THE CAPTAIN'S HOUSE
A Jack Aubrey love story spanning 186 years across time
By Atonia Walpole
Chapter l:
September 12, 1820
His ship lay in the harbor but he would not come ashore. From the hilltop she could see the masts waving in the whitecaps. She waved back, "Soon my love." The wind whipped her skirts around her legs making it difficult to walk down the path to the house.
The babe had been wrapped warmly in his blankets and placed in his cradle. The old woman would care for him today. His son born of her body, born of their love, slept soundly as she bathed and dressed for the weather. She walked down the pathway to the main road that turned toward the docks. If there was a boat for her today she would see him.
"Hullo, Miss, we’ve come for you. Looks like a blow tonight," called out the boatman.
"Aye, it will be a dark night," she replied and sat under the canvas cover as the boatmen set out toward the ship across the harbor.
August 16, 2006
John Scarlet adjusted the lens again and took aim at the widows walk. Great shots. The light was perfect for the gray house and the clouds gathering above. He packed his gear back into the leather bag and walked up to the front door. The ancient house sat at an angle to the street, tall and forbidding with darkened gray siding. This was the original part of the house, he was sure. He entered the door and walked around inside, taking in the workmanship. He had to dip his head to move through the rooms for he was a tall man. It was all there, the mullioned windows and wooden shutters. Period furniture had been placed about, none of it original he thought, but still it provided the look he wanted. He would come back again with the proper lighting to take his photographs. He walked back outside and climbed the hillside behind the house to see the harbor. The wind blew his long blond hair around his face as he gazed at the sail boat masts bobbing below. As soon as the weather broke he was going out.
He parked his car, picked up his camera case and the day’s accumulation of wrappers and cups, and carried them into the condo he rented on the third floor. The furnishings were sparse but neat and clean. John hadn’t added anything to the décor except a photograph of a sailing ship. His needs were simple and he was used to living lean. He called his sailboat home when he was docked down south in Wilmington. The second bedroom was turned into a darkroom for his photos. John was working on a book of photos with a tentative title called Sea Captain’s Houses.
He stood with his hands on his hips watching his photos come to life. The only one he liked was the widow’s walk picture. He would have to go back again for the outside shots. The rain, however, kept him from going back to the house for over a week. He spent much of his time that week at the Tavern on the corner of his street. The fishermen were in because of the weather and he enjoyed talking with them and hearing their stories. He had been told he came from a long line of seafaring men but the only ones he knew were his father and grandfather and they were both shrimpers.
The sun finally came out on Saturday and so did John. There weren’t many visitors to the old house during the week and only a few more on the weekend. He took his shots sometimes waiting for the people to leave the grounds. It was a nice day and he was in no hurry. He went inside to check with the docent again, making sure there would be no problem for him to come in for his interior shots on Monday, a day the house would be closed to visitors. While inside he walked through the rooms, ending up by the fireplace staring at the ship's painting over the mantel. He felt drawn to this particular house though he didn’t know why; there was nothing to set it apart from others he had photographed, nothing particular at all and yet…he turned startled to find someone in the room with him.
September 12, 1820
He stood on the quarterdeck with his glass trained to the open sea, studying the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. They would be in for a blow tonight. His ship anchored in the harbor had been restocked and would sail in the morning but tonight…tonight he would allow himself the pleasure of Anne. He handed his glass off to the boy and smiled. Anne had become his mistress two years ago. He had been surprised at her passion and the response she awakened in him. It had been ten months since he had seen her golden tresses and green eyes the color of jade. He turned once again to the horizon then walked down to his cabin.
The half-written letter to Sophie lay on the table and he placed it under a map. He had ordered dinner for two to be served in his cabin. The Captain poured a glass of port and watched the clouds on the horizon through the window as he waited for the boat bringing Anne. He'd been attracted to her beauty and composure when he first met her. Later the sensuality of her mouth and the look in her eyes invited him to know her better.
August 16, 2006
"Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. It’s a beautiful painting, isn’t it?"
"Yes, it is...the way the light was captured on the waves. It’s very good."
The air in the room seemed to stand still. Dust motes in the light coming from the windows no longer moved. A chill filled the void. She stood unmoving, listening to the house creaking in the wind and feeling the chill bumps on her arms, smelling the lavender. He hadn’t moved, his hand still resting on the mantel, his body half-turned toward her.
"Do you feel it?" she asked.
"The chill? Yes, these old houses can be drafty," John replied.
"But it’s August," she protested softly, shaking her head and walking to the window into the sunlight.
He turned and moved his hand, knocking a porcelain figurine from the mantle and breaking it on the stone hearth. "Oh, no! I’m in for it now. No telling how old or valuable that piece was." He stooped to pick up the pieces, slicing his right thumb, which began to bleed. "Damn! I’ve cut myself."
She had moved quickly when the figurine fell and dug around in her bag for a tissue. "This is all I have," she offered. "Here, I’ll pick up the pieces." She went down on her knees gathering the broken porcelain in her hands. She was very careful placing the shards in her left hand but she cut her right palm. "Oh, look, I seem to have cut myself, too." She looked up as he squatted down beside her and took the bloody tissue, pressing it to her palm.
"Let’s find the docent. Maybe she has a first aid kit or something. Are you okay?"
She was staring at her palm. A tingling sensation spread to her fingertips. "Odd, that’s odd.
It’s tingling like a warm tickle." She looked over at him and smiled.
John held his thumb in his right palm. His thumb felt like it was pulsating and he opened his hand. The bleeding had stopped. "Yeah, my thumb feels funny, too. Come on let's find her."
He stood and offered his hand to pull her up, not thinking about the blood. She gave him her left hand and their blood mingled as he pulled her up. He looked down at the mess on the hearth and led her out to find the docent.
She was behind the table in the little alcove by the entry and became alarmed when she saw their bloody hands. "Oh, my dears, what has happened? You’re injured! Come with me."
She led them into a room in the newer part of the house where a bath had been installed, gave them the antibiotic soap to wash their hands, and went to find the first aid kit. The cuts were deep enough to bleed but nothing serious and she took care of them with antibiotic salve and band aids.
"There’s more. I’m afraid I broke a figurine."
The docent looked at him strangely. "Where did you find a figurine?"
"The one on the mantle, a figure of a man and a woman. It was porcelain I think and quite old."
"I don’t think so, dear…no decorative items were placed there. Come show me what you’re talking about." The docent was puzzled.
