William Burke sat in his comfortable padded leather chair. The “State vs. Joanna Bennett” file was open on his desk in front of him, and as he thumbed through the contents, he scribbled notes on a legal pad. Burke, as most of his friends and family knew him, was an easy-going guy for an assistant district attorney. Red hair, blue eyes, freckles, he looked younger than his forty-one years, and his affable nature hid a reserve of steel. Many defendants and their lawyers made the mistake of under-estimating William Burke’s talent in the courtroom.

But, in the case sitting in front of him, there would be no courtroom, no trial. The defendant, Joanna Bennett, had terrorized a professor at the university, burned his home and in the fire, the man’s baby daughter and a firefighter had been killed. That morning was her final hearing and Burke was finishing up his notes on the outcome.

The court psychiatrist had examined the defendant, and the woman’s parents insisted on hiring two other doctors to give their opinion. The professor, Jack Aubrey, had been in the courtroom listening intently to each doctor’s professional assessment of the defendant’s mental health. Burke kept an eye on the man, a big man who stood out with his blond hair and a weather-beaten face. Each of the three doctors deemed Joanna Bennett to be insane, but the professor showed no emotion, just an intense interest. Captain Aubrey did not flinch even when his own deposition was read. The only crack in his stoic façade occurred when the coroner’s description was read of the charred remains found in the smoldering ruin of the Aubrey’s home.

In the end, it was the judgment of the court that Joanna Bennett was criminally insane and the court committed her to the state’s criminal mental institution. She was to remain there until such time that she was deemed mentally sound and would pose no threat to the good citizens of the State of Maine.

***

The last afternoon, on his way out of town and back to Vermont, Jack made one final stop. He parked the car and stood leaning against the fender, staring at the one thing that represented his past and his present. He watched the ropes securing the Surprise II sway with the gentle rocking motion of the ship. So many memories ... of his officers Pullings and Mowatt, midshipmen Blakeney and the tragic Hollom, acting Lieutenant Calamy, who lost his life following Jack’s orders. His men; Plaice, Nagle, Awkward Davies. He could hear their voices shouting, the drums beating to quarters. He could see Stephen tuning his cello, hear Killick’s grumbling. And after the portal brought him here … the building of the Surprise II … his wedding. Natalie in her lace dress, feet bare on deck. The streamers, the band … the family gathered to share in his happiness.

The ship was to be his future, too, but that was now tainted. He could not see the Surprise II without remembering the events of last summer leading up to the death of his daughter. Events that he could not have foreseen, could not have changed. So, he made peace with his past and made his final farewell to the ship. Maybe someday he would be able to gaze on it again without feeling that arrow twist in his heart. But not now, not yet.

He turned his back on the Surprise, got in the car and left the ship and its sad memories behind.

***

The drive from Portland to Stowe was long; four hours to think, to plan. Jack felt that the few days in Portland had closed a chapter in his life. He had grieved for so much that was lost, so many people … grieved for the loss of his children; Fanny, Charlotte, George, and little Catherine. But it was time to put the grieving aside. As he drove, his heartache lightened layer by layer, mile by mile. He could feel strength returning to his bones, warmth to his cold heart. It was time to start anew, and he began to look forward to his life ahead.