A Parlor Tale

San Francisco, 1919

She never believed him. Not really. The stories were too absurd. No matter how many times Grandfather insisted they were true, Nadine remained unconvinced. Nevertheless, it was fun to pretend. She’d been pretending for twenty years.

“Now, Grandfather, did it really happen that way?” They were in the parlor, waiting for the guests to arrive for the party, and he had just finished retelling his famous tale of the first shark he ever harpooned. The way he told it, you’d think the shark was as big as a trolley. He might be ninety-two, but some days, his imagination made it seem like she was living with a school boy.

“Where are my guests?” Grandfather began to tap his cane up and down, and Nadine found herself amused by the old man’s excitement. No one loved their birthday more, primarily because of the audience that came to hear about monsters, buried treasure, and pirates. Even if the facts were exaggerated and the characters larger than life, the stories made his listeners believe anything was possible, especially Nadine. She loved his birthday too.

“They’ll be here soon, Grandfather. They didn’t forget you,” Nadine said in a calming voice. Reassured, he leaned back and began to whistle the melody to Blow the Man Down. The crisp, clear melody resounded through the little house, and Nadine suddenly found herself growing anxious. She loved everyone coming ‘round for cake and rum punch. They were like family. But these neighbors also expected her to settle down with Tommy McGuire and birth his freckled children. They never bothered to ask if this is what Nadine wanted.

“You didn’t invite Amos Jones, did you?” Grandfather raised an eyebrow at the front door. He’d been at odds with Amos Jones ever since the boys returned from France. Grandfather and Amos fundamentally disagreed about which branch of the armed forces had been most vital to the Great War. Grandfather insisted the navy was king, while Amos staunchly touted the supremacy of the infantry. Nadine remained neutral on the subject.

“Now, now. Amos is argumentative, but he wouldn’t dream of spoiling your birthday.” Grandfather made a disgruntled sound but eventually settled into his armchair. She’d never seen him hurt a fly, but in his younger days, he was rumored to have been quite the fighter.

“And what about young Tommy? Will he be making an appearance?” Grandfather winked, and Nadine felt her cheeks blush.

“He’s working down at the docks tonight,” she said without looking up. Tommy was a nice lad who would make a decent husband, just not for her. Nadine longed for a little adventure before hunkering down. Tommy was too safe.

“Are you planning to scare the children with your giant sea creatures?” Nadine said, quickly changing the subject.

“You bet I’m going to scare them. Children need a healthy dose of fear, as long as there’s a good dose of fun along with it.”

Bong! Bong! Seven loud drones issued from the clock, and Grandfather let out a hoot. “Let the merriment commence.”

“I swear, you’d think we were celebrating your tenth birthday,” Nadine laughed as the front door burst open and the guests piled in. The cozy parlor filled with a dozen familiar faces. There was Mr. Johansen from the newsstand and Mrs. Browning from the drugstore. Then came the Moores with their army of children, followed by Mr. & Mrs. Lang with their pet collie. Each new guest was greeted by a joyful thump from Grandfather’s cane. Widow Myer, dressed in theater gloves, pearls, and a mink stole, received three loud thumps. As requested, each one came bearing a meat dish as a birthday gift. No one loved meat as much as the old man.

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Grandfather said as Nadine handed him a plate laden with steak, pork, and chicken cutlets.

“Tell us a story,” the children begged as Grandfather chomped on a turkey leg dripping with melted butter.

“I suppose I could try to remember one or two.” He took a large bite of turkey and chewed it slowly. Nadine could tell he was sifting through a thousand tales. “Have I ever told you children about the time I was taken prisoner during my harpooning days?”

The children let out a serious of horrified gasps, which made Grandfather’s eyes dance with delight.

“Who kidnapped you?” a little girl with pigtails asked. Her lower lip trembled. Who would hurt this kind man with the white beard and happy eyes?

