Chapter Six

Trying To Find The Answers

Finally safe back in his office, with the door firmly locked, Claymore sat behind his desk with his head bowed. It had taken him some time to calm down from his bad fright over the Captain's unexpected return.

Even now, his heart was still racing and his dyspepsia burned in his abdomen. He rubbed at it absently, groaning under his breath.

"It's not fair…" His already morose expression soured further with the deep disappointment over the size of his impending losses.

And he was being forced to place a phone call he didn't want to make. But he'd been left without any choice in the distressing matter. He knew his great-uncle would never consent to sell the house.

"Blast the ghost! It's all his fault," he grouched, reaching out to drag the telephone closer to his elbow. "Why couldn't he just stay away and stay dead? Why is that too much to ask? Why do I have to put up with his whims!"

He glared at the receiver, trying to screw up the courage to telephone Marcus Cornell's private number to tell the developer their lucrative deal was off. Bay Road was still for sale, but Gull Cottage most certainly was not. And never would be. Not while its cranky ghostly inhabitant was still around.

"Blast…" He sighed, deep and long. "And after I paid fifty-two whole dollars to that fraud of a ghost despatcher! Fifty-two! And for what?" He held up one thumb and forefinger slightly apart and glared at them. "I was this close! This close…" His hand shook with the depth of his sense of injustice.

He sighed again. "Oh, but what's the use? I've been broadsided, holed below the waterline, and sunk without a single trace. And I hate the ocean. I never wanted to be a Gregg…"

He reached out to pick up the receiver and then dialled zero for the town's operator. "Millie? Hi… Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for asking. Um, please get me this number…" He rattled off the private telephone number for his erstwhile business partner and waited, drumming his fingers nervously in his desk blotter.

"Gregg?" Cornell suddenly growled in his ear making Claymore jump. "Whatever you want now, it better be to my advantage. It's Sunday and I'm busy entertaining some very important clients. What do you want?"

"Um, I… Well, you see, it's ah… about tomorrow…" Claymore quivered.

"What about tomorrow?" Cornell barked. "You better not be trying to renege on our deal this late in the piece. I won't stand for it, do you hear? I've put a lot of time and effort into your tinpot little town. I expect to be rewarded handsomely for my troubles. We have a binding contract to sign."

"Um… Well, it's about that Gull Cottage…" Claymore mumbled. "It's… um, the fact is, it's not for sale. I've been forced by circumstances beyond my control to withdraw it from the market. Ah, but we can still make a deal on the rest of the land." He allowed a measure of hope to creep into his tone. "It's still a sizable acreage."

"Balderdash!" Cornell shouted. "That house sits right on top of a prime site. It's got the best views and it's the key to everything. I thought I'd made that perfectly clear when we met on Friday!"

His tone filled with suspicion. "Are you trying to swindle me, Gregg? Or are you trying to drive the price up? Either way, it won't work. No house, no sale!"

"Yes, well… I'm sorry you feel that way…" Claymore swallowed against the raw tightness of his throat. "But I cannot sell you Gull Cottage. It is totally out of the question. It's kind of not mine to sell. It never has been."

"What do you mean, it's not yours to sell? Look…" Cornell sighed roughly. "I have more important clients than you to see to right now. I'll be passing through your tinpot town tomorrow. I have some land I want to look at over in Beacon Bay. I'll give you one last chance to change your mind or our deal's off! Do you hear me, Gregg? Off! For good!"

"I hear you…" Claymore grimaced. "Tomorrow then, but my answer will still be the same and —"

He stopped speaking when he realised Cornell had abruptly cut the connection by slamming down his receiver. "Um, goodbye…" He replaced his end into its cradle.

There was nothing more he could say. He turned his head to gaze morosely at his wall safe where it was hidden behind the picture of George Washington.

