“Hey, did you see this?” I asked Paul, who was sitting next to me on the couch, watching a woodworking show on TV.
“No, I didn’t notice it.”
“It’s about a group of locals who are searching for the original boundaries marking the towns of the Cape. They’re meeting this Saturday. I think I might go.”
“I heard we’re getting a snow storm this weekend.”
“Maybe. But I’d still like to go.” I laughed; Paul would never want to go with a group anywhere, anytime. He’s just not like that. But I would. This sounded interesting.
***
My old blue snow jacket was zippered up as high as it would go. I patted my pockets for gloves, hat, tissues, phone, and camera. All set, I thought, as I walked through the gallery to Paul’s studio. “Paul, I’ll be back in a few hours.”
As the car started, I felt ready for the challenge ahead of me. The thought of finding something that had been hidden for centuries always excited me. One thing this spit of land could boast was that there were houses and vistas that had not changed over the years. In fact, Paul and I chose to move our family from the Midwest to historic Cape Cod to experience history at its best. But Paul’s free time was getting scarcer. Even if he didn’t want to go, I bet he would have gone if I’d asked him. I waited patiently to turn out onto Route 6A, my head swiveling back and forth, looking for an opportunity to pull out among the cars racing by me.
Driving through the center of Orleans, I spotted a small inlet off to one side of Route 28. I made a note to explore it later. I knew that after a good nor’easter, remnants of shipwrecks and relics would suddenly appear on the beach and then be covered over with sand or water when the wind changed direction, not to be seen again till the next storm. An avid beachcomber like me never loses the desire to find treasures hidden under the ocean shorelines. I went over the directions to where the boundary walk was going to commence. According to the article, volunteers were to gather a few miles out of town, along Pleasant Bay. I should watch for a white van parked on the right side of the road.
I pulled in behind the van on a large patch of dirt that looked like people used it as a turnaround.
“Nancy Caldwell,” I said, introducing myself to a group of ten people, mostly older than me, who were all standing in a semi-circle. Everyone smiled and said their names out loud to each other. I noticed there were a few rookies and some repeat explorers who were already acquainted.
“Ready? Let’s go,” said a hearty looking gentleman named Peter.
As we followed him in single file through a small opening in the woods, the brush and scrub swallowed us up. I looked back, trying to remember anything different that would point to the hidden entrance and took note of a twisted tree growing around a smaller one. Not to worry, I told myself, as long as I stayed close to the others. After all, I was smart and had to be the youngest among them.
“Isn’t this exciting?” asked a tall man, wearing a stocking hat pulled close around his graying hair.
“Yes, I love hiking,” I responded.
“How did you find out about this walk?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Read the article in the paper,” I shouted to his back.
He waved his hand to the side acknowledging my answer, keeping pace with the others. I pulled my hat lower over my ears. The sun was out but the wind was now blowing hard. The temperature felt like it had dropped several degrees as we walked deeper into the woods. I tied my hood around the hat.
I couldn’t believe how out of shape I was as we tramped over rocks and hidden bumps underneath the fallen oak leaves. After only ten minutes, I had to take some deep belly breaths to slow my heart rate, but I was determined to keep up with everyone. I followed behind the line of people snaking along a path that had been carved out over the years by the hiking of other nature trekkers. After another five minutes or so, we passed an old foundation set into an embankment, then ventured off the regular path uphill and pushed through a dense covering of prickers and fallen branches. When we finally stopped, I was ecstatic. As I stood still, my breaths started to come a little slower. I promised myself to exercise more.
Peter gave us a command, “Fan out in this area. See if you can see anything out of the ordinary. Keep within earshot though. If you find anything, give a holler.” Then he cautioned us. “Don’t forget that even in deep winter, mice, deer, and several other small animals that roam the woods carry the tick. And…please do not get lost.”
People went off in all directions, studying the ground and looking for stone aberrations on the forest floor. I managed to keep a moving body in sight at all times so that I wouldn’t get lost. At the same time, my eyes kept searching for anything that stuck out above the ground that looked interesting.
Snowflakes began to softly drift across the woods in the wind. The group, undaunted, continued to explore.
Peter yelled out, “Wah-hoo! Found something.”
Five of us headed towards him. The others went a little further before turning around. We found our leader bent over a patch of forest floor, scraping off dirt and moss from three rocks that were laid in a small half-circle.
“What is it?” asked the tall man named John.
“I have a hunch.” Peter straightened up, stood right behind the middle rock and stared out over the rough terrain.
We all looked in the same direction that Peter was eyeing. I laughed and asked him, “Are we supposed to be looking at something important?”
He smiled but didn’t answer me. Then he called out to whomever was standing nearest to him. “A couple of you walk in a circle extending away from these rocks and see if you find more stones that might form a larger pattern.”
I reached for a slender T-Bar that was leaning against a tree. Peter had brought it along for the hike. With slow and careful steps, I kicked up leaves atop the ground and poked the iron rod into the soil before me and on either side of my feet in search of other rocks. One woman went ahead, opposite my path, using her boots to uncover any odd protuberances that would mimic a circular stone formation.
