"Oh, my poor Johnny Boo." Carolyn Muir crooned to her son as she patched up the knee that had seen the worst end of a tumble off a bicycle. The boy squirmed under her administrations but said nothing about the name or the high-pitched "baby talk" that accompanied it; he seemed rather to enjoy it.
"There you go, sweetiekins," she announced as she put on the final bandage. "Now, try to stay on the bike next time. Ok?"
"Ok." He allowed her to rumple his hair as she pulled him into a hug and soundly kissed the top of his head.
As the boy left her room and she began to type again, she was startled by a deep voice that simply said, "Jonathan"
"Captain!" she gasped, momentarily clutching her heart. "You startled me."
"Sorry," he said automatically, not sounding sorry in the least. "I came to address your disregard for your son's given name."
"Jonathan?" she puzzled, "I'm not sure I understand."
"Exactly," he trumpeted. "Jonathan, not ‘Johnny Boo'; and certainly not ‘Sweetiekins'!" he mimicked the way she said and pulled a face.
"Oh, Captain," she laughed. "He was hurt and he's my baby, naturally I'm going to use terms of endearment sometimes. He's my baby."
"And he will remain your baby if you keep treating him as such. ‘Sweetiekins' indeed. He needs a man's influence and since you seem to be unwilling to provide such for him, I see I will have to train you myself."
Carolyn's green eyes snapped at this. "As if I could provide a male influence if I wanted to, the way you keep chasing away everyone who dares walk into the yard, not to mention," she added "you have enough male influence for a house full of Jonathans." The captain beamed at this and Carolyn realized too late that she had complimented him instead of her intended insult. "Anyway, it's not as if a little babying is going to hurt him. It's not going to make him less of a man; it's good for kids once in a while. Even little boys."
"I do not agree," he returned with vehemence. "No one ever said such idle prattle to me, and I suffered no ill effects."
"Oh, come on, Captain, surely your mother…"
"Indeed she did not." The captain cut her off.
"All mothers, at one time or another…"
"My mother would never have stooped to such …"
This time she cut him off with a firm "Prove it."
"What do you mean, prove it? How could I prove such a thing? Besides it doesn't need to be proven, it's a fact."
"You can see and show people their future." She shrugged. "Surely you can see your past."
"But such a long way back, Madam."
"Oh, surely such a manly ghost as yourself can summon the power." she said in a teasing voice, the traces of a smile playing around her lips.
"Of course I could, but how would I know where to go? It's not as if I can remember that far back without aid."
"Oh, any day will do. I imagine your mother used baby talk on a regular basis."
"And I tell you she never did."
"Ok, just pick and day and we'll see."
"You wish to come?"
"Of course I do! How else will I know if you're telling the truth?"
He offered his arm and slowly she felt the floor dissolve under her feet and the walls of the room disappeared. She found herself in a small house by the sea. The house appeared to be only one room but very tidy and airy. The door and all the windows were open, letting in the sun and the breezy salt air.
She heard laughter coming from outside and turned and saw a very young woman, with long skirts and a simple white blouse. The woman's hair was long and free and blowing in the wind. She appeared to be blowing around with the wind.
"Is that your mother?" she breathed reverently.
"Yes," he said simply trying hard to maintain his composure, but the telltale signs of tears glistened in his eyes.
She squeezed his hand and was surprised to see how solid it was. She would ask him about that later but for now she continued to hold his hand, hoping to give him a bit of comfort. He rewarded her by squeezing her hand and smiling.
Suddenly a baby began to cry. Not with a half hearted beginning and then slowly growing to a lusty cry but loud and clear and with a vengeance. The woman stopped dancing abruptly and run past them into the house. Reaching into the hand-hewn cradle she pulled up the tiniest baby Carolyn had ever seen.
"Danny boy," she crooned, causing Carolyn to break into a large grin. "What's the matter with my baby boy?" she asked in a high-pitched voice. She continued to croon to him so softly they couldn't hear what she was saying, and eventually the baby calmed. She carefully put him back in the cradle and pulled the covers up around him. "There, there, Danny-boo," she said loudly enough for them to hear. "Mommy's not going to leave you, you silly billy goosie head. Mommy will always be here, no need to carry on like that."
The room shimmered and disappeared; again Carolyn felt the sensation of flying. They appeared back in the same house, though obviously on a different day.
Before she could say a word, the captain grumbled, "I was barely born, she probably didn't even realize what she was doing. Now that I'm older, you'll see."
The day was stormy, and the house was shut against it. Rain slashed against the house, the sound of the sea sang loud and strong. Carolyn wondered how they managed to not get swept away. There was a man sitting at the table smoking a pipe. He was very handsome and resembled Captain Gregg. The young woman was cooking and singing while she did so. Baby Daniel lay on the bed asleep. Carolyn guessed he was about 6 months old. He woke with a start and began immediately to cry. His mother ran over and scooped him up.
"Danny-wanny baby boy. My wittle bittle baby boy, is my wittle baby boy hungry?" she asked while holding him and kissing him all over his face. The man at the table smiled indulgently. The baby broke into laughter. "I thought so," the woman chided gently and then returned to her special baby voice. "My wittle bittle Danny boy boo just wanted attention."
Carolyn, despite efforts to control herself broke into gales of laughter. The Captain glared at her. "I was still very young." he said, as if that settled it.
Again the room dissolved and soon they stood together this time on a beach. Carolyn recognized it as the beach that was on the property of Gull Cottage. This time the man had slightly graying hair. A young boy of about three or four came running towards them.
"Mommy, look!" he said excitedly. His curly hair blew in the wind, his outstretched hand held a pearly shell. In his excitement to get it to his mommy, he tripped on a hidden piece of driftwood and fell, causing his britches to tear and scraping his knee on a jagged edge. The young boy cried out in pain but managed to hold onto the shell. He didn't cry out loud after the first outburst of pain but there were tears leaking out of his eyes.
Undaunted, he stood back up and continued his trek to his mother, who had started running toward him.
Seeing him unhurt except for a little blood, she slowed her pace and waited, giving him the dignity to walk to her. Captain Gregg looked at Carolyn as if to say, "I told you so" when the boy reached his mother and held out the pretty shell. She knelt down to be on the boy's level and brushed the hair from his face. She then brushed the sand off his clothes and whispered so softly they could scarcely hear, "Thank you, sweetiekins."
If the moment had not been so sweet, Carolyn would have laughed harder, as it was she felt tears coming to her eyes. She felt a strong desire to reach out and touch the little boy and feel his baby- soft hair in her fingers. She looked up at Captain Gregg who seemed to be lost in a silent reverie. "Captain," she said quietly.
He looked down at her and smiled. "I suppose," he admitted grudgingly "that a little bit of nonsense might indeed be a good thing after all."