"Maybe I should just move over the Beacon Bay and start again…" He raised one hand and waved his fingers. "Bye-bye to all that lovely, lovely money. Goodbye to my cosy retirement and rosy future…"

He sniffed mightily against the burning desire to drop his head into his hands and cry out his deep disappointment. "Oh, why was I ever born a Gregg…"

※※※※※

The next morning, Carolyn was seated in the living room. She was typing up the last pages of her article before getting it ready for mailing when the doorbell rang. She frowned as she put aside her work and got up to answer it.

"Why, Madame Tibaldi. You're still here," she said affectionately when she saw the diminutive medium on the doorstep, looking rather unsure of her welcome. "I wasn't expecting to see you again. Please, do come in."

The older woman smiled as she stepped quickly inside. "Oh, my dear, dear, Mrs Muir. I decided to delay my departure from your quaint little town because I fear we have some unfinished business. I haven't slept a wink these last two nights of worrying about it all. Even my spirits couldn't console me. They urged me to return to you and try to make amends."

She grimaced. "And I just had to come back and thank you before I left for Bangor. Yours was a most wonderful séance. The highlight of my whole career. Even though it did make me so sad."

"Sad?" Carolyn queried in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Yes, sad." The medium nodded quickly. "I had the distinct feeling that somehow I'd separated you and your darling children from someone you were all very fond of. Someone very special to you. But especially to you, my dear. Oh, my, yes… Someone very special, indeed."

She smiled tremulously. "He has quite touched your heart and you know he would lay all the treasures of the world at your feet. If it were at all possible."

The Captain materialised silently in the open doorway, watching the medium with frowning curiosity. Carolyn glanced at him briefly, trying not to betray his presence.

"Oh, please don't worry about that," she tried to reassure her visitor. "Perhaps he'll find his way back in time."

"Oh, yes!" Madame Tibaldi brightened. "I have given that some thought. Maybe we could hold another séance and bring him back!" she offered breathlessly. "I have an opening next week, on my way back down to Boston! If that suits. Oh, please say, yes. It's the least I can do. I feel so terrible."

"Madam…" The Captain looked disconcerted. He shook his head firmly. "Do not be tempted to meddle any more in things you do not understand. Best to leave well enough alone. This woman is as unstable as weeping dynamite, and she already knows too much. Or thinks she does."

"Oh, no, no," Carolyn quickly denied the medium's hasty request. "I'm sure he'll find his way back in time. This is really his house, after all. Not Claymore Gregg's."

"Thank you, Madam." The Captain nodded as he vanished again.

"Well, I certainly hope so. Of course, the dear Captain is only a spirit. But when I saw those fiery eyes and that strong chin…" Madame Tibaldi fluttered her eyelashes. "I must say, I was definitely drawn to that extraordinary man. And I have known a few such in my time, let me tell you!"

She sighed. "Well, wherever he is. I truly do hope he can forgive me. I never meant to cause anyone any harm or pain. Under all that bluff and bluster, he's really quite a charming man."

She stopped, looking puzzled and confused. She frowned as she put one hand up to her cheek. "Oh, that's so strange…" she murmured.

Carolyn watched her with concern. "What's the matter?"

The medium shook her head. "You know, I had the distinct impression someone just kissed me on the cheek. And he had a beard too, of that, I'm sure."

Carolyn smiled softly. "Perhaps someone did…" She kissed the little medium on the other cheek with real affection.

"Oh, dear, dear, Mrs Muir…" The older woman took her hands in hers. "You'll never know what you've done for me. You have quite lifted me from the doldrums and given my cause wings once more. I shall never forget your many kindnesses. I will be sure and stop by again. Just to see how you're all doing."

She shrugged. "And as for that dreadful Claymore Gregg. Well, I do think his goose has been well and truly cooked. I saw him just now, while I was loading my luggage into my car back in town. He was in the street, being shouted at by some truly awful man in a flash suit. Many other people saw them too and more than a few were smiling. Mr Gregg looked quite beaten down, which is all he deserves for being so mean to you and yours."

