A fanfic for St. David's Day

"Near the Beginning ...."

   He paced the widow's walk, looking out over the sea, thinking.  The
subtle changes to the colour of the water and the quality of light
toward the eastern horizon told him as much as any instruments he had
ever had aboard his ships.  He was a seaman at heart.  He could judge
the shifting of the deep currents whose paths had remained unchanged
through centuries.  He could judge how far they were from land by
alterations in the light across the sky.  The touch of the wind in his
hair and against his bare skin told him its speed and temperature.  But
above all was the smell.  He remembered distinctly the smell of only the
sea when far enough off shore.  The smell of good wind and clear skies,
a smell a seaman could count on.  There were other smells, heavier ones,
which were warnings of danger.  Occasionally, on long expeditions, he
had smelled ice.  He did not particularly care to do that again.  Not
while at sea.  Which, of course, he was not.  Now he was permanently
landlocked.  It used to bother him much more than it had in the past
year.  Strange, he thought.  Here he stood, his whole being attuned to
the sea as it had been throughout his entire life ... yet his thoughts
were on the woman.
   What had happened to his honour?  His strength of mind?  Somehow,
this woman was stealing them both away from him.  He couldn't allow it. 
But it had been so long since he had felt anything for anyone besides
contempt and displeasure.  Now he was feeling ... softer.  Weaker.  More
vulnerable.  And it did not please him.  How long had it been?  He
didn't know.  There was no way for him to measure real time anymore,
since he lived between space and time where there was no true reality.
   Still he paced, anticipating the dawn ... and the surprise he had in
store for her.
             * * * * * * * * * *
   Carolyn lay awake in the early morning, unable to keep her mind off
Captain Gregg.  She had not even been at Gull Cottage for a year yet,
and her entire being was turned inside out because of him.  The Captain
was, by far, the most magnificent man she had ever met.  His eyes had
drawn her in and held her spellbound from the first moment -- such a
fathomless blue that she had felt it would be easy and delightful to
drown in them.  When he had looked at her that first night with those
wonderful eyes, his gaze boring into hers, she had felt as though he
could peer to her very core where all her heartaches and loneliness
rested.  He seemed to know things about her that no one else had ever
guessed.  The sensation was disconcerting, but new and interesting, and
therefore almost welcomed at this period in her life.  Had he always
looked at women that way?  Was it a special gift he had?  Was that why
he had reportedly been so popular with the ladies?  Perhaps he made them
all feel that he saw something unique and special that no one else had
ever noticed ...
   Over the years, Carolyn had often wished she could easily shift her
love from Robert to another man.  She had idolized him as a child, as a
teenager, as a young woman.  In her eyes, he could do nothing wrong. 
She had wanted to marry him forever -- and she had, in her last year of
college.  She had never seriously considered anyone else.  She had never
wanted to.  Robert had been everything to her.
   Now she wondered if her love for Robert might have faded with time. 
It hardly seemed possible, but she had grown up a lot in the last few
years, having to cope with the loss of a young husband, raising two
small children, and a new career, to say nothing of the major move from
Philadelphia to Schooner Bay.
   Unable to stay in bed any longer, she got up, pulled on a warm robe
and stepped into her slippers.  It was the beginning of March, and
although spring had definitely come to Schooner Bay, early mornings were
still a little chilly.  Opening the French doors, she walked out on to
the balcony to watch the sunrise over the ocean.  In the air was a
promise of a lovely day.  She closed her eyes and the warm breeze wove
through her hair.  Blast it, she was lonely.  Desperately lonely. 
Robert's memory wasn't the best of company any longer.  She hardly
remembered the sound of his voice, his laughing blue eyes, his gentle
smile.  Yet she didn't want someone taking Robert's place.  It was wrong
to forget him, wrong to allow someone else into her thoughts.  Someone
like the spirit of a sea captain.  Someone as different from Robert as
night from day.  And yet, Captain Daniel Gregg intrigued her, fascinated
her, infuriated her.  He brought her back to life, which was strange,
considering his present state!  It seemed every member of her family,
with the exception of Jonathan and Candy, wanted her to leave Schooner
Bay.  But how could she leave?  Yet, if everyone else was right about
her not making it on her own, how could she not?  There seemed to be no
direction she could go and not lose something essential.  She opened her
eyes again and looked out over the ocean, feeling the rhythm of the
waves, losing herself in the continuous, thundering roar highlighted by
the constant shrill cries of the many gulls.
