People had begun to gather on the road leading from town. Micah dodged into the cover of trees beyond the house. They would never be able to explain what just happened. It was better to avoid a confrontation.
“Gabby, you know your father will be blamed for this,” Micah said as they skirted the town.
“How could he be? He wasn’t even here!”
“It doesn’t matter. When DeWitt comes up missing, suspicion will be cast on your father. He’ll be blamed for both arson and murder.”
“But won’t they connect DeWitt’s disappearance with the fire and figure it out?”
Micah shook his head. “Not after the Barlow baby. And what about the missing money? You know he’ll take the blame for that, too. With an outstanding account at the store, my father will see to it. Your family isn’t safe here any longer.”
She whirled to face him, the fight of her father in her eyes. “We’ll pay that money back. What can your father do to us? We can’t die, remember?” She pulled up her pant leg to reveal clean skin. “Micah, the mark is gone!”
He’d already suspected it. “The pen burned. The curse is broken.”
The challenge drained out of her like water spilled on the ground. She closed her eyes and heaved a shaky sigh. “Thank God!”
He gave her a moment to collect her emotions, then pressed on. “They can hurt you again. You aren’t safe. Let’s get you home to your father.”
They circled through the woods and caught the stage road where it left town. A haze of smoke hovered over the village and ash fell heavily around them, but Main Street was deserted. Everyone was gawking at the burning mansion.
They moved quickly. Safely beyond the mill, Gabby hesitated. “Micah, after the coins, did you ever use the pen again?”
He shook his head.
“Good!”
He glowered at her. She knew exactly what losing that pen meant to him. “No, I get to be my father’s little stooge forever,” he gritted icily.
“Oh, Micah, are you really leaving for that awful school?”
“What choice do I have now?”
“Of course you have a choice!” she exclaimed. “You don’t need that feather to face your father. The courage is inside of you. Just look at what you’ve faced, what you’ve done!”
He looked away. He’d been faced with such a choice before.
They found Sanjay standing in the center of the clearing, sniffing the now gentle breeze and looking toward town. “What’s going on?” he asked as they burst through the trees.
“The curse is broken,” Micah stated.
Sanjay checked his leg and let out a whoop. “It’s gone! I’m free. I’M FREE!” The seasoned sailor capered about the clearing, twirling like a lovesick girl before he noticed his daughter watching. “Gabby!”
Micah spoke. “She knows. She bore the mark herself.”
Sanjay looked in wonder at Gabby’s tattered shirt.
The children’s words cartwheeled over each other as they recited everything that had happened. Sanjay listened, his expression growing grave.
“Micah’s right, I’m afraid,” he said when they finished. “We need to leave immediately. Gather your things, Gabby. We’ll depart before sundown.”
“Where will you go?” Micah asked.
Sanjay smiled. “You forget I am a well-traveled man. I’ll find a place.” Then he hesitated. “Micah, the account at the store—”
Micah interrupted with a shake of his head. “It’s covered, Sanjay.”
“Consider it a loan.” Sanjay smiled. “I’ll look you up west of the mountains.”
Micah held out his hand and the man shook it warmly. Then Sanjay turned and strode toward the shack.
Gabby and Micah were left staring at each other. He kicked a clod of dirt with his toe and she searched the tree line. “I guess this is good-bye, then,” he said, cramming his hands into his pockets. After years of friendship, suddenly they found nothing left to say.
When he looked up again, tears were flowing down Gabby’s cheeks and dripping off her chin. She grabbed him in a tight hug. “Micah, I will never, ever forget what you did for me and for my family.”
He couldn’t acknowledge her thanks. There was nothing to thank him for. The events leading to the curse’s destruction had been taken out of his hands, and what he would have done was a decision he would take with him to the grave.
In moments, a small mound of belongings had been packed in pillowcases and baskets and piled outside the door. The Rameshes would carry little with them. Jade circled the heap, sniffing.
Sanjay approached Micah and placed something cold in his hand. Glancing down, he recognized the ivory fid. It had been cleaned and polished, but traces of the fire still lodged in the deep cracks.
Sanjay spoke low, “I want you to have this, son, as a way of saying thanks. For giving me back my life—and my death. It’s a blessed, comforting thing.”
Next, Maria embraced him in a mashed-potato hug and, sniffling, stepped back.
Micah found himself facing Gabby for the last time. He took in the dark, waving hair, the boy’s clothing, the deep eyes that were so quick to display joy or tears. At the moment, they registered piercing sorrow, the same emotion he knew was reflected in his own.
Tears moistened his vision as she slipped her arms around his neck and drew him close. Pulling away, she pointed to his chest. “Tell your father, Micah. You have the courage right here.”
He sniffed and nodded, and they drew apart.
Gabby joined her parents. Together they gathered their bundles and walked away. Jade bounded after them, tail waving. Then, with one final farewell, the family passed out of the clearing and out of his life.
