Chapter Eleven
“I asked you a question Autumn. Who told you that you could come in here?”
My shock began to fade away as it was replaced with annoyance. “I didn’t know that I needed a reason to come in my father’s study. Since we’re asking questions, what are you doing home?”
“I received James message. I found it strange that you wanted to come home on the weekend when you usually jet off to some beach.”
“I just wanted to come home.”
It was unnerving the fact that we looked so much alike. Every feature on my face was thanks to my mother. The only thing I seemed to take from my father was his curiosity for the unknown.
My mother pursed her lips as she stared at me. I watched as her eyes left me for a second and roamed around the room. “James doesn’t seem to follow directions well. I told him to box up this room.”
“He follows them just well. He just doesn’t follow yours.”
“Cute.”
“I thought so.” I said. I made my way from around the desk towards the door where she was standing. For a moment, I thought that she wasn’t going to move out of the way, but then she simply stepped aside.
I reached for the door and opened it, when she said, “I make people suffer that cause trouble for me Autumn. Do not be one of them.”
I glanced back at her, as a chill crept up my arms. Not bothering to reply, I hurried out of the room and down the hall to my own bedroom. Once in, I closed and locked the door. I leaned against it for a moment to listen for my mother’s retreat. It was a second before the door to my father’s study closed and the sound of her heels could be heard going down the hall. I finally relaxed as I tried to steady my racing heart that was about to burst out of my chest. My mother was always known for trying to scare me. Usually, I found myself ignoring her. But for some reason, today she really got to me. There had been a dangerous look in her eyes, and what was with that tone. It was downright chilling. Whatever. I was just freaking out for being caught. That had to be the reason.
I walked over to my bed and climbed on it. Reaching into my waistband of my pants, I removed the book I’d taken from my father’s study. Unwinding the string, I opened the book and stared at the first page.
Property of Joaquin de la Pezuela
This book wasn’t my father’s. While the journal itself was in pristine condition, the pages were not. In fact, I was pretty sure these pages did not go in this book. They were sewed into the binding with black thread. It was a wonder that they didn’t come loose. Did my father do this? I didn’t understand it. Why remove the pages from the original binding. Maybe someone was after this book just like the painting, and my father hid it to keep it safe. I had no clue on who this Joaquin guy was, but I had a feeling it had something to do with the painting. Looking through this book could give me the information that my father had tried to hide from me. Flipping to the next page, I began to read the diary entry.
May 20, 1820
The revolution has started and I fear for my people. I’ve received word that José de San Martín and his Army are approaching the city. He pretends to be invading because he wants to conquer my lands, but I know otherwise. He has learned of the treasure. I am sure of it.
I have spoken with Captain William Thompson. He has agreed to protect the treasure by delivering it to a remote island. I will not reveal the directions or name of the island just in case this journal falls into the hands of the enemy.
Captain William thinks he is taking all of the treasure with him, but he is wrong. There is one piece of treasure that must remain separate. This piece of treasure is cursed with powers that man must not ever get their hands on. I fear what would happen to us, if they do.
The enemies have been spotted. I must go.
I continued to read the journal as I learned that the treasure that was sent with Captain Thompson included jeweled stones, candlesticks, two life size solid gold statues of Mary holding baby Jesus, and tens of millions of dollars in gold and silver. The treasure was supposed to reach the island, but it never did. Captain Thompson betrayed the guards and disappeared with the treasure. However, Joaquin did not seem to be too much concerned with this particular treasure. He continued to talk about the magical curse piece that had made it to foreign territory and would remain protected and hidden.
Closing the book, I tried to make sense of all of this. I was certain the magical cursed piece that Joaquin spoke of was the painting. I never really focused too much on the curse aspect of the painting because I knew it couldn’t have been true. My father believed it though. He thought of the painting as not cursed, but blessed. He believed the painting to be filled with good powers, but according to the media and Joaquin’s diary, they believed otherwise.
I didn’t want to lose any of this information, so I scanned all the pages including the three pages I found under the floorboards with the book. Once I was done, I stuck it in the vent, where I use to hide all of my secrets.
I spent most of my weekend in my room, avoiding my mother and avoiding phone calls from my friends. I wanted to wait until I got back to school to talk to them, and as for my mother— I simply had nothing to say to her. However, that all changed the minute she demanded I come down for dinner. Now I was sitting across from her at the dinner table playing with my food and doing my best to ignore her.
“You’re not touching your food.” She spoke. “James worked hard to prepare this meal for us. The least you could do is support his hard work.”
“James knows that I don’t eat seafood. He would have never cooked this if you hadn’t demanded it of him.”
“Since when do you not eat seafood?”
“Since I was diagnosed as being allergic to it at the age of five.”
My mother scoffed and gave a wave of her hands. “Surely you’ve gotten over it by now.”
“I haven’t.”
We grew silent again. Why did I have to be put in this awkward situation? As I stared down the table at her, I wondered why she couldn’t have been like other moms. When it came to her, family ranked on the bottom of the scale, and she had no problem letting us know that. It was times like this where I missed my father. He would have filled in the silence with entertaining stories. Thinking of my father made me think of the painting. I needed to know if my mother knew anything about my father secret trips or the threatening letters he had been receiving.
“Mom, why don’t you ever want to talk about dad and the way he died?’
My mother stopped drinking her wine as a faraway look appeared in her eyes. It quickly vanished as she sat her glass down sighing. “Because there is nothing to talk about. Your father died in a horrible accident. He wouldn’t want us to sit here grieving over him every day. He would want us to move on.”
“I don’t think it was an accident.”
“And why is that?”
“Dad was a good swimmer. As a matter of fact, he was better than good. There is no way he could have drowned, not that close to the docks anyway.”
“Maybe he fell.”
“Maybe he fell!” I echoed. “Jesus mom, do you even care to find out how he died? Or maybe you’re happy he’s gone. Now you don’t have to worry about him going on about that painting.”
My mother hand came down hard on the table as I jump. Pointing a finger at me she said, “You will not talk to me in that tone and you will certainly not bring up your father’s foolish obsession. Do you understand me? I do not want to hear of it.”
“You never do! Did you know that he was taking secret trips instead of going to work like he claimed? Did you know that he was receiving threatening letters?”
“Your father should have taken heed to those letters and maybe he would still be alive.”
I froze in my seat as I stared at her. “You knew. You knew he was being threatened.”
“Of cours
e I knew.” She said drinking from her glass nonchalant. “I tried to get him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. He was so set on finding that painting that he didn’t care about the fact that he could face jail or be killed by some other lunatic who was after the painting. Your father’s death was a tragedy, but he made his choice, and he suffered the consequences.”
If I thought so before, I knew well now. My mother was heartless. She claimed to have tried to stop him, but the way I see it she didn’t really care. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to hold in the sobs. Seeing my tears my mother chuckled. Pushing up from her chair she made her way down towards the end of the table where I sat. Grasping my face in her hand, she stared into my eyes. “You really are your father’s daughter.” She pushed my face away roughly. “You always knew how to ruin my appetite. Hurry and finish your dinner.”
She walked away from the table towards the door and stopped. “And Autumn, you’re starting to cause trouble. If I were you, I wouldn’t come home on breaks again. You being here is starting to annoy me.”
I watch her disappear out the door, leaving me alone in silence.
The Bonnies Page 12