Angels of the Sea

by Richard Eddie (June 2025)

In 1932, May Agnes Crawford loved the beach, regardless of the season. She would read, write, and collect seashells and all that came along with it. Since the age of two, she had been on many beaches throughout the world, from the Hamptons, Martha’s Vineyard to Kingston. She loved the water, but never entered the water; she believed that the water, oceans, and seas were sacred and should not be trespassed upon. Twelve years before in 1920, her mother had committed suicide by drowning herself on a beach in Martha’s Vineyard right in front May’s eyes when May was fourteen years old. She never questioned as to why her mother killed herself. Even then when her mother had drowned, May felt that the water was not forgiving when it knew that you did not know how to swim.

There were plenty of swimming pools, but the beaches and the oceans were something entirely different. They had their dignity, self-respect, and rules in a world of its own. May never wanted to learn to swim, even though she had been offered many times by many great swimmers, some that her family had even knew. She loved the beach just as well with all of the respect that was possible. To May, the world of sands was just as mysterious as and friendlier than the depths of the sea could ever be. Now, making sandcastles on the beach had seemed far too typical, and she did not try to do that. She knew that were possibilities on the beach, no less.

May Agnes was back in Kingston, returning from Bar Harbor. She loved being in Bar Harbor, a home that her father’s family had for generations, and was beautifully renovated in 1930 by her aunt, Katherine Crawford, her father’s younger and only sister and living there alone. May loved and looked up to her aunt Katherine who could not have been more than fifteen years older than May. Katherine was tall and thin with green eyes and she wore a short and curly bobbed hair. May thought that Katherine was a stunner, and May saw plenty of men adored and tried to offer the world to Katherine Crawford.

The weather had become too cold for May to remain on the beach, and so proceeded to walk home, a beautiful cottage that had been abandoned for many years until Katherine had also renovated the cottage. It had three bedrooms and it was perfectly cozy for anyone. The thought of May’s aunt had come to her mind out of nowhere was strange and fascinating. Katherine Crawford loved living in Bar Harbor, alone as May lived alone in Kingston, it felt like a puzzle that had somehow had to be put together. Both women had talents of their own, and the beaches aided them in their ventures

May Agnes Crawford had ample time on her hands and money to do what she wished as she wished. A brief thought had entered about the possibility of her going to Bar Harbor to visit Katherine. May liked Bar Harbor, and it certainly had its charms that captured people living there and moving to live there for good, but May was determined to work for her money and not live on her family’s money. Neither Kingston nor Bar Harbor was known to have working-class people. What would she do for work? What job would she apply for? Katherine was a psychiatrist who was burned out from treating patients no different than from her.

Years ago, May had worked for Katherine a receptionist. The two women were no strangers to working, and renovating lovely homes was a deep passion for Katherine rather than diving into the deep minds of her patients. She loved listening to her patients and helping through their pain, anguish, and joy and happiness in some, or practically all. The telephone rang. “You have a person-to-person phone call from Bar Harbor, Maine, Madam, will you accept the call,” said the telephone operator. “Yes, operator, I accept the call.” May began to feel cold when she remembered that all of the windows were opened.

“I must say that I hope that I do not get any more calls from my patients for a while. I actually got some calls today asking me to reopen my office. Can you believe that Mrs. Vanderbilt asked me to open an office in New York?! I could sure use a vacation, and I love Bar Harbor with all of my heart!” Katherine Crawford was always level headed and sound and she had to be as a psychiatrist. She was still human nonetheless. “Aunt Katherine, I had the strangest feeling that you were already in Kingston staying at the wonderful small hotel that you recently and secretly helped to renovate.” May had felt more of a chill from the windows remaining open. She quickly put the telephone receiver down to close and lock the windows. “Pardon my silence, but you know that I do not like to be cold; I closed my windows.”

May knew that she needed to do more than close the windows, but also ignite the fireplace. “Well, my dear, I am coming to Kingston. I have the strongest feeling that I am needed in Kingston, and you and I have to do wonderful things together.” Could both women really be stubborn by refusing to leave their beloved towns, or is Katherine manipulating her niece by being her aunt? “What exactly did you have in mind, Aunt Katherine? Of course, there was a secret passion that May had that her aunt had no idea about: a passion for writing short stories.

“Please do not worry about me asking you to help me with any renovating, not that you would,” said Katherine in a sarcastic way. It may not be fair to say that May Agnes Crawford and Katherine Crawford had a love-hate aunt and niece relationship. Dark humor may have been more appropriate. “I have helped you before shortly one summer, did you forget? To me, it was more of moving books, some that I gladly kept for myself, since you know that I love to read.”

