Sam hadn’t imagined the girls could be so quiet, or Rocky for that matter. He watched the embers glow red and orange, changing like the spinning colors he’d seen over Henry’s house. He thought how different colors represent different types of light energy. Energy. There were so many kinds. Even energy footprints from people. Could there be a connection? Did energy footprints survive after death? And if so, did each person’s footprint have its own color? He was close to figuring it out, but Rocky spoke up.
“Excuse me Mr. Wellbottom, what do you mean when you say the shipwreck shouldn’t have happened?”
Mr. Wellbottom looked up from the fire. “Ah, yes. Sometimes I get so caught up in the telling that I forget where I’m going. Anyway, Mr. Harold was down in Wilmington when the Dragonfly pulled into port. You see, they had a warehouse down there since it was a bigger port. The Dragonfly was supposed to off load her bounty there and then head home, but something or someone changed the Dragonfly’s orders. Now, they didn’t have fancy radar or hurricane centers back then. The sailors knew by their aching joints and the smell of the wind that something big was coming. You can be sure the crew wanted to stay safe in port at Wilmington, but something happened to force them back out to sea.” He shook his head again. “People figured it had to do with Harold, but nobody had any proof. All Harold ever cared about was himself and his money.” The logs on the fire settled, sending bright embers swirling up into the dark night.
It was quiet enough for Sam to hear the wind whistling through the sea grass and hear the waves crashing angrily onto shore. Something was brewing and even though Sam had no facts, he fully believed it was related to the wreck of the Dragonfly.
“What happened next?” Libby asked.
Mr. Wellbottom sighed. “The Dragonfly set out and the storm followed. It took some mighty fine sailing for her to make it as far as she did. The story goes she was trapped out on the sandbar just out of reach of the life lines. Mr. Henry fought the ocean to bring Bart to shore just in time for him to die in Genny’s arms. Mr. Henry got so battered and beaten up that he died the next day. Then they found Mr. Harold’s body on the floor at his brother’s wake, looking like he’d fought a storm of his own. Leastwise that’s what my great-great-grandmother wrote in her diary.
“The whole town showed up for Mr. Henry’s funeral so that tells you just what folks thought of him. But only Harold’s daughter Margaret and the aunt taking care of her showed up for Harold’s. Not many folks turned out for Captain Stover’s funeral either.” Mr. Wellbottom’s face contorted into an angry scowl. “That old curmudgeon Harold came back from Wilmington all puffed up and bragging about some big load of money coming his way, but after the Dragonfly wrecked, he changed his tune. He said it was Captain Stover’s decision to leave Wilmington and there was no one left alive to say otherwise. No one left to clear the Stover name.”
“What happened to Rebecca and Genny?” Sam asked.
“Well, Miss Rebecca wouldn’t go back to her house, what with Harold dying in it so crazy-like. She moved in with Genny and helped raise her grandson, Bartholomew Henry Humbolt, into a fine young man. By all accounts, the ladyfolk did a right fine job of running the business which helped keep the town going.”
“And then Harold’s daughter Margaret married Captain Stover’s other son, William, right?” Eliza asked.
“Yup. They had a lot in common, with both their papa’s being outcast from society,” Mr. Wellbottom said.
A clap of thunder startled everyone and Sam looked up to see dark billowing clouds swallow up the moon.
Mr. Wellbottom stood and brushed sand off his jeans. “I take that as a sign to go,” he said. “You young folks should get going, too. Don’t mind about the fire. If the rain doesn’t take care of it, the tide will.”
“But we have more questions!” Sam called out.
Mr. Wellbottom just waved a gnarled hand and disappeared into the darkness.
The foursome sat quietly for a few minutes. Sam was still trying to figure out what really happened to the Dragonfly when something stirred in the sea grass behind them. Sam and Rocky locked eyes and turned to see a shape big enough to block out the lights from the campground coming straight towards them.
Eliza and Libby screamed. Rocky jumped up sending sand flying and stood ready to fight. The grains of sand landed in the fire, launching crackling silvery sparks into the night.