John led them back into the room by the fireplace. "Here on the hearth…it was here." He turned to the young woman. "You saw it! You cut yourself on the same piece."
"Yes, I did. It was there but it’s gone now." The air began to move again in the room, the scent of lavender fading as she met John’s eyes.
Chapter 2:
August 16, 2006
The docent looked from one to the other. "I’m afraid I have no explanation for it. The only figurine in the house is locked here in the library cabinet." She indicated a glass-fronted cabinet holding a man on a horse.
"No, it wasn’t like that. It was a man and a woman. Oh, well, maybe someone came in and picked up the pieces while we were getting our band aids." John pursed his lips looking down at the hearth, no trace of the broken porcelain remained.
The docent was truly puzzled and shook her head. "You two are the last visitors today. There’s no one else here. Well, if you’re ready, I don’t want to rush you, but it’s near closing."
The young woman was still standing in the doorway and thinking. Something was happening here only she didn’t know what it meant yet. "I’m sorry, don’t let us keep you," she said to the docent, who was going back to her alcove. "Would you have time for a cup of coffee?" she asked John.
He ran his hand through his hair, still unsettled by the incident. "Uh, yeah, I could use a cup. I’m sorry, my name is John Scarlet." He held out his hand and felt a warmth flow up his arm as she took it.
"Annie Aubrey," she said, noticing the tingling warmth flowing up her arm as she took his hand. A slight trace of lavender filled her nostrils. "I walked up from Watersole Street."
"Well, I can give you a lif,t then. My car is just outside." He followed her out to his vehicle and drove down to the main street, parking by a café. "Is this okay with you?" he asked, indicating the café with the red and white checked half curtains in the glass.
John took a sip of his coffee. "I think I’m a little spooked," he laughed.
"Um, yes, I’m not sure what is going on. How’s your thumb?"
"It feels warm. Hope it’s not getting infected."
Annie smiled feeling the warmth in her own palm. "It's way too early for that, you know. You look familiar. Do you live here?"
"No, I rented a place for a couple of months. I’m taking pictures for a book I’m doing on sea captains' houses. How about you?"
"Same here. I have rooms in a Bed and Breakfast on Watersole Street. I’m researching my family, with hopes of turning it into a book eventually."
"Your family is from here?"
"My ancestors were here. I live in Philadelphia."
"I’m from Wilmington, NC. I never got into that whole ancestry stuff. I know my father and grandfather. That’s enough." He studied her over his coffee cup. She had the prettiest blue green eyes and golden blond hair.
"The house, I’ve been researching it for a while. I think it may have been owned by one of my ancestors but I can find no trace of him ever having lived here. That’s a little mystery I hope to solve while I'm here."
"I’d be interested in what you have on the house. The only thing I have is the brochure."
"It’s not complete. Much was left out of the brochure or maybe not known. I’d be happy to share." She smiled across the table at him. "You said your last name is Scarlet. Would that be the Philadelphia Scarlets?" She narrowed her eyes taking in his very blue eyes and blond hair.
"No, that would be the Wilmington Scarlets," he grinned.
He drove her to the old house on Watersole Street and stopped by the door. "This house must date back to the same time as the Captain's house," he said as he tilted his head back, taking in the four-story house fronting the street.
"Yes, it does. Would you like to come in? I have a suite on the third floor there." She indicated the windows facing the street.
"If you don’t mind. These old places interest me." He thought he must have seen many houses like this up and down the northeastern coastline.
He entered the doorway and turned to the left. The parlor would be here ,he knew, and the dining room through the double doors to the rear of the house. The pocket doors were now closed and he walked over to them.
"We can’t go through there. It’s part of the private residence of the owners." She watched him turn around in the room with a strange expression on his face. "What is it, John?"
"Déjà vu I guess. Funny, I know the dining room is through these doors." He felt very strange and followed her back into the hallway and through another door.
"This is the dining room now. Breakfast is served here. I think it used to be another parlor, perhaps for the ladies?" she smiled. "Would you like to come up see the suite I have? It’s very authentic."
September 12, 1820
Jack Aubrey took his glass of Port and sat down on the seat by the windows, remembering the fist time he had met Anne Turnball. He had been invited to dine at Captain Turnball’s house. The ladies came in and he was introduced to Captain Turnball’s sister- in-law, sadly widowed these three years. She hadn’t seemed very sad at all as he bowed his head and kissed her hand. She held a lively conversation during dinner and caught his eye on more than one occasion. He had been given rooms on the third floor for the two nights he would be at anchor. That Anne’s room was across the hall, he discovered when he retired for the evening. He had mistakenly opened her door, finding her in her nightgown brushing out her long golden hair. He made his apologies as she turned and smiled. She had pointed out his rooms across the hall, turned back and brushed her hair over her shoulder. He had taken that vision to bed with him that night, tossing and turning with the thought of her. The next night he had taken her to bed with him.
August 16, 2006
They arrived at her door and she inserted the key. John’s head turned toward the door across the hall and back to Annie. Her golden blond hair was caught up in a ponytail hanging down her back. She opened the door and they walked in. Annie stood back and waved her arm, indicating the little sitting room with the two windows that overlooked the street. He walked around the room and moved over to the windows.
"You could see the ocean before those houses were built across there." He turned slightly from the window to Annie.
She caught her breath and stepped back. For an instant she had seen someone else, someone
tall, dressed in a dark coat with his blond hair pulled back and tied with a black ribbon. She reached for the chair, sat down and blinked. The tall man with the windblown wavy blond hair stood before her.
"Annie, are you okay? You’ve gone white as a sheet. Maybe you had better go get that hand looked at."
"No…I’m fine now." She looked down at her hand and back at John. "The um…papers I have on the…uh, house. I’ll pull them for you if you’d like."
"You don’t have to do that today. I think we’ll be seeing each other again. Monday I’m photographing the interior of the Captain's house.Would you like to be there?"
"Yes, I would, thank you. I’ll have the papers ready for you then. Would you like to sit down?"
"Um, no, thanks. I think I'd better be going. I’ll see you Monday around 9:30, okay?" He walked out the door, closing it softly behind him.
She watched him leave. He seemed to take the life out of the room with him. She walked over to the windows and watched him get in his car and drive away. The scent of lavender played about her and she felt a cold sense of loneliness, finding herself near tears. She looked across at the houses. Yes, you would have seen the sea. She was getting closer to the mystery she thought, and reached inside her blouse touching the pendant. But what did all this mean?
