The Old Cape House (3 page)

As they ate and talked, they became focused on each other; paying no attention to the food they were eating.

 “You said you were from Devonshire, in England. Is this so?” Maria asked.

 “Yes, I was the youngest of four children. My mother died soon after I was born and my father raised us poorly.” Sam reached for his cider. “When I was old enough, I left for the sea, joined the Royal Navy and never returned home. It’s been almost ten years.”

“I’m so sorry....” She placed her slender fingers over his strong hand. She felt truly saddened about his childhood, with both losing their mothers.

This small gesture from Maria gave rise to questions for Sam about his intentions towards this beautiful girl. He kept his stare on her. Slowly, he put his cup down then removed his hand from under hers. The sun shone on Maria’s hair in such a way that it cast a heavenly glow around her. She is so lovely, he thought...so innocent.

The young girl leaned over the table. “Tell me of the things that you’ve seen and the people you’ve met.”

“There’s not much to tell, except that I’m finished with being
told what to do by pompous men who use their wealth to keep
people
like me living in forced poverty.” Sam rose from his chair. He
walked to the door and looked out across the marshes toward the sea. “I want to find my fortune and then someone to share it with. When that happens I’ll settle in one place.”

“Where will you go? How will you find your fortune?” Maria
admired his square cut jaw and black hair that was tied behind his head.

He turned and moved closer to the table, took her hand and
tenderly stroked it. “I’ve heard of a great treasure in the Caribbean. There are stories of two thousand chests of newly minted silver coins from a sunken Spanish fleet. Treasure beyond any man’s wildest dreams! There, in the waters, all for the taking by anyone who can get to it.”

 As Maria listened, he held on to her hand. She considered how strange it was that she felt so comfortable with Sam. She dismissed her earlier doubts. She liked him. His rough tapered fingers were gentle but strong; she did not want him to let go. Hoping to prolong his touch, she quickly asked another question, “How will you get the treasure from the water?”

 “I was told there are divers who know how to bring the treasure up to the surface.” His deep blue eyes lit up with excitement. “I’m in contact with a goldsmith from Rhode Island, a man known as Paulsgrave Williams. We’re meeting at the tavern tomorrow to discuss the details of sailing to the Caribbean and finding a crew and divers. Maria, this is what I want.”

“It sounds dangerous, Sam. I’m worried for your safety.”

“Do I detect a tone of affection in your voice? I hope so, because I
like you very much, Maria.” He knelt on one knee. “May we meet
again?”

Maria wanted to, but knew she couldn’t. Her cheeks flushed red
as her heart fluttered. She looked at him, trying to form the right
words, “I...cannot come tomorrow, I promised to work at the tavern.”

Sam was persistent. “Then shall we meet the next day?”

She hesitated again but couldn’t say no to him. “Yes! But I must be going now.”

She gathered the remaining food into her basket and cautioned him, “We must leave separately, so no one will notice.”

Maria stopped at the door’s entrance then turned to face Sam. “This seems to be a good place to meet. Yes?”

He moved between her and the outside. Touching a piece of hair that had fallen out of her cap, he held it in his hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingertips. “Yes, I think this is a wonderful place.” He kept his ground in front of her and moved his free hand across the opening, blocking her way even more. “I would like to thank you for such an enjoyable afternoon, Miss Maria Hallett, and I look forward to seeing you again, upon which I hope there’ll be good news concerning my meeting with Williams.”

 Maria appreciated his politeness and was becoming fonder of Sam by the minute. She spoke without any wavering in her voice, “I do hope so, Mr. Sam Bellamy.”

His face was close to hers. She wanted to touch his cheek but stopped herself. She didn’t want to leave, but knew she must. “If you
would be so kind as to let me pass, I can see the sun is beginning to set.” He didn’t move. “Please Sam, I must be on my way,” she whispered

“Of course, my lady, until we meet again.” He let go of her hair, lowered his arm and stepped aside.

