Chapter Twenty-Two

The Captain's Cottage

Author's Note: These next few chapters are for those who have asked for more of Devon and Carolyn's story, pretty, pretty please. There will not be many and they will all tie up nicely and then their story of requited love and Happy Ever After will have truly been told. Schrödinger's cat is very happy now.

Thanks to all who have followed me on this journey which started with a very simple idea. Fix Devon's love life! I think I have done that.

There is also a new chapter Fan Fic for Gull Cottage. Please click on this below:

Ghost Of A Chance, a ghost and mrs. muir fanfic | FanFiction

Éirinn go Brách, Edward. Go raibh maith agat.

Slainté mhaith, mo chara. Téigh le Dia, i gcónaí… Go with God, always…

※※※※※

Six weeks later:

Kneeling on the grimy wooden floor of the cluttered attic room, I began to sneeze. The rising dust cloud from all my hard work had wreathed my head with particles that hung in the humid air. I dropped my cleaning cloths and rubbed at my itchy nose with the handkerchief I pulled from the hip pocket of my old pair of jeans. I wiped the back of my hand across my damp forehead.

I was tired and hungry. My stomach had been grumbling for some time over the lack of nourishment and my throat felt desert dry. But I wasn't about to give up and call it a day. There was still so much work to be done.

I'd been there for some hours, working slowly and methodically through years of broken and forgotten things. I had just made an unusual discovery and sank back on my heels, deep in thought about the past few weeks and all we had managed to get done.

While Devon and I had been on our honeymoon, Michael had employed an army of professional cleaners to go through the lower floors of the house, sweeping it clean and making everything gleam. But I'd resisted all suggestions that the attic should also be completely cleared out and cleaned. For some reason I couldn't properly explain, I said I wanted to do that myself.

Two days before our wedding, I'd climbed the narrow, dusty, cobwebbed stairs and entered this secret haven. I had been looking for the way up to the widow's walk on the top of the house. I still hadn't found it.

But what I did discover was a large room stuffed full almost to bursting with junk and many forgotten treasures. Trunks, boxes, artefacts, rolled-up sea charts, ledgers and journals. An old, brass sextant hung on one wall together with an enormous and dangerous-looking harpoon. They were both covered in dust and cobwebbed together.

The executor of the previous owner's detailed will had agreed to a fair price for all the household furniture without any conditions. While I didn't wish to live in a museum, trapped in the past, there were some lovely pieces I wanted to keep, particularly in the grand living rooms downstairs.

In the master bedroom, there was a beautiful teak desk that was simply perfect for my writing. We moved it into the window embrace so I could look out at the scenery while I was working.

Inside my mind, I felt Edward Grainger was settled and happy. He'd found his new home and was becoming increasingly eager to begin some new adventures. My publisher had also been agitating for the second instalment of my trilogy. The advance had been very generous, and I did need to get on with writing the outline.

But finding just the right setting was giving me some concern. Edward Grainger's compelling adventure in Sedona was fast becoming a runaway success and the novel was rapidly climbing the best-seller lists. It was going to be a hard act to follow.

"I know I'll find the new setting given a bit more time." I sighed. I'd become too easily distracted by the many layers of secrets hidden in the attic room and often lost track of time.

Under Michael's close supervision, the house had been brought up to code with new wiring and all the plumbing had also been updated. With some of my furniture from the Sante Fe house finally being moved in, we had begun to make Gull Cottage our forever home. The rooms had been newly wallpapered or painted according to the detailed plans we had made.

Over the last two weeks, we'd taken our time, carefully photographing and documenting our changes in design and placement as we went. We'd already had some interest in our story from more than one home and garden magazine. Devon joked that our collective fame had sold the idea, but he took the work very seriously.

Despite all the upheaval, the house appeared to welcome us. It seemed to be slowly awakening from its years of slumber. At times, in the night, I felt almost as if it had been waiting patiently for us to find it and make it live again.

I'm well aware I have a very active imagination, but now and then, whispers and moving shadows in the corners of moonlit rooms snagged and held my frowning attention. I wasn't afraid, but I was intrigued.

It was during these times that I would remember the soft caressing breeze brushing across the back of my neck the very first time I walked into Gull Cottage and knew we just had to buy it. And the house knew it too.

"I love it here…" I murmured now, smoothing my hand across the surface of my latest lucky find.

"Oh!" Movement in the open doorway made me jump from my introspection. I'd been concentrating all my attention on my new-found discovery.

"You've been very busy. You were already gone when I got up for breakfast and now it's almost lunchtime," Devon commented from the doorway. "Would you rather I carried you off back to that private yacht on the Mediterranean again? We could go for another cruise and forget about all of this."