John drove down the street and turned down toward the harbor. He wanted to check on his sailboat and think about what had just occurred. Parking his car, he walked down to his dock and climbed aboard. He checked out his cabin, straightening his bunk, then lay down. He couldn’t get his mind around the feelings he had experienced in her room. Hell, he didn’t even know the woman, Annie, yet he had wanted to take her in his arms. The feeling was so strong he had run out of there like a scared rabbit. The whole house was weird. He could have sworn he had been there before...but he hadn’t.
That night the dreams began. It was the only answer she had for it. She felt his presence in the bedroom as she readied for bed. A glimpse of a white shirt out of the corner of her eye yet when she would turn, nothing was there. She awoke in the night and reached to brush the hair off her face but there was no hair on her face. She had braided her hair before turning in. A warm rush enveloped her as she turned in her bed, the scent of lavender strong about her blankets. She stood by the windows watching the sun come up feeling tired and restless. He was here, whoever he was, in this room with her and meant her no harm. Quite the contrary. She had never experienced anything like this before and had no idea how to deal with it.
Annie spent Sunday trying to find out about the house where she was staying. She questioned the owners and found they had a book about it so she spent the afternoon and evening reading. The name Turnball kept coming up. She'd known there were a lot of Turnballs around here. Opening her laptop, she looked up the names she had for this town. Six Turnballs, all male, came up. Maybe a trip to the local library might shed some light? Captain Turnball had been the original owner of this house. Surely there was more on his family to be found. She turned off her laptop and stretched her arms over her head, feeling the tickle sensation run down her arm. "Stop that!" she said quietly.
Chapter 3:
August 18, 2006
On Monday morning John waited outside to give Annie a ride to the Captain's house. "Hey, thought I’d give you a lift."
"Thanks, I appreciate that," she said as she slid onto the passenger seat.
John chanced a look at her, smelling that scent that had haunted his dreams for the last two nights. "What’s the scent you wear? It’s nice."
"You mean the lavender? It came with the pendant." She pulled the pendant from under her knit top.
"Oh, yeah, that’s a pretty little thing. It looks like something you'd like. Where in hell did that come from?" He ran his hand over his face and looked both ways before turning up the road to the house.
"I inherited it. I think it was a brooch at one time and converted to hang from a chain. The lavender scent comes when I wear it."
"You’re kidding ,right?"
"No, I’m not, John, and I can’t explain it. I’ve just accepted it." Like a lot of other things, she thought.
John unloaded his gear and the docent unlocked the door for them. It was a different woman today and John was glad. The broken figurine still bothered him. He had already decided what rooms to photograph and set his lighting up in the largest room first. He did have a look on the hearth for any telltale slivers of porcelain but none were found. Annie had wandered off, not wanting to get in his way, but her scent remained with him, following from room to room as he took his photos.
Annie had gone upstairs to the large bedroom and was on her knees by a cradle when John found her. She turned, tears streaming down her face. John rushed over to her. "Annie what’s wrong?"
The c…c…cradle! John, it's original to this house. I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m going outside." She got up and ran down the stairs, leaving John staring at the cradle.
John set his equipment up and photographed the cradle. Annie was a funny thing. He didn’t quite understand her sometimes but, then, there were the times when he knew her too well, as
in his dreams. He went over to the window and saw her up on the hill behind the house looking toward the sea. That would make a nice picture he thought so picked up his camera and walked outside. He stood against the house aiming his camera toward Annie. He found her in his viewfinder and liked the way her skirts billowed in the wind. He snapped her picture and looked up. She was wearing shorts.
September 12, 1820
Anne tucked her skirts under the canvas covering trying to keep them dry as possible. She felt for her brooch and cursed herself for leaving it behind. It was the last thing he had brought her and she'd wanted to wear it tonight. He always had something for her, the lavender water, lace hankies and the figurine of the man and woman he said represented the two of them. She treasured it and had been heartbroken when the babe had dropped it. He hadn’t meant to, poor little soul. She thought of him, little John Aubrey tucked up in his cradle. She hadn’t made up her mind whether to tell Jack about him. What would be the use? It had caused a furor down at her brother-in-law’s when she moved out into the house Jack had purchased for her. After that, she had been cut from their society. Ha! She thought, if they knew about little John what would they think then? She peered out into the rain, trying to make out the shape of the ship.
August 20, 2006
John had been back to the house again, taking more pictures of the outside and now was finished developing them. The picture he had taken of Annie on the hilltop still puzzled him. It came out correct as far as the shorts went but was blurred as if looking through the wavy glass of the house. He was sure he had seen a woman in long skirts. They were blue and billowed out, showing white petticoats underneath. He ran his hand through his hair. Must be losing my mind. It’s this place, he thought as he looked out his window. His dreams were becoming more frequent and the scent of lavender seemed to envelope him. He needed to see her again.
Annie had spent most of the day in the library, trying to put the pieces together. The librarian had been most helpful and they had sent away for the birth registry from All Saints church. Her ghostly roommate had been absent all afternoon and she was grateful for the time alone. She smiled at the thought of him. He had almost let her see him last night. What tricks was he playing with the light? She had wandered off in her research today to check on military uniforms because she believed her roommate was a British Naval officer.
August 21, 2006
John caught up with Annie at lunch in the café with the red and white checked curtains. He bought her a sandwich and asked her if she would like to go sailing the next day.
"Yes, I'd love it, but I will warn you, I’m no sailor. I don’t get sea sick but I know nothing about sailing."
"That’s okay. I know enough for both of us. I’ve been on water since I was old enough to wear a life jacket. Bring a swimsuit."
"John, I don’t know how to ask you this except to ask you. You aren’t married or anything ,are you?" She wondered why this was so important to her.
John sipped his coke and put his cup down. "No, divorced two years ago."
"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I just wanted to know."
"It’s okay. You…you are widowed, aren’t you?"
"Yes, how did you know that John?"
"I don’t know. It just came to me. It’s this place, Annie. I think I am losing my mind here. Things just come out of my mouth I didn’t think to say. Hey, you want to go look at my boat?"
John took her down to the dock and jumped on his boat. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?" she asked.
He met her eyes and held out his hand. "Granted, madam."
After a quick, impressive tour he led her to the living quarters. "I live here, actually. I took the apartment for a place to develop my pictures and because the weather was bad when I first came up."