May surely knew that Katherine was serious, and the phone call had significant meaning. Neither of them really liked the back-and-forth sarcasm. “Listen; Aunt Katherine, there is only is as far as family goes, and from now on, I am stopping this with you.” May was not able able to stand that between her aunt and herself. “I absolutely agree with you, and I do not know what made you think that I wanted this or whatever is this.” Of course God, the angels, and the universe were all in agreement that this should come to an end. As a result, May no longer felt the chill. “We are starting anew, this is wonderful!” said May like she had received news that a loved one was coming home; Katherine Crawford was coming home, indeed. “I will be arriving in Kingston tomorrow afternoon, and we are going to start something amazing together.” After the telephone call, May had become hungry, and she had realized that it had been hours since she had eaten anything. Her cook made a wonderful and tasty potato recipe that she had remembered. She walked into her kitchen feeling happy and gay, excited about seeing Katherine.

Her aunt had not wasted anytime booking a flight from Bar Harbor to Kingston. Katherine Crawford was not a fan of traveling by an airplane, she much rather preferred to travel by trains. May Agnes Crawford did not like airplanes, either, so it was a surprise that Katherine had chosen to fly, even though it would be much faster. After she had eaten the delicious potato recipe that her cook refused to tell her what was in it, but she enjoyed it from beginning to end. During the remainder of the evening, May had listened to classical records, wrote a short story, and thought about all of the possibilities surrounding her aunt coming to Kingston.

May had noticed that her cat, Roger, had not been around. His food and sweet milk was untouched, but she knew where he was by him being a housecat. She found him in her study where she wrote her stories, but she had written her story from the night before in the kitchen. “My darling Roger, are you upset with me because I did not come in here to see you last night? You have not eaten your food, nor have you drunk your favorite milk.” She took into town to the see the veterinarian. “It seems that he may have caught a cold, and an ear infection. May was glad that she took Roger to Dr. Stanton, and she liked her. “Yes, it is not surprising now that the winter is approaching. I am prescribing some antibiotics for the ear infection, and aspirin for the cold.”

He is a wonderfully and healthy cat,” said Dr. Jessica Stanton, a young and attractive woman in her early twenties. Her office was a cottage next to her own cottage in the village of Kingston, but still posh and beautiful. The former and beloved veterinarian, Dr. Goodman, an older woman, had retired two years ago, and the animal cottage was gifted to Dr. Stanton. Everyone in Kingston liked Dr. Stanton, and so did May. “Thank you very much, Dr. Stanton.”  May took Roger directly home, and gave him the medicine.

“Here you are, my darling. This will get you back to where you belong.” Roger had easily taken the medicine and went into May’s bedroom where there is also a fireplace, and fell asleep.

The thought of the beach had again entered her mind, and also the thought of her looking for a job. Was there some type of connection between her aunt on her way to visiting her, and seeking employment? The remaining of the evening was quiet and peaceful as it always was. May was no longer able to stay awake, even though she tried for Roger in case if he had awakened; thankfully, he did not. In her dream, May had dreamt that she was working every day, and she loved it. She was a bus driver, driving a small bus. All of the passengers were women and children.

The next morning, Roger the cat had awakened before May Agnes drinking sweet milk in the kitchen. He was feeling better, thank God! It was six o’clock, and May Agnes would normally wake up at either four or five o’clock every morning. She felt chills through her body while she slept that relaxed her, sending her into a much needed peaceful sleep. It was eight o’clock when she had finally awakened, and Roger was on her mind along with the guilt that she had slept as he did through the entire night. May never drank coffee, so she made some hot chocolate; she really wanted tea, but she did not have any. Roger had appeared, and she was happy to see him.

“Roger, my darling, you must be feeling better. Thank God! I see that you have enjoyed your sweet milk from the residue on your adorable little lips.” May’s soul had smiled when she saw that her cat was feeling better. She was not taking any chances; she administered his medicine as Dr. Stanton instructed her to. “I see that you had finally eaten the potato recipe that I made especially for you before the beauty left it,” said Fancy Garland, May’s cook. Fancy was twenty years older than May with so much energy and passion for cooking that she preferred that she be referred to as a cook, even though she cleaned May’s cottage and tended to the gardening.

