A sound.
The creak of a rocking chair could just barely be heard coming from the summer kitchen.
“I’m outta here!” wheezed Charles as he took off running as fast as he could.
“Hey, wait for me!” squeaked Max after him.
Both boys flew through the grass, then up the walk, kicking away the brick and through the open front door. Only then did they pause long enough to quietly close the door, before bounding up the stairs, two at a time. Max pulled his sock free and they slid into their own room. The door shut with a whining click. Lock. Sigh.
“Shhh! You’ll wake Fred,” Max said, slamming his hand over the wet, wheezing lips of Charles, then his own.
“Sorry, geez, ugh,” Charles’ voice rattled as he tried to keep it quiet. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, and a bit of her singing, too. Did you catch it?”
“I think so, yeah. I’m sure it was that lullaby Miss Marie sang to us: hush little baby, don’t you cry!”
“Oh, yeah!”
“I guess it’s nix on the Cinderella plan,” said Charles after a lengthy pause.
“Double nix. We’ll just have to think of something else, unless you want to go out and free her yourself.”
“You’ve got to be crazy to think I’m going anywhere but under the covers of our bed!” whispered Charles.
“Me too!”
Quickly, they slid out of their shoes and some of their damp and sweaty clothes. They climbed into the double bed they were sharing for the night.
“You know something, Charles?” asked Max after a few moments with their heads tucked under the sheets.
“What?”
“This is the first time I can ever remember not minding having to share a bed with you.”
“Yeah, I know. I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Night, buddy.”
“Good night,” sighed Charles.
Down in the summer kitchen, there was a creak as someone moved in the old rocker. A sigh, and the light went out.
But Max and Charles heard nothing.
CHAPTER 12
“MORNING, GUYS, RISE AND SHINE! We have a long trip home and plenty of crabs to steam up before they all decide to kick up their little back fins and die on us!” Fred pulled back the rumpled sheet from over the heads of Max and Charles. “It’s a wonder you guys didn’t smother under that sheet! Like you’re hiding in a shell. What’s the matter, did Miss Marie’s ghost come after you?”
“He’s all too cheery this morning,” muttered Max.
“Something like a ghost, maybe,” said Charles quietly in answer to Fred’s question.
“Oh, you just heard those geese honking and shuffling their wing feathers all night long,” laughed Fred. “Hurry up, Miss Marie has made us some blueberry pancakes with lots of maple syrup.” Fred moved toward the front door of their room. “Meet you both down in the dining room in ten minutes. I’m in need of a cup of hot wakeup juice.”
“He means coffee,” whispered Max.
They watched Fred go out the back door and heard his footfall down the steps into the summer kitchen.
“It’s a beautiful morning. The sun on the Nanticoke looks like diamonds,” they heard Miss Marie greet him.
“Well, I guess he didn’t hear anything last night,” said Max, throwing off the sheet and lunging out of bed.
“You mean it wasn’t a dream?” said Charles, shaking the sleep out of his body the way a dog shakes water out of its fur.
“Not unless you and I were in the same dream, buddy,” said Max. “Beat you to the shower!”
“Go ahead. I need time to think,” said Charles. He sat dazed in the middle of the bed, recalling the events of last evening. The story by Miss Marie. The late night encounter with the squeaking rocker and lullaby whisper coming from the summer kitchen. If he had ever doubted the reality of ghosts, that doubt was totally gone.
Charles got up and walked to the trunk by the window, where he and Max had watched the moon pass through a sea of clouds. The sky was brilliant blue, clear. Below, he could see the Nanticoke shining like tin foil. Close to shore, Canada geese bobbed on the water like a hunter’s decoys. Past the tall reeds and marsh grass, other geese paced along the bank, dipping their long necks to feed on a scattering of yellow flecks. Corn, Charles decided, spread out as a feast for the waterfowl.
Charles let his gaze go back to the water’s edge. He could just barely see the bushel basket, the “coach” for Cinderella. But it was tipped over and lying on the bank. Beside it was the lid.