"This is nice, John, kitchen and everything."
"Um, that’s a galley, ma'am," he smiled.
"You’ll have to teach me the terms, then. I like it. You just sail around, do you?"
"Pretty much. I’ve been up the northeast coast this spring and summer but I’ll head south after hurricane season’s over."
A little shiver ran through her body and her palm began to tingle again. She waited to see what would come next.
"I’m sorry but I have the strongest urge to kiss you." He moved over beside her on the built-in banquette. "You don’t mind." It wasn’t a question. He took her face in his hands, kissed her softly on the lips and looked into her eyes.
Annie responded by moving into his arms. No, she didn’t mind at all and she raised her face for another, the scent of lavender strong around her. Suddenly she said, "I…uh, think I should be going, John. There’s some work I need to do tonight. What time do you want me here tomorrow?"
"Say 10:00, if that’s okay?" He wanted her here today, right now.
"10:00 then…I think I'll walk home. Its' not far." She hesitated a minute, meeting his eyes, then turned to climb up the steps.
John could hardly breathe for the lavender after she left. He went up into the fresh air, the scent still around him. He wondered if anyone else could smell it. That might become embarrassing at the Tavern.
As soon as Annie opened her door she felt the electricity. He was back. Ignoring him didn’t work. "I have some work to do tonight, so go away." She put her bag down and sat at her computer. Pulling the notebook from her bag, she began transferring the information to the program she had up. She worked for a while and reached up to turn on her desk lamp. It immediately went back off. "Okay, now that’s not funny. I can’t…see…oh, my god." He faded away. "You are…were…a naval officer! I knew that! Why are you here? Who are you?"
Nothing greeted her except the semi darkness of the room. She got up from her chair, too rattled now to enter anything else. He had revealed himself to her for an instant, in full dress uniform. She felt the air stir around her neck and stood very still. He was close. "Don’t do this to me," she murmured softly.
THE CAPTAIN'S HOUSE
By Atonia Walpole
Chapter 4:
August 22, 2006
John picked Annie up at 10:00 and took her to the dock. He had a basket full of goodies and a couple bottles of wine. "I thought we’d have a picnic. The guy down at the deli fixed it up for me."
"That’s very thoughtful of you, John," she said, watching him stow the picnic down in the galley. "Anything I can do?"
"Nope. I’m going to maneuver us out of this slip and we’re off to the sea. You okay today?"
"Yeah, maybe I’ll tell you about my roommate later."
"Roommate? I thought you lived alone?"
"Not quite."
John buckled her into a life jacket, untied the ropes and started his motor to get them out of the harbor. He smiled as he watched her sitting by the railing holding on for dear life, her hair loose and blowing in the wind. He was going to have to do something about her and the thought gave him much pleasure. "Hey, come on back, sit here." She inched her way back to the seat by him and sat down. "That’s better, isn’t it?"
"Yeah, thanks." She was trying to braid her hair to keep it out of her face.
"Look in that bucket there. I keep a few leather shoe strings around and you can tie your hair up. Here, take the wheel. I’ll do it for you." He gathered up her hair and tied a piece of the string around it, letting his fingers comb through the length of it. Taking the other piece of string, he tied his own hair back.
Annie sat back in the seat and enjoyed the ride among the waves. He handled the boat expertly. He was different on the sea she realized. He was in control, was the master. Oh, god…he was her Captain. With his hair tied back he looked so much like the glimpse she had seen the night before it was uncanny. He had on a white polo shirt open in the front, black swim trunks and boat shoes. John Scarlet. She was going to look him up, find out who his people were. Maybe her roommate was a Scarlet?
John brought his sails down and eased into a cove. "Picnic spot," he said as he worked.
Annie looked over to the little narrow strip of beach and smiled...perfect. John jumped down into the water and Annie handed him the goodie basket. She waited for him to come back and help her down. As he caught her under the arms, his own arms went around her and held her for a minute. "I’ve been wanting to do that all day," he said with a wide smile, then took her hand and led her up on the beach.
Annie spread out the blanket he had taken from his bed. She removed her shorts and tee shirt and sat down.
"That color suits you, matches your eyes." John sat down and removed his shirt. "Let’s see what we have here, bottle of wine and a corkscrew. You want to do the honors? Only paper cups, I’m afraid, sub sandwiches, chips, something gooey and sweet."
Annie opened the wine and handed him a cup. "Thank you, John, for bringing me out today. To you!"
"To you, Annie, cheers." He held her eyes as he drank the wine. "So, tell me about your roommate."
"He’s a ghost, John. Now don’t look at me like that. He’s the real thing."
"A ghost is not a real thing ,Annie. It’s all in youe mind."
"He was in front of my eyes last night. He’s been there, well, ever since you came in with me that day. I feel him there and sometimes I get a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, a form or shape, sometimes a color. I looked up military uniforms in the library and found out he’s a British Naval officer, a Captain. Last night he revealed himself to me in full uniform."
"You believe this, don’t you? Don’t you think the uniform you looked up sparked your imagination?"
"I looked up the uniform because I had seen it, John, on him. The day you were there I thought he was you for a minute. You look like him with your hair pulled back like that."
"Hey I’m not a ghost! I’m real. Well, what does he do besides scare the bejesus out of you?"
"He doesn’t scare me, never has. He doesn’t mean me any harm. He…causes…sensations."
"Sensations…good ones? Ummm…lucky devil." John smiled at her. He had no doubt she believed this nonsense. "Come on, let’s get wet." He stood up and reached for her hand. "How’s your hand? I see the band aid is gone." He turned her palm over. A pink scab had formed in the shape of a J. He looked up and decided not to mention his thumb with the scar that formed an A. Weirdness, that’s what it was.
They swam about and played in the water, eventually ending up together where it was waist-deep. He held her arms in his hands and looked into her eyes. "What would you say if I picked you up and carried you to the boat, down to my bed and lay down with you?"
"I’d say you are an awfully strong man."
"I feel like Hercules." He dipped down, slid his arm under her knees, picked her up, kissed her lips and carried her to the boat. "I can’t carry you up the ladder."
"Ooh, weakness," She purred.
"You’re going to have to help me out a little here," he laughed.
They lay in his bed and the familiar tingling in her nipples worked its way down her belly. She closed her eyes and let it take her. The room filled with lavender as they rolled entwined in the bed, the soft motion of the boat adding to their pleasure.
