WIDOW'S WALK

WIDOW’S WALK

FISHERMAN’S DREAM

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(Very loosely based on a true story.)

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Victoria was a popular teacher in their little town, and her husband was a competent seaman.

She often thought, “What a very odd combination, we are, aren’t we?” Yet, they were happy and so much in love.

They stood before the minister and their families and friends with their backs to the harbor they both loved. In their opinions, their wedding guests had the perfect view of the new husband and wife with the beautiful water as their scenery. They thought it made the perfect wedding picture.

It had been a lovely warm spring day almost two years ago. They exchanged vows and rings, then with their guests, walked the few yards from the water’s edge to the old farmhouse they had purchased two years before their wedding and finished renovating only the month before. It was their dream home.

“Let the festivities begin!” Gus almost shouted with delight as he happily held his new bride’s hand and led her into their new home.

One year later, on a hazy, late spring day, she prayed.

She wrung her hands as she paced and prayed continually. “Oh, my Lord, please keep him safe. Bring him home safely.”

Except for the bright red sky, the weather had been clear and sunny that morning.

“I’m taking the Fisherman’s Dream, Victoria. Since fishing was off yesterday, I need to increase my catch. I should be back before nightfall.”

Gus, at the age of twenty-three, was a commercial fisherman who supplied the local merchants with his daily fresh fish. The Fisherman’s Dream was his boat and often, Victoria would tease him asking who he loved more, her or his boat.

Although he’d fished the day before, his haul lacked the substance he’d hoped for. One of his nets needed major repair and after working on it all night, he was ready to get out and catch the boat’s fill.

“Oh, Gus, I wish you would stay home. The sky is so red this morning and you know that saying about ‘red sky in the morning.’”

“Yes, my love, I know. ‘Red sky in the morning, sailor, take warning. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.’ But you know I need to catch some fish to sell. If I don’t supply the merchants, they’ll find someone else who will and then what will we do? I promise you, I’ll be careful.”

She knew in her heart he was right. He needed to do this. That, however, didn’t stop her from worrying.

Victoria ran up the stairs to the roof and as she stood at the rail of the widow’s walk, waved as he pulled away from the dock. He waved back and blew her a kiss as he turned the wheel and headed out to the far west end of the harbor toward the Gulf.

She slowly walked down the steps but the foreboding she felt would not allow her to rest.

“I need to keep busy. I need not to think.”

In the kitchen, she placed all her necessary ingredients on the table. "He’ll be hungry when he comes home. I’ll make a nice stew.”

She sliced and diced the meat and vegetables. Victoria placed a small dab of lard inside her large pot to prevent the meat from sticking. She carefully seasoned the meat, placed it in the pot, topped with the vegetables, added the necessary amount of water, and secured the lid.

Victoria checked the level of coal in the stove and was satisfied there was enough to almost cook the stew to its completion. “I might have to add a small shovel or two later on, but as it is now, it’s enough to get the stew going.”

As she placed the pot on the stove to begin cooking, she heard a loud boom.

“What was that? Was that thunder?”

Wiping her hands on her apron, she walked out the door to the front porch and looked up. The dark clouds were thickening and moving in too fast. The sky was turning into a deep slate gray. She knelt on the hard plank wooden porch and began to pray in earnest. The thunder rolled again, and as she left the porch, she felt the first drop of rain.

“I must light some candles to light the house. He’ll need to see it from the water to guide him safely home.”

She quickly ran inside and at every window that faced the water, pushed back the lace curtains, and placed a candle hoping it would be enough. But she needed to be sure.

She checked the stew and walked outside again.

As Victoria made her way a few feet towards the dock, she turned towards the house, hoping to see the view from the water’s edge. “The house is still too dark. When the storm gets worse, he’ll never see the shoreline.” She worried and she prayed fervently.

The thunder crashed again.

“Candles will never do. They’re much too dim.”

She hurried to the old barn and brought in a can of kerosene, then, once inside, filled each lamp. There were six of them. Before she set the wick afire, she quickly ran back to the barn and retrieved three of the five old lanterns.

Trying to think ahead, before walking up the steps to the roof, she removed each curtain and then lit each lamp. After pulling the small tables to the windows, she placed the lamps in their center. Satisfied, she went back down to the kitchen.

After dusting and wiping the rust off the lanterns, she thought “I will place these on the rail of the widow’s walk to light the way.”

A widow’s walk is a railed walkway that sits atop of a house. Often, but not always, while it is not an enclosed structure with walls, a roof is installed to keep the woman of the house dry as she goes through her paces and keeps watch.

Now and again, a seaman will stand in the same area with his telescope and search the harbor for telltale signs of fish schools.

On this day, there would be no schools of fish lurking in the harbor.

The sky was increasingly darker as the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled. The wind began to blow harder.

“I must hurry. I must light the way.”

She carried the lanterns to the roof and then descended the stairs to retrieve the can filled with kerosene.

Standing within the rails of the widow’s walk, she filled each lantern and placed them on the rails that faced the harbor.

She struck the match, but the wind quickly extinguished it. She tried again. Once again, the wind took control and extinguished the small flame.

After checking the amount of kerosene in each lantern, she checked to ensure each wick was damp.

Victoria then placed the lanterns on the floor of the walk. One by one, she raised the glass and struck the wooden match. The lanterns were glowing brightly as the wind continued to blow. She lowered each glass which made the glow from the flames seem brighter.

The sound of the harsh wind was almost deafening. The whitecaps in the harbor were violently smacking against the shore and the dock. The sky was now almost black and as the lightning flashed, the rain came down in torrents.

“I must get down to the kitchen. The stew will burn if I don’t watch it but I’m afraid to leave the lanterns unattended. Maybe if I hurry, I can stir the stew and make it back here to be sure the wind doesn’t blow the flames out.”

Victoria, only twenty years old, had a difficult decision to make and yet, not wanting to burn her husband’s dinner, ran down the stairs to check on the stew. She stirred the pot, and satisfied the food looked and smelled delicious, she turned back to the stairs that would take her to the second floor and then, finally to the roof where she would keep her vigil.

“Almost to the top, now. A few more steps. Hopefully, I can catch sight of Gus and the Fisherman’s Dream.”

That’s when she heard it.

The noise was horrific but that was only the beginning.

The wind blew hard enough to knock over the lanterns, The whoosh of the burning kerosene set the can ablaze which caused the loud explosion, sending the blazing liquid scattering everywhere.

Victoria ran but never had a chance.

And neither did Gus. The squall capsized the Fisherman’s Dream as he tried to turn it around and make his way home. He never saw the lamps his wife lit for him, and he never saw the fire as his home burned.

Eventually, after many months of grieving, the town made the difficult decision to rebuild Gus and Victoria’s home and place a plaque beside the front door memorializing two of the town’s most beloved people.

For the longest time, the house sat empty. The town wanted to sell it but there were too many rumors of hearing Victoria screaming as the house burned. It had been said that you could hear her footfalls and she ran up and down the stairs - as she ran back and forth preparing the way for Gus’ return from the sea.

Although the house was rebuilt and used as a museum to remind others of the struggles of past fishermen, the town decided that as a memorial to Victoria, the widow’s walk would only be depicted in old photos and drawings.

Never again would anyone be tempted to pace that lonely area, while lighting lamps and watching the harbor.