The Widow's Walk

by Robert Barclay

  Even so, this would be a very busy time. The condo buyer was paying cash, and the seller’s agreement had already been signed, so the closing would probably take place quickly. On top of his job and overseeing the restoration and teaching, he would also have to begin packing up what few personal items he would take with him. After his last meeting with Jay, he was no longer worried about whether Seaside would be buttoned up before winter. Although the place would be desperately Spartan, he took comfort in knowing that he would soon rise each morning to the sounds of the sea.

  Along with his thoughts of Seaside, the woman calling herself Constance Canfield again entered his mind. Clearly she had mental issues. For a moment he considered asking his mother to help her, but he saw no way to do that without seeming equally crazy. He didn’t believe her wild tale, but at the same time he had absolutely no explanation for why he had dreamed of her before seeing her in the flesh, or the sensation he felt last night when holding her hands. His frustration mounting, he ran one hand through his still-damp hair.

  Then there was also the bizarre scenario that she had concocted for this morning. Would she really go through with it? This was why he had called Trent and asked him to come out. He could imagine no way in which Trent and Constance might know each other. Therefore, if what she had in mind was some sort of joke cooked up between her and Jay, there would now be someone else there to call their bluff. Was this really just some huge prank? Maybe . . . but even that possibility did not answer his lingering questions.

  His other concern regarding Constance was her continuing presence at Seaside. He felt sorry for her, but this could not go on. She told him last night that she had another place to stay, but where? The more he considered things, the more confused he became, especially about his growing attraction to her. It seemed to increase daily, but it had been especially pronounced last night, when he was in her actual presence. It was a heartfelt longing and a sharp sexual need that was causing him both joy and guilt.

  His feelings for Constance defied definition, and he had never before reacted this way to a woman. He could not call it love. No, this was more like an obsession—a fascination with this beautiful creature that drifted in and out of his life whenever she chose. Constance was affecting him deeply, but this morning would settle everything. Assuming that Constance showed up and kept her side of the bargain, his suspicions about her madness would surely be confirmed, and he could then put all of this to rest.

  But along with these worries had also come another and even more frightening concern. In all honesty, he was beginning to wonder whether he himself was going mad. Had he become some paranoid schizophrenic who saw people who weren’t really there? Was his mother right, when she suggested that he had subconsciously created Constance as his “antebellum dream girl,” and that her being in distress only added to her allure? He had no answers, and like his longing for Constance, the fear for his sanity was growing by the moment.

  Just then his stomach growled, reminding him that he had skipped dinner. He took a quick glance at his watch to find that it was six thirty. If he left soon, he could stop at his favorite diner and get some breakfast before heading out to Seaside.

  Chapter 9

  Garrett’s mood lifted as he again watched Jay’s men scrambling about the property. Like yesterday, some were working atop the roof while others were busily tearing off the siding. Jay’s pickup was already here, but Trent had yet to arrive. Good, he thought. Garrett parked his Jeep and walked up the grassy knoll toward the porch.

  Will she really show up like she said? he wondered. Or has Constance been a figment of my imagination the entire time? Well, I’m about to find out . . .

  His tension rising with every step, Garrett entered the house then headed for the parlor, where Jay was dictating orders to a couple of his workers. Three more men were over at the coffee station, making selections from the doughnuts that Jay had brought. Constance was nowhere to be seen.

  Feeling relieved, Garrett walked over to the coffee station. After saying hello to the workmen, he poured a cup of black coffee and took a sip. He then made his way over to where Jay was standing.

  “Honey,” he said, “I’m home.”

  “You hear that, guys?” Jay shouted out. “You all need to be on your best behavior, because Daddy Warbucks just arrived.”

  As the workmen laughed, Garrett joined in. He loved being around men who enjoyed a hard day’s work and knew how to get things done. There had in fact been times when he believed he would have been equally happy as a construction laborer, and if for one minute he thought that he could afford to take a sabbatical from the firm and work here instead, he would do it.