She tittered as she patted Carolyn's hand that she was still holding. "But as for me. Please, be assured all your secrets are safe with me. I will never breathe a word to a soul, alive or dead. It would not be fair. You have my solemn word. But I do wish those two ardent lovers I saw in my vision, all the very best of this life and the next."

She patted Carolyn's hand once more and then turned toward the open door. "Well, I must be off to my many friends, living and dead. We have a long drive ahead of us. Happy spirits to all."

She hurried away down the front path toward her car, leaving Carolyn to look after her in bemusement. She sighed as she shut the door just as the Captain reappeared beside her.

"That was very sweet of you to forgive her, Captain," she said wistfully. "I fear Madame Tibaldi is more than half in love with you."

"It is only to be expected. I am very loveable. But it's my painted image she fell in love with, not me." The Captain smiled as he raised an admonishing finger. "And it is our secret, Madam. If the members of my spectral fraternity ever hear that I've kissed a medium they might really exorcise me!"

"Well, we would never want that to happen. Not again." Carolyn laughed softly. "I truly couldn't bear it."

"Nor could I, my dear," the Captain replied, watching her closely. "Nor could I…"

They shared a companionable laugh that covered the desire for a closeness that neither knew how to achieve in that single moment of newly found honesty.

"Well, I have work to do…" Carolyn finally said. "If I'm to pay the bills, there's an article to get finished and send off to my new editor. Thank God that awful Ellsworth Gordon has left the magazine."

The Captain cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I too have tasks to complete. There is a ruined sea chart in serious need of rescuing." He bowed his head as he began to disappear.

"Captain?" Carolyn put out a hand to detain him, trying not to seem desperate or needy. "Thank you for everything. And for agreeing to meet me in the wheelhouse again this afternoon. I'm looking forward to that. I… have missed that time shared with you. I wish…" She dragged in a shaky breath, unable to continue.

"Ah, wishes… They are such damnably inconvenient things…" The Captain stared at her. "If I still possessed a heart, I would have said it has already been taken. By a sweet lady who is truly beguiling and very, very beautiful…"

"Ohhh…" Carolyn shook her head in wordless wonder.

As she watched, he faded slowly from view, his eyes fixed on hers. Only then did she receive her unspoken wish. She felt the softness of his lips against her cheek and the rasp of his beard on her skin.

"Thank you…" She sighed and shivered as she put up one hand to capture the fleeting contact.

Now she knew she wasn't dreaming. She was wide awake, aware and he had kissed her.

Knowing it was pointless to ask for anything more than he could ever give; she smiled sadly and kept her fingers there all the way back into the living room and her typewriter. She'd made enough notes to write a second article on the medium's visit.

"And thank you, Madame Tibaldi. At least, the bills will get paid this month," she commented with heartfelt relief. "And Jonathan can have a really great birthday party this year."

※※※※※

The night air was soft and laden with ozone as Captain Gregg slowly materialised in the darkness of the widow's walk. He stood for a moment, staring up at the serene face of the full moon before he resumed his endless pacing with his hands clasped behind his back. Back and forth he walked, needing to do something to assuage the growing desire burning deep inside.

This very unforgettable morning, he'd been unable to deny Carolyn's wistful request. He'd rashly surrendered to the beguiling temptation and kissed her cheek while she was awake and very aware.

Admittedly, he'd taken the coward's path and remained invisible at the time. It was a moot point. After all, he had just kissed the little medium. He'd been neatly caught by his impetuousness.

He frowned up at the moon. "That salute was no more than a light peck. The sealing of our bargain to try and keep this ship on an even keel. It meant nothing to her or me." But the warm glow of Carolyn's whispered response brought a fresh ache to the heart he no longer possessed.

He knew she was deeply disappointed in his desire to keep her at arm's length and for his many long silences. Their weekly meeting in the wheelhouse for Madeira would be his ongoing indulgence. They had enjoyed a convivial afternoon, and they did not mention the brief kiss or anything else that was too personal.

