The Old Cape Teapot (20 page)

Tobey leaned closer over the table. “We’ll be fine.” He touched her cheek. “These many years that we’ve been together have been such a time of love for me. We may not be sanctioned by a reverend
but we’re blessed with each other.” He sat back against his chair,
“I’m
grateful for that,” then looked eagerly at his bowl of stew. “Mister
Davis has given us a month to prepare.”

Hephzibah’s shoulders relaxed as she pulled her plate closer and began to eat.

Tobey scooped up a tasty bite. “You need not worry. Mister
Ezekiel is a gentle man, in the true sense of those words.”

A smile of relief slowly grew across her face.

***

1749 - Three Years Later

YARMOUTH, MASSACHUSETTS

Lydia Smith checked the final preparations for her wedding day. She paused to admire a lovely silver tureen from her father. Hephzibah
and Tobey had followed her instructions perfectly. Tomorrow was
going to be the happiest day of her young life.

Ezekiel came into the front parlor where their wedding gifts were on display. “My darling, you’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you, my future husband.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“It was a lucky day when you wandered into my life, three years ago,” he said and kissed her in return. “Soon we’ll be together as one. I can hardly wait to hear the laughter and patter of little feet echoing through this wonderful old house. I love you.”

Behind them, the delicate blue and white teapot, nestled on a shelf within the old glass cabinet, seemed to look upon them with
approval.
The leather books from Ezekiel’s father sat next to the beautiful
matching china pieces. They had become symbols of his past. It was all that was left of Thomas Davis.

As the two lovers held each other, Lydia and Ezekiel savored
this special moment of complete happiness. Tomorrow would be a new beginning for both of them.

Present Day

CAPE COD

TOMMY PUT HIS BEER
on the Formica countertop. The yellow
speckles of the kitchen counter’s surface matched the crumbs and dried food stuck to a stack of dirty dishes. He walked down the hallway past his old bedroom and reached for a chain hanging from
the ceiling. A set of steps lowered from above his head. He grabbed the ladder’s
roped railing and climbed up. Too tall for the small opening, he ducked his head and stepped onto the plywood flooring that covered the open spaces between the rafters. Light from a tiny
window vent lit his way as he swatted at cobwebs strung across the eaves above his head. A single light bulb hung from the center of the room. He pulled the chain that dangled under it and saw a cardboard box in the corner.

The last time he was in this attic, he’d found the china dishes that he took to the antique store. They were the only things that had looked valuable to him at the time, unlike the box that he was now
staring at, filled with rags. Tommy bent over and lifted the yellowed material;
and underneath he found two old books. He held the larger one closer to the light. Its crackled leather had separated itself from the
binding. Tommy began rifling through the brittle pages for anything that could tell him about his past, at least more than he knew now. To his
disillusionment, there were only lists upon lists of household purchases from the Thomas Davis household of Yarmouth, Massachusetts 1720-1722.

Disappointed, he tossed the book on the dusty flooring. A folded piece of paper fell out near his left foot. He picked it up and tried to open it but the fragile vellum began to crumble in his hands. Pulling out his knife, he carefully wedged it between the edges. When the paper finally separated, it broke into four pieces. He laid them atop the old ledger on the floor, matching words into sentences. Across the top, he read the heading out loud, “Davis Baker Mill.”

The words below looked like they were directions: “
Follow the
new road to the river of Namskaket. Travel to the southern ridge of where Harwich meets Eastham. The property of Baker and Sons will be marked with a stake ten yards from the corner of the oak. Follow the Magnetic
North, parallel with the Cove’s inlet
.”

Tommy scratched his head. “Harwich meets Eastham? I don’t understand. Where’s Orleans?”

He picked up the smaller book, which looked like a Bible. It had survived in much better condition. Inside, on the second page, a list of names was written in beautiful cursive.

Thomas Davis, Felicity Gibbs, m. 1721

Ezekiel, b.1722

Ezekiel Davis, Lydia Smith, m. 1749

Ezekiel, b. 1751

Lydia, b. 1752

Thomas, b. 1754 (stillborn)

Mary, b. 1756

Thomas, b. 1758

John, b. 1760

He scanned three pages of names and dates. The last entry was written in his grandfather’s hand. It was his father’s name and birth date: Charles Davis, b. 1959.

Tommy closed the Bible; his hand resting on the old leather. Under his breath, he mumbled, “Shit! What does this have to do
with pirates and treasure?”

Present Day

CAPE COD

I OPENED
the gallery door to the house. Danny was standing
straight as a soldier. “Uh oh, what happened?” I asked.

I heard Martha close the dryer door and hurry into the living room.

Danny was staring, head down, at a dark spot on the carpet.

“I’m sorry,” he said with tears in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,” Martha assured him and went to retrieve an old towel.

He stayed still, with his eyes glued to the carpet and the big red stain.

I walked a little closer to him. “Did you do that, Danny?”

He remained quiet.

“Danny?”

Just as I was about to begin a tirade about bringing drinks into the living room, Martha returned and hustled over to the spot. She threw a towel on top of it and told him, “Start dancing!”

