Belonging (30 page)

Joanna sometimes talked about Carter to Madaket, and then pleasurable memories flowed through her like honey, but just as often Joanna would be jolted by the remembrance of Carter’s temper, his arrogance, his moods, and she’d shake her head in wonder at what she’d settled for.

She said nothing to Madaket about Jake. What could she say? He had kissed her on the Fourth of July. He had looked handsome, and slightly younger, as if the strain of grief had eased somewhat. She could close her eyes and remember the way his hand had so gently touched her cheek as they stood in the cabin of George Mullen’s yacht. A touch, a kiss, a starry summer’s night … a recipe for daydreams. But she mustn’t make too much of it; besides, now was the time to concentrate on her babies.

One morning shortly after Madaket moved in, as Joanna was working in her study, a large cry sounded in the air. Seconds later, Todd came thundering up the steps two at a time.

“Joanna! We’ve found something!”

She swiveled in her typing chair. Todd ran into her room. Wolf was at his heels, barking at Todd’s excitement, racing in circles around Todd’s ankles.

“What do you mean?”

“In the kitchen! In the floor! Dad and I were pulling up that awful old linoleum, and we found a trapdoor! Come on! I’ll show you!”

Madaket appeared in the doorway then, her hands covered with gardening soil.

“What’s going on? I heard shouting.”

Todd whirled toward Madaket. “Dad and I found a trapdoor in the kitchen. I bet it leads to the treasure.”

Joanna waited for Madaket, usually reasonable at most times, to glance over at her with gentle scorn. It was such a boyish thing, Joanna thought, to think he’d found a treasure. But Madaket’s eyes remained on Todd’s face as he talked.

“We had all the linoleum up, and then we started prying up some damaged wood,
bits and pieces, that looked like they’d been just nailed down any old way—”

Joanna interrupted. “If you’ll help me, I’d like to come down and see it.”

“Of course.” Instantly Madaket came to Joanna’s side and, wrapping an arm around her just under her shoulders, supported her as they made their way down the stairs and into the kitchen. They found Doug standing inside the space they’d broken open between the kitchen and sunporch.

“We didn’t want to proceed any further without your permission.” Doug spoke as if he were the voice of reason, but his dark blue eyes were intense with excitement.

The floor of the screened porch had been covered with an unattractive green linoleum, which Joanna had in turn covered with various pastel dhurrie rugs. Now the rugs, rolled and tied, lay in a corner. The linoleum had been ripped up in jagged pieces and stacked in piles along the perimeter of the room, waiting for the Snowmen to take them to the dump. The final layer of subflooring consisted of old boards, wide and splintered and warped. Underneath all that was hard-packed dirt. The carpenters had laid down sheets of plywood to walk on as they prepared a level underlay for the playroom.

In the middle of the screened-in porch, surrounded by the plywood, a section of the original floor of rough, unstained boards was exposed. Here a small wooden trapdoor with a frayed leather handle was disclosed, dirt demarcating its edges.

“We haven’t pulled it up yet. We’re going to now. Okay?” Doug looked at

Joanna.

She nodded but felt compelled to warn softly, “It might be only another way into the basement.”

“No,” Doug responded instantly. “The basement runs under the kitchen, the hall, the two front parlors, and the dining room. Todd and I have already searched for any kind of opening in this direction. All along this side there are no openings. No doors. No way to get through. The basement walls are brick and mortar.”

“So let’s go!” Todd urged.

Bending over, Doug took hold of the frayed leather handle and pulled. At first it didn’t give, and Joanna thought it might be somehow attached from underneath, but suddenly with a creak one side of the door parted, and as bits of dirt slid downward with a rustling sound, the door came up.

There were no hinges. It was just a large rough square of wood, which Doug laid aside. They looked down into a dark wood-framed hole barely two feet square.

“We need a flashlight.”

“I’ll get it,” Madaket said. In an instant she found one in a kitchen drawer and handed it to Doug, who immediately aimed the light downward. A rough wooden ladder led into a dark pit.

“There’s a room down there. Probably a cool cellar for the original house. They kept vegetables there during the winter.”

“It could even be Indian,” Madaket offered, almost whispering. “The Indians who lived on the island before the white settlers came made themselves dugouts, sort of caves dug into the ground for protection against the wind. This could be that sort of thing.”

