“Matthew, wait!”
His heart jumped. She came close to him and placed her hand on his scarred face. “I’m sorry that Sam did this to you. I’m sorry for everything. You never deserved this.” She pushed a lock of his hair behind his ear and studied his face for a moment. “I know that you love me and it’s possible that I’m in love with you, too.” She moved her hand over his cheek. “But I can’t destroy anyone else’s life with whatever plagues me.”
She looked up at his face one more time, then kissed him on his cheek. “Go now, Matthew. Find your way without me.”
She ran into the house and secured the door behind her. With her back against the closed door, she swallowed her cries as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Matthew ran after her.
She felt his fist as he pounded on the door. “MARIA! Listen to me! You can’t shut me out of your life again.”
He waited for her to answer. He hit the door again and called out, “MARIA! Can you hear me?” Matthew laid his open hand on the door and tried to feel her presence. Then he whispered through his tears, “I will return for you.” No response came from within. He turned away, climbed into his wagon and drove away.
Maria threw herself down on her bed. She remembered hearing Sam repeat the same words, ‘I will return for you.’ Her head ached with dizzying thoughts of Sam and Matthew. The horrible fire flashed across her mind. She thought of poor Abigail and could see Matthew’s bloodied face. She beat her hands on the pillow and pulled at her hair, trying to rid herself of the pain and sadness in her head.
After tossing and turning over and over in her bed, she finally stopped, exhausted. Now she felt empty of all feelings. Her eyes burned from the salty tears and the fire’s smoke. She could still hardly breathe. Maria blew away the mucous that blocked her air passages with the bottom of her skirt, then lay back on the bed. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Maria’s cathartic purge helped her sleep so deeply that she stayed asleep through the next day and into the following morning. When she finally woke, she lay still, moving only her eyes. She could see the rough-cut ceiling over her head, spider webs dancing in the air, blown by the drafts coming from holes and openings in the old house. Her eyes traced the familiar log walls and their thick, bumpy mortar. They seemed to hypnotize her as she followed the white lines joining the logs together around and around her room. Everything was the same; it was as if nothing had happened. She was in her house just as before, still bound by a punishing law that forced her to be ostracized from the community.
The sun shone into the one window, making a long rectangular mark on the dirty floorboards. Particles of dust floated through its sunbeam. The air was heavy and humid. Forcing herself to sit up, she stood to look out the window and wondered what time of day was it?
Her skin felt sticky, and her arms were spotted with black smudges. The bottom of her outer skirt was matted into a ball, and her inner skirt was ripped across the bottom. In the silence, she heard the faint bleating of her little goat out in the back near the shed. No need for anything else to suffer on my account. She grabbed a pail as she walked past the hearth.
The small black goat was happy to see Maria and stamped its feet in the hay as she came near. When she returned to the house with the full pail of milk that was warm and smelled sweet, she tried to kindle the fire with a piece of flint. She questioned herself about the need of a fire when she had no food but kept striking the flint until it caught its spark. Thirsty, she walked around the chest and travel bag still sitting in the middle of the kitchen and went outside to the well.
As Maria carried the heavy pails that dangled on the ends of a piece of wood across her shoulders, the cool water splashed about her body. It seemed to refresh her, but it also reminded her of her dirty laundry, a depleted woodpile, and the untilled garden beds. She breathed a heavy sigh. Almost to the house, she spotted something that looked out of place. She’d never noticed the large basket on the bench near the open door. She lowered each pail to the ground and stood the wooden pole against the other side of the doorframe. She scanned the surrounding area but saw no sign of another person. Within seconds her curiosity bettered her caution and she began to inspect what was inside.
A bag of oats and flour were the largest of the items, and nestled between them was a covered jar of ‘starter’ for dough that needed leavening. On the other side of the basket was a pillar of salt wrapped in paper and a jar of cider. In the middle of it all, three large biscuits lay wrapped in a cloth and a letter addressed to Maria Hallett.
