Hope from the Ocean: (The Prequel to Fireflies )

by P. S. Bartlett

  The memory of Sarah’s lips kept him awake half the night, yet he still sprung from his bed upon hearing the grandfather clock chime six times. His joyous spirit filled his limbs with energy and his heart pounded in anticipation of asking Mister Jameson for Sarah’s hand in marriage. His mission was as clear and crisp as the autumn air and he couldn’t wait to get to the table but he stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waited, upon hearing Sarah’s voice calling to her mother and father to not take forever to come to breakfast.

  Owen watched as Sarah descended the stairs, his eyes gazing upon her like always, from the golden comb in her hair to the hem of her skirt. His mouth went dry and he tried to swallow but only coughed into his sleeve. Somehow he managed to regain his composure by the time she landed next to him.

  “Why, good mornin’, Doctor Whelan,” Sarah said, taking Owen’s arm.

  “Good mornin’, Miss Jameson. Allow me to escort ye to breakfast,” he croaked.

  “Aren’t ye well?” She searched his eyes, and he melted into hers.

  “I’m fine. I seem to have swallowed a frog this mornin’ is all.”

  They proceeded arm in arm into the dining room, and he seated Sarah as he had the night before, bringing the memory of their evening together to the surface of his thoughts. Once he’d seated himself, he poured a glass of water and drank it down quickly, hoping to silence the frog.

  William Jameson was an agreeable and amiable man with no moody temper or quirks, yet the thought of asking for his only daughter gave Owen the biggest scare of his life. After everything he’d been through and worked so hard for, the true weight of this moment had never once crossed his mind. His one dream was to find the love of his life and settle down with a family of his own, yet in all of his planning and life building, getting to the alter had eluded his logical thoughts. The most romantic thing he’d ever done had taken place only twelve hours earlier and it had taken him years to get there. Everything was happening so fast now. His mind ran wild and he was so caught up in those thoughts, he didn’t realize his leg was bouncing wildly, shaking the table.

  “Owen?” Sarah said.

  “Aye? Oh…please forgive me,” he replied, pressing his hands on his thighs to steady them. “Sarah? Are ye sure ye want ta marry me? I mean is this what ye truly want?”

  “Yer bein’ childish. Now stop, will ye? I said I did so please, just ask and get it over with,” she whispered at him through her teeth.

  “Well hello and good mornin’ to ye, children. Ye both must be starved. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen either of ye reach the breakfast table before us,” remarked Kathryn.

  Owen leapt from his chair and seated both Kathryn and Elizabeth and then rushed back to his seat again, holding his legs still under the table.

  “Somethin’ smells wonderful,” William said, patting his stomach as he entered the room. “Well good mornin’ to ye, ladies and gentleman,” he added, shifting his eyes about the table.

  Everyone gave their return good mornings and William took his seat. Anne Marie began her usual ritual and soon the table was a feast for both the eyes and pallet, and Sarah offered to say the grace.

  “Oh Lord, thank ye for this lovely bounty before us. Thank ye for our lovin’ parents and aunt and our wonderful friend Owen. Lord, please bless Owen most of all as he asks me da fer me hand in marriage. I’m doin’ it fer him before he faints. Amen.”

  All five heads at the table shot up at once, and four of them were staring first at Sarah and then three of them at Owen. No words came and everyone waited for someone else to speak, when from the kitchen, a familiar voice shouted, “I knew it! God bless it, I knew it!”

  Upon hearing Anne Marie’s proclamation, Sarah burst into laughter and then quickly covered her mouth.

  “Owen, is this true?” William asked turned to Owen.

  “Yes…yes, please, sir. May I have yer daughter? I mean, what I mean ta say is…”

  The table erupted with joyful laughter. Kathryn turned to Elizabeth and nodded with a toothy smile as Elizabeth did in return. William stood and lifted a glass of water, tapping it with his fork.

  “Hear, hear. Attention everyone. To me dear daughter Sarah, my heart and soul and the other love of me life, are ye certain this is the man ye want?”

