The Old Cape House (2 page)

“I’m Sam Bellamy. With whom do I have the pleasure of
meeting?”

She nervously adjusted her cap and in a whisper replied, “Maria Hallett.”

“May I call you Maria?”

“Yes.” She felt a smile grow across her face.

“Are you traveling or do you live nearby?”

“I live a short distance from here and work at the tavern.”

He glanced over to where she pointed.

His scent of rum and tobacco drifted towards Maria. She took a deep breath and watched him, noticing his clothes, his hair, and his blue eyes. For a moment, Maria’s words seemed to be trapped inside
of her. She just smiled and studied him even more. He was
interesting. He made her laugh. Within a short time, Maria found her voice and
began to chat back and forth with him in idle conversation. He
seemed
as if he was listening to her and Maria found his attention
irresistible. She felt special. She twirled her hair around her finger; he leaned back on his elbow.

As the hour passed, the two grew friendlier and Sam inched his
body closer to Maria. He placed his hand on her knee and asked,
“Shall we meet again?”

Maria knew a girl of her age should not be alone with strange men, but Sam intrigued her. Uncertain, but curious to discover more about this mysterious man, she couldn’t help herself and dismissed her concerns. “There’s the old abandoned McKeon house, not too far from here.”

Sam smiled. “Where is it?”

Maria gave him directions and they set the time for noon the
next day. He helped her up from under the tree and kissed her delicate
hand. She felt her cheeks turn red as the charming stranger
whispered, “Until we meet again, Miss Maria Hallett.”

He looked pleased as he stepped backward, turned and walked away. She watched him disappear around a bend in the road. Maria gathered her things and wondered if this could be a chance for happiness. Could it be a way to leave her father and the loveless life that she was accustomed to? Unafraid, she would go to meet him, against everything she knew to be right, and find out more about this Sam Bellamy.

Present Day – Early June

CAPE COD

CARS AND SEMI-TRAILER TRUCKS WHIZZED BY
the blue van
as I reached for a bottle of water. I took a drink, glanced at the
number of miles that had passed and decided to tell everyone behind me how far we’d travelled, even if they didn’t want to hear. “We’ve driven 456 miles and we’ve got 350 more to go before we reach Cape Cod.” No response from all four kids, as usual. Even Paul, my dear sweet husband, was quiet, dozing next to me, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his head bobbing up and down. As the odometer on the van clicked off another 50 miles my precocious four-year-old, Molly, started singing and woke Paul from his nap.

“Did you get a chance to sleep honey?” I asked.

Paul rubbed his eyes. “A little. How far to the next exit?”

“About 15 miles. Hey, do you remember the day we told the kids about buying a house on Cape Cod?”

Paul looked over to me. His hand gently stroked my hair and the nape of my neck. “How could I ever forget, Nancy Caldwell? You
were like a little kid about to do something you knew you
shouldn’t.”

“I remember my heart went through the roof the day we walked into the old farmhouse.” I stared ahead at the road. “If you recall, we fired ideas at each other all the way back to the cottage about how to fix up the antique house, and how its location could help sell more of your art.” I laughed out loud. “We tried so hard to justify buying it. We absolutely had no extra money.”

Paul was gazing out the side window. He turned back to me and said, “You know, I sensed even then that we were all beginning a new chapter in our lives.”

Glimpses of the children popped in and out of the rearview
mirror. I called out to them, “After we get settled into the house, who’s going to be my assistant researching the legends of Cape Cod?”

Brian looked disgusted as he played a game on his phone. At sixteen, our unhappy son was headed to a new high school on the Cape for his junior year. Thirteen-year-old Casey always ignored me. She continued to look at the trees flying by, keeping a beat with her head to the music coming from her headphones.

Persistence was my strong suit so I tried to get the family
talking.
“Remember the house that we saw on Goody Hallett Drive, in
Eastham before we bought the farmhouse?”

“Oh yeah,” Paul answered. “The realtor scared the kids that morning with her recap of the Maria Hallett and Sam Bellamy
legend.”