“I’ll tell you all about it.” Grandfather reached out and patted the girl’s head. “Don’t worry. I don’t die. But I could have. Oh, it was a blustery day. My harpoon and I were searching for a great monster who’d been causing worldwide panic…”

“Where does he come up with these ideas?” Mrs. Crowley leaned over and whispered to Nadine.

“It’s how he remembers his life at sea,” Nadine said. “In his mind, it all happened this way.”

“Next thing you know, he’ll be claiming mermaids are real,” Mrs. Crowley chortled.

“I heard that, Mrs. Crowley,” Grandfather piped up. “Don’t you doubt for a minute that mermaids are real. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you’ll think twice about saying what’s impossible.”

Nadine gave Mrs. Crowley a sympathetic look before moving to refill the punch bowl.

“Speaking of mermaids,” Grandfather continued, “I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a whole school of merpeople down at the pier right this very moment.”

“Mermaids! Let’s go,” one of the little boys said. The other children voiced their approval.

“Oh, children, I wish we could, but I fear it would do no good. Merpeople are an elusive bunch. As soon as they hear us coming, they’ll swim away. The only time merpeople reveal themselves to humans is when one of us is in danger. I know a dozen men who’d have drowned if it wasn’t for a lovely sea woman dragging him to shore.”

The children murmured their disappointment, but they quickly forgot the mermaids when Grandfather described a sea monster with enormous glowing eyes. The boys and girls shrieked as Grandfather and his cane paced the room, pretending to be a roving shark. He even showed off a box full of animal teeth he’d saved from his harpooning days.

The evening concluded with a robust string of sailor songs the adults enjoyed just as much. Even Nadine put aside the discomfort she felt when Tommy strode in before midnight and the various housewives offered up unsolicited nudges and giggle. The singing helped her forget what was expected of her and imagine what could be.

“Your best performance so far,” Nadine told Grandfather at the end of the night once the last guest had departed.

“I know what you’re thinking, Miss Nadine. I’m just an old man filling his time with fairy tales. But as I live and breathe, I stand by the truth.” Grandfather pounded his cane for extra emphasis.

“Even the part about finding the lost city of Atlantis?”

“Would I lie to you?” Grandfather said, placing a tender hand on her cheek.

“Never.” She kissed the weathered hand and caught the familiar scent of tobacco. Tomorrow morning, she’d pick up a fresh pack for his pipe. And maybe the butcher would have something special on sale. She was happy to spoil him. She was proud of his ability to inspire wonder, and the fact that she’d been named in his honor was a privilege. Granted, he’d been the one to give her the name, but he’d been the only one around to do so. Her mother had died in childbirth just two weeks after Nadine’s father was lost at sea. Whether he’d been prepared or not, her grandfather had been entrusted with task of raising her.

As she crawled under the quilt that night, Nadine imagined herself on the deck of an ancient ship. In her dreams, she was surrounded by beautiful mermaids and charming mermen. She joined them and became a mermaid herself.

When she rose the next morning and discovered Grandfather had died in his sleep, Nadine didn’t want to believe it. She told herself it was just another tall tale. He had survived the Spanish flu, the Great War, and the earthquake. He couldn’t be dead. And yet, Nadine found herself picking out his burial suit, selecting a coffin, and standing in a cemetery across town.

As expected, the entire neighborhood turned out. Even Amos Jones tossed a respectful fist of dirt on the coffin. The children sang a somber version of My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean that caused Nadine to soak her handkerchief with tears. Her grandfather had always been there to inspire her. Who would inspire her now?

Once the crowd dispersed, the thought of returning to the empty house made her want to run away. Maybe she would go to Grandfather’s home country of Canada, or to Norway where he’d first met Grandmother. Anywhere but here.

“Just stay put,” Nadine told herself. Running without a plan was foolhardy. She would distract herself by finding a place of employment. The following week, she took a position as a sales girl at Haskin’s Jewelry. The beautiful stones kept Grandfather’s treasure stories fresh in her mind.