“Max!” Charles yelled. He ran to the bathroom and pounded on the door.
“I’ll be out in a minute, you nit!” Max called back. His voice was muffled slightly by the sound of spraying water.
“No, not that, Max! Shut off the shower!” Charles tried the door knob. It was unlocked. He threw open the door and bounced into the steamy bathroom.
“What’s the matter with you!” yelled Max as Charles pulled back the shower curtain and cut off the water.
“She’s out! Gone! I think she must have escaped!” sputtered Charles.
Max just stared at his lunatic brother. Soapy water streamed down his nose and dripped off its end. Blotches of suds covered his body.
“Good thing it’s No More Tears,” muttered Max. “What are you talking about?”
“Cinderella! I just looked out the window. The one we were sitting by last night before we went outside. I was watching the geese and stuff and then I saw the basket. It was tipped over on its side. The lid was in the grass. If she’s in there, then she’s in a coma or something. She must have escaped.” Charles handed Max a towel.
“Let me see.” Max slipped out of the shower. He slid across the shiny floor and raced on tiptoe, for the sake of better traction, to the window. Squinting out into the brilliant morning he, too, could just see the basket with its lid off.
“Robbed. We’ve been robbed,” Max muttered. He pushed the towel up over his hair.
“Well, we did want to let her free anyway,” said Charles.
“Free, yes. Free to have a life. But if someone came and took her, then we both know where she’ll be soon. Maybe even now.” Max shook his head and slowly retraced his steps back to the bathroom. Like a frog hopping from one lily pad to another, he stepped in one soapy puddle after another.
“You mean, snapper stew,” sighed Charles sadly.
“Most likely. Poor Cinderella,” said Max. “Ok, let me finish my shower and we’ll go down together. We’ll check out the scene of the crime.”
Max re-entered the shower and quickly rinsed off. Charles, meanwhile, threw off his dirty underclothes and prepared himself for a quick rinse off, too.
Moments later, both boys were pulling on fresh clothes over very wet bodies.
“But who could have known Cinderella was there?” asked Charles. “I mean, it’s not as if Miss Marie had an inn filled with guests. I think we’re the only ones here.”
“Well, anyone could have cut through her yard, seen the basket and decided to make a raid. You know how Fred was telling us about people stealing crabs out of crab pots? So, someone could have stolen Cinderella.” Max pulled on his tennis shoes.
“But why take her out of the basket? Why not steal basket and all? You know how wild and dangerous she is. She’s a lot to handle, especially if it was early morning and the person who stole her was working alone.” Charles finished pulling the Velcro in place on his still soggy, salty tennis shoes.
“Good point. Still, these water people, down this way, they’re not afraid of a little bite from a snapper. They know just how to give a turtle’s jaws plenty of respect.” Max stood up and dug his fingers through his wet hair in a feeble attempt to comb it.
“Ready?” asked Charles.
“Yeah.”
“We have to be fast, you know. Fred will be looking for us. He’s probably wondering right now why we’re not downstairs scarfing down those blueberry pancakes.”
Both boys quietly crept down the great front stairs. They could hear Fred’s voice as it drifted from the dining room into the main hall. He was saying something dumb and boring, like how good the coffee was when it was brewed up fresh with good Eastern Shore water.
They could hear Miss Marie laugh back about how the water on the Shore was so dense you could cut it with a knife. And how she guessed that’s why it made good strong coffee. Strong and dense like steel.
The great front door was open to the morning. The boys quickly slipped out unnoticed.
They raced to the water’s edge and, just as they had suspected, they found the basket empty. The seaweed and eel grass that they had used to keep the snapper wet and content was still slick. It had not dried out in the intense, bright sun.
“She got out recently,” said Max.
“Yep, or else the grass would have dried out,” said Charles.
“Well, that’s that,” said Max.
“The rope is still here,” said Charles, pointing to where it rested, still looped around the basket.