The rest couldn't be helped. There was still so much he had to learn and understand about his new powers to touch and be touched in return. Maybe he would fail utterly when he most desired to succeed.

"Aye, there's the rub, indeed…" he murmured, continuing to pace back and forth.

He would be truly lost if she ever summoned the courage to try and touch him in return. He'd seen the growing desire in her eyes. He had no true understanding of what could happen then except that her reaching fingers would touch nothing but a cold void. There was so much at stake and so much that could be lost through one careless gesture on his part.

"There's nothing more to be said or done. I must try to keep my distance from now on…" Fresh pain lanced through him at the thought, but he stiffened his resolve to see it through. "It's the only way until I can control my responses…"

It was well past midnight, and if he finally gave in to the rising dictates of his slowly re-awakening body, he would drop down into the main bedroom just to watch her sleep. Maybe even risk kissing her cheek again. The temptation was there, so rich and deep he could almost taste it.

He tamped the desire down with a rough and regretful sigh. "That's it. They've finally managed to evict me from the sweet enjoyment of my own house." He shook his head.

"Blast!" He dropped his hands to clasp the railing tightly. "Blast and confound the woman! Why does she plague me so?"

Of course, he knew the answer. He frowned up at the moon, which didn't care for his present state of turmoil.

"I am the Master of my fate. I am the Captain of my soul…" he quoted the last two lines of his favourite poem beneath his breath.

But the certainty of the words didn't help with his state of unrest tonight. They rang hollow. The little medium's graphic description of the two ardent lovers entwined upon the wide bed in the soft moonlight continued to torment and tear at his resolve to impose some much-needed distance between his privately cherished dreams and the cold comfort of reality.

He recovered full possession of himself with difficulty and grimaced wryly. "Oh, my very dear lady. How truly sad it is, that you were not born in my time. Nor I, in yours…"

※※※※※

Carolyn sighed as she stared at her portable typewriter. Four long and lonely days had passed without any new dreams.

She propped her chin in her upraised palm. "Or any dreams at all, for that matter."

The Captain now appeared to be regretting his swift kiss on her cheek. Surely it had been harmless enough, a sweet little moment to seal their bargain. It couldn't have upset him that much. After all, he had also just kissed the little medium's cheek without any deeper meaning.

"And he tended to that seal the children found down at the beach," she complained with a sigh. "He also carried Scruffy into the house when he wouldn't stop barking at him. How can that be? He wasn't invisible then."

But now, he didn't approach her on anything but the most mundane of matters or his latest complaint about this or that. He said it was his duty to see she was kept informed of his wishes over the running of his ship.

"His wishes…" she muttered as she rolled a fresh sheet of paper into the carriage. "His ship…"

She'd done her best to ignore his renewed stiffness while she completed her article on the medium. She'd mailed it to her editor this morning after she'd taken the children to school.

Now, she felt at a loose end and unable to settle for anything new. Her eyes strayed again to the white envelope that contained the poem Tim Seagirt had returned to her. It seemed to mock her inability to do anything with it.

She decided she no longer cared who the poem had been written for. She knew she should return it to the Captain and make that the end of the thorny matter. It was his property, after all.

"I'll do just that the next time I see him," she decided with a firmness she didn't feel.

It would be three more long days before Monday came again and they would meet once more in the wheelhouse over a glass of Madeira. That is if he didn't decide to cancel, which he was quite capable of doing in a fit of pique.

Driven by confusion and loneliness, she decided to tackle the weeds in the front garden. "I'll be outside if you need me, Martha…" she called as she left the house and found her gardening tools.

A couple of hours later, she was working around the base of the tree beside the front gate when a familiar car drew up outside the stone wall. She sat back on her heels as a small, birdlike woman got out of the driver's seat and waved cheerily.

"Oh, ho…" her visitor called. "It's so lovely to see you again, my dear Mrs Muir."

Carolyn stood up and stripped off her gardening gloves. "Oh, Madame Tibaldi…" she replied slowly. "I really didn't expect to see you. You're back so soon."