One month later, Nadine was walking home when she spotted a man lurking on the stoop of the house. These days, she was in no mood to talk to anyone. She’d hardly begun to feel her grief, but everyone in the neighborhood seemed to think it was time to marry Tommy. The thought only increased her loneliness. She needed to tell him it was over between them.

“Good evening. Can I help you?” she called to the elderly man in the brown derby and tweed suit.

“Forgive me, Mademoiselle,” he said in an accent she couldn’t quite place. “I’m sorry for coming unannounced, but I’m in search of Mr. Ned Land. Do I have the right address?”

“Yes, this is the right address. I mean, it was.” A lump formed in her throat, and she told herself not to cry. “What I mean to say is, you’re a little late. My grandfather passed away last month.”

“Mercy. I’ve waited my whole life to see Ned again.” The man removed his hat and looked down at his feet. The kindness in his demeanor warmed Nadine.

“Can I ask how you knew my grandfather?”

“Forgive me, Mademoiselle,” the man sand and gave a slight bow. “My name is Conseil. I was a prisoner with your grandfather in my younger days. We spent a good amount of time in a submarine together. You can’t help bonding with a man when you spend months under the sea with him. Tell me, did Ned still have an affinity for meat?”

“That would be an understatement,” Nadine said, and Mr. Conseil gave a little chuckle.

“I never imagined I would eat kangaroo, but Ned caught one of those wild creatures like he’d done so every day of his life. You’d have thought we were dining on filet mignon. A much welcome break from the endless seafood Captain Nemo provided.”

“Captain Nemo?”

“Yes, the submarine maker who kidnapped us from the Abraham Lincoln. Did Ned never speak of him?”

“Yes, of course. It’s just that Grandfather always referred to him as Sir Evil.”

“That sounds like Ned,” Mr. Conseil said with a chuckle. “I’m afraid your grandfather held a special abhorrence for our kidnapper. I often wondered if he might kill him in his sleep. I was much relieved to escape the ordeal without a murder taking place.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Conseil. How impolite to keep you standing here. Would you like to come in?” Nadine stepped forward to unlock the door and gestured inside. He mumbled his appreciation and followed her into the parlor. After a moment’s hesitation, she directed him to the armchair, and as he took Grandfather’s place, the loneliness in the house dissipated.

“So, this is where Ned finally settled,” Mr. Conseil gave an approving nod at the room adorned with paintings of ships, lighthouses, and oceans.

“He and Grandmother Marie came to San Francisco in the nineties to be near my mother and father.”

“A good choice, indeed. A man like Ned must always live by the sea.” Mr. Conseil tapped his chin thoughtfully. “We corresponded for many years. I always wished to visit, but life has a way of interrupting one’s plans, no? I sent a letter some time back about my visit and wondered why I hadn’t received his response.”

Nadine sat attentively as Mr. Conseil talked of his life after the submarine, how he returned to France with Professor Aronnax and went on to earn his own education in marine biology. He told her about squids the size of a city block, of the time their submarine was trapped under an iceberg for days, and of the excursions below the surface. Every story matched Grandfather’s, and Nadine felt a sense of adventure return to the little house.

“Mr. Conseil, might I offer you a refreshment of some sort?”

“I always was partial to a glass of spirits.”

“I’ll be right back,” Nadine said, leaving Mr. Conseil with Grandfather’s box of cigars.

She took her time putting together a tray of desserts the neighbors had blessed her with. She needed to time to think about all this. What if this man with the waxed mustache was all part of Grandfather’s signature folklore? It would be just like him to arrange for someone to come tell stories after his death. It would be a last great act of preserving the wonder he’d spent so many years working to create.

But what if it was true? What then?

“Here we are,” Nadine said, returning to the parlor. Mr. Conseil gladly received a glass of port.

“Bless you, my dear,” the man said and sipped the port in approval. “You’re as lovely as your grandfather said. He was very proud of you.”

“I’d like to think so,” she said, looking away before Mr. Conseil could see her tear up. “It’s hard to believe he’s gone. He was the most alive person I’ve ever knew.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mr. Conseil said. “Ned was like a mythological hero. Hercules and all those. The perfect man to be kidnapped with.”

