“You own ships?”
“Yes. Eight of them. All steamers.”
“How exciting. Do you see your sisters often?”
“I do. And that is, as you put it, both a blessing and a curse.”
I laughed out loud and relaxed back on the soft upholstery.
Just then, a fierce gust of wind shook the carriage, and raindrops, like tiny pebbles, pelted the glass.
“My poor driver,” Captain Fraser said. “Thank heavens he’s a tough old chap.”
“In that regard, thank you for insisting that I accept your kind offer of assistance,” I said. “I don’t know how I would have managed to make it back on my own. I shouldn’t have walked so far, but the weather was pleasant, at the time.”
“That’s the thing about Cape Elizabeth,” he said. “If you don’t like the weather, simply wait a few minutes.”
I laughed again. “Perhaps I shall meet your sisters… I am looking forward to getting to know this place. It has suddenly become more interesting than I first imagined it would be.”
Our gazes locked and held, and for a few seconds I felt transported, as if I were floating like that seagull on the wind—coasting on the air with natural ease and rapture.
In the very next instant, I felt giddy, wishing I could leap to my feet and dance a jig, right there in the coach.
Heaven help me. Was I already doomed to a mad infatuation, after only a few short minutes in this man’s company?
Get a hold of yourself, Evangeline. You know nothing about him. He could be a disreputable rake, or married.
The carriage leaned to the side, and Captain Fraser peered out the foggy window. “I believe we have arrived,” he said. “Blackstone Cottage.”
Chapter Twenty-three
The carriage wheels bumped over the uneven drive, then we pulled to a slow halt.
“I will escort you inside and introduce myself,” he said, “for I must welcome your parents to the area.”
He swung the carriage door wide open, got out and offered his hand. I stepped down and we fought our way through the wind and rain. Seconds later, introductions were made in the entrance hall, Captain Fraser was apologizing for dripping on the carpet, and my mother responded with: “Please! No apologies are necessary, sir! Won’t you come in for tea? And please, allow my housekeeper to hang your coat to dry by the fire in the kitchen.”
My gallant rescuer accepted her invitation and joined my parents in the parlor while I hurried upstairs to change into something dry and tidy my hair.
A short while later—after the captain’s driver was sent around back to warm himself and take some tea in the kitchen—I returned to the parlor where Captain Fraser was engaging my parents in conversation about the area and places worth visiting. He stood up when I entered, and my heart fluttered as our eyes met.
When we were all seated again, conversation resumed, and he described his career as captain and the proprietor of a number of merchant ships he’d inherited from his father. He was cool, collected, and charming, and I found myself growing quiet and still inside as I listened to the silky tone of his voice and marveled at every fascinating word he spoke about his travels, around the world.
“So many magnificent experiences for a man your age,” my father commented. “Unless you truly are an ancient mariner and have discovered the Fountain of Youth!”
Everyone laughed.
“Tell me, Captain,” Mother interjected as she raised her delicate china teacup to her lips. “Is there a Mrs. Fraser at home?”
And there it was—the bold and fundamental question I had wondered about at least a dozen times during the past hour.
“Not yet,” he replied with friendly optimism, and finished his tea.
My heart rejoiced!
“It must be difficult to feel settled,” Mother said with understanding and compassion, “when you are away from home so much of the time.”
“Indeed.”
My still-rejoicing heart drummed with excitement, and suddenly I was grateful to have left dirty old Boston behind for this idyllic seaside paradise.
Thank you, Papa.
When it came time for the captain to take his leave, he thanked my mother for the tea, and we all moved together into the entrance hall.
“I shall take the liberty of sending over an invitation later today,” he said as the housekeeper handed over his coat, “for dinner and a musical evening at my home this Saturday. It will be a small gathering of close friends and acquaintances—about twenty people I am sure you would enjoy meeting, since you are new to the area.”
Mother laid a hand over her heart. “Oh, how can we ever thank you, Captain Fraser? You are most kind.”
“I hope you can all attend.” He turned to me in that moment, gave me a private look that was not meant as a good-bye, but rather an unspoken message: I look forward to seeing you again soon. He then bowed to both my parents before he placed his hat on his head. “And now I must brave the storm. Good day to you all.”
With that, he was gone into the twilight.
o0o
“My word, what an impressive man,” my mother said as soon as the captain drove off. “With an equally impressive coach, if I may say so. How fortunate you were, my darling girl, to have been rescued by him when you were in such peril.”
“I wouldn’t call it peril,” my father interjected as he returned to his chair by the fire to continue reading his book. “It’s only rain. And he merely pulled over and offered our girl a ride home, as any decent person would do.”
Mother rolled her eyes heavenward. “He could have simply driven by, but he didn’t.” She linked her arm through mine, led me up the creaky stairs to help me put away the wet clothes I’d left on my bed, and spoke softly, so that Father wouldn’t hear. “And he invited us to a musical evening at his home next Saturday. He must have been very impressed with you, dearest, which is hardly surprising at all. You are a beautiful, intelligent young woman. How wonderful, Evangeline! Finally, we will meet some new people, and I dare say, he will know the right sort.”