Joanna leaned as far forward as she could over her belly. She could see only darkness. Madaket crowded close to the men, bending over to peer down.

Todd asked, “Can I go down?”

“All right,” Joanna said. “But be careful.”

Todd took the flashlight from his father, tested the first step for soundness, and began to descend.

Joanna sat watching as Todd’s taut body disappeared into the opening, first his long blue-jeaned legs, then his muscular torso, and with a twist, his wide shoulders. Then they saw the top of his head, his thick blond hair.

“It’s a room,” he called up. “Just a small room. Brick walls. There’s a hole in one—hey!”

They could see the darkness parted by his flashing light.

“I’m coming down!” Madaket announced. She squeezed herself into the opening. A few minutes later, she said, “Wow.”

“What is it?” Joanna called.

After a few seconds of frustrating silence, Todd spoke. “The damnedest thing. It looks as if there was a tunnel from this room. It’s pretty much filled in now, sand has sifted through the rough wooden beams—Dad, which way’s the ocean? I’ve lost my bearings down here.”

“Over here.” Doug stamped on the floor.

“Right. Then this would lead toward the ocean.”

“They always said there was smuggling going on.”

“There’s an old crate down here, too,” Madaket called. “But it’s empty. No lid or anything. Just an empty wooden box.”

“There’s something in the tunnel,” Todd muttered.

“What is it?” Doug Snow called.

For a few moments Joanna and Doug waited in silence.

“I have to … I need a shovel. Or a …”

“…  a wooden spoon would do,” Madaket said. “Mr. Snow, could you get a big wooden spoon from the drawer on the right of the stove?”

Doug got it and leaned down to hand it to Madaket.

More waiting. They heard digging sounds.

“It’s a little chest!”

“Bring it up!” Doug ordered.

Madaket and Todd came up. Specks of sand glistened from their hair and clothing and shoes. Madaket put the box on the center of the kitchen table and they all gathered around to stare down at it, as if waiting for it to speak. It was a small chest, only about ten inches long and five high, made of iron with brass reinforcing the corners. The hinges were wrought-iron. The flat lock was brass.

“Open it,” Joanna said.

Todd tried to pull the lid up. “It’s locked.”

“We’ll have to break it open,” Madaket decided. “We’ll never find a key that fits.”

Todd looked at Joanna. “What do you say?”

“I hate to break it if there’s another way to get in,” Joanna said.

Todd grabbed up the box and shook it. They all heard the muffled rattle.

“Listen!” he said triumphantly. “Something’s in there.”

“Please open it, Joanna!” Madaket pleaded.

“All right. Todd—see if you can do it carefully.”

Todd took a screwdriver off his tool belt and gently inserted it into the lock. He turned and twisted, but nothing happened. Running his screwdriver around the edge where the lid fit down onto the body of the chest, he searched for a space. He found one, dug in, drew the screwdriver along toward the lock. He pried upward. The lip of the lid bent back, but the lock didn’t give.

“Hell,” Doug said. “I’m getting my wire cutters.”

He went out to his truck and returned with a tool with long rubber-covered handles. He forced the blade between the lid and the box. In only seconds the lock was
cut.

His son pulled back the lid, which made a rusty, rasping noise. Inside the box was a small pouch of dark muslin.

“Here.” Doug handed the pouch to Joanna. “Whatever it is, it’s yours.”

The pouch was simply closed by a drawstring around the mouth. Joanna pulled the strings and tipped two large stones into her hand.

“Rubies,” she said.

In the bright flat kitchen light, the stones glittered like capsules of red wine against Joanna’s skin. They were cut in rough ovals. Joanna handed them to Doug, who held one stone between thumb and forefinger up to the light and squinted, studying.

“I can’t judge gemstones,” he said. “Possibly they’re only garnets.”

“Possibly,” Joanna said.

“But maybe they’re rubies, Joanna.” Todd took them from his father and turned them in his hand. “And you know, if those were down there, maybe there are more.”

“Maybe we’ve found the treasure,” Doug said, awe coarsening his voice. The wine-red color of the rubies seemed to glow on his face.

“It is an important discovery,” Madaket told her. “This could be a whole chapter of Nantucket history. We should tell the Nantucket Historical Association.”