   "Good morning, madam.  You are up with the sun this morning." 
Captain Gregg's voice rolled over her and she felt her heart begin to
race.
   Turning, Carolyn smiled faintly at him.  "Good morning, Captain.  It
was too nice a day to remain in bed."  She faced the ocean again, and
pulled her robe closer about her.
   The Captain came to stand beside her at the balustrade.  She felt his
presence close to her back, as though touch could reach across time and
space to taunt her.  Longing filled her, unexpected and startling in
that it seemed a misplacement.  The city of Philadelphia had been home. 
Not the sea.  And yet the yearning that swept over her so suddenly was
akin to the yearning for home, for the security of the past, as though
it called to some part of her so long hidden, so unknown that it had
almost despaired of ever being heard.  She had the strange sense of
seeing as though from a great distance, like a traveller from another
era, and imagined all time existing in a single, sacred moment.  Carolyn
couldn't help but turn to stare up at the Captain.  Was this how he was
feeling?  Was she somehow picking up his thoughts?  She turned to look
up at him, and their eyes met for a long moment.  Neither spoke.
   At last, Carolyn dropped her gaze in some confusion.  She saw again
the curious insignia woven into the threads of the pocket on his jacket,
and unthinkingly reached out to finger it.  "What does this mean?"
   Before she could blink, the Captain had retreated a yard away.  He
stood, arms akimbo, eyes glaring.  "Do not touch me!" His voice echoed,
as though he spoke from deep in a tunnel.
   Carolyn snatched back her hand.  "Sorry.  You're so blasted irritable
these days!"
   "It is not at all attractive when a female uses profanity." He spoke
remotely now.  "I have mentioned that before, I believe."
   "Profanity is not appealing in men, either."  Carolyn would not admit
that he was riling her, disturbing her more than she cared to let on.
   "If you had a man to correct you and protect you so that you had no
need to work for your living, you would be able to attend to your
womanly duties and there would be no need for profanity."
   Carolyn glared up at him, refusing to feel intimidated because he
appeared to be towering above her.  "This IS the twentieth century now,"
she reminded him.  "Woman are no longer chattel.  We are persons.  We
have careers and can take care of ourselves."
   The Captain snorted inelegantly.
   "And that snorting is not very appealing either, I might add.  It's
certainly not good manners!"
   "If you and I are to get along, Madam, you will refrain from
correcting my manners unless I request it, which I believe will NEVER
happen."
   "You needn't be testy," she said.  His scowl warned her that he was
beginning to be annoyed again, and she hastily changed the subject. 
"Tell me, Captain, are you an American?  At times, I detect a bit of an
accent in your voice and I can't quite place it."
   "I consider myself an American, certainly, but Irish as well. 
Ireland.  I was born there, actually, as my mother was before me.  Ah,
the green isle.  She's often in my thoughts, always in the very fibre of
my being."
   Carolyn refrained from pointing out that she wasn't sure ectoplasm
had any fibre.  Instead, she asked curiously, "Why do men refer to their
countries as though they were women?"
   He looked surprised that she did not know.  "Because we are born of
them."
   "Then why ships, why are they also called she?"
   He smiled a little cautiously, as though unwilling to reveal too
much.  "I could give you the same answer I did once, about how the
qualities of women and ships are similar yet different.  Instead, now I
will merely speculate that perhaps it is because ships so often bear our
dreams."
   She almost asked, "What do you dream?" but she stopped herself. 
Already they were too close.  She shivered, and hugged herself tightly,
refusing to admit even to herself that she longed to feel his arms
around her, warming her.
   "Cold, Mrs. Muir?  Perhaps you should dress.  Preferably not in
pants."
   Carolyn frowned at him.  "What's wrong with pants?  They're very
comfortable, and most practical."
   "For men," he agreed.
   "Women, too." she stood up to him.   "Why should a woman not wear
pants?"
