do.”
“You sound like Jennifer,” James said.
“Jennifer is usually right about these things,” Jocelyn said. “Here she comes.”
In a moment Sarah was back beside them. Jocelyn and Steve made their excuses and continued down the wharf, Jocelyn’s white go-go boots snapping on the floor, her beaded sixties-style dress swaying behind her. She flipped her long black wig over her shoulder and gave James a meaningful look as she walked away.
He looked at the sky and sighed. It was getting late for Sarah.
“May I escort you home?” he asked.
He offered his arm, which she accepted without hesitation.
“Take me to the House of the Seven Gables,” she said. “It’s near your house, isn’t it?”
“Are you certain?” He didn’t want a repeat of her terror from the night when he had only mentioned the Witch Dungeon Museum.
“I want to see it.”
He tightened his arm around hers. “This way,” he said.
As they continued away from the bay, down Congress Street, then Derby, he could see her watching him. He wondered if it was obvious by looking at him that he was an entirely different creature than her. Jennifer took great joy teasing him about wearing glasses when he didn’t need them, but there was a reason behind the Clark Kent disguise. He had been nearsighted and wore glasses when he was alive—they called them spectacles then. After he was turned his blue eyes turned black, the pupils fully dilated, like someone had used a black marker to shade his irises. The contrast between his nighttime eyes, ghostly pallor, and fair hair was jarring. He noticed people’s confusion, their eyes darting between his hair and his eyes, and he thought from their puzzled expressions that they were wondering why his eyes were so dark when the rest of him was so light. He wore the glasses to minimize the contrast, and it worked well enough. People no longer stared at him like he was a Picasso painting, his facial features too far to the right or misplaced on a diagonal somehow.
Sarah was still watching him, which made him more concerned about what she saw. Would she still smile when she saw me if she knew the truth, he wondered? He knew he needed to tell her, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He didn’t want to lose the opportunity to know her because she was afraid of what he had become.
They walked in silence until she asked, “Are you feeling all right? You look pale.”
“It wasn’t a very good night. Until now. My night is much better now.”
She blushed hot along her jaw, the pink a sharp contrast to her peach-like complexion. Just like Elizabeth. James couldn’t believe that the beautiful woman walking beside him was so like his wife, though everything except logic told him she was. But he would have to deal with the logistics of that mystery another night. For now, he was happy to be near her however he could.
From Derby Street they headed back toward the bay. He could hear the sleepy waves nudging the shore, whispering like close friends. When they turned down Turner Street they saw it—The House of the Seven Gables, also known as the Turner-Ingersoll Mansion. It was a grand looking home, similar to James’s, only this was larger, with five more gables. Nathaniel Hawthorne, in his novel inspired by the old house, called it rusty and wooden. It didn’t look very rusty, though it was very wooden. In front was a manicured lawn with precisely trimmed bushes, and on top was the clustered chimney Hawthorne described. The story reenactments had long since ended, but James and Sarah walked as close as they could.
“It’s beautiful,” Sarah said.
James sighed. That had been Elizabeth’s reaction the first time she saw their two-gabled house after it was finished. But that must be a coincidence, he thought. Thinking the house was beautiful would be anyone’s reaction upon first seeing it. He let Sarah look around, not saying anything, letting her see.
“I only see five
“You sound like Jennifer,” James said.
“Jennifer is usually right about these things,” Jocelyn said. “Here she comes.”
In a moment Sarah was back beside them. Jocelyn and Steve made their excuses and continued down the wharf, Jocelyn’s white go-go boots snapping on the floor, her beaded sixties-style dress swaying behind her. She flipped her long black wig over her shoulder and gave James a meaningful look as she walked away.
He looked at the sky and sighed. It was getting late for Sarah.
“May I escort you home?” he asked.
He offered his arm, which she accepted without hesitation.
“Take me to the House of the Seven Gables,” she said. “It’s near your house, isn’t it?”
“Are you certain?” He didn’t want a repeat of her terror from the night when he had only mentioned the Witch Dungeon Museum.
“I want to see it.”
He tightened his arm around hers. “This way,” he said.
As they continued away from the bay, down Congress Street, then Derby, he could see her watching him. He wondered if it was obvious by looking at him that he was an entirely different creature than her. Jennifer took great joy teasing him about wearing glasses when he didn’t need them, but there was a reason behind the Clark Kent disguise. He had been nearsighted and wore glasses when he was alive—they called them spectacles then. After he was turned his blue eyes turned black, the pupils fully dilated, like someone had used a black marker to shade his irises. The contrast between his nighttime eyes, ghostly pallor, and fair hair was jarring. He noticed people’s confusion, their eyes darting between his hair and his eyes, and he thought from their puzzled expressions that they were wondering why his eyes were so dark when the rest of him was so light. He wore the glasses to minimize the contrast, and it worked well enough. People no longer stared at him like he was a Picasso painting, his facial features too far to the right or misplaced on a diagonal somehow.
Sarah was still watching him, which made him more concerned about what she saw. Would she still smile when she saw me if she knew the truth, he wondered? He knew he needed to tell her, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He didn’t want to lose the opportunity to know her because she was afraid of what he had become.
They walked in silence until she asked, “Are you feeling all right? You look pale.”
“It wasn’t a very good night. Until now. My night is much better now.”
She blushed hot along her jaw, the pink a sharp contrast to her peach-like complexion. Just like Elizabeth. James couldn’t believe that the beautiful woman walking beside him was so like his wife, though everything except logic told him she was. But he would have to deal with the logistics of that mystery another night. For now, he was happy to be near her however he could.
From Derby Street they headed back toward the bay. He could hear the sleepy waves nudging the shore, whispering like close friends. When they turned down Turner Street they saw it—The House of the Seven Gables, also known as the Turner-Ingersoll Mansion. It was a grand looking home, similar to James’s, only this was larger, with five more gables. Nathaniel Hawthorne, in his novel inspired by the old house, called it rusty and wooden. It didn’t look very rusty, though it was very wooden. In front was a manicured lawn with precisely trimmed bushes, and on top was the clustered chimney Hawthorne described. The story reenactments had long since ended, but James and Sarah walked as close as they could.
“It’s beautiful,” Sarah said.
James sighed. That had been Elizabeth’s reaction the first time she saw their two-gabled house after it was finished. But that must be a coincidence, he thought. Thinking the house was beautiful would be anyone’s reaction upon first seeing it. He let Sarah look around, not saying anything, letting her see.
“I only see five
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