He waved his hand at the jumble of discarded furniture and knickknacks that occupied nearly all the floor space and hung abundantly on the walls. There was dust and cobwebs everywhere, and the small inroads I'd managed to make into the clutter were barely discernible.

He frowned. "Surely, the cleaners can deal with it. I know you were adamant that you wanted to do it yourself, but it'll take months of hard work. I don't want you overdoing it."

"Oh, please don't tempt me to just throw everything away," I pleaded as I blew the dust from my nose. "Somehow, I just felt I needed to be the one doing this. But, right now, another cruise sounds like heaven."

I sighed as I closed my eyes briefly and saw again those four, glorious weeks of our honeymoon. Long, hot summer days spent exploring and the starry nights, where we floated alone on the blue waters and acted accordingly with sometimes shameless abandonment.

Devon had been the captain and I, his novice crew. It was a magical time full of laughter and intimate moments of pure joy.

The sensual scenes of our lovemaking, often on deck beneath the stars, still had the power to bring warmth flooding into my cheeks. I was still unused to being so abandoned. But under Devon's tender care, I was fast becoming a very good pupil in the matters of the ocean and our abiding love.

I shivered as I pushed the delicious memories aside and concentrated on the practical matters at hand. "This place does need to be cleaned out but I know I can do it. And I'm amazed at what I've been finding."

"Very well. But I thought you might need this…" Devon handed me a dewy bottle of cold water. "You must be parched in all this dust. You didn't even stop for your morning coffee."

He studied me closely. "I can help with all of this, you know. Just say the word. And remember, we're supposed to take photographs as we redecorate."

"I remember and thank you…" I drank greedily from the bottle of water, slaking my thirst. "But I needed to get working in here before it got too hot outside. We can come back tonight, when it's cooler and start taking pictures. There are so many treasures here, it might require a second article."

I handed back the bottle, tucked my handkerchief away and rose to my feet. I'd keep hold of my unexpected find in my free hand.

I held up the large, heavily framed painting I'd found in the back, behind a pile of old furniture. "Take a look at this. I've had to clean it of all the dust and cobwebs to see it properly. Thankfully, it was framed behind glass. There are treasures here if you take the time and know where to look."

I held the painting up to the wan sunlight shining in from the two small attic windows beneath the eaves of the house. It was an oil painting of a splendid sea captain in uniform.

His sea cap was emblazoned with a smart gold badge that declared his rank. It was not a well-executed likeness and there was a stiffness to it, almost as if the sitter had become bored with the whole process and wished it to be over. I could almost sense his frustration.

His large, powerful hand lay passive, resting on a polished, old-fashioned brass telescope. I couldn't help wondering what his hand would have looked like in real life. I frowned at the gold signet ring that had been painted on the little finger of his left hand. It was monogrammed, but I couldn't make out the legend.

From beneath the Captain's cap, his curling dark hair had been painted low on his collar, matched by his neatly trimmed beard and moustache. Despite the slight clumsiness of the likeness, the man beneath was handsome beyond what should have been permissible. There was an undeniable sense of power and unbounded vitality.

His blue eyes, which so reminded me of my husband's, frowned out at me with stern disapproval. It was almost as if I'd inadvertently disturbed his eternal rest. I couldn't help smiling at his austere look. No doubt, he'd broken many hearts in every port he sailed away from, never to return.

"Carolyn?" Devon questioned as he moved closer to me. "What gives? You look like you're miles away, all of a sudden." He looked over my arm at the painting. "You seem very taken with him. Should I be jealous?"

"I…" I shook my head in bemusement. "Of course, not. But, when I first found him, I could have sworn I was somehow directed to it. There was so much junk in front of him, I almost didn't see him."

I laughed at my own foolishness. "Crazy, I know. But it was almost as if he was waiting to be found by just the right person. And yet…"

"And yet, he doesn't look too happy about being disturbed in his eternal rest," Devon echoed my thoughts unerringly as he took the painting from my hands to admire it. "A fine-looking fellow."

He held it up beside his head. "Do you want me to grow a beard like this?" He grinned.

"No, thanks. I love you just the way you are." I reached to take the painting back. "He caught my attention, that's all. It seems such a shame to leave him here all alone with the dust and the spiders. He must have been up here for years."

"I rather think he was quite content staying here," Devon replied reasonably, studying me closely. "But if you're that sure he wanted to be found, I think that landscape painting hanging above the fireplace down in the main living room could find a new home on another wall. We have enough of them."