Micah watched them go.
And he envied them.
He stood rooted in place until the last sounds of their passing faded. The clearing looked exactly the same. The shabby house still listed to one side, a pile of burned rubble still marked the place where the shed had stood, and the garden with its death-defying herbs awaited harvest as it had moments before. But now everything felt different. There was a vacancy, an emptiness. Its soul had departed.
Micah turned for home.
He found his father behind the counter of the store. Gerald’s eyes were as hard and cold as steel. Suddenly weary, Micah dropped onto a seat, but he didn’t waver. “I’m sorry, Father. I shouldn’t have spoken to you as I did yesterday.”
Gerald took in Micah’s scorched hair and sooty clothes and snapped, “What happened to you?”
“I was kidnapped by Mr. DeWitt, tied up, and left for dead in the widow’s attic as it burned.”
Gerald’s eyes narrowed and his lips turned stiff and white.
“I know it sounds far-fetched, but it’s the truth. DeWitt only came to town because he heard some legend about treasure in the Parsons house. He thought I uncovered it in her attic. Gabby and Magnus were there too. We managed to escape, but DeWitt died in the fire.”
A red flush crept up Gerald’s neck and stained his face. “Did you honestly think I would believe that?”
Micah shrugged. “Believe what you want. I’ve never lied to you. But you’ll see. DeWitt’s gone. He planned to leave with the town’s investments, too.” It wasn’t the whole story, but it was close enough. “Check the vault,” he challenged. The wishy-washy feeling of yesterday had disappeared. His words dropped with new conviction.
Gerald heard it and paused. His eyes narrowed. “I think I will,” he answered. “After dinner. Go clean up,” he ordered. “We have a few last things to pack for tomorrow.”
“I’m not going.” The words came out quietly. They were the words, not of a boy wavering in childhood, but of a boy honing in on manhood. “My apology was not a change of heart.”
Gerald’s face darkened to purple.
Micah pressed on. “I was disrespectful to you, and I regret that, but this is a decision about my life, and I need to mak
e it. If you agree, I will stay and work in the store until I am seventeen. But at that time I’m going to head west. I need to be in the open, Father, in the wilderness. Life in this town, in this store, would kill me.”
His father asked caustically, “And if I don’t agree?”
“Then I’ll leave tonight. But I will not go to the academy.”
Micah could see the war waging within his father, and he could not predict which side would win. But it didn’t matter. He had made his choice; his course was set. He belonged to the woods and fields. Like the Deerslayer, that’s where he thrived and where he would build his future. At last, he had found the courage to choose his own path.
His father finally spoke. The purple tide had receded, but his words squeezed out between tight lips. “If you live under my roof, you will abide by my rules.”
“I understand.”
“I will not tolerate disobedience or sass such as you displayed yesterday.”
Micah nodded again. His father’s words were sharp, but he looked at his son eye-to-eye. “If you will demonstrate responsibility and work a set number of hours, perhaps we can reach an agreement. However, I am still your father, and I reserve the right to talk you out of this foolishness when the time comes.”
“Agreed.”
They faced each other, ill at ease, trying to come to terms with their new relationship. “Then come,” Gerald finally said. “Let’s get cleaned up for supper.”
“In a minute. First I’d like to find Mrs. Parsons and explain what happened.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Son, the widow died at Jeb’s house this afternoon.”
22
_______
Micah looked over the ashes of the grand old mansion, pulling his sweater close against the autumn chill. Only the chimneys still stood, and they were soon to be torn down.
The widow was dead, as she had predicted all along. Had she known she was ill, or was she just an eccentric old woman? Or was her life tied up in the curse of the pen?
Micah would never know.
She had been laid to rest, the last in the family plot in the churchyard. Her passing had drawn the two halves of the town together, and Micah hoped all the recent tragedies would break down some walls. But once the gossip and speculation died away, once the money was replaced in the vault, the village went quietly on as it ever did, and Micah had to admit that though the pen had changed everything, it had also changed nothing.
Speculation about the fire and the robbery and the banker’s strange disappearance had settled on Sanjay, as Micah guessed it would. A legal assembly of townsmen had descended on the clearing in the swamp, but all they found was a vacant shack. The family was gone without a trace, which cemented their guilt in the opinion of many.
Magnus had disappeared as well. No one had seen him for days. Micah couldn’t blame him. He had witnessed events that would upset the stoutest of heart, a label he definitely could not claim. Micah suspected he would never return.
Now that the excitement had passed, Micah found ample time to miss Gabby. He worked many hours for his father, as he had agreed, but he spent his time off wandering the woods, visiting the swamp, or gazing for hours across the vast ocean. His soul felt restless.
A rustle sounded from the rubble, a small lump moving among the blackened heap. Already the animals had taken over the old family home. He watched the spot, expecting a squirrel or raccoon to struggle free of the mess, but it was no common creature that rose before his eyes.