"J…John" she said as he sought her bruised lips once more. Somewhere in her mind she knew she had almost said Jack.
September 12, 1820
He obtained a house for her and her woman from an acquaintance though he had never seen it. Anne was a widow and he ,after all, was married. He was respectful of her reputation. She visited him on the ship when he was in port but that had only been in port six times in two years. Thoughts of her warmed him nightly.
He picked up the little silk purse he had bought for her and smiled. She loved the little trinkets he chose for her. He took his goblet back to the table, thinking about having another glass. No, he put the stopper back in the decanter. He would wait until later. Back at the window he saw the rain had begun. It would be a wet journey across the harbor. He picked up his violin and began to play.
August 22, 2006
John had her back to the dock by nightfall. He brought the remains of their picnic with him as they walked to his car. "Would you like to come up, meet my roommate?" she asked when he parked in front of the house.
"Sure, maybe finish off the wine?" He carried the bottle up the familiar staircase to her room. "Well, where is he?" he asked as she closed the door.
"Um, I don’t know. He’s here and he isn’t here. Sorry, best I can do," she said and took the bottle from him.
"Maybe he doesn’t like the company you keep?" he suggested, sitting down on the loveseat.
She handed him the cup of wine and sat down beside him, smoothing his hair back. "I do…like the company. I really enjoyed myself today…all of it."
"So did I." He looked over her shoulder as the bedroom door opened by itself. An invitation? "It doesn’t have to be over, you know…the day."
"Umm…maybe an hour or two left."
John left her just before midnight. She turned off the lights in the sitting room and climbed back in bed. He was back. She raised herself on her elbows and said to the darkened room "Go, I don’t need you tonight." A light flashed through the bedroom window revealing him sitting in a chair, smiling, dressed in his breeches and a flowing white shirt opened down the front. He dipped his head to her and faded. She lay breathless for a moment. He was gone but the lavender remained. She would remember to look up John Scarlet tomorrow. Tonight she would dream about him.
August 23, 2006
John called Annie, waking her up the next morning. "Good morning Annie…I just wanted to say…good morning to you."
"Mmm, good morning to you, John. Sleep well?"
"Sweet dreams last night. How about lunch?"
"Okay, can you pick me up at the library, say 12:30?"
"Sure, see you."
John had indeed had some sweet dreams the night before. His bedroom smelled of lavender. He hung up the phone and lay back in the bed. He had forgotten to ask her if her ghost had visited last night. He smiled…sensations...and hoped he had left her with a few of his own.
He picked her up at the library for lunch. She had a backpack with her. "You look like you’re going back to school."
"It is actually left over from college but it’s handy."
"Find out anything today?" he asked
"Yes, I found out quite a bit today," she smiled over at him. "I’ll tell you about it later."
They were back in the café for lunch, eating clam chowder. "I looked you up, John," she said, dipping into her soup.
"What do you mean you looked me up?"
"At the library. Someone has obviously researched your family before because there's a lot of information available. I had to, John. You know I told you about my ghost. You look so much like him."
"Well, I’ve never cared much about that stuff, Annie, but I guess you’re going to tell me anyway," he smiled.
"I don’t have all the answers yet but I can tell you your family originally came from Boston. They were ship owners and sailors. Now doesn’t that fit?" she smiled. "There were two brothers born in Boston, one stayed on and the other moved down the coast a bit to this town. The one who moved here was named John Scarlet. There seems to be a John Scarlet in every generation down to you."
"You think this John Scarlet is your ghost?"
"I’m not sure yet but there has to be a connection. I still have some more work to do online."
"It’s the houses that interest me, the oldest ones were built by shipbuilders. You can tell by the workmanship. Interesting about the Scarlet sailors, though." It intrigued him. The long line of seafaring men he had always heard about was true.
Chapter 5:
August 24, 2006
John visited the ships museum with Annie to see if they could find any Scarlet information. He was fascinated by the ship models while Annie was reading all the plaques and information available. She called him over to see what she had found, a model of a ship built by Scarlet. The information booklet mentioned Captain Scarlet, too.
"There’s your Captain," John said.
"Your Captain, maybe, but not mine. Mine is British."
"It’s a fine ship. God, I would love to sail on one of those!" He walked over to a mural on the wall depicting a sailing ship much like the Scarlet model. He had one of those moments, lost in the mural, feeling the cold salty air, the damp of the ship, the men’s voices on the wind, the sound of the sails catching the breeze. He felt like he was there. It was only when Annie took his arm that he came back to the museum. He turned and looked at her strangely. "Déjà vu again. I was just on that ship. My mind is going, Annie!"
She only smiled at him and hugged his arm. They walked around the museum and found a display of warships. John stopped and studied them then walked back to the mural…he was sure the ship he thought he was on was a warship.
"What is it, John?"
"Warship, I was on a warship. There was smoke from big guns firing." He stood starring into space.
"A glimpse from the past? I get those all the time, John. I have all my life but especially when I am researching my own family. It’s like I’m in touch somehow and they let me have a look through the door."
John was quiet on the ride home, his mind still struggling with the door that had opened for him. It had been so real, the acrid smell of the smoke and sounds. "I’ve never had anything like this happen before," he whispered.
"You said you would like to be on one of those ships and you were for a moment. I guess you had better be careful of what you ask for. Still, it’s strange…Scarlet’s didn’t build warships."
Annie could see John was shaken by his experience. "John would you like to come up?"
He smiled, "You had to ask?"
She entered her rooms and paused to see what was afoot. He was there and he wasn’t. Same strange sensation she had the last time John was here. She looked at John, who had walked over to the window as he had the first time. He had his hands in his pockets. Before her eyes she watched him change. The man stood a little straighter and was dressed in breeches and the white shirt she had seen before, long blond hair caught back in the ribbon. She stood very still,waiting. He turned to her, smiled, and said, "There’s a storm coming up." It was John again. He’s with John, in John…something. Her hand went to her mouth.
"John what were you thinking just now before you spoke?"
He looked at her a moment. "About making my boat fast, making sure the ropes are tight. This time of year storms blow up in a hurry, skirting up the coastline. Why?"
September 12, 1820
The rain against the glass blotted out the horizon, the dark clouds he had observed earlier no longer visible. He lay down his violin. The ship was beginning to rock slightly more than usual. He decided to go up on deck and have a look at the approaching storm. He donned his rainwear on the way to the steps.