She always wore men trousers and caps, and she had blue and green eyes. Fancy had always entered and exited the cottage through the kitchen door that led to the garden. “Good Morning, Fancy. Yes, I had eaten the potato dish, and it was wonderful. Roger has been ill with a cold and an ear infection, poor thing. He is better now, thank God, or at least I assume that he is better because he drank his favorite sweet milk.” May had offered Fancy a room at the cottage a while back, and Fancy declined the offer. Fancy lived further towards the end of Kingston, and she did not drive; she had a bicycle. “Living right on the beach is bound to make anyone catch a cold. I have already seen my darling, and I have brought him more sweet milk to make him happy.”

May never drove a car either, and she too, had a bicycle. Having Fancy at the cottage was inspiring to her; Roger loved her as well as he loved May. May loved Fancy’s cooking, and she would sometimes feed it to Roger; Fancy did not mind her feeding him table or human food.

“My aunt Katherine will be arriving here today in Kingston, and I have a feeling that she is going to be staying here for a while; not here at the cottage, I am thinking that she may stay at the bed and breakfast. She has tremendous influence here in Kingston, and that is why there are no tall buildings, and that suits everyone, me as well.” Roger had entered the kitchen, delighting the two women. “Roger, my love, I heard that you have been sick, and you have probably missed me as much as I have missed, you, my baby.” Fancy held Roger as if she had not seen him in a lifetime, or he was one of her only and noble friends. “Ms. Katherine has style and character; I have always liked that about her. I also like that there are no tall buildings here, because that is how all of the beauty and magic lives.” Roger had left the two women as Fancy searched the kitchen, proceeding to cook. “My aunt certainly loves Bar Harbor, and I am looking forward to seeing her.” May had a slight feeling of uneasiness about her aunt that she did not want to reciprocate to Fancy.

“Being in this kitchen is making me hungry, and since I have not eaten since early yesterday afternoon, I am going to cook plenty of food,” said Fancy as she had brought a bag of vegetables and a generous amount of potatoes for May. “Please do not let me forget the sweet milk for Roger that I have in my bicycle basket.” Roger had more than enough sweet milk probably to last him an entire year. Fancy knew that May had always made sure that Roger had plenty of sweet milk; perhaps she could not help herself.

“Your aunt has eaten my cooking before, and she loved it. It would be nice if she would come for dinner. At the same time, Ms. Katherine is proper, if that is the right word to describe her.” May had looked forward to cooking and would not ask her as to what was on the menu. “Well, Fancy, I will leave you to the cooking, and I am going to find something meaningful to do,” said May. Roger was in the living room being comfortable, assuring his mother that he was better and happy.

She pulled back the curtains and the blinds to allow the sun glow to further soothe Roger when someone approaching outside. “Good Morning, Ms. Crawford, it is a lovely morning that we have again, or I should say that God has blessed us with,” said Alfa, the assistant to the village general store and postal store manager. Alfa was handsome with short brown hair and light eyes, and tall with thin and long fingers. “Good Morning, Alfa. Yes, every morning in Kingston is lovely, and we are blessed to live in this.” Alfa traveled by bicycling when delivering mail and never drove a car, and he was always happy. “I have a telegram for you, Ms. Crawford, and how is Roger? I am sure that he is happy and loves being your baby.” No one never really knew where Alfa was from. He had a slight accent that was not decipherable, but he was loved in Kingston no less. “My Roger has been under the weather, but he is better now. Thank you for asking about him, Alfa.” He gave the telegram to May, tipped his cap, and left.

The telegram was Katherine. “MY DEAR NIECE STOP PLEASE FORGIVE ME STOP I AN NOT ABLE TO LEAVE BAR HARBOR AND VISIT YOU IN KINGSTON STOP SOMETHING HAS.. PLEASE UNDERSTAND STOP I WILL SPEAK WITH YOU SOON WITH LOVE.” May was like a feather to just easily be knocked or blown to the other side of the earth. It was not like her aunt to abruptly cancel; what could it have been? May did not know what to think or how to make sense of it. It was beneficial to her that Fancy was in the kitchen so that she could not see the expression on May’s face. Roger was in another part of the cottage, and it just as well so he could not see or sense.

The fireplace was still burning even though it was not cold. She tore up the telegram, and threw it into the fireplace. She sat down into an antique chair next to the fireplace. It had to have been something imperative for Katherine not to go to Kingston. It was not like her to be  impulsive or whimsical, she was strong and tough, and would not be moved in any way. May had always admired and respected Katherine for that. “Should I call her and ask her as to what is the reason of this?” May had asked herself that question. She held onto the telegram and squeezed it tightly, fearing that she would possibly lose her aunt by letting go of the telegram.