Chapter 17
A break in the clouds illuminated the lone figure standing a few feet away on the dunes. Sam relaxed, slowly letting out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Rocky demanded.
“Sorry,” Will said, putting his hands up defensively. “Really. I didn’t mean to scare you this time.”
Sam took a good look at Will. He wasn’t standing tall and proud like he had on the beach, at Henry’s house, or at the museum. Instead, his head was hanging and his shoulders were slumped.
“What do you want?” Rocky asked, his jaw muscles tightening.
“Well…ah…,” Will said, gazing down at the sand. “After you left the museum, Betty and I talked about how you guys actually got a good look inside Henry’s house.”
“Yup. Sure did,” Rocky said. “Saw lots of fine stuff in there. What about it?”
Will looked at Sam and Rocky. “You are the only people who’ve gotten that close. You stood on that porch like it was nothing. And you had time to look in the windows and see stuff.” Will shook his head. “No one else has ever done that.”
“No one?” Eliza asked.
“No one. I’ve been trying ever since I was a kid. That wind always blew me away.”
“Can you describe the wind?” Sam asked, hungry for some real data.
“One second I was shivering from the cold and the next second it was so hot I couldn’t breathe. Then it was back to freezing. It was kind of scary.”
“That’s not the same wind we experienced,” Sam said. “What we felt had no temperature change and was only strong enough to blow Rocky’s hat off.” Sam thought a moment. “You say you tried multiple times?”
“Yes,” Will said. “Every time it was the same.”
“If it scared you, why did you go back?” Libby asked.
Will looked out at the churning ocean for a moment, then as if making a decision, he took a deep breath and looked back at the others. “Betty and I are the heirs to Henry’s property…well…kind of. As far as we know we’re the only living descendants of the Humbolt’s, but we need a deed or will or something to prove it. My dad used to try to get into the house to find something like that. And his dad before him and so on. The other guys just gave up but my dad kept making me try. He even tried to bulldoze the place. The dozer kept stopping and then it rolled backwards. It was freaky, but in a different way than the wind. After that, even he gave up.”
“Wait a minute,” Sam said. “Wouldn’t Genny’s descendants be the ones to inherit the house? Not Harold’s?”
“That’s just it,” Will replied. “Bart and Genny’s son died from consumption and he had no children. Rebecca’s family disowned her when she married Henry, so the only connection left was through Harold’s kin.”
“So Harold’s daughter Margaret and Bart’s brother William had kids?” Eliza asked.
“Oh, yes,” Will said. “They had a big family and Rebecca and Genny were a part of it. I’ve read some old letters talking about how they were all family because they chose to be.”
Will looked down at the fire. “Of course, there are still some people like Mr. Henley who won’t ever let me forget that I came from a callous cold-hearted Mr. Harold and a captain who supposedly sent the Dragonfly to its death.”
“A good family can hold you up, but a bad one can pull you down faster than a bull coming out of the chute. And just like that bull, it’s mighty hard to escape from,” Rocky said s
haking his head. “It’s not right how people decide who you are without even knowing you.”
Sam remembered how much he hated it when people assumed he was nothing more than the smart kid. Then he cringed at the realization that he’d done the exact same thing to everyone around the fire.
“So why are you telling us this now?” Sam asked.
“I just want it to end!” Will shouted up at the sky. “Every time I pass Henry’s house I feel like there’s something I’m supposed to do, something I’m supposed to fix that will make things right.” He pushed back his hair and rubbed his temples like his head ached. In a quieter voice he said, “It’s like I’m the only one who can clear the Stover name.”
“Whoa now,” Rocky said shaking his head. “That’s a mighty big task for one person.”
Sam realized that two days ago he’d felt just like Will. He hadn’t wanted any help from anyone. Then Rocky, Eliza, and Libby saved him from drowning, revived him at the graveyard, and stuck with him even after they found out he heard voices. Now he knew better. “I agree with Rocky. Complex problems such as this one are more easily resolved when more than one person is involved in its resolution. Therefore, the best course is for all of us to pool our knowledge and resources and work together.”
