Lure

by Deborah Kerbel

  Idiot! Who exactly did you think you were chasing out here?

  And then suddenly to my left, there was a rapid rustling sound like the crumpling of dry leaves. A moment later, a little black squirrel darted out from behind a patch of balsam and ran in front of me. My eyes followed him as he rushed down the garden path. That’s when I noticed the circular puddle of water slowly spreading across the pavement next to my shoes. I froze, my arms and legs like blocks of petrified wood.

  Where’s the water coming from? Thornhill hasn’t had rain in over a week.

  When I was finally able to regain control of my limbs, I crouched down low, put my nose to the puddle, and sniffed. Yeah, I probably looked like a lunatic. I’m sure that anyone passing by at that moment would have thought I’d lost my mind. And, who knows, maybe I had. All I knew for sure was that the puddle had a definite swampy smell to it. Which could only mean one thing.

  The ghost was here in the garden!

  With my pulse pounding in my ears, I yanked back the foliage and searched through the overgrown remains of the summer garden. A moment later I found what I was looking for. There, etched into a cleared patch of dirt, was a very distinct letter X.

  John had marked the exact spot for me to dig up his lure.

  It took me a couple of seconds to find my breath.

  Okay, Einstein … what are you going to do now? Go find a shovel and start digging? Right here in broad daylight?

  I knew if someone saw me, I’d get in a lot of trouble … maybe even arrested. This wasn’t just an ordinary house, after all. It was an historic property. And the garden was a … what did Caroline call it again? Oh yeah, a heritage garden. She’d said it was built and protected by the town. No, I would have to get permission to dig here. The only problem was that John very clearly told me not to talk to anyone about this. Just the memory of that moment brought back a flash of squeezing pain in my chest. Okay, I had to think of another way.

  The first thing I needed to do was talk to Caroline. Slapping the dirt from my hands, I headed back to the side entrance of the library. She was coming out just as I was going in. Her face was still pale as a snowdrift.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded, her eyes searching my face for clues. “Why did you run out of here like that? Are you okay?” There was a sadness in her eyes and voice — it almost looked like she was about to cry. Wow, she really did care about me. What a real friend she was turning out to be. Except I didn’t want her as my friend. I wanted so much more. How freakin’ frustrating!

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just thought I heard a noise, but I was wrong.” Man, it was frightening how easily I could spew out these lies. “Sorry if I worried you,” I added after a second. That part, at least, was the truth.

  But I could tell from the scrunch of her eyebrows that she was still concerned about what had just happened. With a sigh, she gestured back toward the library door. “Okay, well, you left your science book in the back room when you ran out here. Aren’t you going to need it for school this afternoon?”

  My insides twisted with pain; like someone was wringing out all my vital organs. The science text with all of John’s swampy messages. Crap! Had Caroline flipped through it? Had she seen any of the wet letters? Did she somehow figure out what was going on? I wanted to tell her what had happened so much, it hurt to keep it inside. But I had to make myself do it. I didn’t want to put her in any kind of danger by telling her what I’d seen.

  “Oh, um … thanks,” I replied, forcing my voice to stay cool. “I do need it for school, today. I’ll go get it in a sec … um …” My brain scrambled for a way to change the subject. “So, I was wondering … do you think it would it be okay if I wanted to do some, well, a bit of gardening work out here? The grounds look like they could use a bit of weeding and maintenance.”

  By the look on her face, you’d think I’d just suggested we run away together and elope in Las Vegas.

  “You want to start digging around in our garden?”

  I nodded and smiled, hoping I could somehow act charming enough to pull this one off.

  “Are you sure about that? It’s October. The growing season is over.”

  “Yeah, I know, but the beds could use some prep work for the winter.”

  She shot me a strange look, like I was some kind of a tricky math problem she was trying to work out in her head. “I think it’s a great idea, but we already have a gardener, you know. He comes every couple of weeks.”

  Wow, this girl could argue! If she ever did make it to university, she could be one hell of a good lawyer. But I could give back as good as I got. Turning to the side, I waved my hand over an especially thick patch of prickly looking weeds. “Yeah, well, maybe you should be looking for a new gardener. Whoever you’ve hired is doing a lousy job out here.”

  Suddenly, Caroline’s hands rose up onto her hips and her elbows cut through the air. Uh-oh! Made her mad!

  “Excuse me, but this is a heritage garden. What makes you think you’re so qualified to care for it, anyway?”

  Her words were short, clipped, and defensive. Yup, she was angry. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised … she was pretty protective of this property. Maybe I shouldn’t have insulted the garden like that. I wasn’t pulling off the charming thing so well. It was time for a different approach.

  “Please, Caroline, if you could just look into it for me, I’d be really grateful. I love this kind of work … it would be cool to help in such an important garden.”

  Her hands slowly slipped off her hips and fell to her sides. Okay … that’s better!

  “Well, it’s not going to be easy to get permission,” she said with a sigh. “This place is protected by the town, so you could get in a lot of trouble if you don’t go through the proper channels. I’d like to help, but I really think Nana is the best person to ask about it.”