After jamming the T-bar into the ground a few times, it stopped with a thud. “I found one,” I cried out, bending over to pull at patches of green moss. There it was, a flat stone, just a short distance from where Peter had found the other rocks. My gloves were getting damp and black with the forest dirt but I didn’t mind; I was on a hunt. I pulled more moss away.
Peter encouraged the others with, “Keep looking,” before he came over to me. “Nancy, this is wonderful.”
I was giddy about the stone that I had uncovered. I wasn’t sure how important it was but it didn’t matter. According to Peter, I’d found something noteworthy. People had presumably walked over it, time and again, paying no attention to its significance.
By the time the other trekkers came closer, seven more rocks, including mine were uncovered, making the rough outline of a complete circle. Intrigued, everyone gathered around, trying to guess at what lay before their eyes.
“A foundation to an old house?” one offered.
A man with ruddy cheeks added, “Pretty small house.”
Laughter erupted but quieted in seconds as Peter spoke up, “I know we came here to find evidence of the boundaries of the first Cape Villages but I think we’ve just located the site of an ancient windmill.”
We all stood quietly dumbfounded and thrilled at the same time. I hopefully wondered if the little windmill drawing on the old map could be connected to this. It was a stretch, but there might be a link.
Peter glanced at the sky then gave his last command as we all stood around the rough circle of stones, “The snow is starting to accumulate so let’s disband until another day. Feel free to come back and explore the site but DO NOT touch or dig anywhere until we find some answers.”
All agreed.
Peter tied a piece of yellow caution tape around a branch near the site and another where we’d veered off the ancient walking path. It was right near the
old foundation. I wondered who would have built a house so far from the road. Our small group of explorers began to retrace their steps out of the woods, led by Peter.
As I walked to my van, I was silly with the idea that the group may have uncovered a foundation. I pulled off my gloves, which were all wet from digging. My numb hands fumbled through my pockets for the keys. God, it’s cold, I thought, walking a little faster.
The car opened with a click. I looked behind me for oncoming traffic so I could open the door safely, then I glanced across the street from where I was parked. A maroon Toyota was at the convenience store opposite me. I slid onto the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. Waiting for the engine to warm up, I looked across the street again. The driver was taking a big drag on his cigarette.
That’s weird, I thought, he looks like the guy from the library. I wonder if he’s following me? Snowflakes started to stick to the grass and my windshield. My hands shook as I gripped the steering wheel. Was I cold or was it the sight of the maroon Toyota? A lot of things began running through my mind. Had I found another clue about the old map? Could I have located the Davis Baker Mill?
Once on the road, I pulled ahead to turn around, then slowly drove past the Toyota. The driver stared at me with a look that was almost menacing. I stopped for a red light and reminded myself to calm down…take a deep breath. It’s just a coincidence.
As I sped along Route 6A toward Brewster, the car began to warm me up. I decided that the real news is that Peter’s group might have discovered an archaeological site and maybe I could find a connection to the old map. I couldn’t wait to tell Paul…it was probably best to keep the maroon Toyota to myself.
***
The Toyota reached its destination an hour later, turning into a long, winding driveway that led to the back of an old, run-down house. The driver parked his car near a wooden stairway, grabbed his backpack and climbed to the top of the stairs where he found a key above the side window. He entered the small studio apartment. After opening the vents on the heaters, he grabbed a cold beer from the tiny refrigerator and pulled a pair of binoculars from his bag. He had about 30 minutes before going back to work.
30
Present Day
CAPE COD
THE SNOW didn’t let up for two days. After explaining to Paul we’d found the possible site of an old mill, he agreed with me that there was a good chance it represented the drawing on the map. I had a feeling he was just humoring me because he was busy with his painting. Then again, it didn’t matter; I knew I was on to something important. I was also anxious to go back to the site, but there would be no exploring for a while. The storm had blanketed the Cape with its first snowstorm and Thanksgiving was next week.
I reached for my heavy coat and slipped on arctic boots to get the mail. With a dressing of new snow, even the messy house across the street looked picture perfect. The Christmas decorations would soon be up at our house. I relished what people would think as they drove past our front parlor bay window, where the multicolored lights of our Christmas tree always sparkled through the old glass, like colorful diamonds. The bucolic scene spoke of everything that’s winter in New England. It was an old-fashioned image that usually brought a sigh from whoever saw it, reminding them of cozy families, traditions, and sweet treats. I try my best to make a wonderful Christmas for the family, but today, all I wanted to do was look for lost treasure.
***
The day after Thanksgiving, Nick showed up. “Mrs. C, it’s great to see you,” he shouted into the doorway as he gave me a big hug.
“It’s good to see you, too.” I hugged him in return.
Molly and Danny came running in from the living room to say hello, curious as ever.
Nick crouched down to their eye level. “You two look just the way your brother described you.”
