publish.”
Andy made a scoffing sound. “Who would want to publish
“Nonetheless,” said Mrs. Stanley, interrupting. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Mark. Even if we only sell copies locally. We could have copies here at the museum.”
While they were discussing the merits of publishing Mark’s work, I noticed a box of various bottles on a side table. They were dirty and unsorted. They had to be a new find for the museum. Something in that box seemed to be calling to me. It was almost as though I could feel it urging me to pick it up.
“Are these for a new exhibit?” I got up and went over to the box.
“Yes, well, maybe.” Mrs. Stanley joined me. “It’s part of some things Martha Segall had on her porch from her father’s old house. You know he’s in sorry shape, bless his heart. She had to put him in a nursing home in Manteo. She and her brother cleared out his house and put it up for sale. They had an auction, but no one wanted this stuff. She thought the museum might want it.”
“I hope you told her we have plenty of old Mason jars and whatnot,” Andy said. “People can’t just drop off their old junk here because they don’t have anything else to do with it.”
“May I take a look?” It was all I could do not to push past her and grab the box to examine it.
“Of course,” Mrs. Stanley said. “If something looks interesting to you, Dae, please take it as a donation to your shop. We already have a lot of old bottles.”
I heard her as though she were talking from the other end of a long tunnel. I reached for the dusty bottle that was calling me. It had a faint rose tint to it beneath the grime. I realized it was a perfume bottle with a top that was shaped like a rose.
As soon as it touched my hand, I was transported back to where it was made—somewhere in England. It came here as part of a trousseau, but never made it to the wedding. Pirates boarded the ship and took everything before lighting the ship on fire.
The glass perfume bottle lay in a trunk, unused for several years until it was given to a woman with red hair and a rosy complexion. Her husband leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder as she used the stopper to apply her perfume. I could see both their faces joined in the mirror on her vanity.
I came back to myself with a rush of awareness and a weakness in my knees that threatened to send me to the floor. The woman in the mirror was Mary Astor—the wife of the magistrate. The same magistrate who had hanged her first husband—Rafe Masterson.
Chapter 36
I gasped as I realized what had happened. Looking into Mary’s beautiful face in the mirror—it was as if I were Mary, with the rose-colored perfume bottle still in my hand.
I knew everything. It all came to me in a wild surge of emotion that lay locked behind her brilliant green eyes.
The magistrate had given her a choice—she could become his wife, lovingly and faithfully, or she could watch as Rafe was horribly tortured in front of his children and the people of the community. Mark was right when he’d said hanging was the least of the things they could do to a pirate.
“She loved him,” I said out loud on a sob without really knowing what I was saying. “She begged for mercy and gave herself to him.”
“What did you say, dear?” Mrs. Stanley asked.
I realized where I was, looking at all the surprised faces around me.
Mary had been the reason the magistrate had decided to get rid of Rafe. William Astor had fallen in love with her. He wanted her and was willing to kill Rafe to have her.
This was a whole new spin on Rafe’s life. He was telling the truth about being a changed man. I felt that from Mary. He had been a good husband and father. She had loved him.
“Are you all right, Dae?” Mark asked. “You’re as white as the proverbial sheet.”
“Yes! Sit down, Mayor.” Andy pulled out my chair. “You do look a mite peaked.”
I did as they suggested, drank tea and nibbled on a muffin while they argued again about the date the
But she knew she had no choice. She’d stood, unemotional, with her sons beside her as she watched them hang Rafe for a crime he didn’t commit. The night before, she’d begged for mercy for her husband—allowing the magistrate to do terrible things to her in exchange for his leniency.
She never let on—never even blinked. Her life was over in that moment, but she wouldn’t give William Astor the satisfaction of knowing.
“We’re leaving now, Dae.” Mrs. Stanley had put on her jacket. “You’re welcome to stay, of course. But maybe you should go home and lie down for a while. Poor dear. It must be all the strain from the storm. It can’t be easy being the mayor of Duck at a time like this.”
“No offense, Dae,” Mark said, “but maybe Mad Dog is right about a man being better able to handle the job of mayor.”
That shook me up and made me get to my feet. “I’d like to keep this bottle,” I told Mrs. Stanley. “And as far as being a woman mayor, I think I can handle a storm as well as Councilman Wilson. Thanks for your help. I hope to hear about that magistrate soon.”
I walked out. My rudeness left them all a little stunned, I’m sure. It wasn’t easy to propel myself out the door. I still felt lost in the past—it was a difficult feeling to pull away from. I wanted to cry for Mary Masterson and her children. Knowing these people were related to me made me even sadder but also more determined to prove that for once in his life, Rafe was innocent.
“I can see you learned something valuable in there.” Rafe joined me as I walked away from the museum.
I didn’t answer until I’d walked behind the Blue Whale. I was worried the three historical society members would see me talking to myself and think I was crazy. “There was something,” I told him finally, not sure what I should share with him. Did he realize what Mary had gone through? How would it affect him?
I studied my ancestor’s face. It wasn’t exactly like looking at a living man’s features. He wasn’t solid looking—more opaque. No one could mistake him for anything but a ghost.
I wanted to see in him what Mary saw—I wished I was still seeing through her eyes. There was something more to him than his terrible past and the dastardly deeds that he ended up paying for at the end of a rope.
“You’re scaring me, girl, and that’s not easy. What are ye looking for? You act like you’ve never seen me before. Are you in your cups? I didn’t know they were serving spirits in there—I might’ve joined you.”
A concrete bench sat nearby, between two large bushes. I could see the gray of the Atlantic, stretching on beneath the dark sky that still threatened more rain. It was there that I told Rafe what I’d seen—what I knew about Mary. I didn’t know what to expect from him.
To my surprise, he knelt on the ground and began to weep, huge choking sobs that shook his already unstable frame from head to toe.
I put my hand on his shoulder as I would have any other person in such distress—but there was nothing there. And an instant later, what was left of the man Mary had loved disappeared.
“Dae?”
I heard my father call my name. I wiped my eyes, put the perfume bottle in the pocket of my poncho and tried to clear my mind. “Danny! How’s it going?”
“Good. Good. Your friend is a decent man. There’s not a lot of people who would take in a stranger this way.”
“I saw you working on the windows,” I said, grasping for a topic.
“Yeah. Kevin keeps me busy. But I talked to the owner of the Sailor’s Dream this morning. He hopes to be
