* * * *
The flight itself was uneventful, with the teens, who sat together, dozing amid the stares from returning tourists that Bortnicker drew for his Rasta look. But, as is usually the case, there were delays coming in to JFK, and at customs, and at the luggage carousel, so that both Mike and LouAnne were going to have to hustle to make their connecting flights.
As they caught their breath, Mike bid them farewell, assuring them that the show, when given the Hollywood Treatment, would be a hit, and promising to let them know when something was decided. “Problem is, dudes,” he said, high-fiving them, “how am I ever gonna find another team like yours?”
“We said we couldn’t do a series,” replied T.J. “An occasional special might be possible, though.”
“Solid! I’m outta here,” said the Gonzo Ghost Chaser, running to catch another plane.
Tom Sr. and Bortnicker went to hit the restroom, which left T.J. alone with LouAnne.
“Think they really had to go?” she said.
“Probably not.” He searched for words. “Just think, tomorrow night you’ll be back at the Charney Inn, dressed in your Civil War stuff, telling your tale of woe and making tips. And Reenactment Week is around the corner.”
“Don’t remind me,” she smiled. “But I do miss Mom and Dad. I feel like I’ve been away for ages. So much happened in so short a time.”
“Did you have fun, Cuz?” he said expectantly.
“No, T.J.,” she replied. “I had an adventure. And life with you is always an adventure.” With that she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him sweetly on the lips. “Until our next adventure,” she whispered as her uncle and Bortnicker exited the restroom. She produced the small glass bottle he’d found for her on their first snorkeling dive at Treasure Beach. “I’ll keep all my wishes in here until then.”
The intercom blared for the departure of LouAnne’s flight to Philadelphia. “All right, guys, they’re calling me. Gotta jet.” She hugged Tom Sr. and Bortnicker and shot her cousin a wink. In a second she’d slung her carryon over her shoulder and, with one last flourishing toss of her hair, was on her way down the ramp, wearing the gorgeous sundress she’d sported upon her breathtaking arrival in Bermuda.
“I love that dress,” said Bortnicker.
Epilogue
A soft, steady rain shrouded the people who had gathered around the crypt of Captain William Tarver on the first of July. No brass bands played, and there was little in the way of pomp or circumstance.
The group itself was a rather odd representation of the social strata of Bermuda: the Governor was there with some aides, as were Constance Tilbury, accompanied by her niece, and the Police Commissioner; but the Goodwins were present as well, joined by their driver of the day, Nigel Chapford. They had been invited, somewhat surprisedly, by a rather contrite Constance Tilbury, who had orchestrated the announcement of Jasper Goodwin’s incredible underwater find that had, as predicted, made front page news on the island and elevated both him and his business to celebrity status.
As the pastor of St. Anne’s administered the rites of burial, Ronnie Goodwin, dressed all in black, involuntarily shivered, though her father’s free arm was draped across her shoulders, the other holding a golf umbrella aloft that barely sheltered the family huddled tightly underneath. She stared down into the whitewashed crypt, whose cover had been slid aside for the internment of the simple coffin that would house the bones of the pirate. On her other side Claudette Goodwin emitted a lilting sigh every few seconds.
At the end of the ritual the Goodwins and Chapford turned toward the black minivan that would return them to their cottage in Somerset.
“Ah, Miss Goodwin?” a voice called from behind. Ronnie turned to face Mrs. Tilbury, whose niece dutifully held a stylish, ivory-handled, black umbrella above her perfectly coiffed head.
“Yes, ma’am?” she replied, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“I am glad you and your family could attend,” she said primly. “I realize that your ... connection to Sir William has been a source of consternation for you, but I thank you and your American friends for helping to return him to his rightful place here.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Tilbury,” she managed, her eyes filming. “The Captain was, I guess, a man of his times. But, like it or not, a part of him lives on in my mother and me. As for my friends, quite honestly, you might have been a bit more civil to them—”
“Veronique!” broke in her mother. “This is not the place—”
“No, no,” said Tilbury quietly. “Let the child speak.”
“My friends came to our island with only the best of intentions. They wanted to find the truth about a major figure from our history. We should have done more to help them.”
“I agree, young lady, and I want you to tell them that they are always welcome to return for a more pleasant visit.”
“Maybe you should tell them yourself,” was her quiet but resolute reply. With that, she turned on her heel and marched toward the minivan, leaving her parents to sheepishly say their goodbyes and follow.
It was Chappy who reached her first, suppressing a chuckle as he closed his umbrella in deference to the sun, which had broken through, sending a cloud of steam skyward from the wet pavement of the church parking lot.
“Well done, Miss Ronnie,” he quipped. “And do you think we will, indeed, see your comrades again?”
“Come on, Mr. Chapford,” she replied, breaking out a smile. “Don’t you know that Bermuda always calls you back?”