I gasped as I turned to him in my eagerness. "Do you really think so? I mean, you don't think I'm being a little crazy about his wanting to be found?"

"Crazy, no…" Devon shrugged, taking back the painting and tucking it under his arm. "If salvaging an old sea captain is what it takes to get my wife out of all this mess and downstairs for some food and a glass of wine before she passes out from hunger and thirst…"

His lips curved gently as he leaned close to kiss my dusty cheek. "Then yes, I think maybe, just a little eccentric."

He grinned, stroking his clean-shaven chin with his free hand. "I also think it's very fitting since this house is now the Captain's Gull Cottage and you may have stumbled on a picture of the man himself."

"Maine and that Captain Gregg from the old TV series are over two thousand miles away," I stated repressively, as I preceded him out of the attic and down the stairs. "That is probably just a picture the last owner found somewhere and liked it." I don't understand why I was trying to downplay my find.

Devon raised his shoulders as we walked downstairs. "And then she decided to dislike it because she hid it away in there with all the other detritus of her long life?"

"A mystery, then," I replied as we entered the main living room. "Maybe someone else put it up there, out of the way. Maybe they didn't like the look of him."

"Ah, I can see you're scenting a very good mystery." My husband chuckled, as he put the captain's portrait down on a nearby chair and then removed the landscape from above the fireplace. "Something for your Edward Grainger to sink his teeth into for your next book. We've only just returned to the house, and you've already uncovered a possible romance between the old lady and this fine fellow. If these walls could talk."

He lifted the portrait into place, secured it and then stood back. He slung one arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him, kissing my hair. "So, there you are. A fitting captain for Gull Cottage. He actually looks right, hanging there. Every good ship needs a competent master, and he fits the bill." Wry humour coloured his tone.

"Don't you dare laugh at me…" I warned, digging an affectionate elbow into his ribs. "I think he looks fine up there. A talking point, if nothing else. We can take his picture, and I'll write a piece about him after we've had lunch."

"Orff…" he complained over my gentle nudge as he grinned down at me. "I wouldn't dare make fun of you. That would be more than my life is worth."

He pulled me closer and kissed me long and hard. I snuggled into him, revelling in his solid warmth. Our mutual desire simmered between us, and it was hard to let him go.

As Devon drew back to smile down at me, I happened to glance over his broad shoulder, and I could have sworn the vividly painted blue eyes in the Captain's portrait were watching me. There was the faintest of smiles within their clear depths that I was sure had not been there when I first found him up in the cluttered attic.

Have I somehow awoken a ghost?

"Now, come and eat," Devon encouraged me, propelling me toward the door with an insistent hand on the small of my back. "You look exhausted, and you're covered in dust. I've made you your favourite salmon and cucumber salad with fresh rye bread. We can eat outside in the sunshine of the back garden and have a glass of wine or two. You need some time to relax. All that junk up in the attic isn't going anywhere unless it finally decides to fall through the ceiling."

"Okay…" I nodded, smiling at him. "Thank you, that sounds wonderful. But I'll need to take a shower first and change my clothes. I won't be long." I cast one final puzzled look back at the portrait as we left the room, but its painted face was once again flat and lifeless.

"It must have just been a trick of the light…" I whispered, shaking my head in bemusement.

※※※※※

I sat back in my garden chair with my glass of wine and watched Carolyn's clear enjoyment of the meal I had prepared for her. It made me happy to be able to take care of her as she deserved. And the enormous farmhouse kitchen of our new home had simply begged to be used to its full potential.

Not long after we'd finally moved into the house, my love had confessed she wasn't much of a cook. I already knew that. I was only too well aware that Maria had spoiled her over the last twenty-five years.

My love's complete honesty about her marriage to Ian Bridges had made me feel very protective of her. Our encounter with the coward at the restaurant back in Sante Fe had distressed her and it still rankled with me that he dared to lay a hand on her.

My fingers clenched around my wine glass. If Bridges ever came near her again, in any way, I would not be responsible for my actions. Now that she was mine for always, there was nothing I would not give her, or do for her. And she knew that.

As I swallowed my wine, I blessed the fact that Bridges now had the IRS on his worthless tail, so he wasn't likely to reappear any time soon. I had also instructed Michael to keep an eye on his doings and report to me if he made any moves in our direction.

"You're very quiet. What are you thinking about so deeply?" Carolyn questioned softly, as she pushed her empty plate aside.

"I'm thinking about how lucky I was to find you again," I prevaricated, as I finished my wine in one long swallow. "How lucky we both were to meet so randomly on that street down in LA."