“Sam’s using his fancy professor words again,” Rocky said. “But he’s right. We need to work together on this. You girls agree?”
“Yes, but did Sam just admit he doesn’t know everything?” Eliza asked.
Sam smiled. “I’m learning to see things differently.”
“You’re making progress Nerd Boy,” Eliza said.
Will looked around the group. “I guess if Sam can admit he needs help sometimes then so can I,” he said, standing a little straighter. “I think you two are the key to finishing this.”
“It would make more sense if a relative like yourself would be able to look in the house instead of two strangers like me and Rocky. We’ve never even met before. How could we be the key to solving a 200-year-old mystery?”
“Slow down there. I’m not the one who saw the portrait move or heard voices. Whatever or whoever is in control wants you, not me,” Rocky said, grabbing hold of his hat to keep it from blowing away. “I say they want your ‘smarts’ just like I did. They had to deal with me ‘cause we’re a package deal.”
“Umm, look y’all,” Libby said. “It’s great that we’re getting along, but maybe we need to finish this inside. I think I felt some raindrops.”
As if to emphasize Libby’s point, a bolt of lightning crashed into the ocean, illuminating the sky and the water below. In that brief second, Sam saw the outline of a ship on the horizon. Before he could get anyone’s attention, it was gone. He scanned the water hoping to see it again, but only saw the waves crashing against the jetty—just like this morning when he’d nearly died there.
The now familiar prickly sensation ran up his neck as if urging him to make the connection between all the places he’d felt it. First at Henry’s house, then the library, the sandbar, and the graveyard. Now here. He was starting to think this was no ordinary storm. Somehow, it was connected to the Dragonfly. He slipped his hands into his hoodie pocket and turned back to the others.
Rocky kicked sand on the fire, but large raindrops were already sizzling as they hit the glowing embers.
“I think the rain will take care of that,” Libby yelled over the sound of the rising wind.
Rocky looked up, cupping his hands around his mouth to keep the wind from stealing his words. “We need to hightail it back to camp if we don’t want a soaking.”
“Let’s head to the camp house by the front office. It’s the closest shelter,” Eliza said.
Sam grabbed his backpack and pulled up his hood. The group started running as random raindrops escalated into a deluge. Sam’s hoodie quickly soaked through and weighed him down. Determined to keep up, he put his head down and started running. The next time he looked up he saw nothing but sheets of rain. Frantically, he turned around and around trying to get his bearings, but nothing looked familiar. He didn’t know if he were getting closer to camp or further away. His heart started to race in panic when he heard a familiar voice.
“Hey, Buddy,” Rocky shouted. “It’s this way. Just stick with me. I’m not about to leave the brains of this outfit behind,” Rocky added, waving the others on. He kept close to Sam as they made their way to the path that led to the camp house door.
When the boys pushed their way in they heard Eliza saying goodbye to someone on her cell phone. She turned to Sam and Rocky. “We called our parents to tell them we’re all alright.”
Sam shivered as he and Rocky did the same.
Eliza gave Sam a worried look. “It’s not good for you to get a chill.”
A rattling sound came from near the massive stone fireplace and everyone edged closer together. The rattling was followed by creaking and moaning and they froze.
“Caught you red-handed, breaking and entering,” Mrs. Wilson said stepping around the side of the fireplace with her hands on her hips.
“Mrs. Wilson! But the storm and—” Rocky started.
“Gotcha!” she said, her stern face relaxing. “Don’t get all worried, now. Your folks called and said you were here.” Her eyes squinted as she looked at Will. “But not your sister. How did you get in with this group?”
Rocky stepped forward. “We’ve been meeting him around town and he’s been giving us the inside story about stuff around here.”
“Hmmm. Okay. I can’t very well send you home, seeing as how y’all look like a bunch of drowned rats. It’s probably best if you all stay here until the rain stops. Will, you make sure Betty lets me know that’s okay,” Mrs. Wilson said, striding over to one of the benches along the wall and rummaging through the storage bin below. She handed out towels, making sure Sam got the one with the word “Lifeguard” written across it. “They’re a bit worn, but they’ll do the trick. There’s some old swim trunks, t-shirts and cover-ups in that bench over there. Let me get a fire going so you can dry your clothes.”