  Sarah looked over at Owen with her eyes squinted and her nose crinkled up over a pout and examined him up and down. She sat back in her chair, folded her arms slowly one over the other and like a flower opening in the sunlight, a smile unfolded her grimace and she nodded furiously. “Yes, with all me heart and soul, Da, yes.”

  The frog was gone from Owen’s throat but in its place was his heart, and he lunged for his water to wash it back down. William roared with laughter at the sight of the usually cool and composed Doctor Whelan, now guzzling water and patting his forehead with his napkin.

  “Get used to it, son. Ye’ll not tame that one. Ye might slow her down to a gallop but rest assured yer in for a bumpy ride.”

  Owen smiled at last but his mind went blank and the only words he could produce were, “Thank ye?”

  “Well, a course yer welcome, son. What a perfect match. I seen it all along. I knew it would take some time but I seen it, I tell ye I did,” William stated, lowering himself back into his chair.

  “Oh, Will, ye saw no such thin’. However, Kathryn and I have known for a very long time this would be the perfect match, didn’t we dear?” Elizabeth remarked with a nod.

  Kathryn pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “This is a glorious day. I only wish my dear sister had lived to see it. I’m simply overjoyed.”

  Owen reached out and held his aunt’s hand for a moment and then reached across the table for Sarah’s. Soon, all five were connected and Owen found his voice. “Dear Lord, I haven’t always been yer faithful servant but somehow ye’ve blessed me beyond me wildest dreams and silent prayers. I know me mother is there with ye and I know it’s her work bein’ done here. Thank ye fer this family and thank ye fer the new family we are makin’.”

  “We’ll not be makin’ any more family anytime soon, Owen, at least not until after the weddin’.” Sarah joked, sending them all again into laughter. “Amen,” she added.

  “Now, let’s get to the other reason we’re all sittin’ here. I’m as hungry as a horse,” William said, waving his arms about for everyone to begin.

  Anne Marie peeked out from the kitchen and caught Owen’s eye. He winked at her playfully and she smiled and backed away from the door. The remainder of the meal was spent discussing wedding plans and engagement parties and even children. Owen kept up with the conversation as much as he could but his mind and his gaze continued to seek out Sarah. She was swept up into a whirlwind of excitement, yet as he ate, his eyes barely left her face and his heart grew every time she glanced in his direction.

  “Well, I’m off,” Owen said with a sigh as he pushed his chair back from the table. “Excuse me, will ye?”

  “Wait, I’ll walk ye out.” Sarah patted her lips with her napkin and rushed to take Owen’s arm again.

  As they reached the foyer, he pressed a soft kiss on her cheekbone, “Have a wonderful day,” he whispered into her ear.

  “I do believe ye missed.” Sarah winked, pursing her lips to him.

  “Ah, woman yer a greedy one, are ye?” He pulled her to him.

  “Greedy? Me? Why whatever do ye mean?” She frowned.

  “I suppose now yer goin’ ta want all me kisses fer yerself?”

  “Well, isn’t that the point of havin’ ye fer me husband?”

  Owen leaned down and scooped her up, lifting her until her toes barely tapped the floor, pressing her so tightly against him she could barely budge. He locked onto her eyes with fierce intent, until all at once he felt the full weight of her small frame resting in his arms. Her head tilted back as his face drew closer until the tips of their noses were so close they could feel each other’s without even touching. Then in a blink, Owen’s mouth pounced
onto hers, enveloping her lips, first tasting them and them consuming them completely until she fell completely limp.

  After several moments, he slid his arms from around her, resting his hands at her back until she once again stood on the soles of her shoes, weaving back and forth a bit, clinging to his coat.

  “Greedy girl. Will that hold ye until I return?”

  “Greedy…aye.” She sighed.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t miss me target, Miss Jameson. Me aim is true and ye have no worries. All me arrows have yer name on them.” Owen put on his hat.

  “Arrows…aye.”

