Realms of the Raven - Erotic Romance Author Maura Anderson

Today it’s a bit of a maritime ghost story. I’ve always loved ghost ships and felt a great kinship with the sea.

(Archives are on the website, if you want to read the offerings of past weeks)

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Finding the Willow
(c) 2008 by Maura Anderson

Come to me.

The huge expanse of Lake Superior’s surface made the rest of the world seem so far away it might as well be gone. They’d left the shelter of Whitefish Bay yesterday, the rhythmic flash of the lighthouse beacon visible for all too short a time. Fainter and fainter, it soon disappeared into the mist and fog. The mournful sound of the foghorn bid them a sorrowful farewell, consigning the searchers to the dubious mercies of Lake Superior.

Only a few days before, Loren stood with the rest of the expedition’s crew and paid respect to the lost crew of the Edmond Fitzgerald. Each toll of the recovered and restored ship’s bell made Loren’s soul ache. The Fitz had been found and the ship’s soul could be heard again, mourning the crew that had gone down with the ship and the years the ship had spent in the cold, dark depths of the largest of the Great Lakes. Fellow sailors, all.

Find me.

He’d be the one to rescue the ship’s bell of the Willow and give voice to the soul of that ship again. He had to. His obsession with the Willow had begun when he was a child, listening to his grandfather tell him stories of ships, shipwrecks and the ghost ships of the Great Lakes.

Not a ship of treasure or riches, but a hard-working upper lakes schooner carrying grain and passengers, the Willow had disappeared in full sight of two other ships and no trace of her or those on her had ever been found. She’d become one of the ghost ships that roamed the Great Lakes.

Don’t leave me alone.

The research ship dipped and rose, riding the waves that were already picking up despite the forecast of a few more calm days before the Witch of November came to stay. Loren’s hands tightened on the rail until they ached and he forced himself to loosen his grip.

So close. He was so close. Close to finding the Willow. Close to being able to sleep through the night without dreams of the ship sitting upright on the bottom in deep water and the Willow’s voice, a woman’s voice, calling out to him.

Save me.

Dizziness made him waver. He caught himself and closed his eyes for just a moment, exhaustion warring with fear and excitement. They only had one more try this year. It was already November fourteenth and the expedition was flirting with disaster. If the weather picked up much more, the ROV couldn’t be used. If a storm slammed them, they could find themselves fighting for their own lives against the hunger of Lake Superior.

Voices whispered behind him. He forced himself to stand erect and opened his eyes. The crew was already uneasy, superstitions and portents being traded and expounded upon at length. He turned and gave the two young men a thumbs up before he moved toward the ROV’s cradle on deck.

I am here.

Loren ran his hands over the sophisticated and very expensive piece of equipment. Soon. As long as the waves died down, he’d be able to launch the ROV and watch through its eyes as it descended into the lake’s depths and down to where he was sure the Willow waited for him.

He couldn’t hold still. The waiting was so much worse than even failure. He couldn’t do anything to calm the weather and couldn’t risk the ROV. Twenty years of research, reading and work had led him here and he more than ready to finish his task. He would find the Willow and bring her soul to the surface again.

I am waiting for you.

With a final pat, he looked out into the lake again. Now thick and nearly opaque, the fog moved and flowed with the wind and waves. It was almost like the lake was breathing. Visibility must be down to about twenty feet. The waves still shifted the anchored research vessel to and fro in a rhythm all its own.

He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the hypnotic motion of the fog and kept searching it. For what? He didn’t even know what he was looking for.

Suddenly a large fore-and-aft rigged ship appeared out of the fog. The schooner moved as if being tossed about by great waves, waves far exceeding what Loren’s ship was experiencing. The other ship neared them, moving alongside but still being thrown violently about. Just as the beautiful ship seemed to stand up on its bow as if diving into a deep trough, Loren saw the name of the ship — Willow — before the ship vanished into thin air and only the roiling fog remained.

You have come to save me!