I took a deep breath and dramatically chanted, “Maria Goody Hallett haunts the bluffs in Eastham, for nigh’ 300 years, forever looking for Sam Bellamy, the lover who abandoned her.”

Brian leaned over and poked Casey. She turned on him with a prickly voice. “Stop it!”

I yelled over my shoulder. “You could be a little nicer to one another. I know we’ve been on the road a long time but we all need to co-operate.” At last, everyone was paying attention to me and I couldn’t resist throwing out another tease. “It’s funny how all of you got so scared when you heard the Bellamy-Hallett legend.”

Casey shouted above a loud truck that was passing and tried to defend herself with, “Yeah, but it was creepy Mom! Sure glad we didn’t buy a house on THAT street. And Brian, you’re such a jerk.”

Brian just smirked at his sister, pleased to get a response.

I gave up. Maybe some different music would help the miles go faster. As I waited to hear my favorite new age instrumental come through the speakers, the van began to pass through Eastern Pennsylvania and New York on Interstate 90.

Rolling hills and lush farmland blended with the modern
smooth sounds that now filled the van. Every time I drive with music in the background, I feel like I’m in a movie, I can’t help myself. I always imagine there’s a camera filming from above as I drive down the
highway, hopefully on my way to a new adventure. As soon as
cruise control steadied the van to a good speed my feet and legs began to move to the rhythm of the music. Leaning back, I felt happy. Memories flooded my mind from all the vacations on Cape Cod, and the years of our dreaming about moving there. How during last
summer’s visit, the van had broken down in the small town of
Orleans and needed repair before we could leave. How we’d
decided to visit a real estate office and found four property listings for quick drive-bys. How the last one we saw in Brewster had caught our eyes as well as our hearts.

I could hear Molly’s little voice singing over my music.

Jim called out, “Mom, we better stop soon!”

I pulled into the next rest stop and the family began to straighten themselves, unplugging earphones and turning off iPods. I tossed the keys to Paul as I got out of the car. “Come on. Let’s power-walk!”

Over my shoulder I told Jim, “Grab Molly’s hand!”

***

Hamburgers, french fries and soft drinks were spread over the table inside the rest stop in a jumble of papers and napkins. Hungry hands reached for ketchup and straws as all of us enjoyed our feast. I tried to catch Molly’s attention. “Are you going to come with me to see the Provincetown Pirate Museum?”

“Yeah,” Molly answered with a giggle.

I lowered my head to get close to her and spoke in my best
pirate voice. “Arrrrrrgggg! We’re goin’ to have some mighty fine
adventures livin’ on ol’ Cape Cod. What say ye, my little lass?”

Casey, embarrassed, said, “Shhhh, Mom. Don’t do that.
Everyone can hear you.”

I didn’t care. My coffee tasted good, and I was keyed up about moving. After all, we were on an adventure. “I can’t wait to discover who lived in our old Greek Revival house.” Paul simply placed his hand over mine in agreement.

***

Crossing over the Sagamore Bridge, we had less than an hour before we would reach Brewster, located on the bayside of the Cape. Incorporated in 1803, this Sea Captain’s Town was quiet and, like
most New England villages, was steeped in folklore and a few
ghostly tales. The local historians would refer to its location in the 1700s as North Harwich.

***

As we pulled into the driveway, the darkness hid the beauty of the house with its white clapboard siding and classic lines. Set back and up a slight rise on the Old King’s Highway, its two acres had a bonus of a nice old barn and an attached cranberry shed. Abandoned for years and labeled a ‘handyman’s special’, it had looked friendly when we purchased it, but now, in the dark of night, it almost seemed ominous.

As the dome light lit up the van, Paul said, “I’ll go in first and make sure everything’s okay.”

I was thankful we’d already made several trips to the Cape, prior to our final arrival, with the essentials that would make our first night bearable. By the time Paul returned, everyone was ready to get out and find their beds.

“Be careful where you step when you get inside,” Paul warned. “The contractor and his crew didn’t finish everything.”

Once the complaints and grumbles ceased, and the kids were settled, Paul and I were too tired to set up our new bed frame. We crawled onto the mattress, which for now lay on the floor. I couldn’t sleep. Random thoughts flew around my head. Who else had stared at these ceilings and passed through these doorways? Were they sad or happy people? Had anyone died within these walls?