“Mr. Conseil, forgive me if I sound impertinent, but are you saying the story about the submarine…”

“The Nautilus. A ship like none you will ever see.”

“Yes, the Nautilus. Are you’re telling me it’s really true?”

“True? Of course it’s true.” Conseil looked at her like it was absurd to think otherwise.

“No disrespect, sir, but if it’s true, why haven’t I heard it from anyone but you and my grandfather?”

“Alas, time has a way of eradicating events once considered newsworthy, especially when you consider how The Great War dominated conversation for so long. And, I suppose, our journey with Captain Nemo is the stuff of a good book. But I assure you, Ned was simply telling what happened.” Mr. Conseil fidgeted in his chair and opened his pocket watch. “Mademoiselle Land, I’m afraid the hour is late, and I’ve consumed your evening. It’s time I bid you adieu.”

Mr. Conseil stood, and Nadine reluctantly walked him to the door. As long as he talked, Grandfather lived.

“Here is my contact information. Please stay in touch. I suspect our paths will intersect again.” He offered her a little bow on his way out, but he paused on the bottom step and turned back with a wry smile. "I might add that if the opportunity for adventure does come your way, embrace it. A life unlived is not in your bloodline." And he was gone.

That night, Nadine could not sleep. She sat in front of the hearth until midnight, her mind full of sea divers and sunken ships. For the first time, she considered that Grandfather’s stories might be history.

The next morning, she hopped to her feet and quickly dressed. Today, she would do it. It was time to sort through Grandfather’s study. The room had been closed since his death, but Mr. Conseil’s visit had encouraged her to push open the creaky door and investigate.

Inside the study, light streaked through the windows and reflected off the series of jars that filled the room. Jars of seashells, rocks, sand, and corks lined the top of the old roll top desk, along with pieces of driftwood and a large starfish.

“Well, hello,” she said, rolling open the desk cover. She grinned at the pipe she’d been looking for all these weeks. “This is where you’ve been hiding.” After the party, Grandfather must have come in here one last time before bed. She inhaled the lingering scent of tobacco and smiled. Maybe she would take up the habit in his honor.

Nadine stuck the pipe in the corner of her mouth and began to peruse the bookshelves filled with encyclopedias and atlases. Her fingers stopped on a stack of old newspapers shoved between Moby Dick and a book of sailor knots.

“Survivors of the Abraham Lincoln found,” she read from the headline of an old issue of the New York Times. A photograph of three men filled the front page.

“Grandfather.” Nadine touched the face staring at her in black and white. He was much, much younger, but those eyes were timeless. Next to him stood a youthful Mr. Conseil, Professor Aronnax on the other side. The article reported how the men had been found along the coast of Norway. It detailed the destruction of the Abraham Lincoln and the shocking news of the men’s discovery so many months later.

One after the other, Nadine sifted through newspapers from various ports across the world. All of them announced the survival of the three men who had boarded the Abraham Lincoln in 1866 and disappeared into the darkness, only to appear the following year without a trace of the submarine they claimed to have housed them all the while.

Wait…What was that? Nadine squinted at one of the photographs, but it was too small. She rummaged through the desk for the magnifying glass he used for his stamp collection.

“What are you holding?” she asked young Ned as she held the magnifier over the paper. “It can’t be…”

“Where are you?” Without another thought, Nadine yanked open drawers and rummaged through the wardrobe. She would organize it all later. Right now, she had to find it. From what she could tell, Grandfather was holding the largest pearl she’d ever seen, practically the size of a silver dollar. He’d often talked about enormous jewels on board The Nautilus, but she’d always supposed it was his imagination at work.

“Oh, Grandfather,” she mumbled as she pulled out papers and books and coins and shells. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”

After a fruitless hour combing through the study, she gave a dejected sigh and wandered out to the parlor. She sank into the armchair and snatched up his cane. She gave it a good thump like she’d seen him do so many times.