  Nana? I smiled as I thanked her, but my heart was quietly sinking into my shoes. It was so obvious that her grandmother didn’t like me one bit. She’d never give me permission to dig out here.

  My eyes shot over to where the secret X was lying, hidden behind the patch of withering balsam. Helping this ghost was going to be harder than I thought. But I figured by that point, John had been waiting a long time to get his lure back. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind waiting a little bit longer.

  15 - John

  Strong hands grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me awake.

  “Get up!”

  I turned over and peered through the blackness.

  “William?”

  “Get out of bed, John!”

  “W-what time is it?”

  The hands shook me again, harder this time. “It’s half past four in the morning. Come now, get up.”

  I shut my eyes and groaned. “Leave me alone. I’m tired.”

  A moment later, my quilt was flying off my body with a forceful yank.

  “It’s time to wake up,” William’s voice hissed above me. “We’re going fishing.”

  I sat up in bed, shivering from the cool night air. My eyes flicked to the window. Nothing but blackness seeped through the narrow slats of the shutters.

  “Are you mad? It’s much too dark out there for fishing.”

  But clearly, William didn’t agree. He marched over to my dresser and threw open the drawers. “Don’t be stupid, John! In all those books you’ve claimed to have read, have you never learned that fish bite best at dawn?” He turned back to me and tossed an armful of clothes onto my lap. “Now get dressed and stop wasting time.”

  I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and shook my head to clear my foggy brain. What was William’s hurry? Why was he so determined to wrest me from my bed? And then I remembered. Today was the final day of his summer visit. He was scheduled to travel back to Kingston on the twelve o’clock train and begin preparations for
his wedding to Martha Henry.

  While I struggled to dress myself in the darkness, William strode over and removed my fishing pole from the back corner of my room where I always kept it. “Won’t you hurry, John? If there’s any hope of catching Sir John A., we need to be casting our lines into the water well before the sun rises.”

  Ah! So that’s what this was about! William didn’t want to leave for home without his prize fish. I hesitated with my shirt poised over my head, trying to decide what to do. There was a part of me that wanted to go fishing. With some luck, perhaps I could even catch Sir John A. out from under William’s nose. My heart leapt at the thought of how jealous that would make him! But at the same time, I was nervous about soliciting my father’s anger by sneaking out to fish on the morning of William’s departure.

  Still undecided, I brought the shirt down over my head. “Mother and Father would never approve of this. Have you forgotten that the stagecoach is arriving immediately after breakfast to take you to the train depot?”

  “Don’t fret, cousin. We’ll return home in plenty of time for the carriage. It’s still an hour to daybreak.” He grasped my elbow and pulled me to my feet with surprising force. “But now’s the time to go. All of the fish will be jumping soon.”

  He handed me my shoes. I bent down to slip them on. When I stood back up, there was a curious expression on William’s face.

  “Now where’s the lure?”

  Suddenly defensive, I crossed my arms in front of my chest like a shield. “No, I won’t let you use it,” I said. “It’s my lure.”

  His expression broke into a smile. “Yes, of course it’s yours. I just thought you would want to bring it with you to the pond this morning. Won’t you be using it to catch Sir John A.?”

  He had a good point.

  “Well, all right …” I conceded, “… but first close your eyes.”

  William threw back his head and laughed. “What difference will it make if I discover your hiding place now? I’ll be leaving forever in only a few more hours.”

  Nevertheless, I made him turn around and cover his eyes while I fetched my lure from its hiding place in the hollowed-out pine knot behind my headboard.

  “Yes, I have it. You can look now,” I said, clasping the lure tightly in my hand.

  William smiled again and clapped me roughly on the shoulder. “Good fellow. Shall we go, then?”

  I hesitated, sensing a problem with his plan. “But, how are we going to get out of the house without waking Mother and Father? If they hear us on the stairwell, they’ll never let us go.”

  “Ah, but there’s a simple solution for that,” William replied, walking over to my bedroom window and pulling up the sash. “We just slide down the maple tree and sneak out through the back garden.”

  My cousin had surely taken leave of his senses. I didn’t enjoy climbing up trees, let alone sliding down them. As the painful memories from our last window escapade flooded my mind, William pushed open the shutters, sat down on the frame and swung his legs around.

  “No, wait …” I said, running to stop him. “I think I might have changed my mind about the fishing.” But it was too late. William had already hopped out onto the nearest branch and was lowering himself down to the ground. He alighted easily and looked up to where I was still standing by the open window.

  “Now throw me the poles and the lure,” he called.

  My fingers instinctively tightened around the lure. “Why?”

  William’s hands flew up in exasperation. “Why? So they won’t break to pieces if you fall, you horse’s ass!”

  “I don’t know about this … I don’t think I like your plan very much.”

  I could just make out the silhouette of my cousin’s foot tapping against the ground. “Come on, John,” he persisted. “You’re wasting time with this foolishness. It’ll be morning soon, and we will have lost our last chance at that fish.”