  Garrett looked back at Jay. “Thanks, dear,” he said. “It’s so heartwarming to know that you need me.”

  Jay laughed as he shook Garrett’s hand. “Yeah,” he answered, “about as much as a hole in my head.”

  Just then a familiar voice called out from the front door. “Hey!” Trent shouted. “Where is everybody?”

  Garrett stuck his head out into the hall and beckoned Trent forward. “Down here,” he said, “in the parlor.”

  Trent began trudging down the hallway. “The parlor,” he grumbled to himself. “Who the hell has a parlor these days?”

  When Trent arrived he spied the coffee and doughnuts, and he made a beeline for them.

  Jay shook his head. “Jesus,” he said, “if I’d known there were gonna be this many freeloaders, I would’ve charged admission.”

  “I guess you’ll just have to chalk it up to the cost of doing business,” Garrett answered.

  Jay turned and watched Trent eagerly munch a cinnamon doughnut. “So what brings you here today?” he asked.

  Before answering, Trent swallowed hard. “I’m here on the boss’s orders. I think he wants the benefit of my highly valuable input.”

  “Great,” Jay said. “Another intellectual running around, making suggestions . . .”

  Garrett beckoned Trent over to the aluminum table and showed him the floor plans. Like Jay had done with Garrett, he began telling Trent how the restoration was to be done. For the first time, Trent began to take an interest in Seaside, and he asked Jay a couple of salient questions.

  Moments later, Garrett detected an unusual scent. It seemed familiar, but at first he could not place it. Then he realized that it was the same light, pretty fragrance that he had sensed last night while sitting with Constance on the veranda. His heart racing, he glanced about the parlor, but still saw no evidence of her.

  And then, as if on silent cats’ feet, Constance walked into the room. She came to stand directly behind Jay then turned and looked straight at Garrett. She was dressed in the same clothes as last night and there were dark circles under her eyes, lending the impression that she had not slept. Just as Garrett was about to speak to her, she quickly placed her index finger on her lips. Understanding, he relented.

  His mind racing, Garrett watched with rapt fascination as Constance silently stepped in front of the table then looked directly at Jay and Trent. To Garrett’s astonishment, neither they nor the other workmen took any notice of her. As Constance next looked at Garrett, he saw the beginnings of a mischievous smile cross her face.

  Constance then stepped closer to Jay and she put her lips near his right ear. She blew lightly into Jay’s ear and backed away. Jay quickly frowned, scratched his ear, and looked around. Then Constance stepped closer and repeated the gesture, this time more strongly. Jay’s response was also more pronounced as he scratched his ear again, and then took a full step backward before glancing around once more.

  “Dammit,” he said, “there must be some houseflies in here. Freaking nuisances . . .”

  Now Garrett was even more stunned. Even so, Constance had yet to prove her claims to his satisfaction. Sensing Garrett’s continued skepticism, she moved to face Trent directly. She then gave Garrett another look, followed by a quick wink.

  To Garrett’s continued astonishment, Constance
began making a series of bizarre faces at Trent, sometimes coming to within an inch of being nose to nose with him. She stuck out her tongue, pulled on her ears, and then finally made a threatening scowl, none of which Trent acknowledged in the slightest. Because Garrett could imagine no possible way that Constance and Trent might have met, he found this last gesture of hers to be the most compelling so far.

  My God! Garrett thought. For everyone else in the room, it’s as if she doesn’t exist . . . What in hell is going on? Could this woman actually be telling the truth? And if so, what would cause such a thing? And how is it that I see and hear her when no one else can?

  Wishing to also prove her command over the physical things of this world, Constance then walked around to the opposite side of the table and placed her lips down near one of Jay’s pencils. She took a deep breath and blew it straight across the table, where it rolled off the edge and onto the floor. Grumbling again, Jay picked it up then mumbled something about the morning breeze.