   His eyes swept boldly down her body.  "Perhaps it is because that
which is hidden can often drive a man wild rather than the obvious shape
that can be seen when a woman is wearing pants."
   Feeling heat creep up her neck, Carolyn said, "You have a silver
tongue, Captain Gregg."  Wicked eyes, too, she thought privately, that
told a woman just what she wanted to hear even when she shouldn't
listen.  "However, I do not dress with the intention of driving a man
wild."
   "More's the pity." he commented.  "Women have completely lost their
femininity, I fear.  Alas, men will rue the day they ever allowed things
to get so out of hand.  But then, humanity is not very smart."
   Carolyn raised her eyebrows.  "Present company excepted, I hope."
   "Having been both a human and spirit, Madam, I must say that a spirit
is infinitely more superior in every way." he said.  "And now, if you
will excuse me, I have things to finish.  I had not expected you to be
out and about so early!"
   Carolyn rolled her eyes, and turned away without answering.  She knew
the instant he disappeared.  The balcony felt empty, the day colder. 
Again she shivered, and made her way back inside.
   Just inside the doors, she halted in surprise.  There, on her desk,
was a huge bouquet of daffodils.  They had not been there earlier.  It
had to be the Captain who had left them.  She looked for a note, but of
course there was nothing.
   Delightedly, she examined the lovely flowers.  Such lovely blossoms!
   "Do you like them, Mrs. Muir?" he was back, with such a soft, loving
tone in his voice.
   "They're ... they're wonderful, Captain.  But ... why?"
   "For you, for St. David's Day." he explained.  "Today is the first of
March, the Welsh National holiday.  Being that the daffodil is one of
the Welsh symbols, I thought it only appropriate to bring you a dozen of
them."
   "More than a dozen," she breathed, looking at the overflowing desk. 
"About five dozen, I would guess.  But how did you know?"
   "Know that it was St. David's Day?" he looked surprised.
   "No.  That my father is Welsh.  I didn't know you even knew my maiden
name was Williams."
   "Ah.  Well, I must confess that Martha let that secret slip.  I
caught her looking up recipes for leek soup, and I admit that I stole a
number of the Welsh cakes she was baking last night."
   Carolyn laughed.  "Well, they're best hot anyway.  She said she had
to make another batch this morning, and I didn't know why.  Obviously
you ate enough that she felt there wouldn't be enough for anyone else!"
   He smiled.  "I am glad you are pleased with this little token of my
esteem, Mrs. Muir."
   "Little token?  You would have made a wonderful husband, Captain."
she said, hugging the daffodils to her and breathing in their faint
scent happily.
   "Madam, I really must concur with Oscar Wilde on the matter of
marriage."
   "Oh?"
   "Yes.  He said, ‘Bigamy is having one spouse too many. Monogamy is
the same.'" The Captain's voice was smug as he said this.  "Of course,
in my state, marriage is an impossibility, but even when I was alive, I
had no use for the institution."
   "Yet you were betrothed to Vanessa!" Carolyn couldn't help but point
out.
   "Aye.  And that was as far as I was willing to go.  No, my dear, I
could not tie myself down."
   "Perhaps you hadn't met the right person."
   "The right one was not there to meet." he spoke a little flatly.  "I
must say that all the years I spent roaming the seas, if the right one
had been there, I would have found her.  But no, humans being what they
are, it could only have been for the best."
   Carolyn gritted her teeth, and said nothing more.  What was the
point?  Loving him did not make her blind to his arrogance.  If only he
could view humans with respect, not disdain.  Of course, for many years,
the only human he had come in contact with was Claymore, so she could
almost forgive him for the disdain.  Still, it was painful to love
someone whose only reaction toward humanity seemed to be haughty scorn. 
She caught herself abruptly.  LOVE?  She couldn't possibly love someone
like Captain Gregg!  No, it had to be just attraction.  An incredibly
DEEP attraction.
   She put the flowers down on the desk and turned back to him, not
realizing he was quite so close behind her.  She could feel her body
growing warm as she inhaled the clean masculine scent of him mixed with
the sea.  Slowly, very slowly, she lifted her eyes to his.  He had been
watching her.  A sudden awareness, an undeniable attraction, linked
vivid blue and green.  Neither could pull away from the magnetism. 