As Sam watched Maria walk down the path and disappear beyond the crest of the road, he thought about how different she was from the others and needed to be carefully pursued. He closed the door behind him and walked away from the McKeon house with one thought, Maria Hallett must be his.

Present Day – June 9

BREWSTER – CAPE COD

ONE WEEK HAD PASSED SINCE THE BIG MOVE
from Ohio of kids, furniture, garden tools, Paul’s artwork and even an old 1947 Farmall tractor. Life felt better, less complicated. I looked around at the quaint glass cabinets, which lined the west wall, and marveled at
how all the china and glassware filled the shelves, as if they were
always meant to be there. The sound of the van as it rumbled over the gravel driveway signaled that Paul was home from the hardware store. As soon as he stepped across the damaged floorboards of the unfinished foyer, I had to ask, “Did you finally find the right color of stain?”

He grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty close to the shade I wanted, a nice warm brown.”

I pecked him on his bearded cheek. “Let’s sit a minute out on the front porch.”

Paul looked relieved. He’d been to the store several times in
search of the certain color that would satisfy his inner artistic yearnings. He
gladly walked outside while I went the other way, stepping over
boxes still stacked in the dining room. As I maneuvered my way into the existing original kitchen, I couldn’t help but notice how bizarre the old room looked today; a coffee pot sat on the washing machine, and the microwave rested on the clothes dryer. Stacked beneath the 1950s
speckled yellow counter were bowls, pans, magazines and
newspapers. I thankfully found my favorite flavored tea in the bottom of a small basket. When the microwave sounded a ‘bing’, I plopped the teabag into my cup, retrieved Paul’s iced tea from the refrigerator, and
grabbed a few gingersnaps. After eying the progress of the new
kitchen across from the old one I thought ‘Hope springs eternal’ and assured myself it wouldn’t be much longer.

The afternoon sun felt warm as I pushed the old screen door open to the porch with an elbow and my backside.

“It’s so nice out here,” Paul said.

I settled next to him on a twin oak rocker. “Who would have
thought that in less than a year we’d be living by the sea in an old historic
home?” I held my drink in the air. “Here’s to you selling your
paintings and living a dream that we’ve both had for years.”

Paul grinned in agreement as we clinked our drinks together.

I studied the lines of the exposed rafters across the ceiling of the
old porch. “Next week I’d like to trace the history of this ancient house.”

“Good idea. By then we should have all the rubbish cleaned out of the carriage house so we can turn it into an art gallery,” he said, glancing across the grass to a small garden “But first, we have to tear
down that old ‘three-seater’ outhouse that’s attached to the back of
it.”

“I wonder what’s at the bottom of the holes?”

“It looked like they’re just filled with dirt.” Paul winked at me. “But we might find some treasure down there.”

My curiosity rose. “It would be very cool to find something mysterious about the people who once lived here. You know, years ago, that’s where people threw all their trash.”

“Nancy, you would be the one to uncover any secrets. Based on your Hungarian-Gypsy ancestry, you know how to sense things, good or bad about a place.”

Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “Remember when we brought the kids to look at this house for the first time?”

“Yeah, and when we walked around the property outside, I sensed only good feelings.”

“Sure you did, but not poor Brian; he didn’t like it at all. I can see
him now, with his arms outstretched and swinging on an old
clothesline that connected the barn to a big maple tree. His face was pale white, not wanting anything to do with our plans of leaving Ohio for Cape Cod.” Paul rocked a little faster.

I collected the cups, placed them back on the tray, and
wondered– why is he still questioning our decision to move? “Brian’s young. He’ll be all right. I think everything will work out.” I bent over to kiss Paul on the little bald circle on top of his head. “I’m convinced that someone, or something, is very happy that this old house will be taken care of. This house is different. It feels right, and if there are any spirits, they’re friendly.”

Paul looked up at me. I knew he would usually laugh off my words of spirits and ghosts as nonsense, but this time I sensed that he thought the house was different, too, but in a good way.