  Garrett then watched as she strode over to the far wall. Taking a deep breath, she let go a piecing scream that would have normally been heard throughout the entire house. But even now, Jay, Trent, and the other men in the room took absolutely no notice of it.

  With that, Constance believed that for the moment, at least, she had done everything she could do to convince Garrett. Even so, if he needed more proof, there was one last thing that she could do. Although not now, because there were people about. That would come later tonight, when Garrett returned to Seaside, as she was now convinced he would. Then he would at last believe her, she prayed. After nodding at Garrett, Constance carefully wended her way among the men and left the room. She seemed able to move with complete silence and was apparently quite expert at avoiding human contact if needed.

  Stunned, Garrett simply stood there, staring blankly at the open doorway.

  “Garrett, are you still with us?” Jay asked.

  As Garrett turned around, he realized that his knees were shaking and that he had broken out in a cold sweat.

  “Are you okay, boss?” Trent asked. “You look a little pale.”

  While Garrett did his best to produce a smile, he wiped his forehead with a pocket handkerchief.

  “Yeah, sure,” he answered. “Too much coffee, probably.”

  “Well then, is it okay if I go to the office?” Trent asked. “The troops are probably wondering where we are.”

  “Yeah,” Garrett answered. “You go on ahead. But I’m not feeling well, and I might take the day off. If you need anything, you can always reach me on my cell, okay? And I know we have a presentation today, but you can handle it, right?’ ”

  “Sure, boss,” Trent answered. Then the look on his face turned more serious. “And just for the record,” he added, “being here today makes me realize that I was wrong about this place. When you get done with it, it’s going to be beautiful, and I mean that. I know of no one else who could pull this off.”

  Those words meant a lot to Garrett, especially since nearly everyone had been of the opinion that he should never have bought Seaside. Now both Jay and Trent agreed with him, and because they were of the trades, their opinions mattered.

  Trent smiled. “Take care of yourself,” he said. “You do look kind of wiped out.”

  “Thanks,” Garrett answered.

  With that, Trent sauntered back down the hall and headed for work.

  “I’m going to take a quick look around before I go,” Garrett said to Jay. “Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Jay smiled. “Okay,” he answered. “See you later.”

  Garrett had no intention of actually inspecting the work. Nor was he feeling unwell, like he had told Trent. After what he had just witnessed he was desperate to find Constance, hopefully somewhere secluded where they might talk. Then he wanted to spend the rest of the day alone, trying to process all that he had just seen. He was taking a risk trying to find Constance now, because there were so many other people around. But something inside him said that he simply had to find her, if for no other reason than to see her again.

  When a quick search of the house proved fruitless, he went outdoors. As if inspecting the ongoing work he walked all around the house but still did not find her, so he set off for the barn. After sliding one of the doors aside, he walked in.

  All barns seemed to smell the same, he was reminded as he walked deeper inside. Regardless of how old or how new, they always reminded one of hay, dirt, dust, and leather. Despite how long this old barn had been empty, it too still smelled of such things.

  After reconnoitering the first floor, he went to the stairs, where he paused, thinking. If Constance had wanted him to follow her, he decided, she would have beckoned him to do so. But she did not. No, he realized. She wanted to wait and talk to him later, when they could be alone.

  When he lifted his face and looked up, he saw no movement, heard no sound. He did not know whether Constance was on the second floor, but it no longer seemed to matter. If she were there, seeking privacy from what had just transpired, he would let her have it. But he would return tonight and hopefully see her again.

  Deciding to leave, he walked back to the house then down the grassy knoll to his Jeep.

  Chapter 10

  As Garrett drove away, Constance watched. She was standing in one of her favorite places in the old barn, before an open second-floor window that provided a wide view of the road leading in and out of Seaside.