“I’d be more than happy to start the fire for you, Ma’am,” Rocky said.
Mrs. Wilson’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you know how? This isn’t one of those fancy gas ones where you just flip a switch.”
“Yes, ma’am. I understand. In Texas folks teach their kids how to build a campfire before they even go to kindergarten. Some folks even say it’s more important than learning to tie you shoes, but maybe that’s ‘cause we wear boots,” Rocky said, flashing her a smile.
“I guess that’s alright then,” Mrs. Wilson said, handing Rocky the matches from the mantel. Nearby, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. “Sounds pretty bad out there. I think I’ll call your folks and make sure y’all can spend the night in case the storm doesn’t let up.”
Will called his sister and Eliza grabbed some dry clothes from the storage bench. “Come on Libby. Let’s get changed.”
The girls headed for the bathroom while Sam, Rocky, and Will changed into swim trunks and T-shirts and sat near the fire.
Giggles came from the bathroom and then Libby called out, “You guys decent out there?”
The boys looked at their outfits and shrugged. “We’ve got clothes on,” Rocky answered. “But I can’t say they’re what you’d call decent.”
“Ta-da!” Libby said as she burst open the bathroom door. Her dress was about three sizes too big and covered in bright pink flowers the size of pizzas. Eliza followed her wearing a dress with sea turtles and stingrays swimming in a bright aqua sea. Libby leapt up on the wide hearth and pretended to strut across like a model. Rocky followed in his yellow and orange swim trunks. They struck some poses while Sam, Will, and Eliza watched from the sidelines. Sam was laughing so hard his stomach hurt.
The door creaked open and Mrs. Wilson broke up the show. “Your folks and your sister
said it was fine for you stay here as long as you need to. I told them we have a lot of youth groups stay here so I keep it stocked. There should be enough wood to keep you warm all night and there’s sleeping bags in that bench by the door. There might even be some snacks in the kitchen if you get hungry.”
“Thank you,” Libby said. “I sure didn’t want to go back out in the rain and try to dry off in our tent.”
“No sense in that,” Mrs. Wilson said matter-of-factly, looking at the rain pelting the windows. “These storms usually clear up by morning, but I don’t know about this one. It just came up out of nowhere, like someone conjured it up.” She turned back to the group. “Oh, well. Can’t do anything about it now. I’ll be back in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night,” Eliza said as Mrs. Wilson closed the door. “Let’s spread our clothes out to dry and put out the sleeping bags by the fire.”
Sam dutifully followed orders like the others while he thought about what Rocky said about the ghosts wanting him. He was the one they spoke to and he was the one who felt the prickling sensation. No one else had seen the vines tighten around the obelisk in the graveyard or seen the outline of the shipwreck on the horizon. Only him. There was only one thing that could explain it, but he had no facts to support it—and that made him nervous. All he had were feelings and he wasn’t good at expressing those at all. Will had been brave enough to spill his guts, though. Sam had to be brave too.
“Umm, I, umm,” Sam started, twisting and untwisting the ties of his sleeping bag around his fingers. He could feel everyone looking at him and took a deep breath. “I realize you might all think I’m crazy after I say this, but you know how the 200th anniversary of the wreck of the Dragonfly is tomorrow?”
“Yes, we know. Go on,” Libby prompted.
Sam looked back down. “Good. Well…I, ahhh…you know that storm outside is rather formidable.”
“Yeah, Buddy. We know. We were out in it too,” Rocky said.
“Okay, you know how Mrs. Wilson said she felt there was something different about this storm?” Sam asked. The fire crackled while the others waited patiently for him to continue. “Well, I think she’s right. I think this storm is special,” he said, looking around at his new friends. “I think this is the same storm that caught the Dragonfly. The very same storm. I think the Dragonfly is coming home—again.”
A Ghostly Twist Page 10