  He leaned in one last time and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see ye at supper. Go shoppin’. Get a dress. I’ll not wait forever fer me bride.” He turned and tripped, nearly falling. He glanced back at Sarah, smiled, and left.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The elder women had convinced Sarah to hold the wedding off until after Christmas, and the thought of not having Owen as her husband for another month frustrated her. However, there was a bit of planning involved, although she was able to find the perfect gown fairly quickly, which alleviated her disappointment and gave her something to look forward to. Until their wedding day, Owen and Sarah spent every waking hour they could together. Their first real outing was at the Holiday Gala, which proved to be the highlight of their courtship. Owen claimed not to be a good dancer and yet on the cool final evening of autumn, as the breeze whipped through the balcony doors into the ballroom, he had a sense of unexplainable confidence, and a hidden talent emerged when he swept Sarah off her feet for a waltz.

  “Owen, yer wonderful!” Sarah exclaimed as they swayed through the crowded dance floor. “Why did ye tell me couldn’t dance?”

  “I’ve never done this in me life. I don’t know what’s come over me. It’s as if me feet are bein’ guided by the breeze and the feel of ye in me arms.”

  “Then we won’t ask why. Let’s just keep goin’ until they close the doors,” she said as he raised his arm and spun her under it.

  “You old storyteller, you, I thought you said you couldn’t dance?” Vernon called out as he and Penelope passed them on the dance floor. All four of them laughed and Owen continued his ballroom prowess until the final dance, leaving Sarah breathless.

  At the end of the evening, Owen walked to the cloak room for Sarah’s wrap and stopped for a moment to admire the city lights from the open balcony doors. He noticed a figure at the balcony railing and something drew him outside to investigate it. Before he realized he was being summoned, there he stood at the railing overlooking the city—alone. The evening had brought with it a moist cold wind, leaving the breeze from hours before far behind. He felt a chill travel the full length of his body, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. Blowing his breath through his hands to warm them, he thought he heard Sarah calling him from inside and he startled, wondering how he’d ended up outside on the balcony in the first place. He turned around again to look at the city one last time, when Rachel’s eyes invaded his thoughts seemingly out of his own frosted breath.

  It wasn’t Sarah’s voice calling to him at all. He could see her from where he stood. She was at least twenty feet away, speaking with Vernon’s wife Penelope as they waited for their wraps. Sarah was admiring Penelope’s swollen tummy and Owen surmised they were bonding over it.

  “Sarah’s wrap,” Owen whispered to himself, shaking Rachel out of his head and racing back inside.

  “Hey, what were you doing out there? It looks like snow,” Vernon asked as he was handed Penelope’s wrap.

  “I haven’t the slightest idea about either, Vern,” Owen answered, reaching for Sarah’s as well.

  “By the way, fabulous affair, old friend. Thank you for inviting us. We don’t get out much anymore, now that she’s in the family way.” Vernon shook Owen’s hand.

  “It was a pleasure spendin’ time with ye both. I suppose the next time I see ye will be at the weddin’?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world—being your best man that is.” Vernon nudged Owen’s shoulder and walked off.

  Owen approached Sarah just as she was releasing Penelope from a goodnight embrace and he covered her shoulders, wrapping her up in the bronze silken fabric. He clung to her for a moment and looked back towards the balcony wondering if who he’d seen was Rachel, standing there, her back to him, her long black hair waving in the breeze.

  “Owen? Are ye alright?” Sarah asked.

  “Aye. I’m sorry dear I…I believe I saw snow fallin’. We’d better get home before it sticks to the street,” Owen stammered. By the time he’d turned back to the balcony doors, a porter had closed them completely and was pulling the drapes. He let go of Sarah and dashed to the doors “Wait!” he shouted, and pushed the thick red velvet drapes aside. He searched the balcony through the glass, only to find that Vernon was correct. When he realized what he was doing, he pushed the drapes back into place and spun around. Sarah stood there with a confused and troubled expression on her face.

  “It’s snowin’, that’s fer sure,” was all he could say.

  “Shall we go?”

  Martin waited for them at the carriage with the door open. Once they were safely inside and pressed tightly together, the chill subsided.

  “Owen, why on Earth were those doors open all evenin’? It’s bitter out tonight,” Sarah asked, so close now she was nearly in his lap.