She entered my room and crossed to the window to look out. “I knew, if we were patient, we would find our place in society here. I am sure the captain knows everyone of good standing in Cape Elizabeth and Portland as well. Well done, darling.” She moved to the bed, shook out my wet gown, and hung it over the back of a chair. “Of course, I am very sorry that you were caught in the downpour, but sometimes these things happen for a reason. Perhaps you were meant to meet the captain, and this will be an important turning point in your life.”
Mother was a firm believer in fate and destiny—to the point of forgetting, sometimes, to take hold of the wheel herself.
“Only time will tell,” I casually replied as I began to unpin my hair, and consciously turned my back on my mother in an effort to conceal my own excitement and romanticism.
Chapter Twenty-four
In that instance, I believe my mother was right—that certain things happen for a reason, and that my experiences in the months and years following my arrival in Cape Elizabeth would play a significant role in shaping the future. Not just my own, but others’ as well. I wouldn’t know that at the time, for I was still young and had yet to learn the joys and cruelties of life. I had also yet to truly understand its magic.
And so it was, on the night I dressed for the dinner party at Captain Fraser’s mansion overlooking the sea, I was certain of one thing at least—that my fate had already been sealed. That it was my destiny to meet this man and fall madly, hopelessly in love with him.
o0o
“These are just the sorts of tales I’d dreamed I would hear when we moved into our splendid little seaside cottage,” my father said at the dinner table, after the main course had been served. He raised his glass to Mr. Harvey, the lighthouse keeper, who had been a fisherman all his life until he retired from that career to accept the post at Portland Head Light.
Mr. Harvey had just regaled us with a thrilling tale of
a ship that had run aground during a storm, directly in front of the lighthouse tower. Mr. Harvey and his stalwart assistant keeper, young Mr. Williams, had used ropes and ladders to rescue all those aboard. Mercifully there had not been a single casualty.
“Mind you, that sort of thing doesn’t happen every day,” Mr. Harvey added. “Some days are unbearably dull, and if a man is in the wrong frame of mind, the tedious, relentless roar of the ocean can drive him stark raving mad.” A hush fell over the table. “Not me, though,” he added. “When you grow up with it, the rhythm of ocean waves becomes like the sound of your own breathing.”
Captain Fraser, seated at the head of the table, raised his glass. “Here, here. To the eternal breath of the sea.”
“To the sea!” we all agreed as we sipped our wine.
In that moment, my gaze fixed upon Captain Fraser’s, and we shared an intimate acknowledgement of each other. It was not the first time I had caught him watching me during dinner, and the glimmer of attraction I recognized in his eyes filled me with euphoria.
Feeling restless, and with my blood sizzling through my veins, I turned my attention back to the white-haired gentleman seated next to me. His name was Jeffrey Danforth, and he was a wealthy businessman from New York who spent his summers in Cape Elizabeth with his stunningly beautiful wife, Cecilia.
Mr. Danforth, a congenial man who seemed genuinely interested in others, kept me engaged in conversation throughout the meal, asking me questions about my life in Boston, and talking to me about activities I might enjoy in Portland. “Do you like the theater?” he asked.
“Very much so.”
“Well, I am sorry to say there isn’t much of a theater district in Cape Elizabeth—not like in Boston and New York—but my wife Cecilia has a wonderful singing voice and I hope you will stay to hear her entertain us later.” He leaned close and spoke conspiratorially. “When I met her, she was lighting up the stage in New York, until she finally surrendered to my persistent proposals and agreed to become my wife.”
“How wonderful.” I regarded her with interest across the table. She was a slender, golden-haired beauty in her mid-thirties, while Mr. Danforth must have been in his late sixties, at least.
“I look forward to hearing her sing,” I added.
Later, when we all filed into the drawing room where chairs had been set up in a semi-circle facing the grand piano, and a footman was making his way around the room with a tray of drinks, my mother leaned close and whispered in my ear. “I heard she’s Mr. Danforth’s third wife, and by far the youngest. He has ten children by his previous two wives, who are no longer with us, but he has no children with the current Mrs. Danforth, even though they’ve been married for seven years. As you can imagine, there is much speculation as to why that might be.”
“Mother!” I whispered harshly. “That is none of our business.”
Turning with a friendly smile toward the footman, Mother accepted a glass of brandy. As soon as the man turned away, she whispered, “And to think I imagined there would be no good gossip in Cape Elizabeth. At least not the delicious sort. Thankfully, I was mistaken.”
“Mother, please stop at once. I do not wish to hear it.”
Again I glanced discreetly at Captain Fraser who stood in front of the window, conversing with other guests. He sensed my eyes upon him and gave me a smoldering look that heated my blood. Feeling suddenly exposed, I lowered my gaze, demurely. When I looked up again, he was still watching me with pleasure and amusement.
At last, Mrs. Danforth began to sing a piece from Mozart’s opera, Figaro. I was intensely moved by her voice and understood why her husband had fought so hard to win her. She was breathtaking in every way, and for a moment, I wished selfishly that she were not the center of attention, for I was falling more passionately in love with my handsome host every passing moment, and I wanted every other woman in the room to disappear.