“Yes, but the ends are frayed. I don’t know, maybe she just pushed and pushed until finally she got out,” said Max.
“Hope so,” said Charles. “Geez, I wonder where she went?”
“I don’t know. I hope she’s ok. I was starting to really like her,” said Max.
“Strange stuff happens around here,” added Charles.
“Don’t remind me,” said Max.
Both boys turned away from the water and walked slowly back to the inn.
The dining room was warm and old smelling. It smelled of dust and rich coffee, old wax polish and steamy sweet blueberry pancakes that dripped with golden maple syrup.
“You boys weren’t hungry enough? You had to work up an appetite by taking a morning stroll down by the river?” asked Miss Marie in her great booming voice.
“It’s so silver-like today,” said Max quickly. He pulled out a massive wooden chair. It was big like a throne from a castle.
“It was so nice outside. We just had to see the water before breakfast,” added Charles. His chair was also big and ornate with a tapestry seat so worn there was a big hole in the middle. Charles sat and sank in, in, in.
“Antique,” said Miss Marie, a slight smile twisting her lips. “But I think the springs will hold you up.”
“If it were any more antique, Charles would be lost,” laughed Max.
“Yes, gone like Alice or something,” said Fred.
“Pancakes?” asked Miss Marie.
Before either boy could answer, they were face-to-face with a stack of six pancakes each. A meal more fit for a king than a boy or girl falling into wonderland.
Miss Marie sat down at the end of the table and picked up her own coffee mug. She watched the boys silently gulping down the great, perfectly round pile of sopping sweet pancakes. After a moment, she cleared her throat to get their attention.
Fred and the boys looked up.
“You know, I went out early this morning to my garden. I was hoping to find me some cantaloupes to add to your meal. Well, none of the ’lopes were left. Ones I did find were all too green or too mushy to eat. But I did make a surprising discovery.” She paused and took a deep drink from her mug.
“What was that?” asked Fred with great interest. Gardening was another one of his many outdoor loves.
“Well, I saw where the earth had been turned over in one spot. Like someone had taken a trowel to it. And I knew I’d been too busy with the painting to have done any weeding this week. Besides, this was in a place where nothing was planted. In a place where the earth was just waiting to have winter spinach seeds pushed in.” She paused again for effect.
Both boys were watching. Something about the way she was leading up to the story made the subject sound interesting. Maybe she was going to say something more interesting than a tale of ripe tomatoes or the quantity of potato bugs she had found sitting on the underside of a leaf.
“Well, I decided to brush away that worked-up earth and see if something were there. And lo and behold, I made a great discovery.”
“What?” Fred and the boys said at once.
“Turtle eggs. Fresh-laid turtle eggs, sitting happily in my garden,” Miss Marie finished.
“What?” repeated all three again.
“Well, it looks like some lady turtle had a desire to get rid of her eggs, and whose garden did she pick? Mine! I looked around for her, but she was a sly one and had already disappeared, leaving me the job of being a foster mother to her little brood. So, I guess I’ll be growing more than spinach in my garden this year.” Miss Marie laughed a great, long laugh.
“I wonder if it was our snapping turtle. The one the boys were going to take home,” said Fred thoughtfully.
“We saw the basket just now, Fred. It was on its side and the lid was off!” said Max, unable to hold back any longer.
“That’s why we took our walk before breakfast. We could see the basket from our window upstairs,” added Charles. “When we saw it was turned over, we went out, and then we discovered she was gone.”
“But we didn’t do it!” said Max emphatically, his ears bright red with excitement.
“No way!” added Charles.
“I never said you did,” said Miss Marie. “No, I found that basket, too. And it was early, just about sunrise. I like to get up early. No, my guess is that lady snapping turtle had some mystery working with her and just managed to squirm free all by herself.”
“Like Houdini,” added Fred.
“Well, I’m glad we don’t have to find her a home in Baltimore,” said Max. “I was getting worried about what people might say to us if we brought Cinderella Snapper home with us.”