  “These affairs tend to get rather warm with all of the dancin’ and such. There’s usually a lot of heat from all the bodies stirrin’ up the air.”

  “What were ye lookin’ for?”

  “Beggin’ yer pardon?”

  “On the balcony, ye seemed in a panic to get a look out that window. I’ve known ye long enough to know ye are neither impulsive nor insane. Somethin’ spooked ye, I seen it in yer eyes.” Sarah took his hands and he was reassured that no matter what his answer, she’d not turn from him.

  “I thought I’d seen a ghost. I’m sure it was me imagination playin’ games with me, Sarah. It’s nothin’ ta worry about.” He pulled her gloved hands to his kiss and then leaned in for her lips.

  Sarah remained quiet and her lips were well occupied for the remainder of their journey home. When they arrived, the hour was well past ten o’clock, the snow at least an inch deep and several of Sarah’s final carriage kisses were humorously interrupted by yawns. She bid Owen goodnight with one final peck and excused herself to her room. Owen was longing for his usual evening tea to help him sleep and went straight into the kitchen.

  As much as Sarah’s company and her all-consuming presence distracted him from what he’d witnessed, the apparition, either genuine or somehow conjured by his mind, burned itself into his conscience. The taste of Sarah’s kisses yet on his lips was a sensation he wished to carry with him into slumber and the sooner he was able to drink his tea and reach his bed, the sooner he could dream of his love.

  However, even recalling Sarah in his arms was brushed into the background of the evening. He believed he had in fact seen Rachel’s ghost. It tormented him and gnawed at him, causing him to question why she had chosen this night of all nights to reveal herself, and most of all, why after he’d seen her eyes, she’d kept her back to him.

  As he stood there in the light of a solitary candle, he heard footsteps from behind him, so insubstantial they sounded as though they were barely touching the floor at all. He spun around so fast, the tea in his cup poured out onto the floor at Sarah’s feet, nearly splashing her clothes.

  “Oh! Owen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle ye.”

  He snatched a newspaper from the kitchen counter and fanned it out over the wood floor to sop up the spill. He knelt down and blotted the tea, balling up the paper, and when he raised his head from the floor, he noticed Sarah was holding something in her hand.

  “I know ye know how much I love this book but I’ve read it more than enough times. Ye don’t have ta keep leavin’ it in me room,” Sarah whispered with a s
mile, holding out the now old, worn copy of “A Christmas Carol.”

  He stood and took the book. His hand trembled. “Sarah, I’ve never once placed this book in yer room. I haven’t set foot in yer room since ye’ve been here.”

  “But that’s impossible. I return this book at least three times a week to the library. I just assumed it was ye. Perhaps it was Aunt Kathryn?”

  “Why would me aunt put that book in yer room? She doesn’t even know the significance of it ta me–or ta ye.”

  “Oh, fer Heaven’s sakes, Owen, who’s been goin’ in me room? Now stop this foolishness and confess, will ye?”

  Owen tossed the wet newspaper into the rubbish bin. “Sarah, ye know me ta be a logical, level-headed man. I swear to ya, I haven’t set foot in yer room since the day ye got off the boat.”

  Sarah reached up and placed her index finger against his lips. “I know what yer thinkin’. I believe all a this weddin’ and workin’ is takin’ its toll. Yer Ma will be gone a year in a few days. I’m certain there’s a logical explanation fer all a this.” She walked around him and went for a mop to finish cleaning up the tea. “Make ye another cup and get some sleep.”

  When he awoke the next morning and for every morning thereafter, they never spoke of it again.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  From the next day into all of the following days, neither the book nor Owen’s apparition were mentioned. The book remained in the library and the anniversary of Rachel’s death on Christmas came and passed without incident. Owen and Sarah even celebrated Vernon and Penelope’s first anniversary with them on Christmas Eve and placed flowers on both Rachel and Dell Doyle’s graves on Christmas morning. Owen was sullen and quiet at times yet he was mostly so in love, the sunlight in his heart shined regardless of the dark cloud lingering in his head.