  This window was not far from her hiding place, and she had come to it hundreds of times over the decades, watching wistfully as home owners came and went. There had been many, and she could remember most of them by name. But the man who left Seaside just a few moments ago was the most important of them all. He could both see and hear her, and it was absolutely paramount that she learn why.

  Then Constance let go a small smile, one of the few since her fall from the widow’s walk so long ago. Testing Jay and Trent had been a bit of fun, but in the end only Garrett mattered. While making faces and then shrieking at the top of her lungs, she knew she had no need to watch for Jay’s and Trent’s reactions, for there would be none. Only Garrett’s responses were important, and she could tell by the look on his face that he had been highly affected. Even so, that did not mean he believed her. During the short time in which she had come to know him, she realized that he was a highly intelligent man, and surely not a gullible one. As her eyes welled up with tears, she lowered her head.

  My Dear God, she thought. I ask so much of him. If our roles were reversed, would I be half as receptive to all of this as he has been?

  She glanced around the second story of the barn again, thinking.

  She was sure that Garrett would return tonight, because his curiosity about all this would now be far too great. If he remained skeptical, there was one more thing that she could do to convince him. She didn’t particularly want to reveal it, but if she must, she would. And then Garrett would simply have to believe her, logic be damned.

  Feeling tired, she walked back to her little hiding place in the far corner. It felt good to lie down on the tattered mattress, and although the barn itself was quiet, she could hear the distant sounds of the workmen. She found the sounds reassuring, and no matter what happened between her and Garrett, she could at least take solace in that.

  As she lay there listening, her thoughts again turned to the strange effect he was having upon her feelings. She had no ready explanation for the wonderfully pleasant sensation she had experienced when touching his hands last night. And she was developing a sense of unrequited longing, which was at the same time wonderful, but frightening. Wonderful, because she had not felt this way about a man for so many decades. And frightening, both because she had no answer for what was causing it, and because of her continued love for her long-lost Adam. Along with every tiny increment of her growing interest in Garrett, there also came an equally painful rise in her guilt.

  Some moments later she began feeling strangely, and so
on she sensed her consciousness starting to drift away. It was a pleasant feeling, and it did not frighten her. Even so, despite how tired she was, she could not call it sleep. Instead it seemed a welcome departure from her consciousness, and she somehow realized that even if she wished to try and stop it, doing so would prove fruitless. She was being inexorably drawn to it like a moth to a flame. And so Constance gave herself over to it, and simply let it happen . . .

  AFTER SOME TIME HAD PASSED, she knew not how much, Constance felt someone gently shaking her by the shoulders.

  “You must awaken, my love,” Adam said to her. “It is such a lovely day. Were you planning to sleep it all away?”

  Constance opened her eyes, stretched luxuriously, and then looked up at the face of her husband. Adam was staring down at her with those intense brown eyes of his, a wonderful smile stretched across his face. When she smiled back at him, he leaned down and gave her a deep kiss then stroked one of her cheeks. Although his hands were strong and calloused from his many years at sea, Constance always found them to be gentle and endearing.

  “How fine ye are to me, wife,” he said quietly.

  Constance reached up and touched his face. He was clean-shaven now, but he would be putting to sea soon, and when he returned he would have a full beard.

  “And how fine ye are to me, husband,” she answered him.

  Such were the loving phrases that they oftentimes said to each other. Adam had first uttered this to her only a few days into their marriage, and he had always remembered it. And Constance’s reply, although nearly identical, was always equally heartfelt.

  She rose up on her elbows and looked around. She and Adam were in a small cabin, located in the bow of Adam’s personal sailboat. With a large picnic basket in hand, they had left Seaside that morning and sailed out onto the ocean. Even when he was between voyages, it seemed that Adam lusted for the sea. He had built this sailboat in their barn with his own two hands, and it had taken him several years to finish. Now it was a beautiful thing, and Constance enjoyed sailing almost as much as he did. But today she had grown weary after a couple of hours and retired to their small double berth to take a rest.