August 25, 2006
"I think you’d better go, love. Landlady will be up shortly." She snuggled against his chest.
"If you keep doing that I won’t be able to go. Still think I’m a ghost?"
"No, I know you’re real enough," she laughed.
John kissed her goodbye and left her in bed where she lay for another four hours before waking to the sound of rain on the windows. She stretched and pulled his pillow to her, hugging it and wishing he was still there. Ah, be careful what you wish for…she looked around but her ghost wasn’t there this morning.
After breakfast she sat down at her computer to enter some information on the Scarlets and see where they ended up in the tree she had started. So many men named the same thing was confusing. Only the dates separated them. Something clicked in her brain and she pulled out a folder of papers she had copied from the archives at the state capitol. John Aubrey had been bound out to John Scarlet in 1826. She sat back in her chair. A connection between the two families is made, except John Aubrey had no family. She went through the pages again coming upon the marriage bonds for the county. Skimming down the pages she stopped: Margaret Aubrey to John Scarlet. She must be Aubrey's daughter or sister. Further research that day confirmed her suspicions. Margaret was the daughter of her ancestor John Aubrey. She picked up the phone to call John.
"Hey, Annie, I was just about to call you see if you wanted to go to dinner tonight."
"Yes, food, yes. But listen. I made a connection today, Aubrey-Scarlet." She told him of her finds.
"Kissing cousins? I like that. Tell me what you're doing right now."
"I’m on the love seat taking a break. What are you doing?"
"Sitting in the tub thinking about you."
"That sounds nice, John. Wish I was there."
"You could be."
"What time are you picking me up?"
"6:30. See ya."
She lay back on the love seat and thought about him in the tub. She felt a tickle on the bottom of her feet. "I thought you weren’t going to bother me anymore." The air around her neck began to move and she closed her eyes.
September 3, 2006
The relation ship between John and Annie was beginning to get serious. The word ‘love' had been mentioned. They spent more and more time together, eating most of their meals together. He had taken her to his apartment and shown her his photos. She was intrigued with the photo of her on the hilltop when he told her what he had seen in his viewfinder. Who was the woman? Annie was determined to find out.
The answer came in the mail. Copies of the church records arrived that afternoon and she and John went over them. John found the record of the christening: John Aubrey/ Mother: Anne Turnball, Father: Jack Aubrey. "They weren’t married, Annie. He was christened on July 1, 1820."
"The widow Turnball who lived in the house was John’s mother. Wait a minute! Jack Aubrey! I’ve been so dense. I thought John and Jack were the same person, but if he was born in 1820 he sure wouldn’t have been paying taxes on that house before then. Jack is the one! He’s the mystery man and Anne must have been his mistress. Oh, how romantic, John." Annie was looking out the window.
"It may not have been, Annie, but think what you want to," he laughed.
"It was. I feel it. She loved him dearly and he loved her. I wish we could find out who he was, where he was from."
Annie had gone to take a shower and John paced around the room picking up things, looking out the window. He spied her pendant on the table and picked it up. This is what causes the lavender she had said. As he turned it over in his hand he saw his hand go out and lift the brooch from a red velvet lined box. He turned it over in his hand. This is the kind of thing she would want. John dropped the pendant back on the table. He had seen the arm go out, a dark blue coat with gold piping. He had seen it! He fell down on the loveseat, rubbing his face. Another glimpse, a door opened for him? No, it was too unsettling. He looked at the pendant again. It was the same one. He got up and walked over to the ice bucket and filled a cup with ice water, wishing he had a whiskey.
Annie came out ready to go to dinner. "Has my ghost been bothering you? You look rattled."
He told her about he vision he had with the pendant. "It was a brooch but the same one you have there. The coat sleeve was dark blue with gold piping."
"Like a uniform, maybe?" she walked over to her desk to find the copies she had made of military uniforms at the library.
"Like this but the piping was different." He pointed to the page.
"John, that’s my Captain’s uniform, my ghost." She turned around to the room. "Why don’t you help me out here?" she snapped and stamped her foot.
John looked at her. "Maybe he is trying to help. He bought the pendant or brooch. Who did he give it to in your family?"
"It’s your family, too, John, and I don’t know the answer to that."
John later told Annie he felt like he had stepped over the edge. He couldn’t deny the things he had experienced though he didn’t understand any of it.
"It’s not going to hurt us, John. Whatever is going on, maybe it’s to help us understand something. At least we’ve gotten to the bottom of a few things, like the Scarlet-Aubrey-Turnball connection. And, I might add, I’ve met you."
"Ah, Annie, I love ya!" He took her in his arms and held her close, burying his face in her hair.
"Where did you pick up that English accent?"
"Sorry?"
Chapter 6:
September 12, 1820
He arrived on deck catching the wind and rain full in his face then made his way to the quarter deck where he peered out into the darkness. He bellowed out instructions and listened as they were relayed and his men scurried about. "It’s changed directions!" he hollered. "Aye, sir," came the answer. He looked over the side toward the land thinking surely Jimson would have had the sense to turn around. Pray God he has.
September 4, 2006
John asked Annie to go with him down the coast to photograph some houses he had heard about and she agreed. Few days, pack a bag, it’ll be fun. They were driving down the curving narrow roads, talking, and she asked him about his fascination with old houses.
"Well, I’m an architect by trade so I guess it follows I’m interested in construction. But it’s the old shipbuilder’s houses I love. You know a lot of them were built from wrecked ships? Yeah, they didn’t waste anything."
"Do you architect anymore?"
"I haven’t done a paying job in a couple of years. After the divorce I just kinda quit everything and took off on my boat."
"You quit a good-paying job to play?"
"No, I left my former father-in-law’s firm to get my head straight. I have a book out of photos, sailing ships. Not a big seller but I really didn’t care. It was something I wanted to do and now I’m working on the Captains' houses."
"I envy you your freedom, John."
"What is it that keeps you tied down?"
"Myself, I guess. I’m a history teacher, local high school, and I took a year off to research my book. So I’ve been doing a lot of traveling up and down the northeast."
"Can I ask what happened to your husband and why you took your maiden name back?"
"Oh, I never had his name, really. I always used my maiden name. He was killed in Iraq."
"You really don’t have anything tying you down then, do you?"
"What are you suggesting, John?"
"Sail away with me, would you?"