“You’re loose,” she muttered, turning it over and tightening the bottom. She gave it another good thump, but still, there was a rattling, as if something was caught inside. Nadine felt her heart beat faster as she removed the bottom and tipped it to the side. Out rolled a smooth white sphere. It was the largest pearl she’d ever seen. It filled her entire palm.

In the months following Mr. Conseil’s visit, Nadine systematically performed her sales job at Haskin’s. She sold engagement rings to young men and anniversary rings to old husbands. She never breathed a word of her own treasure. That was her own little secret.

On the first day of summer, Nadine exited the jewelry store and hopped the trolley. She chose a spot at the back of the car where she could watch the slick tracks flash underneath. She became so fixated that she didn’t notice the man following her.

“Pardon me, Miss.”

Nadine jumped and found herself looking up at a man with black eyes and equally black hair. It was a face she’d never seen before, and yet there was something familiar about him, as if they’d met in one of her dreams.

“Sorry to startle you,” the man said with an apologetic tip of his hat.

“I’m easily startled,” Nadine said, blushing as the trolley wobbled.

“I’ve a message for you, Miss Land,” the man said, pulling an envelope from his jacket.

“A message?” Nadine stared at her name penned in thick ink. “Have you been following me?”

“Rest assured, Miss Land, I intend you no harm. My father doesn’t trust the United States Post Office, telephone wires, or any organization for that matter. I deliver all his messages personally.”

Normally, Nadine would be terrified at a stranger approaching her, but there was something in the man’s face--a timeless quality, that intrigued her. Besides, if he had intended to hurt her, he never would have sought her out in the middle of the day.

“Until next time, Miss Land,” the man said who hopped off at the next stop and disappeared into the city.

Nadine did not open the message right away. It wasn’t until she had settled into the armchair, pipe in mouth, pearl in her lap, that she ripped open the seam of the envelope and began to read.

Dear Miss Land,

I recently learned of the great misfortune in the loss of your grandfather, Nathaniel David Land, otherwise known as “Ned.” As a man who has lost his own share of family members, I imagine you will grieve him the rest of your life. And while I was never fond of your grandfather, he possessed certain qualities I cannot discount. For this reason, I have followed his journey since our abrupt parting off the European continent, as I did with Professor Aronnax and his faithful servant, Monsieur Conseil. Call it a fascination, if you will. Those three men were quite the experiment when my dear Nautilus was in her prime.

And so, I come to the purpose for contacting you. I trust you have encountered my son, a young man who shares why passion for exploration. Miss Land, if you possess even a spark of the passion of your grandfather, I have no doubt you would make an excellent companion on an expedition I’m preparing to launch. For reasons of confidentiality, I am not at liberty to say more, but I assure you, this will be my greatest accomplishment yet. If you are interested in participating in my last great endeavor, I invite you to meet myself, my son, and M. Conseil one month from now at the Carlton in Cannes. M. Conseil assures me that your are quite the sort to embark on a journey such as the one I have in mind.

The steamer sets sail on June 14th. I've taken the liberty of booking your fare. I hope you will put aside any reservations and join us, as it will be my one and only offer of partnership. Should you decline, I wish you the best.

With regards, Nemo

It couldn’t be. According to Grandfather, Captain Nemo had disappeared long ago. He couldn’t be alive. It must be a trick. A dangerous one. And June 14th? That was days from now. How on earth could she be expected to prepare for the long journey across the Atlantic with no return date in mind?

For the rest of the evening, Nadine paced the parlor, trying to make some sense out of it. She hardly slept that night as she pictured herself being kidnapped like her Grandfather was. How could she believe the letter from a dead man?

Early the next morning, Nadine rose before the sun. She made herself a cup of tea, and once the hour was appropriate, she placed a telephone call to Mr. Haskins. She regretted to inform him she would not be returning to the jewelry store. A ship bound for Europe was waiting for her.

The End

-Inspired by Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne (1869)