"Oh, I was obliged to cut short my tour for a more important engagement. I promised to return and here I am," the little medium stated firmly as she hurried through the open gate. "I just had to stop by on my way back down to Boston. I told myself I must see how you are all getting on." She hugged Carolyn who returned the embrace with real affection.

"We're fine," Carolyn replied, drawing back. "You're just in time for some tea. I'm sure Martha will be putting the kettle on about now."

"Oh, my dear, I wish I could stay. Truly, I do." The medium preened a little. "But, since your little séance, I have been advertising my skills once more and I have a very important appointment waiting for me as soon as I get home."

She laid one forefinger against the side of her nose and tapped it. "I cannot say who or where or why, but it is a most wonderful commission. It will quite lift my profile to a whole new level. And I owe it all to you and your upcoming article, my dear Mrs Muir. You saved me from the doldrums and I will be forever grateful."

She beamed happily. "And don't worry…" She laid a soothing hand on Carolyn's arm. "I promised I would not say anything about your most delightful little house and I always keep my promises. All your secrets are very safe with me." She arched her brows significantly.

"I know they are." Carolyn nodded, wondering when or how the Captain would appear to express his discontent. "Well, if you say you must be on your way..."

"Oh, yes, I must. But before I go, I have something for all of you," the medium replied happily. "Please, come with me…" She took Carolyn's hand and drew her through the open gate to the car.

Madame Tibaldi opened the back door and lifted out two large paper bags with twine handles. "Now there's something in these for each and every one of you. A bag for you and one for the children. And I didn't forget Martha, though she expressed grave doubts about my profession."

She held them both out for Carolyn to take. "And I do mean, everyone…"

She laid her forefinger against her nose again with a significant look. "Just some tokens of my affection for all of you." She smiled happily. "For all that you have done for me."

"Oh, Madame Tibaldi," Carolyn protested. "You shouldn't have..."

"I could, I should and I did," the medium replied with decision. "And my name is Olivia. I would be very pleased if you would use it from now on. I feel we're almost like family."

"Thank you, Olivia…" Carolyn breathed, casting another worried look at the house. "And my name is Carolyn. I'd be pleased if you would use it."

She smiled as she placed the bags on the stone wall. "Um, if you could wait for a moment, I have something for you too."

She gave the medium's hand a quick squeeze before she hurried into the house and returned with a typed copy of the magazine article she'd written. She handed it over. "Here you are. I was going to put it in an envelope and mail it to you this afternoon when I collected the children from school."

The medium accepted the gift with a wide smile. "Oh, why, thank you, my dear. I shall look forward to reading it as soon as I arrive home. I'm sorry I won't be seeing your sweet children on this trip."

She leaned forward to kiss Carolyn's cheek. "Now, I really must fly. I cannot be late for my very important appointment."

Her soft eyes twinkled. "Give my best to your magnificent and delicious Captain. He's such a gorgeous rogue. But you must not allow him to bully you. He might get to enjoy it a little too much."

She didn't wait for a reply as she waved a cheery hand and got into the driver's seat. She was gone in a cloud of dust, driving somewhat erratically down the road.

"Thank the Gods she did not wish to stay this time…" The Captain stood at the wheelhouse window and watched her leave. He debated materialising to make his feelings known, but the medium didn't linger and for that he was grateful.

Three more days and he would be hosting Carolyn in this room again, for their usual glass of Madeira. It was the single indulgence he still allowed himself. To be near her soft beauty for an hour made up for all the lonely times in between.

He watched Carolyn walking back up the front path, carrying the two large paper bags the medium had given her. She glanced up at his window, but he did not respond to her questioning look before she passed into the house and shut the front door behind her.

※※※※※

"What did Madame Tibaldi give us?" Jonathan begged to know, crowding close to look over his mother's arm.

"Yeah, what is it?" Candy added, kneeling on a chair at the other side of the kitchen table. "I'm sorry we were at school when she visited. We missed her."