She stared at his profile as he drove. Could she do that, just drop everything? Everything. What was everything, a job she didn’t particularly enjoy? What would her parents think…did she care? She was 30 years old, educated and…free. He turned and looked at her, those blue eyes full of life and love. "Yes, John, I would. There are some things I have to take care of first, but yes."
He reached out for her hand. "Then we’ll set sail, my love, we will."
They spent two nights together in hotels along the way, waking up in each other's arms for the first time. John scouted out his houses and took his pictures. Annie helped him by gathering all the information she could on each house and creating folders for each one. They did a bit of sightseeing and ate good food. It was a great trip. John dropped her off at the B&B, promising to take her for breakfast.
She walked into her room and put her bag down. He was there somewhere. "I’ve had the most wonderful time. Did you miss me?" She waited to see what would happen. Okay, no response. She walked in the bedroom, took off her clothes and ran the bath. As she came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel he was there sitting in the chair dressed in his breeches and the white ruffled shirt. He looked so real, so solid sitting there watching her with the smile in his eyes. "You know I’m in love with your double, with John. You like that don’t you? I wish I knew who you are." Her right palm began to tingle and she opened her hand and looked at the tiny scar…J. "J…John? Jack! Oh, my God, you’re Jack Aubrey! The brooch, my pendant, you bought it! Oh, Jack, who did you give it to? Was it Anne?" He began to fade. "Don’t go! Oh, Jack."
She threw on her robe and called John, "I’ve had a visitor, Jack Aubrey!"
"What…you mean your ghost?"
"Yes, he was here but he’s gone now. He looked so solid tonight. I mean like I could have touched him. Now that I think about it, he’s been getting more solid lately. I asked him about the brooch but he faded away again. I asked him who he was and my palm tingled, you know the little scar?"
"Jack Aubrey was the British Captain, your ghost? Wow! He bought the brooch, Annie, and he must have given it to Anne. She was the mother of his child. What happened to Anne?"
"I don’t know. She disappeared in 1820. You know records weren’t kept on women, only men. There was the Christening and after that only one entry for the widow Turnball at a store where she bought a thimble and that was in August. I can’t get over it! My ghost is our ancestor! Oh dear, I think he is a bit naughty."
"Why, oh the, ah…sensations?" he laughed. "He must have been a lusty fella, Annie."
"I don’t know about that. I want to know what happened to Anne and Jack and where did he go?"
"I don’t know where you would go to find it, but there must be records on him somewhere. If he was high up in the British Navy there has to be something. We won’t solve it tonight, babe. See you at breakfast."
September 8, 2006
They were finishing up breakfast. "John, I want to go up to the Captain’s house today."
"Sure, when we leave here?"
They parked on the curb and walked inside. The docent greeted them, the one with the first aid kit again, and asked about their cuts. They assured her they were fine and would be careful about the house.
They toured the whole house, the scent of lavender strong about them today. They walked upstairs to the room with the cradle. Annie wasn’t sure she wanted to see it again after her first reaction. John held her hand as they stood and looked at it. She went down on her knees running her hand along the curves carved so many years ago. "I wonder how many babies have lain in this little cradle."
"I only know of one, but I'm sure there were others. This was John Aubrey’s cradle."
"I need to leave now, John."
"Why? Tell me about it."
"A sadness...something happened. I don’t know what. We know John lived. I don’t know."
John took her hand and led her out of the room, back downstairs. They walked to the top of the hill looking toward the harbor. "I think the woman I saw in the viewfinder was Anne. Maybe she was looking for his ship?" John said, shading his eyes.
Annie had moved a little away from him and pushed the hair out of her face in the wind. The sunlight was shining on the harbor. "It was a frigate, the ship, John Aubrey’s ship."
John turned to her. "The warship with the guns. Let’s go, Annie…Annie give me your hand let’s go now!"
Annie turned, gave him her hand, and they walked back to his car. "Hey, are you okay?" John asked.
"Yeah, John, I’m good. I think Anne was in my head for a minute. She loved Jack but couldn’t be with him. It must have been awful for her. I wonder why he never married her, I mean with the child and all?"
"Maybe he was already married? That might explain it. I’m afraid I've fallen under your spell, Annie. I seem to be as interested in this as you are, accepting the weirdness and everything. Maybe we’re both loony?"
He drove down to his boat dock. "Come check out your new home-to-be."
Annie climbed down in the cabin with different eyes this time. "It’s rather compact but it has everything. Actually there's plenty of room here for two." She tried to open the cabinets and he showed her how to work the latches. "Where do you keep all your stuff, John?"
"Stuff? Here, I mean I don’t carry around a lot of baggage. I have a few things stored at my Dad’s place. It’s amazing what you don’t need to live. Why? Have you got loads of stuff you were planning on dragging down here?" he laughed.
"Well, I don’t know. I have accumulated a few things over the years. I could probably store them at my parents' house. They have a big garage. I’ll have to think about that...what don’t I need to live."
"All I need is you, Annie, and my boat, of course," he grinned. "Have you checked the bedroom?"
She turned and cocked an eyebrow. He was still grinning. "Want to help measure the bed, Captain?"
Later they took their drinks and a can of peanuts out to the end of the dock and sat down. "It’s beautiful out tonight," she said dreamily.
"Won’t last. There are storms coming, remnants of the hurricane that hit Florida working its way up."
"How do you know that? What is it ‘red sky at night sailors delight, red sky at morning sailors warning’? Is that it?"
"No, I saw it on the weather channel," he laughed.
"When were you thinking about sailing away?"
"Depends on the weather. I don’t want to go back to Wilmington while hurricanes are forming. They always seem to come in there. I don’t want to risk any more damage to my home here."
"Have you been through a hurricane with your boat?"
"Yeah, I wasn’t on it but I tied it down as fast as I could at the dock. Still got battered around and had to replace the mast. That’s expensive. So I just sail out during the season, usually go north. We’ll go down in the Caribbean, anywhere you want to."
"It sounds wonderful to a landlubber like me, but I’ll have to grow sea legs," she said and stretched out her legs.
"You’ll do fine with me."
Chapter 7:
September 12, 1820
The waves in the harbor were getting steep and water was pouring in the little boat. Anne was becoming frightened and called out to the boatman, "Can you not turn around and take me back?"
"No, not now! 'Tis no difference one way or the other. We’re too far out. We’ll try and make for the ship."