“It does have that reputation.” He opened the door of the minivan as Ronnie’s parents came up behind, then craned his neck to squint into the brilliant deep-blue sky. “Ah,” he grinned, “another day in paradise.”
Author’s Note
Many of the historic sites, restaurants, beaches and resorts mentioned in this novel do exist, although Hibiscus House and Dora’s Corners do not. I did play around a bit with the date of construction for Fort St. Catherine, which was initiated before William Tarver’s supposed existence. However, he theoretically could have assisted in one of its renovations. Constance Tilbury is a figment of my imagination, and the National Heritage Trust does a wonderful job keeping their various museums and facilities in pristine condition for habitual tourists like myself. As far as the natural beauty of the flora and fauna, and especially the beaches, you’ll just have to experience it for yourself. But most of all, be sure to enjoy the warmth and friendliness of the Bermudian people. It will, as Chappy says, keep calling you back.
About the Author
Paul Ferrante is originally from the Bronx and grew up in the town of Pelham, New York. He received his undergraduate and Masters degrees in English from Iona College, where he was also a halfback on the Gaels’ undefeated 1977 football team. Paul has been an award-winning secondary school English teacher and coach for over 30 years, as well as a columnist for Sports Collector’s Digest since 1993 on the subject of baseball ballpark history. Many of his works can be found in the archives of the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. His writings have led to numerous radio and television appearances related to baseball history. Paul lives in Connecticut with his wife, Maria, and daughter, Caroline, a film screenwriter/director.
Website:
www.paulferranteauthor.com
Also by the author at Melange
Last Ghost at Gettysburg, A T. J. Jackson Mystery
Coming Soon!
Roberto’s Return, Book Three of the T.J. Jackson Mystery Series
Turn the page for more books available
from Fire and Ice
Also Available
From Fire and Ice
Last Ghost at Gettysburg
A T. J. Jackson Mystery #1
by Paul Ferrante
High school freshman T.J. Jackson thinks his summer will be a drag when his widowed dad dumps him off for a vacation with his Uncle Mike, a park ranger at the Gettysburg National Battlefield, Aunt Terri, and his geeky ad
opted cousin LouAnne.
But T.J. is in for a few surprises. For starters, Gettysburg isn't the boring Civil War town he expected. A ghostly Confederate cavalier has been terrorizing nightly visitors to the battlefield. And LouAnne isn't so geeky anymore—she's become a sassy beauty who leaves him breathless.
Things escalate when the cousins, aided by T.J.'s quirky friend Bortnicker from back home in Connecticut—who also has his eye on the lovely LouAnne—attempt to solve a murder mystery that has the local police, park rangers and paranormal investigators in a panic. Because how do you stop an undead killer from 1863 from wreaking havoc in the 21st Century?
Also Available
From Fire and Ice
Dark Muse
by David Simms
Does music have the power to invade the soul?
Beware of the Dark Muse...
Sixteen year old Muddy Rivers has always wanted to fit in with the "regular" crowd. He aches for a romance with his blind friend, Poe, but knows he doesn't stand a chance. He hopes that his life as the guitarist for his band, the Accidentals, will help him accomplish gaining her attention and acceptance from others.. But then his older brother disappears playing a mysterious song and Muddy is plunged into a world of music where songs come to life. He learns where musicians get their ideas and at what price. He must learn to harness the power of the legendary crossroads and what lies on the other side if they are to conquer a series of trials which no one expects "special" or "different" teens to even survive.
Along with drummer Otis, singer Poe, and saxophonist Corey, each battling their own disabilities or demons, Muddy must cross the river that is the source for all creativity. Once there, the band fights a world alive with horrors none can imagine and realize their path to redemption is hindered by two obstacles that may trap them there forever, if not destroy them: the Tritons, vicious inhuman leaders of the strange world, and the Dark Muse, something, or someone who wields the full power of the River. Their fight to survive and retrieve his brother calls for them to build a stairway to heaven, sail smoke on the water, become iron men, and walk this way across the abyss. But their ultimate battle may prove in vain--it might not save Muddy's brother from the darkness, and may awaken something far more deadly.
Also Available
From Fire and Ice
The Well-Told Tale of Kaity Monday
by Eddie Jones
A biased, sometimes meandering account of a girl who wished to be something she wasn't, The Well-Told Tale of Kaity Monday is first and foremost a tale, one that is well-told.
Kaity Monday is the only girl in history to have experienced life as a tree. Before this, she lived underground with parents who made it abundantly clear, through telling her, that they didn't love her. When it is suggested to Kaity that she go above ground and never return (by her father, Grey, and her mother, May, both of whom hate Kaity) she finds it offensive, exciting, and then tiring.
Coming into contact with a man named Mildy, who is undeniably and obviously evil, Kaity makes the immediate mistake of trusting and following him, only to find that the next days of her life would be spent in the body of what many passersby have described as an oak.
Spirits of the Pirate House Page 27