"Well, she said there is something in here for everyone," Carolyn replied, as she put her hands inside the brown paper bag on the table.

The first gift had Jonathan's name on it so she passed it to her son. He wasted no time in disposing of the wrapping. "Oh, look! A whole box of card games!" he enthused. "Neato!"

"And mine?" Candy tried to peer into the bag.

Carolyn drew out another gaily-wrapped parcel. "This one says it's for Martha."

"Oh, she needn't have bothered with me," the housekeeper huffed. "But since she did…" She took the gift quickly.

She unwrapped it to find a hardback book by her favourite crime author. The same writer she'd been reading on the night of the séance.

She opened it in wonder. "How did she know?" She stared at the flyleaf. "And look, it's a signed first edition of his very latest novel. It's not even out for sale in Lorrie Hammond's store yet. Oh, how marvellous."

"Madame Tibaldi asked me to go and have a look in your room when you weren't around," Candy announced proudly. "She wanted me to find out the author's name. When I did, she said she knew him personally. That she'd done some readings for him so she knew just what to get you. And that I wasn't to say a word."

"Well, I never…" Martha sat down hard in a chair at the table, the book cradled lovingly in her hands. "And to think of how unwelcoming I was to her…" She took out her handkerchief from her apron pocket and held it to her lips.

Carolyn squeezed her shoulder. "I think Olivia has forgiven you."

"What's my gift, Mum?" Candy demanded impatiently, peering into the bag.

Carolyn held out the last gift with her daughter's name in it. Candy seized it and sat down to unwrap it. It was a large, illustrated book all about shell collecting.

It was Candy's turn to wonder. "How did she know I like to collect shells?"

"'Cause she asked me, silly," her brother told her, not looking up from sorting through his card games. "I said you've got lots of shells in all those boxes stuffed under your bed. That you're always collecting more and more."

"And what about you, Mrs Muir?" Martha looked up from leafing through her book. "What did she get for you?"

Carolyn turned to look at the second bag she'd left beside the kitchen door. "It's getting late. I'll open mine later," she replied evasively. "Come on, kids, you can help set the table for dinner and feed Scruffy. I'll just go and put this up in my room."

Both children groaned at the idea but did as they were bid as Carolyn carried her bag up to her bedroom and hid it behind the large leather chair beside the fireplace. There were two parcels inside the bag and she didn't know how to explain in front of Martha that the medium had also given a gift for the Gull Cottage ghost.

※※※※※

Three days later, Carolyn glanced nervously at her bedside clock as she applied her makeup with care for her weekly appointment in the wheelhouse with the Captain. The clock's hands stood at ten minutes to four in the afternoon.

"And not a minute after…" she murmured as she studied her reflected image in the mirror.

Martha had driven to town to collect the children from school and take them on a shopping trip before a promised visit to the ice cream parlour. At a loose end and unable to settle to anything all afternoon, Carolyn had spent precious time unwrapping the medium's gift for her.

It was an elegant, leather-tooled writing set with everything a budding author might need. Her name had been stencilled across the cover in gold. It was a thoughtful and generous gift.

Another hunted glance at the clock showed her she barely had five minutes to spare. "Oh, very well…" she decided in a rush, frowning at her reflection once more before she pushed her feet into her shoes and picked up the paper bag as she left the room.

※※※※※

Captain Gregg looked up when he heard Carolyn's hurried steps coming up the wheelhouse stairs. He'd spent time checking and rechecking his Madeira decanter and dusting down the red velvet loveseat. He stood for some time, looking around to be sure all was in strict order.

The clock down in the foyer marked the hour of four o'clock as Carolyn opened the door and entered the attic room. He turned to watch her walk in and everything in his entire world seemed to stop. Her soft beauty never ceased to capture his attention.

"Thank you for being on time," he finally managed to say.

He flexed and clenched his hands at his sides to prevent himself from reaching for her. This was their time to be together and he was determined not to spoil it. However rich the temptation to do so.