Come to think of it, May could not remember a time when she had ever known Katherine to send telegrams, ever! Katherine was always direct by making telephone calls. Was the telegram in-fact really from Katherine Crawford? May had stepped out of the cottage, stopped in her front garden, stared at the garden, and walked along the path that led to a small garden that was created and maintained by a group of children. Walking and viewing the beautiful scenery would make her feel better. Wonderfully, there were two children from the village in the garden.

“Hello, Ms. Crawford. Trudy and I are checking on the garden after the strong winds from last night. Trudy was more worried than I was, but the wind has always been nice to the garden.” Timmy and Trudy Moore were first cousins at times were more thought of as brother and sister. Their fathers were brothers, both English Professors, died of Cancer on the very same day, two years ago. They lived with Timmy’s mother, Ruth, and Trudy’s mother was not seen or heard from ever since Trudy’s father had passed away. “It is very nice to see the both of you on a wonderful day like this.”

Indeed, it was good to see the cousins, to help take her mind off the baffling telegram. She needed that moment, a moment to avoid feeling anger or resentment towards her aunt. Should she really feel anger or resentment? After all, things do come up at the very last minute, especially when you have a life as full as Katherine Crawford’s. “I am positive that you all are constantly told that you could pass for brother and sister; it is truly uncanny.” Trudy stared at May as if she had known her from before, smiled, and looked at Timmy to continue to lead.

“Sorry, Ms. Crawford, but we should going home now for Trudy’s piano lesson, and my tennis lesson.” All of the children in Kingston were mannered, no surprise at all to the mature adults in Kingston. Meeting with the cousins was needed for May to put an end to the negative feelings that she had towards her aunt Katherine. She stayed in the garden and took her time admiring the beauty and the fragrances quietly presenting themselves, perfectly matched with the flowers and roses. “The idea of children caring for gardens is beautiful and inspiring,” she said to herself. May was not ready to leave the garden, and she was not going anywhere in particular. She believed that gardens had their own language and communicating, even with people. She was receptive to that possibility of communicating with the garden and its residents. Like Timmy and Trudy, the other children that tended the garden did not care that older people visited the garden, or even working in it.

At this that particular moment, there was no work to be done, and Timmy and Trudy Moore were only checking up, and did nothing else in it. “I suppose that it is time for me to be going, and not overstay my welcome. I will certainly return soon, if that meets the approval of you all.” May wanted to make sure that no flower or rose was forgotten about and definitely not ignored. It was her intention to be respectful when she exited the garden. However, she was not ready to return home, and she did not want to overstay her welcome.

“My dear, Ms. Crawford, it is so pleasant to be out here surrounded by all of this beauty. I have been sick with a dreadful cold that felt like the flu. Now, I feel much better, and the garden has always been a comfort to me,” said Myra Finch, a retired baker. “Hello, Ms. Finch. My cat, Roger, is just now getting over a cold. I am glad that you and Roger are better. I had no intention of coming to the garden; I just ended up here.” May was happy to stay or leave, and she liked Myra Finch, and Myra Finch liked her. “I must say that I am pleased to see you here, of all places; gardens love and appreciate good people like us; it knows us better than we think, I believe that, and you should, too. I feel that you do believe that, Ms. Crawford.”

May looked out past the garden to the sea, and took in all that was happening. It was musical and poetic to her, and she was moved and fascinated. Myra was right about gardens; there was no denying that, not that May would ever deny it. They were quiet as May accepted all that was before her and around her. Myra walked around the garden and greeted each and every bush and tree, taking her time with no worry or obligation in the world. May was calm, hoping to channel all that Myra was feeling and experiencing. Myra Finch could not be fooled, and leaving May to herself was good medicine. Myra had moved on further in the garden in hopes that May would come to her senses and realize that her time in the garden should not be wasted and to be respectful.

She was ready and willing, but the ocean had caught her attention. She saw someone, only one person swimming in the ocean while the surf was high enough for those not to swim in the water, especially when it was cold. May did see a person, and it was her aunt Katherine Crawford. Even in the distance, May Crawford had good vision, and she could from far away. Perhaps someone else may have needed a telescope. This could not be real, and after that dreadful telegram! What could May do?! Did Katherine see her niece staring at her, or could she see that far herself?

None of it made any sense at all! May had walked down the precipice to the beach to find out if that was really her aunt, and swimming all of things! “My dear niece, I am swimming as you can see, and I hope that you will join me in visiting your mother who is not really gone. She is here in the ocean being a protector and waiting for you.”

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Richard Eddie lives in California. Richie reads and writes in her spare time, and her favorite authors are Daphne Du Maurier and Kate Morton.

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