To Maria Hallett,
My sincere gratitude to you upon your much-needed assistance in the untimely accident of my son, Isaac. Please accept these items as my thank you.
Jonathan Baker
Maria smiled at this simple gift and felt a small twinge of warmth in her heart. She unpacked her travel bag, washed herself and changed her clothes. Sam’s gifts of china pieces from her small chest were placed on the table. She returned the pouch of herbs and medicine to its same spot on the shelf and pushed her keepsake box back under her bed. The bag of coins and gold pieces that were set aside to use on their journey sat next to the china.
As the sun began to set on this, the second day of Maria’s return, she began her evening meal with a bite from a soft biscuit that rested on a blue flowered china plate. Her cider filled the delicate cup resting on its matching saucer. It tasted good to her.
She stacked gold coins in piles of ten in front of her, smiling at how considerate Sam was when he’d asked her to put them in her small chest instead of his. Picking up the last morsel of her tasty treat with her fingertip, she licked it clean.
The sun cast a warm red glow across the evening sky as Maria gazed out the window. She needed to think about many things. And Matthew was one of them.
55
Present Day
BREWSTER
TWO MEN SAT IN A PICK-UP TRUCK parked in the Caldwell’s driveway. For a few minutes neither said a word. When they decided that no one in the Caldwell house had noticed the truck, the driver, Neil Hallett said, “Lucky for us, that lightening made a great distraction.” He looked over to Jack Hennessey. “Now remember, you’ve got to be quick. Secure the woman and signal me when it’s done.”
“Got it,” his cohort said.
“Take that stupid mustache off. You look ridiculous,” growled Hallett.
Hennessey pulled the stylish handlebar from his upper lip. “I may just grow one of these. I like it.”
Hallett continued, “I’ve got everything we need in the back: lights, generator, rain gear and shovels. It shouldn’t take more than an hour, tops!”
Hennessey adjusted the ski mask over his head, zippered up his black jacket and pulled rubber gloves over his hands.
“You got the bottle and the rag?”
Hennessey put his hand in his left pocket. “Check.”
“Duct tape?”
He touched his other pocket. “Check.”
“Now get going!” Hallett ordered.
“Okay, Boss.” Hennessey began to repeat Hallett’s advice under his breath.
Hallett caught Hennessey’s arm. “Don’t forget to keep the stuff away from your own face.”
As Hennessey walked up the walkway, his eyes skirted between the glow of the TV in the front parlor’s windows to the one light in the back. He quietly stepped towards the middle of the house to the kitchen window. Slowly, he cut the screen away from the single window, pushed the glassed panes up and climbed in.
Hallett watched his accomplice enter the house while he anxiously waited for a signal. He whispered, “I hope the chloroform from that old fisherman works. Hennessey is not the brightest tool in the shed.” He stuffed tobacco chew into his mouth and remembered all the people who had speculated about where Bellamy’s lost treasure was buried, and even if there was any. They’d always searched in Eastham or Wellfleet, never near Brewster. The vellum pieces with the letters and the date
, plus the gold coins, all fueled his theories, telling him that he was on the right track. Hallett sneered. In a few hours he would be a rich man.
***
Familiar with the layout of the house from his previous visit, Hennessey crept towards the front parlor. Nancy, his target, sat watching the TV with her back to him. He unscrewed the cap to the chloroform and poured a small amount onto a cotton square. Quickly recapping the small brown bottle, he put it back into his pocket and moved closer.
***
I laughed as the little kid named ‘Chunk’ enjoyed a special moment with the lovable monster ‘Sloth’ over a Babe Ruth candy bar. Within seconds, a piece of material was thrust over my mouth. It smelled like the hospital. The room spun around me and I felt like throwing up. I could hardly hold my head up. I tried to scream but couldn’t move my lips. Paul… Where are you? I need you. As my eyes closed, I could feel myself falling over to the side.