“She’s welcome here. And her brood, too, I guess. No more ornery than the rest of the folk who live in this town, or me,” said Miss Marie. “Well, now, you boys better eat up. You haven’t finished those cakes yet, and I have another whole bowl of batter waiting in the kitchen to fix you up seconds.” She pushed back her chair and went into the kitchen.
“I hope you boys aren’t too disappointed. I know you really wanted to show the snapping turtle off, but I really do think, like Miss Marie, she’s probably better off here, closer to her natural habitat,” said Fred.
“Oh, we do too, Fred, don’t we, Charles?” said Max, with a sideways look at his brother.
“Yep, I’m glad she’s here. But can we see the eggs? Do you think Miss Marie will mind digging up her garden again, so we can at least get a head count? I mean, I’d like to know just how many eggs Cinderella had,” said Charles.
“No, I don’t mind at all,” said Miss Marie, looking in the door. “I counted fifteen, but you boys ought to count for yourselves after you eat. Anyway, seeing snapper eggs growing in a vegetable garden is a sight any boy would give his favorite lucky charm to see, I bet.” She carried another plate of pancakes in. “Or any girl, for that matter.”
They could hardly walk. Filled to the brim with breakfast, Fred, Max and Charles followed Miss Marie out into the garden. She pointed to the place where the dirt was messy and worked-up looking. With her broom, she carefully brushed away the loose soil, and there were the eggs.
“Feel them,” said Miss Marie. “You don’t have to worry about leaving your scent on them. The snapper, or Cinderella, as you boys call her, won’t be coming back. It’s ok to touch as long as you’re gentle.”
Fred, Max, and Charles each knelt down. Each felt an egg.
“Like soft leather,” Fred said immediately.
“Not like a chicken’s egg at all!” said the surprised Charles.
“No, quite different,” said Miss Marie.
“I wonder where she went,” pondered Max.
“Oh, probably back to where it’s nice, wet, quiet and cool,” said Miss Mar
ie. “Someplace like her own home, where she can live her way, far away from crazy people.” Miss Marie winked. “Just kidding. You all are some of the nicest folk I ever met from the Western Shore. ’Course, I’m from Southern Maryland myself, as I told you already, and I don’t abide by strict Eastern Shore rules of judging. Still, I think you are pretty close to being good ol’ Eastern Shore boys! I think you’re just fine.” She patted Max and Charles on their backs and shook Fred’s hand.
“Thanks, Miss Marie. Coming from you, that’s a real compliment,” smiled Fred.
“You know it!” Miss Marie said.
It was time to go. The boys climbed into the truck and stared out over the lawn to the Nanticoke lapping quietly against the shore.
“Thanks, Fred, for bringing us here. For taking us out after crabs and all,” said Max slowly.
“Yeah, Fred, it was great,” added Charles.
“Unique!” said Max.
“Unforgettable,” finished Charles.
“And besides all that, we still have crabs to eat. A feast to end this great adventure,” said Fred, turning the key in the ignition.
The truck gave a roar. Miss Marie waved her hand and yelled, “See ya all soon!”
Fred and the boys called back: “Soon, soon, soon!”
And, “Thanks for everything!”
“Bye!”
“And good luck to Cinderella wherever she may be!” yelled Charles.
“And goodbye to the sad lady in the summer kitchen, wherever you may be,” whispered Max.
“And so long Hattie Harriston. So long Ham. So long Miss Ruby. So long,” said Fred.
“We’re on our way…” began Max.
“Home!” finished Charles.
On their way home, back from the End of the World and all the mysteries they had found there.
THE END
EPILOGUE
ONE CAN STILL FIND VIENNA on a map of Maryland. It was almost the state capital, once upon a time, as folk on the Shore will tell you. Now it is a sleepy little town. There is an inn there, but its name is different and the owner is not named Marie.
The Great Snapping Turtle Adventure Page 9