"Schrödinger and his blasted cat…" Carolyn smiled at me as she accepted my refill of her empty wine glass with a nod of thanks. "That man has a lot to answer for."

"Yes…" I nodded slowly. "I was also thinking about you. Do you remember when I showed you Michael's report on your ex-husband? There was enough evidence to have him reported to the IRS for a full audit and we did so."

"Yes, I do." My love nodded. "I'm so relieved that one very large shadow has been removed from our future together. I dreaded seeing him again. Ian is not a man to forgive an insult or a slight and he would have made it his mission to get even."

"He will never trouble us again," I replied evenly, sitting forward. "I will not allow it." I reached to take her hand across the table.

"I love you so much…" she said simply, lifting my hand to her lips and kissing the backs of my fingers. "It is truly wonderful to feel so protected and safe."

She paused and her brow creased in thought. I held my breath and waited. I had come to know the signs of when she wanted to ask me something but could not formulate the words for fear of hurting my feelings.

"Look at me, Luciana…" I urged quietly. "Whatever you want to say to me, it's all right. Talk to me…" I turned my hand within her grasp and squeezed her fingers. "We agreed there would never be any more secrets between us."

"Yes…" Carolyn nodded jerkily. "All right. I know we've barely moved into our new home, but I would love to ask Edward to come and stay with us, just for a few days. He seemed so lonely when they all waved us goodbye at LAX."

She sat forward to take my hand within both of hers. "Lucy told me that Edward has recently broken up with his girlfriend. After our wedding, he said he was looking forward to getting together with you again. Just the two of you. But we've been so busy with everything we're doing…"

She shook her head. "I have my book to write, and you have your next exhibition in New York you must prepare for. Time is the one thing we do not seem to have."

"That blasted Bridges really did a number on you, didn't he?" I asked bleakly. "My love, you do not need my permission to ask our son to come and stay."

Carolyn drew a long, steadying breath and released it slowly. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just that…"

"Old habits die hard?" I queried softly. "Of course, I would love to see Edward again if he can get away to stay for a while. I know how busy his life is. My New York exhibition can be organised by my agency for now. That's why I pay them very well for their services. And the photographic magazine features have already been put to bed. I'm at a loose end for the next couple of weeks. All we have left to document for the house and garden article is your work up in the attic."

Carolyn nodded. "I think he will agree to come to stay if you ask him," she replied quickly. "Edward never bonded with Ian. Even though he never questioned if he was my boy's father, Ian was very dismissive of our son when he was a child. Edward was so different to him in every way. I lived in constant dread of the truth being uncovered. He looked so much like you at the same age, he made my heart ache. How could I have known…" Her lips thinned with apology.

I pushed back my chair and stood up. "If it sets your mind at ease, I will go and telephone him right now. We're not so busy we cannot entertain a house guest. Especially one who is very important to both of us."

Carolyn rose and gathered our used dishes together in a stack and picked them up. "I truly do not know what I have done to deserve you."

She resisted my attempts to take the pile of dishes from her. "You cooked, so I get to clean up. A fair division of labour."

I shook my head. "Your marriage forced you to make the best of a very bad situation and you survived."

"Yes…" She nodded jerkily as she followed me into the house through the large French doors leading into the main living room. "I think Maria suspected Edward was not Ian's son. But she never asked or commented."

"She was your very loyal friend." I glanced briefly at our new addition to the room.

Oddly enough, I felt that the Captain's painted blue eyes were following us as we passed through his new domain. A crazy sensation of awareness feathered up and down my spine. I was tempted to say we may be better off returning the old boy to the attic where he belonged. But I knew the idea would disappoint my love.

I had always prided myself on being a very practical man. Facts and figures mattered and could be calculated. Things were always to be measured, weighted and understood. This nameless frisson travelling up and down my spine had no place in my ordered world.

'And yet, there was that incredible and unbelievable day when my Luciana walked straight back into my life as if she had never left…'

"Serendipitous?" I breathed. 'Crazy…'

I had no real answer to the puzzling thought. I shrugged and didn't look back at the new addition as we left the room.

"Maria was always my very good friend…" Carolyn agreed as we walked through to the kitchen. "And she still is. I have been thinking about her, as well. But we can talk about that later." She turned away and carried the dishes to the sink.

"Very well…" I walked toward the wall-mounted telephone.

A laminated list of numbers had been attached to the wall beside it and I ran my eyes quickly down to that of our son in Boston. Without realising it at first, I inhaled and held my breath as I picked up the receiver and dialled the number. I was aware Carolyn had turned from rinsing the dishes to watch me with a loving look of hope shining in her green eyes.

※※※※※