That night, after the kids had gone to bed early, Paul and I were on the couch listening to the nightly news as he rubbed my feet. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight, I’m just so excited about this whole new adventure we’re on. How about you?” I asked.

“I’ll probably fall asleep; you know me. How long are you staying up?”

I coyly smiled at him. “Well, that depends on how tired you
are.”

Paul looked over at me with a twinkle in his eye.

I didn’t need to hear his answer; I knew what ‘that look’ meant. I sat up, grabbed my socks and encouraged him with, “You turn everything off, lock the doors, and I’ll see you under the covers.” After closing down the house, he double stepped up the stairs.

I stood in the dining room. “I need to find something first; I’ll be right there.” Cardboard boxes were still stacked to the side of the room; I started rummaging through a few of them. “I know its in one of these. Where’s the box labeled bathroom?” Paul was out of sight and didn’t hear me. “Damn it. Where is it?”

I tried to remember when I’d got my last period and figured we would be safe without any protection, just this one time. When I arrived in the bedroom Paul was already in bed waiting for me. The air was warm that evening and a soft breeze from the trees ruffled the curtains. I ached to feel his arms around me. We may have been broke from all our moving expenses but tonight our pleasure was absolutely free. As the two of us made sweet love, we eventually fell asleep to the calming night sounds of the summer night.

***

The following week was spent working on the carriage house so it could be renovated into Paul’s gallery. Two truckloads of debris were taken to the dump. Once the building was empty, the walls
began to talk. Up in the hayloft, hooks were found on the rafters
with
dark stains on the floor beneath them. Our contractor, Henry, an
elderly
red-plaid shirted Yankee craftsman, surmised some butchering of animals had been done years ago and this was where the meat had
hung.

Down on the main floor, an old diary of an occupant from the early 40s was nailed on the door with a carpenter’s pencil hung from a piece of rope. Inside were notes that read: ‘...gone fishing back at noon’, or ‘…caught a big cod today.’

Evidence of children who had once lived in the house, probably
relegated to outside play in the barn on rainy days could be seen
throughout. Childish pictures decorated the old weathered barn
walls. A scull and crossbones painted across the rough-cut planks caught my attention and I whispered to myself, “They must have bin’ some fierce pirates.”

When new electric wiring was upgraded in the soon-to-be-
gallery, Paul and the boys finished the interior décor. Track lighting lit the wide plank wooden floors that now were clean, except for traces of grease stains from car repairs of previous owners. When I’d finished hanging all the framed pieces of art, my last job of the day was to arrange fresh flowers in the center of the gallery.

Paul whistled a sigh of relief. “Remember when Henry’s crew
laughed at us about finishing our project in one week? Well, we finished by our deadline and beat them working on the addition to the house.”

 I gave Paul a big hug. “It’s official: Tomorrow we’ll be open! And I’m going to make the first sale for you.”

“I hope so. We could certainly use the money.” No smile on Paul’s face this time.

I have to remember to be positive for him. We stepped back to admire our work and then closed the sliding barn door to the old carriage house, now a country gallery.

April 1715

EASTHAM – CAPE COD

TWO DAYS LATER,
after the morning sun broke the early dawn, Maria and Sam hurried through their separate daily routines.

***

MARIA WOKE EARLY, AS USUAL,
and saw the door was shut on her father’s room. She knew her father enjoyed his Friday nights at the tavern so he’d be sleeping through the morning hours. A stew
had been simmering all night and was just what she needed to
impress this Sam Bellamy; a new opportunity in her life. Into her waiting
basket she placed a covered kettle filled with the meat and
vegetables;
it rested next to biscuits, dried apples and a small jar of cider. Making sure all was right, she left with basket in hand to her secret
meeting.

As she approached the McKeon house, Maria saw that Sam was
not there. Cautiously, she pushed in the weathered door. As it
opened
it revealed the table still holding the cloth on its topside, with candle and flowers, but no Sam. Not to worry, she told herself, he would
come.