Eastham 1715

CAPE COD

WHEN MARIA’S CHORES WERE FINISHED
the next day, she quickly flew behind her father sitting at the table and called over her shoulder, “I’ll be late tonight. The tavern will be busy.”

“Foolish girl, close the door,” he growled, stuffing his mouth with food.

Tom Hallett’s nasty demeanor didn’t bother Maria today. She simply ignored his cruel words and thought of the coming afternoon with Sam Bellamy. Her dreary days and nights may soon be over, if she finds this new man agreeable and she to him. Eastham and its people offer nothing to her for the future.

 She hurried along the path to Smith’s Tavern rehearsing the words she would say to Mr. Smith. “I shall have to leave early today as father needs my help...no, that won’t do.” She walked a little further. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel well today. May I go home early if I promise to work all the harder tomorrow?” That sounded just right to her.

Once at the tavern, she hung her woolen shawl on a wooden peg just inside the door and went over to Mr. Smith to repeat her rehearsed words.

 The tavern owner answered back, “It’s agreeable, you may leave early.”

“Thank you,” Maria said, turning to hide her smile.

After rushing through her chores, Maria gathered her shawl and placed the back of her hand against her forehead. She spoke as if weak, “Goodbye Mr. Smith, I hope I’m better tomorrow. Sorry for the trouble.”

She only had to walk a short distance to be out of sight, upon
which, she gathered her skirts and ran from the view of the tavern owner.

At this time of day her father should be gone, collecting hides for his tanning. This gave her an opportunity to stop at the house to fill a basket with cider, bread and beef strips for her and Sam. When she had gathered all that was needed, she adjusted her cap in a small
mirror that had belonged to her mother, pinched her cheeks for
color, then splashed some lavender water on her wrists and in between her
breasts. As she hastened out the door she saw Matthew, her
childhood
friend, across the field. She decided to go the other way to the
deserted McKeon house knowing no one must see her or people would talk. Maria was so excited she could feel her heart racing and had to stop several times as she rushed through the grove of pines on her way to meet this new interest in her life.

Sam was sitting on a wooden bench next to the doorway of the old house, waiting for her. As soon as he spotted Maria, he walked towards her. Reaching for her basket he said, “Here, let me help you with that. A delicate flower such as you shouldn’t be carrying so heavy a weight.”

Maria blushed.

They fell into step together. He asked, “What did the innkeeper say? Did he suspect anything?”

 “No,” Maria replied. “I pretended to be ill.”

Sam stopped and placed his free hand on her shoulder. “Well, you look beautiful to me, and I don’t see any sign of sickness in your soft brown eyes.” They stood nearer to each other. “Here, let me look closer at them.”

His gentle touch stirred her. She tried to hold her breath to stop the quickness in her heart as he stood in front of her. They both stood frozen, lost in each other’s eyes. It was over in a moment and they continued walking toward the old house.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Maria asked, still feeling shy.

“That I am, and I’ve a surprise for you.”

As they approached the door, Sam bowed and with a sway of his arm said, “After you, Mademoiselle.”

Maria curtsied, joining him in the fun. “Thank You.”

The wooden table in the empty house was set with a small linen cloth, a candle and a jar filled with wild sea lavender that Sam had gathered as he’d walked across the marsh grass to meet her. Maria smiled, but at the same time, she trembled. She began to feel nervous and doubted her decision to meet with this stranger.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked gently.

“No one has ever given me flowers, or treated me as you do,” she said, sitting down in the chair Sam had pulled out for her. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Sam.”

 She watched him move around the table to the chair opposite
her. Maria emptied the contents of her basket onto the cloth that
covered the rough splintered board. The food’s pungent smells covered the
staleness of the old musty house. From the corner of her eye, she
caught sight of what was around her. The house was empty, except for
cobwebs, some broken pieces of wood in one corner and night
bedding crumpled on the floor. Feeling cautious again, she kept her eyes on Sam and her task at hand of presenting their meal.