The wind was blowing the canvas cover, ripping the back end of it to shreds. Anne looked up and knew it was only a matter of time before it would be gone. Already soaked to the skin, she began to pray.
September 10, 2006
It was an unusually warm day, the air sticky with humidity, when John went down to his boat to check on the ropes and make sure she was tight in her berth. Annie joined him later, bringing a small cooler of beer and some sandwiches.
"We can’t take her out today? It’s so warm the sea breeze would feel good," Anne suggested hopefully as she fanned herself with her shirt.
"No, the wind is going to pick up later and the sea will be rough. It looks calm now but if you take a sailboat out and the weather turns nasty it’s difficult to get back in under sail. Believe me, I know."
They sat on the end of the dock finishing their lunch. "The men who went to sea back in the day of our Aubrey must have been brave and courageous," Anne commented thoughtfully
"I imagine they were. Saltwater gets in your blood, I think, and the hardships became a way of life." He looked over the harbor. "I think our Aubrey would have anchored over there in the shelter on the other side of the harbor."
"How would he get ashore? That’s a good ways out."
"By boat. Probably they would have come up to a dock to load supplies and then anchored over there until time to sail. It must have been exciting sailing on a frigate." John sat musing over the past and looking out to sea.
"I think I’m going for a swim, John. You want to join me?" She pulled off her shirt and dove in, "Feels good!"
John pulled his shoes off and dove in after her. When he came up he didn’t see her, and looked around, calling her name.
Annie had gone underwater and could see John’s legs kicking. She intended to come up behind him, but suddenly she began to sink, her heavy skirts tangled around her legs. Panicked, she began to thrash around and as she thought of Jack, her chest became heavy.
John noticed her hair floating on top of the water and dove under, bringing her up coughing and sputtering. "Annie, Annie!" He swam over to the ladder holding her under the arms and called out. Several people came running to help pull her onto the dock. She was coughing up water. Somebody called for an ambulance. John could hear the sirens as he held her.
John rode in the ambulance, watching her, eyes wide in terror. She kept trying to talk but the attendant shushed her with the oxygen mask.
It was hours later when they were driven back to the B&B that she was able to talk to John. "I have to tell you something. It’s about Anne."
"Shhh, don’t worry about Anne, honey, you almost drowned. Just keep quiet. I can hear you breathing."
"No, Anne drowned, she drowned!" Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. "She never made it to the ship." She began to cry so John took her in his arms and rocked her. "I could feel the weight of her skirts tangled around her legs."
"This has gone too far, Annie. We’ve got to stop talking about it. Leave it alone. My god, Annie I almost lost you today."
September 12, 2006
John stayed with Anne for two days, and although she was up and around, he was worried. This fascination or obsession she felt with the past was becoming dangerous and he cautioned her to leave it alone several times. But Annie wanted to get to the bottom of it and sat at her computer looking for anything to do with Jack Aubrey. She found some information on his battles with the French, the fact that he was married, and had begun to put together a scenario.
She told John Anne must have been going to meet him. Maybe a storm came up and she drowned? He sailed away, not knowing she had drowned. John sat looking up at her wishing she would just quit.
"Does it matter, Annie? John Aubrey lived and produced and here we are."
"Yes, it does matter, to me it does. I…want Jack Aubrey to be at rest and he isn’t. That’s why he’s still here. There is something unfinished."
"Well, he almost finished you off! I can’t listen to this anymore!" He got up thinking he would go down and lock up his boat. He hadn’t been back since she almost drowned.
"Jack had nothing to do with what happened to me, John."
"I’ll be back in a little while. I’m going down to the boat and lock it up."
"It’s pouring rain, John."
"I’ve been wet before!" he snapped and left, running down the stairs. By the time he had reached his boat he had cooled down and felt bad about the way he had talked to her.
Anne ran her hands through her hair and shook it out. John didn’t understand how important this had become to her. She looked at her screen at the dates she had entered. She felt she knew what had happened to Anne. The baby must have been taken somewhere. Surely there was someone to look after it when she left the dock. She reached in her blouse and fingered the pendant. The brooch had been left behind and must have stayed with the baby for it to end up around her neck.
She felt the air move around her and looked up. He was dressed in uniform tonight and sat in a chair by the window. He had that same small smile on his face she had seen before. She had to tell him and she hated to do it.
"You think I’m Anne, don’t you? I have to tell you something you need to know. I’m not Anne, I’m Annie Aubrey, yes, Aubrey. You were waiting for her to come by boat and there was a storm or something and the boat never made it. She had something to tell you Jack. She had a child, your child, a son. She named him John Aubrey. She drowned that night in the harbor. Your child lived and was brought up a seaman. John and I are many generations removed from you but we carry your blood. I’m sorry, so sorry." She began to cry, watching his face change in his understanding. "You can go to her now, Jack." He stood up, looked out the window, then as he turned to her she felt a warm flush of love from him. He bowed, straightened himself, and faded away. Annie cried for she knew she would never see him again.
John had his boat locked and secured and walked down to the end of the dock. The rain pelted him as he looked across the harbor. The door opened.
September 12, 1820
He had waited on the deck for some time watching toward the distant shore, then gone back down to his cabin, removing the soaked rain gear. Looking at the bottle of port, he realized she would not be coming across tonight. He had poured a goblet and started to take a drink when the bell sounded. He dashed back up on deck where some of his men were pointing out in the harbor.
The wind was driving the rain in his face and he saw the tip of the boat capsized and floating toward the ship, no sight of his men in the rough water. He hung onto the ropes straining his eyes in the storm; there was nothing to be seen but the boat slowly sinking into the harbor. His thoughts went to Anne, praying she was safe on shore. He held on to the ropes until the boat was no more and he was persuaded to go back down. He mourned the loss of his two men but of Anne he knew not.
September 12, 2006
John found himself on his knees, his salty tears mixing with the rain that poured down his face. He had experienced Jack’s agony. He got shakily to his feet and walked back to the B&B, back to Annie.
She had been standing at the window watching for him to return. When he rounded the corner she hugged herself. He was coming!
He opened the door and she ran into his arms, holding him tightly to her. Rain dripped from his hair and his face as he looked into her eyes. "Annie, Jack, never knew about Anne…I…saw…I was with him that night. The door opened for me again."
"John, he’s gone to Anne now. The door won’t open again." Their arms went around each other and as his lips found hers the scent of lavender faded away.
THE END