Again, I couldn’t resist the compulsion to glance over at him. This time, he was alone against the back wall, appearing relaxed, still watching me with those compelling, magnetic eyes.
I felt a tremor of arousal deep in my belly, for he was so much more of a man than any of the young gentlemen who had flirted with me at balls and assemblies in Boston. Sebastian Fraser was an experienced sea captain. He had led crews of men around the world, earned their respect and shouted commands as he gripped the wheel in his strong, capable hands and steered the ship through the waves. I imagined him as a romantic hero with the wind in his hair and the salty spray in his face, his deep, masterful voice cutting through the roar of the wind in the sails. I was positively enraptured.
By that time, Mrs. Danforth had finished her song and my blood was on fire, my cheeks no doubt flushed with color. Everyone began to clap and murmur with appreciation.
Captain Fraser held me in his gaze the entire time, clapping slowly while he mouthed the words, “Meet me outside.”
I felt breathless and exultant—and in that moment, I knew.
He would be mine, and I would be his.
Katelyn
Chapter Twenty-five
That night, after our day at the beach where I spent far too much time on my phone googling “how to lucid dream,” Bailey and I enjoyed another evening of cards and sipping Rusty Nails in the library of the inn. When it came time to say goodnight, we returned to our individual rooms, but I secretly ventured back out again on my own to have another look at the sundial—this time at night.
The sky was clear with a half moon and plenty of starlight, and the ocean was calmer than it had been on the night of our arrival. The violent storm and the cab driver’s disturbing tale of manslaughter in the house had been rather unsettling. Tonight, there was only a constant, gentle murmur of waves lapping the shore, which eased my mood as I walked down the stone path, under the rose arbor, to the edge of the property.
I came to a halt, about ten feet away from the sundial—for Sylvie’s warnings came suddenly to mind. What if she were right, and this was a mistake? Maybe I shouldn’t even touch it. What if I was taken somewhere I didn’t want to go?
But did I truly believe that this ancient timekeeper was a portal to another dimension? It still seemed like the stuff of fantasy, even to me, who had come all this way across the country in search of answers to questions I didn’t even understand.
As I slowly, cautiously moved closer, my rational mind insisted that the portal idea was exactly what my mother had called it: a lot of mumbo jumbo. So I stood over the sundial with confidence and defiance regarding its power, and reached out to run my open hand over the top of the dial plate, as if I were dusting it clean with a damp cloth. Then I traced the clock numbers with the tip of my index finger, feeling the depths of the grooves.
I moved, full circle, around it, never lifting my hand or breaking contact with the stone, while I listened to the waves on the beach and the chirping of the crickets in the cool grass.
Finally I backed away from the stone and looked up at the big house, all lit up in the night, as if there were a party going on inside. I imagined what it must have been like to live there in a time without electricity, when women wore corsets and men wore top hats and traveled in horse-drawn carriages. I gazed up at the veranda and pictured Captain Fraser and his beloved young wife standing at the balustrade, drinking champagne, gazing up at the moon. I wondered about their courtship and how long it had lasted. Was it love at first sight? Or was it an arranged marriage where their love took time to grow?
History was a fascinating thing, I thought, as I returned my attention to the sundial and rubbed my hand over the top of it again. The past seemed like such a different world, and yet it wasn’t. It was this very same world, with the same smells and sounds and textures. The same ocean breezes. The same emotions.
Love. Hate. Jealousy. Joy.
Grief.
Suddenly I felt the loss of the son I’d never had—at least not in this lifetime—which sounded completely insane, even to my own ears.
> Maybe I should consider therapy when I went home. It would probably be a good idea.
But first, I thought stubbornly, as I returned to the stone path and walked back to the house, I would see if I could find a way to have a lucid dream. Maybe, just maybe, new experiences and answers existed out there, somewhere in the ether.
Evangeline
Chapter Twenty-six
1878
I remained in my chair for a moment, waiting for the captain to exit the drawing room. Then, while Mrs. Danforth and her husband flipped through pages of music, I leaned toward my mother and whispered in her ear, “Will you excuse me for a moment?”
She watched me rise from my chair. Thankfully Mrs. Danforth began to sing as I reached the door, so my mother could not possibly follow without offending the performer.
I wandered to the grand entrance hall and noticed that the front door was open. Taking a deep breath and striving to prepare myself for a private rendezvous with a man I desired passionately—to the point that it felt almost reckless—I strode forward and stepped onto the wide veranda that overlooked the sea.
Captain Fraser stood at the white painted balustrade, gazing up at the stars and the half moon in the sky. He raised a glass of champagne to his lips, and I noticed another glass perched on the rail, waiting for me.
He turned as I approached, and without a word, he handed it to me. As I accepted it and gently clinked glasses with him, I was keenly aware of the soft murmur of the surf, surging onto the rocks at the edge of the lawn, even though it was a calm, almost windless night. Crickets chirped in the grass below.
“It’s a perfect half moon,” he said.
I looked up at the stars, twinkling in the sky. “What a beautiful night. Thank you for inviting us to your home, Captain. I love everything about it.”
The Color of Forever Page 9