  Shaking my head, I took a small step back from the window, trying to decide what I should do. Perhaps William sensed his advantage beginning to wane, because he suddenly turned mean.

  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of climbing down that tree?” he asked, his voice raised into a taunting singsong. “Or perhaps it’s the darkness that has you so scared? Shall I wake your mother so she can comfort you?”

  With a sigh, I stepped forward and tossed the fishing poles out the window. William caught them easily enough, placed them side by side on the ground, and then raised his hands toward me.

  “And now for the lure.”

  Against all my better judgment, I pulled it out from behind my back, took a calming breath, and let it fall, watching the fine orange feather flutter through the night air as it dropped toward the ground. William caught it easily in his outstretched hands.

  “I’ve got it,” I heard him say from below. Smiling, I finally let out that long-held breath. It was like all the muscles in my body suddenly relaxed the moment I knew that my lure was safe.

  “All right — I’m coming down now,” I announced, swinging my legs over the window frame. Instead of William’s reply, however, all I heard was the crunching of shoes on the gravel pathway and the metallic clank of the gate shutting closed. Straining my eyes through the darkness, I caught the faint shadow of my cousin’s form escaping up the road.

  “Hey! Come back!”

  Momentarily forgetting about my fear of heights, I leapt onto the branch, slid down the trunk of the maple tree, and took off after him. My pulse was drumming with anger as I dashed up the road to the mill pond. The ground was damp with dew and the muddy road squished beneath my shoes with every step.

  What a dirty liar! How could I have not seen that William had been plotting to steal my lure all along? How could I have let him trick me again? And, worst of all, why hadn’t I learned my lesson after all these years? I really was a fool! A veritable horse’s ass!

  By the time I arrived at the pond, my entire body was throbbing with fury. Panting from the run, I scanned the scene and quickly spied William standing beneath the old willow tree, his silhouette black against the glowing sky. The tip of his fishing pole was raised high in the air. There was no doubt in my mind that my lure was at the end of his line. Although it was still quite dark out, I was certain that I could discern the mocking expression on his face.

  My fists were clenched tight with anger as I raced over to reclaim my stolen lure.

  If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my cousin, I might have taken a moment to appreciate the beautiful sight of the pond in the pre-dawn hour. The air was humming with the night-time chorus of crickets. A layer of ghostly mist was rising off the water. And somewhere below the horizon, the sun was preparing to break into a new day.

  If only I’d known that it was to be my last day alive.

  16 - Max

  Bureaucracy is a bitch.

  I’d heard my dad say those words a million times when he was going through the frustrating process of looking for a new job last year … the job that eventually ended up uprooting our lives and bringing us here to Thornhill. But as many times as I heard him say it, I never understood what he was talking about.

  Until now, that is.

  It felt like it was taking forever to get permission to dig in the garden. Two weeks had already gone by since I’d first asked Nana and still nothing. Caroline claimed she was trying her best to hurry her grandmother along, but as far as I knew, the paperwork hadn’t even been filled out yet. By now, I could tell that Nana was getting tired of me asking about it, because she snapped at me whenever I tried to bring up the question.

  I decided to try and take my mind off it by doing some research on fishing lures. I was no history expert, but I still was having a hard time believing that they would have been invented back in the olden days. When I Googled “old lures” I got lots of hits, but most
of the websites looked a bit sketchy. So just to be sure, I decided to check out some books on the subject. Problem was, I didn’t want to do the research in the library on Colborne Street where John might see me. Or Caroline, for that matter. It had been hard, but I’d kept my promise to the ghost and not said anything about the wet messages that had appeared in the book.

  After school one day, I walked up to the community centre branch of the library to look for information about fishing lures. That library was way bigger than the one on Colborne Street. I walked around confused for a few minutes, not quite sure where to begin. Finally, I decided to ask for some help.

  “Do you have any books on old-fashioned fishing lures?” I asked the mousy-looking lady behind the information desk. “I’m trying to find out when they were invented.”

  I waited while she checked her computer. It felt weird talking to a librarian who wasn’t Caroline or her grandmother … like I was cheating on them by being in another branch.

  “Yes, we have a few books that can help you with that,” she said, scribbling some numbers down on a yellow Post-it Note. Then, pulling herself to her feet with a barely audible grunt, she led me over in the direction of a long wall of bookshelves. Once I had the right books, it didn’t take me long to locate the information I was looking for. Sure enough, like those website had said, fishing lures did exist back in the olden days. They were patented around 1890 and before then, they were usually handmade by craftsmen.

  Also in the books, I found more pictures of old-fashioned-looking fishing poles and lures. I wondered if any of them looked like the one John wanted me to dig up from the garden. I just wish I knew a bit more about this ghost and why he wanted this lure back so badly. I mean, what did he think he was going to do with it, anyway? Caroline said that ghosts can have a physical presence … but dead guys can’t go fishing, can they?