***
Hennessey poked at his victim to make sure she was out. He bound Nancy’s ankles and hands with duct tape and sat her back into an upright position on the couch facing the TV. He stuffed a rag in her mouth and taped it shut. With a sigh of relief, he pulled off his ski mask, adjusted his jacket and straightened the Hawaiian shirt that peaked out beneath the bottom of his black leather coat. He headed towards the foyer door by the kitchen where he’d broken in.
Unlocking the door, he peered into the dark night. Hallett’s truck was visible in the driveway. After fumbling to find the right switch Hennessey flicked the outdoor light on and off a few times, giving Hallett the all-clear signal.
He hurried back into the kitchen and picked up the Caldwell’s main house phone, pressed TALK and placed it on the table, blocking all incoming and outgoing calls. Under his breath he went over the checklist from Hallett, then left the house through the back porch to meet his boss by the cellar.
***
Hallett shifted into low gear and drove his truck closer to the back of the garage. It rolled quietly over the gravel. When the equipment was unloaded, Hennessey set up spotlights around the edge of the cellar and flipped the switch on the generator.
Hallett stood next to the spotlights on the grass. “It shouldn’t be too far down. They already found some coins near the surface.” He watched Hennessey climb down into the hole to begin shoveling more dirt out of its bottom.
56
Present Day
BOSTON
PAUL DECIDED TO GIVE NANCY ONE MORE CALL to say goodnight. He asked the kids to turn the TV down in the hotel room as he pressed the button on the keypad for HOME. No answer. He’d call again in a minute.
Paul sat on the edge of one of the queen-sized beds. After five minutes, he redialed but still no answer. His hands began to perspire as he called her cell phone. Nothing! He paced from the bathroom to the bed and back again, then tried one more time. Under his breath he whispered, “Come on! Come on! God damn it! Pick up the phone!” He called Jim’s cell as he stood by the curtained window that overlooked the parking lot.
Molly glanced over at her daddy as she colored on the bed. She thought he looked angry.
There was no answer from Jim. “Jim, this is Dad…call me as soon as you can. It’s important.” He flipped his phone shut and went back to his pacing.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” asked Brian.
“It’s your Mom–she’s not answering….” Paul’s words were cut short by his cell ringing. He answered in a flash. “Hello!”
“What’s going on, Dad?” Jim asked on the other end.
“Where are you, at the restaurant?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Do you think you could check on Mom? She’s not answering her cell or the home phone, and I’m worried.”
“Let me see if I can leave.”
Paul could hear the sound of dishes clattering in the restaurant and people laughing in the background as he waited impatiently for Jim to return.
“Yeah, I can go and check it out.”
“Thanks…and Jim…be careful. If I don’t hear from you in twenty minutes I’m calling the police.”
“Okay Dad, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
57
Present Day
BREWSTER
JIM’S SIZE FIFTEEN SNEAKERS floored the gas pedal as he barreled out of the restaurant’s parking lot. He thought that his dad was over-reacting, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. It would take him only a few minutes to check on his mom. He wondered why his dad would call the police. He strained to see through the foggy darkness as the wipers cleaned a light drizzle of rain from across the windshield. If there’s something wrong, I need a plan, he thought. Recalling all the mystery and adventure movies he’d seen he tried to remember some of the moves the good guy did that made him a hero.
He cut the headlights and drove slowly up the berm and onto the driveway so as not to disturb the gravel. He could see the TV was on in the front parlor. Turning off the engine, he let the car coast the rest of the way in.
He stopped the car facing the back yard instead of pulling to the side. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, the rear end of a black truck near the edge of the garage came into his view. He whispered, “Something’s up. Whose truck is that?”
Jim told himself to be calm and remembered that Dad would contact the police after twenty minutes. He checked his cell phone for the time but couldn’t remember when he’d received the phone call. It didn’t matter, he thought, as he stepped out of the car. He kept the door ajar, so there would be no closing noise. Spotting his baseball bat in the back seat, he grabbed it. Jim looked again to make sure the dome light in the car was off. It was.