"Thank you. I… thought you might have cancelled this afternoon," she said hesitantly, staring at him with wide eyes. "I… didn't want that."

"Nor did I," he managed to reply. "The wheelhouse at four o'clock on a Monday afternoon is our standing agreement. There are things we need to discuss."

"Yes, it is…" Carolyn nodded, advancing slowly into the room and shutting the door behind her.

She couldn't bring herself to ask about the rest of the time when he seemed to be actively avoiding her company. They were here, now, and that was all that mattered.

"And what do you have there?" the Captain asked finally, nodding to the paper bag in her hand.

"It's a gift…" Carolyn advanced further toward him. "For you. From Madame Tibaldi."

The Captain's eyebrows rose as he turned away to pour the two glasses of Madeira. "That ghost-calling faker gave you something for me?" He tried to sound disinterested.

Carolyn walked to his side and held the bag out. "She gave everyone a gift. Mine was a personalised writing set. I shall have to do it justice."

"How appropriate…" He took the bag she held out, taking care not to touch her fingers.

"I wonder what it is…" Carolyn peered over his arm.

"I guess there is only one way to find out," he replied evenly.

He placed the bag on the small side table and drew out the gift wrapped in masculine paper. He turned it over in his hands.

"You won't know what it is just by looking at it," Carolyn encouraged him. "Please, open it."

With a shrug, the ghost did as she bid, placing the gift down and untying the ribbon holding it all together. What was revealed was an antique collection of sea charts bound up in black tooled leather cover.

"The little medium has more imagination than I gave her credit for," he commented softly, as he opened the book and slowly turned the pages. "This is truly magnificent."

"I'm sure she would be pleased to know that," Carolyn replied, watching him closely. "I'm so glad you like it."

The Captain glanced up and for a fleeting moment, there was a look of hunger in his eyes before he managed to mask it and set aside the book. He picked up both glasses of wine and held one out to her. "As long as the Tibaldi remembers her place and keeps to it."

He raised his glass. "Here's to our being left alone in peace and quiet from now on."

"Yes…" Carolyn nodded her agreement. There was nothing else she could say.

※※※※※

Two weeks later:

"Amazing…" Carolyn stood at the telephone desk in the foyer and stared at the staircase railings in disbelief. The phone call she'd just taken had been a total revelation and she was stunned.

She returned the receiver to its cradle with a relieved and wondering smile. Martha had taken the important call and summoned Carolyn from what she'd been doing in the living room. She still couldn't quite believe what she'd just been told.

"Captain?" She inhaled a sharp breath as she looked around, seeking any sign of the Gull Cottage ghost.

It was Sunday morning, and the sun was shining in through the windows on either side of the front door. All now seemed to be coming right with her world, and yet it wasn't. Nothing much appeared to have changed but something had.

She began to wonder if she should share her great news with the Captain. It had all been his doing, but she was concerned about his reaction.

Apart from their resumed weekly four o'clock meetings up in the wheelhouse, she'd seen very little of him. Even then, over their Madeira, he continued to be distant and brooding as if he was thinking about something he wasn't about to share. They talked of domestic things and avoided anything personal.

"Blast, blast, blast…" Carolyn sighed.

To her deepening chagrin, he also no longer seemed to be haunting her dreams. She missed that more than anything. It was almost as if he was responsible for them. But she had no intention of mentioning it to him when she did see him next.

She felt deeply concerned by his ongoing absences. In her lowest moments, she was beginning to wonder if he regretted kissing her cheek. Did he fear she would read too much into it and harbour expectations he couldn't possibly meet?

"It was only a peck…" she complained, turning away from the foyer table. "It was hardly worth remembering…"

Still, her hand crept up to touch her cheek. The memory was there. The soft touch of his lips and the brush of his bearded cheek against hers. It seemed to be seared into her imagination.

"Blast…" she murmured again forlornly as she walked into the kitchen to continue with her task that had been interrupted by the unexpected and amazing phone call.

※※※※※