“Oh, Lord,” Joanna moaned. “I’m really not up to all of this. I mean, buried treasure—if this gets out, the press will be camping outside my door—no, they’ll be pounding on my door day and night, wanting to get in and take photos of the trapdoor and the cellar. I’ll never have any peace.” She felt weak and nauseated, and reached out a hand to steady herself.

At once Madaket was by her side. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not sure …”

“Here, Joanna.” Doug placed a chair behind her, and he and Madaket helped her sit down.

Joanna ran her hands over her face, taking deep breaths and collecting her thoughts. “Look, Doug, Todd. I’ll make a deal with you. Let me have these babies before we go public about finding these stones. I’ll—I’ll give you one of the stones if you’ll do that.”

“That’s not necessary!” Madaket protested, indignant. “That’s not even reasonable.” In a calm but determined voice, she said to Todd, “Give them to me. I’ll put
them in Joanna’s safe with her other jewelry.”

“Who died and made you queen?” Todd demanded, his face flushed with anger.

Madaket answered calmly. “Joanna’s in a delicate condition right now. When she’s had some time to think about it, we’ll see if she wants to give the stones away.”

“She’s right, son,” Doug said. “Give Madaket the stones.”

Reluctantly Todd held out his hand, watching the gems as Madaket took them and slipped them into the muslin pouch, and put the pouch in the metal box, and slammed the lid down.

Madaket bent over Joanna. “You’re trembling. Your blood sugar must be low. You need to have some lunch.”

“That’s all right, Madaket. I’m not hungry.” Joanna sat with her eyes closed. She heard Todd and Doug walk out onto the sunporch, where they conversed in low tones, then the sound of boots on wood resounded as Todd thumped down into the cool cellar, his father right behind him.

“Can that room collapse?” Joanna asked without opening her eyes.

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that,” Madaket answered. “It’s all brick, and the wall broken open by the tunnel exposes a layer of stone behind the brick. I’m sure it’s a strong foundation.”

“What’s the tunnel like?”

“I didn’t see much of it. Only two or three feet. It’s been framed in wood, but it looked to me as if most of it had caved in.” She set a drink before Joanna. “Here. Drink this.”

But she had no thirst, no appetite. She felt weak, exhausted, overwhelmed. “I think I need to rest before I eat anything.”

Madaket was at her side. Putting her hand on Joanna’s shoulder, she lifted the glass to Joanna’s lips, and as if speaking to a child, coaxed, “Just a sip.”

Joanna drank some of the cool, sweetened herbal tea and immediately felt better. The Snows thudded back up from the cellar and into the kitchen.

Todd stepped in front of her, the veins of his hands bulging as he fought for control, hands clenched at his sides. “Joanna. Miss Jones. Would you please give me permission to explore the rest of the tunnel?”

Joanna looked at Todd. He looked tremendously handsome now that he’d dropped the sullen mask from his face. His dark blue eyes glittered.

“Is it safe?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t take any risks,” he replied.

“I don’t know. We have no idea how old the tunnel is or what shape it’s in. The land is all sand, it could easily fill in on you—”

“I’ve looked at it,” Doug intervened. “I don’t think there’s any danger.”

“I’ll help him,” Madaket interjected. “I’ll go down with him and help.”

“Absolutely not!” Joanna cried. “That’s all I need, for one of you to get killed under my house!”

“All right, all right, we’ll talk about it later,” Madaket quickly conceded. “Let’s get you up to bed. Then I’ll bring you some lunch.”

Joanna was not unaware of the look Madaket shot Todd, but she had no energy left to use for confrontations. Madaket supported almost all her weight as she climbed the stairs, but her feet were so swollen that she nearly wept with the effort.

Upstairs she sank gratefully into her chaise by the window. She closed her eyes. She heard Madaket pad across the hall into her study and return.

“There. I locked the little box with the bag of stones in your safe,” Madaket said. “We’ll deal with this all tomorrow.”

“I don’t mean to spoil your fun.” Joanna spoke with her eyes closed.

“Joanna, I wouldn’t call this fun,” Madaket admonished gently. “Not to the Snows and me, at least. You shouldn’t treat it lightly. It will set you apart from those of us who love this island and its history.”

Joanna opened her eyes and looked at the young woman. “Madaket. I promise that after I’ve rested I’ll listen to you. Now let me rest.”