He walked silently towards the entryway of the foyer. His eyes scanned the area from side to side and into the dark shadows that blanketed his peripheral vision. He stepped quickly but was careful not to slip on the wet decking.
The first thing he saw was that the screen had been cut on the kitchen window. His adrenalin went into overdrive. He fumbled for his key only to find the door was already open. His heart pumped even faster. Mustering all his courage, he crept inside, still gripping the bat in his hand. He heard the sound of a generator to his right and then spotted a circle of bright lights in the backyard. He wished he had a gun.
Jim stepped softly across the foyer and into the old kitchen, opposite the new one. He remembered the fake gun Molly had found in the root cellar. Where was it? The green numbers on the clock radio’s screen lit his way over to the counter. The toy gun looked real in the semi-darkness. Tightening his grip on the bat, Jim put his keys into one pocket and picked up the gun. He turned and headed towards the front of the house to find his mom.
A HOTEL IN NEW YORK
Paul thought about the weird guy from the museum. He dialed 411 to get the museum’s number. As he dialed, he tried to recall the man’s name. He knew it began with a K…Kearney? Kennedy? Kennedy, that’s it! He scribbled the phone number on the hotel pad of paper as fast as he could and then punched it into his phone.
“The Whydah Museum,” a man answered. “I’m sorry we’re closed.”
Paul pleaded with the man. “I just need to ask you a question.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have an employee by the name of Kennedy working for you?”
“Nope.”
“Thanks.” Paul hung up.
He turned to the kids. “Pack your things. We’re leaving. Right now! I’ll explain everything later. Brian, you’ll have to drive if I get sleepy.”
As the kids packed their backpacks, Paul keyed 911 to alert the Brewster Police. He wasn’t waiting for Jim’s call.
BREWSTER
I could open my eyes but not my mouth. There was something in it. I saw tape on my hands and feet. Thank God, I’m alive. I tried to stand but couldn’t move. I bent my body over to pull myself up to stand but couldn’t get my balance. I looked over to the TV, where my cell phone was vibrating on top of it. If only I could reach it, it’s probab
ly Paul.
I twisted my shoulders back and forth; a sharp pain shot up my side. I thought of the baby and sat back against the couch. I prayed in my heart, Oh dear God, please don’t let anyone come back and hurt the baby or me.
There was a horror movie now playing on the TV. What’s going on? I felt disoriented. It was pitch black outside. Terrible thoughts crept into my head: Is someone still in the house with me? Are we being robbed? Am I going to be raped? My knees shook, and my heart raced. Be strong, I told myself. Stay calm. Remember the baby.
There was no other noise except for the TV. I turned my head but couldn’t see anyone behind me. Maybe they left already? I prayed again: Please let whoever did this to me be gone by now.
I tried wiggling my hands and feet, thinking the duct tape might break loose. It didn’t. I lifted my feet up and down in a march, hoping to loosen them. Nothing. I started to gag from whatever was in my mouth. I forced myself to relax. My throat hurt each time I tensed up; my mouth was so dry.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Damn it! I need to stand up. Careful, I don’t want to fall and injure the baby. I leaned forward to try to stand again. With all my strength, I pushed my body up only to be shoved back down by a large hand that grabbed my shoulder. I let out a muffled scream as someone moved in front of me. I looked up to see…my beautiful son, Jim. I burst into tears.
Jim held his finger up to his lips, “Shhhhhh.” I anxiously watched him unwrap the tape from my hands and then my feet. Once freed, I quickly clawed at the tape across my mouth and pulled out the wad of material. Saliva wet the inside of my mouth with a sweet moistness. It felt good to be able to swallow again.
Jim stood for a few seconds watching me. I looked up at him. He spoke in a whisper, “Are you okay, Mom?”
I rubbed my face, as if I wanted to erase the memory of how I got into this predicament. “I think so, but I don’t know what’s going on.”
The Old Cape House Page 26