Neither one really wanted to.  A small voice in the back of his brain
was sending out danger signals: She's a female!  She's stubborn,
independent, argumentative!  Carolyn's mind was screaming: He's
arrogant, demanding and overbearing!  Both listened to a stronger, more
compelling voice which sent a hot current between them, drawing them
ever closer to one another.
   Carolyn was astonished by the thrilling sensation coursing through
her body.  A tight coil was building in her lower abdomen, spreading a
delicious heat to her limbs.  Now the tiny voice inside told her it was
all right to feel this way.  The time for repression and grief was
over.  She was finally free to start anew.  One moment she was
practically in his arms, ready to love him and be loved by him.  The
next, she was staggering back.
   He stood across the room, looking rather surprised.  "I do beg your
pardon, madam.  I quite lost my mind, I believe.  I do hope I did not
alarm you."
   Carolyn couldn't speak, she couldn't even think.
   "You, my dear, are quite the most ravishing woman I have encountered
in one hundred years.  But there is no future in it.  You should fall in
love with a man with a future, and I have none.  Alas, I am not even a
man.  Before I depart, however, let me say that I AM beholden to you for
awakening me to the knowledge that just because I am a mere spiritual
illusion does not mean that I have lost my interest in the fairer sex. 
However, you are most definitely off limits."
   Gathering her dignity, and wishing she were not so devastated,
Carolyn spoke more faintly than she would have liked as she said, "Thank
you for clarifying the parameters."
   "You must know you are extremely attractive, Mrs. Muir," he said,
firmly, "But I am not insensitive enough to allow you to fall in love
with me only to find that I, like your husband, have abandoned you."
   "He ... he NEVER abandoned me!" Carolyn choked.  "He DIED."
   "And you were left alone with the children and no visible means of
support except your writing.  You were abandoned, Mrs. Muir." the
Captain was adamant.
   Carolyn wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh, cry or slap him. 
She looked at her desk, overflowing with lovely daffodils, and decided
she didn't want to fight him any more today.  "Thank you once more for
the flowers, Captain Gregg.  And for the lesson.  I will not make the
same mistake regarding my feelings toward you again."
   "Mrs. Muir..." he began, but Carolyn turned away from him.
   He couldn't leave her like this.  Not today.  This was to have been a
happy occasion, and look what his unthinking actions had done!  He could
feel the pain radiating from her.  Materializing in front of her, so
that she was forced to stop and tilt her head up to look at him
defiantly through green eyes bright with unshed tears, he said, "Mrs.
Muir, you have never before heard me apologize for anything, and I
sincerely hope you will never have the occasion again, but I am sorry I
caused you grief on this day.  This is the celebration of the great Dewi
Sant of Wales.  We both come from a Celtic heritage, which means we are
both volatile."
   Carolyn smiled slightly.  That was putting it mildly.
   The Captain continued, "Please, may we not put this behind us and
begin this day again?  I have given you flowers.  I would be pleased if
you would wear one."
   "In my hair?" she asked.
   He looked a little confused.
   "I've read about the South Sea islands," Carolyn said.  "Where the
girl wears a flower in her hair ... and depending on which side she
places it, it is obvious whether or not she is available.  Rather like
an engagement ring, I always thought."
   "Hmm.  Tell me, my dear, were you to wear one of my daffodils, would
it be on the right or the left?" he tried to speak nonchalantly.
   "Captain, my hair is too short." Carolyn teased him, gently. 
"Besides, I can never remember which side is which.  No, to be on the
safe side, I'll pin one on my sweater."  Saying this, she picked up one
daffodil, broke off the stem, and, finding a pin in her dresser drawer,
put it on her left side, over her heart.  Meeting the Captain's eyes in
the mirror, she murmured, "Thank you again, Captain Gregg.  I now will
be carrying thoughts of you with me all day ... right over my heart."
   "Thoughts of YOU are always on my heart as well as my mind, my dear."
he returned.  They smiled at one another, then he faded out as Martha
called everyone to breakfast.
   Carolyn touched the daffodil once more, and her eyes rested on the
profusion of yellow spread over her desk.  This had to be love. 
Impossible, implausible, frustrating ... but love nonetheless.