The Drifter Read Free

spiteful—and she grew more and more unhappy. And then one night the storm came.”
    Nora paused. Carolyn leaned forward in her chair and gripped the edge of the table.
    â€œGo on, Nora—please—”
    â€œThe fiercest storm of the decade, with winds and floods and many lives lost. That was the night Captain Glanton’s ship came home at last. She saw it coming—standing up there on the widow’s walk— she saw it coming toward land … and she watched as it was dashed to pieces on the rocks below.”
    Carolyn felt as if she’d been hit in the stomach. She lowered her hands from her face and stared incredulously.
    â€œYou mean … she saw it happen? Right in front of her? Her husband killed on the very night he finally came home?”
    â€œCarolyn”—Mom shook her head—“honey, it’s only a story.”
    â€œMen and women alike braved the storm that night, looking for survivors up and down the coast. And it’s said that her lover did indeed find Captain Glanton—barely alive and reaching out his hand for help.”
    â€œSo the lover saved him?” Carolyn asked breathlessly.
    Nora’s dark eyes flashed. “It was a knife he took … and chopped off the captain’s hand. And then he stood watching … and smiling … as the captain sank helplessly back into the sea.”
    â€œOh, my God …” Carolyn whispered.
    â€œThey never found the captain’s body,” Nora murmured. “Though they searched for many a day.”
    â€œWhat about the crew?” Carolyn asked anxiously.
    â€œNone survived. And they lie there still … at the bottom of the ocean. Every one.”
    For an endless moment there was silence. At last Mrs. Baxter leaned forward in her chair and patted Carolyn’s arm.
    â€œCarolyn, it’s just folklore, honey—”
    â€œWhat happened to Captain Glanton’s wife?” Carolyn asked.
    â€œThey say she lost her mind,” Nora went on, opening cupboard doors, pulling cups and saucers down, dusting them with her dish towel. “She never spoke again. And every day after … and each night, too … she kept watch from the walk above, always believing that somehow—still—her husband would come home to her as he’d always promised he would.”
    â€œBut …” Carolyn whispered, “he didn’t.”
    Nora turned around. Her face was cold and impassive, her words brusque.
    â€œThey found her not long after. Dead and all alone—her lover gone who knows where. No one ever knew.”
    â€œSo …” Carolyn murmured, “he killed her? How?”
    â€œHer throat was ripped clean away.”
    Carolyn’s hand went unconsciously to her own throat. “Where did they find her?”
    â€œHere. In Glanton House.”
    â€œBut … where in the house?”
    Nora shrugged and shook her head. “She’s buried in the village churchyard, even now. But hardly at rest, they say. She keeps watch for him … and he searches for her to this very day.”
    Mrs. Baxter groaned, and Nora regarded her coldly.
    â€œLaugh if you will, but Hazel believed it. Lots of folks around here do. That’s why I never stay at night. It’s a house for the dead … not the living.”
    Once more the silence fell. Once more Mrs. Baxter broke it.
    â€œWell, it’s a tragic story … a touching story … and it’ll make great publicity for our guesthouse, don’t you think so, Carolyn?”
    â€œWhat was her name?” Carolyn asked, and Nora turned off the stove as the teakettle shrieked.
    â€œOh, Carolyn, really!” Mrs. Baxter laughed.
    â€œDo you know, Nora?” Carolyn insisted.
    For a long moment Nora said nothing. Then her voice sounded again, low and precise. “ His was Matthew. Captain Matthew Glanton. And hers was … Carolyn.”
    Carolyn’s gasp was loud in