe!"

"Is this a boy or a girl big nosed ballerina?" Martha checked.

"I don't know. I didn't really think about it. Lockhart is ok, and Hershel is neat!" Candy said, smiling widely.

"If you can't tell if it's a boy or a girl, that ballerina must be even uglier than I thought," Martha remarked as she collected the empty plates.

This sent Jonathan into an even greater fit of giggles. "Oscar the ugly ballerina," he squeaked the words out between giggles.

Candy could imagine Oscar being a pretty good name for a moose, just not for her moose. Lockhart sounded kind of moosey too, but it wasn't regal like Hershel.

Since she already had her phone out and everyone was otherwise occupied, Carolyn typed in 'Daniel'. God is my judge. Well! That was a stern meaning, but also somehow fitting for their ghostly sea captain.

"Look up Scruffy mommy!" Jonathan suggested.

"Hmmm, it says dogs named Scruffy tend to be loving, brave, and industrious. That means they work hard," Carolyn explained.

"That sounds about right!"

"Ah, they also tend to be independent," she read on.

"That's our Scruffy all right," Martha quipped.

Scruffy gave two happy yips. He heartily approved!

XXX