The kids giggled and ran back to their toys.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“No, I stopped at Burger King on my way here.”
“Well, we’re happy to have you with us.”
“Thanks.”
“Let me show you where you’ll be sleeping.”
I led him to the spare bedroom off the front parlor. “This is the best room if you want privacy. You’ll be far enough away from the kids and all their noise.” I watched him lift his suitcase onto the bed. “When you’re settled, I’ve got some hot chocolate on the stove.”
“Thanks again, Mrs. C.”
***
Dinner was pizza and salad, nice and easy. Talk was all about Nick. When I was in Antigua his conversations with me were always questions concerning the treasure that I’d found in our woods. Now I wanted to know all about him. “What made you join the Corps?” I asked, passing the salad.
“I wanted to give something back. I’d graduated with a degree in archaeology and minored in math, but the higher-ups felt they needed a math teacher more.”
“Minored in math?” Paul asked. “That’s an interesting combination with archaeology.”
“I always liked numbers, plus there’s a lot of measuring and such with ancient discoveries. In the end, I liked digging better.”
“So what’s your project back on Antigua?” I started to cut Danny’s pizza into narrow strips.
“Well, I’m not sure. The group I was working with disbanded. The Corps office said they would talk to me when I got back.”
I thought this was an odd answer. The Peace Corps doesn’t work that way; they always have schedules planned well in advance.
“Hey, Mrs. C, I was reading on my cell phone all about the Whydah, pirates, and your discoveries as I waited for my flights. I’m still so curious.”
I smiled, thinking it was actually fun answering all of his questions.
He kept his stare on my necklace. “That’s so beautiful, Mrs. C.”
“Thank you, Nick.”
I decided to bring out the coffee, cookies, and ice cream as soon as the last piece of pizza was eaten. Casey excused herself: she had plans for a movie with her friends. As Paul and Nick talked in the dining room, I began putting things away in the kitchen. I thought about sharing the new map with Nick and any details that I’d already found. Paul was interested, but he’s always so busy. It might be fun to have Nick as a partner in solving these mysteries that keep appearing, like Holmes and Watson.
31
Present Day
CAPE COD
I WAS UP EARLY. By the time I reached the kitchen, Paul had finished reading the morning paper and was working in his studio. The sun sparkled through the bare trees in the eastern sky. Maybe some of its warmth would melt the snow and I could get back to the old mill site. The coffee tasted good as I checked my email. One message popped up from Brian. It had two attachments. What a good kid; he’d remembered my request to get pictures of the Julian family jewelry. Happy he’d photographed them before they were stolen, I opened the first image. They were beautiful. The second image was a close-up of only one piece to show the detail of its intricate flower design and color. I glanced up at the wall calendar and remembered my hair appointment, “Crap.” I quickly printed copies of what Brian had sent and left them on the kitchen counter. I had fifteen minutes to get dressed and on the road.
Almost out the door, I stopped to take my necklace off, knowing the chemicals in perm lotions can wreak havoc on jewelry. I wasn’t going to take any chances of ruining this special treasure. I promptly placed it next to the emailed copies of the earrings. I couldn’t help but admire them again; they were such a perfect match.
***
A few hours later, as I pulled into our driveway, the sun was still shining. Perfect, I thought, another couple of days like this and the snow will be gone. Once inside, I found Nick hovering over the kitchen counter using his phone’s camera.
“What’re you doing?” I asked with my eyebrows raised.
“I didn’t think you’d mind if I took a few pictures of your necklace and these photocopies of the earrings.”
<
br /> “I guess not,” I said, hanging up my coat.
“Are these earrings from the treasure that you found?” He put his phone into his pocket.
“No.”
“The patterns are almost identical to your necklace. They look like they could be a set.”
“Actually, I think they are.”
“Where did you find the earrings?”
“Antigua. You know Jim’s friend, John Julian, who owns the sandwich stand?”
Nick leaned against the counter. “Oh yeah.”
“The earrings have been in his family for centuries.”
Paul came in and interrupted us. The perm smell always bothered him, but he tolerated it. He gave me a hug while holding his breath and said, “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, you’re so loving. I’ll be in the shower.”
“Hey, Nick, I’ll be out in the studio, if you need anything,” Paul said as he headed out of the kitchen behind me.
Careful not to get my hair wet, I wrapped it with a towel and scrubbed my neck as well as I could. As the water fell down my back, I wondered if I should be worried that Nick was taking photos of the jewelry. I imagined he must have a pretty big pirate collection, but why was he so interested in the jewelry?
***
Nick closed the door to his room then checked his luggage to make sure the bundled sweatshirt was safe under his clothes. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out his phone as he stared at the detailed images of the earrings with the necklace beside them. After writing a short text, he pressed Send.
***
The next day, Paul, Nick, and I were having coffee at the breakfast table, enjoying the fact that the kids were off to the science museum in Boston with their friends.
“I’m going for a walk on the beach to find scallop shells,” I said. “Anyone want to come?”
The Old Cape Teapot Page 16