A bird appeared, unlike any Micah had ever seen before. It was large, with the hooked beak and fierce eye of an eagle. It cleared the rubble and spread its wings, peering fearlessly about. The dappled sunlight bounced with the movement of the trees. When it touched the beautiful creature, it set it ablaze.
Flame red, with a crest and a tail of gold, the bird gave one magnificent shriek. Then it rose, circled once above the ruins, and flew higher and higher until Micah lost sight of it in the glare of the sun.
“What was that?” a voice whispered beside him. Nancy had slipped up unnoticed.
“A phoenix.”
She gasped. “It can’t be. They’re not real.” She shielded her eyes, trying to catch another glimpse of the bird. But it was gone, vanished into the sun’s fire. Her gaze settled on Micah’s face. “I was looking for you. Your mother thought I might find you here.”
Nancy had been fired for releasing Micah from the den, but remarkably, his father had reversed his decision when Micah asked him to reconsider.
“I heard a rumor among the kitchen help. They say in a few years you’re leaving for the frontier.”
It was a question, and Micah confirmed it. “I intend to. I don’t belong in this town.”
“Neither do I.” She looked up to the sun again, rubbing her hands across folded arms. “Micah, when you’re ready to leave, will you tell me?”
“I’ll tell you,” he promised and looked the girl full in the face. She was light-skinned, with fair hair and deep blue eyes. Nothing like Gabby. Yet very like her.
“Nancy, you enjoy adventure stories, right?”
She nodded.
“If I wrote one, would you read it?”
“Of course.”
And so, in a decaying little harbor village where nothing exciting ever happened, where waves tumbled relentlessly against aged rock, where old legends were embellished over a game of checkers, a great adventure went unnoticed. But it is recorded in a leather-bound journal—written with a quill pen dipped in black ink.
****
An appeal to my readers…
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Titles by Michelle Isenhoff
The Mountain Trilogy
Semi-finalist in the Kindle Book Review 2013 Book Awards
Nominated for the 2013 Cybils Award
Song of the Mountain
Song has grown up listening to his grandfather recite legends of the distant past. But it is his own history he seeks to uncover, particularly the events surrounding his parents’ deaths. But that is a secret closely guarded by his grandfather. Then Song discovers a puzzle box that links him to an ancient prophecy. His destiny lies within the old tales he has scorned. Song must follow the path that killed his father. Ages 10+
Fire on the Mountain
What really happened on the mountain twelve years ago?
Though his apprenticeship hangs on him like an ill-fitting garment, Quon is unprepared for the twist his life takes when his parents are killed and he is forced to flee the city. Adrift in the wilderness with no purpose and no protection, Quon is approached by an old man who hints that his destiny may be more than he imagined. Ancient tales fill Quon’s head with expectations of glory, but he soon learns that being a hero is far different than dreaming of becoming one.
Follow Song as he uncovers his family history. Ages 10+
Tears of the Mountain – Coming soon!
Taylor Davis Series
Finalist in the 2015 Wishing Shelf Independent Book Awards
Taylor Davis and the Fl
ame of Findul
Sometimes life gooses you when you’re not looking. Your family moves overseas and…bam!...suddenly you’re hacking at water demons with a four-foot blade. Yeah, that move landed me in the middle of a supernatural assignment. Angels and all that. Relighting the Flame of Findul–the sword that guards the Tree of Life–wasn’t high on my bucket list. Especially when I found out who else was looking for it. But since the alternative was perishing in a fiery worldwide disaster… Well, let’s just say my priorities changed. I was told I’d have help. I was told I’d be in capable hands. Then I met my guardian angel. I am so doomed. Ages 10+
Watch the trailer.
Taylor Davis and the Clash of Kingdoms
Taylor just can’t catch a break. Most of his friends only concern themselves with girls and grades, but he has to worry about retaliation from hellish warlords. When three of his classmates succumb to a strange malady, Taylor becomes the target of irrational violence. Is it a coincidence, as Elena so firmly believes? Or could there be a more dangerous explanation? The epidemic soon spreads to national leaders. Taylor and his team are called on to uncover the root of the problem before violence breaks out on a worldwide stage. Their quest leads them to the heart of Africa, to the underworld, and to a second encounter with an enemy who just won’t stay dead. Ages 10+
Divide Decade Collection
Series nominated for the 2012 Great Michigan Read.
The Candle Star
Detroit, 1858
After a tantrum, Emily Preston is shipped from her plantation home to her inn-keeping uncle in Detroit. There Emily meets Malachi, son of freed slaves, who challenges many ideas she grew up believing. But when Emily stumbles upon two runaways hidden in her uncle's barn, she finds that old ways die hard. And Mr. Burrows, the charming Southern slave catcher, is only yards away, lodged in the hotel. Ages 10+
The Quill Pen Page 14