Danny looked puzzled and so did I.

“Here, let me show you.” Martha stepped on the towel and began to move her feet across it, pressing them into the carpet to
absorb the
liquid that slowly seeped deeper into the woven threads. Danny watched her body twist and turn; her large breasts jiggling back and forth.

She looked up and met his eyes, “Come on, you try it.”

A smile grew across his face as he stepped onto the cloth dance floor. He went into a wild jig, kicking his feet up into the air. Martha went to retrieve a bottle of carpet cleaner. I could hear her laughing all the way to the laundry room. When she returned, she rubbed the clear liquid into the soiled carpet, trying to get it clean.

 “Don’t be too hard on the boy. It was an accident, Nancy. I think we got it just in time.”

I looked directly at Danny. “Okay, but you need to take your drinks in the kitchen from now on.” I re-stated the rules of the house and asked one more time, “Understand?”

He nodded.

I hurried over to the foyer bench, scooped up the teapot
wrapped in the quilt and made my way back to Paul’s studio to show him my new treasure.

***

“Here it is.” I placed it on his drawing table and slowly unwrapped it. The pottery shard was placed next to it. “What do you think?” I stepped away so he could get a better look.

“Well, you’re right, they do match each other,” Paul agreed.

I watched him pick up the teapot and turn it over to see if there was any writing on the bottom. The lid dropped away and fell softly on top of the quilt.

“Oh my God! How did you do that?” I was stunned.

“I just turned it over,” Paul said. “I didn’t do anything.”

I pushed him aside. “Let me see.”

I replaced the lid atop the teapot then took it off again. I couldn’t believe that it was loose. It had been stuck back at the antique store. I turned it upside down once more and noticed the edge of something peeking out of its opening.

“Wait a minute,” I said and shook the teapot. I pushed my
fingertips into the opening and began to twirl my fingers around inside until I was able to feel whatever was in there. Determined to get it out, I squeezed my hand in a little more. Finally grabbing hold of it and with a slow pull, I eased it out. It fell on top of the quilt next to the small lid.

“What is it?” Paul asked.

“Looks like some kind of folded paper.” My heart was racing.

“Open it up.”

“I’m too nervous.”

“If you don’t, I will,” Paul gently coaxed.

“Okay…okay, give me a second.” I wiped my hands on my
jeans,
picked up the delicate paper, unfolded it, and carefully laid it flat. There was a map drawn on it, with writing at the bottom. “How
could this
be? It looks just like the one that fell out of the Julian’s Bible on Antigua.”

Paul leaned in to me. “Let me see that.” After a few seconds of
examining the parchment he pointed to its lower right hand corner. “What’s written down here?” We both looked closer.

I read, “Davis Baker Mill.”

He added, “This fancy script underneath it looks like a
description of a location,”

I pushed against Paul’s shoulder. “Wait a minute, there’s
something else that’s different here.”

“What do you mean?”

“See this?” My fingers hovered above a small mark resembling
an x over a small square and the number 3 with a W under it. “I
don’t remember seeing these markings on the other map.”

He bent his head nearer to see it. “Looks like a little drawing of a windmill…maybe it’s the Davis Baker Mill?”

“What do you make of the number 3 and the letter W?” I had an idea. “I’ll be right back.”

I rushed out of the studio and back into the house. The gallery door slammed shut behind me. Martha was in the kitchen peeling potatoes for the night’s dinner. Danny, busy with coloring, listened to the sounds of the TV blaring the antics of Sesame Street. As I ran
past them in the kitchen, I hesitated only for a second to wave at Danny. Once out of sight, I continued a fast pace up the stairs to the bedroom closet to retrieve the other map. Then I heard him
downstairs scramble off his chair to see what was going on and run over to the bottom of the stairway. What a little monkey he is, I thought; he’s always so curious and usually gets himself into trouble. With the map in hand, I traveled back down the steps where Danny was waiting for me. “Honey, I gotta go talk with Daddy. Stay with Martha.”

I clutched the copy of the old map from Antigua as Danny began to quickly follow behind me. I turned around and firmly repeated,
“Stay with Martha. You can’t come with Mommy right now.” I
managed to escape through the gallery door by myself.

Present Day - Mid-November

CAPE COD

FINDING ANOTHER MAP
was intriguing. Over the next weeks, I
studied both of them every chance I could. They were of the Cape and the same hand had definitely drawn them. The only significant
difference was the name, Davis Baker Mill, and the added directions to the site.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for me to keep my mind
on being a good mom. According to the calendar, the holidays were fast approaching and the kids had so many parties, concerts, and
programs
to attend. I usually loved it all, including the decorations, but, at this moment, all I wanted was to solve a mystery. I sat at the dining room table adding to my list of things to do when my cell rang. It was Brian.

“Hi, Mom. Just a quick call to tell you that Nick is definitely
coming to the Cape, but I’m afraid I won’t be coming home yet. I just need a little while longer here.”

I could feel a sadness begin to slowly rise up inside of me. “I understand,” I said. Don’t start to cry, I thought, no need to make
him feel guilty. I swallowed hard. “It’ll be good to finish up your project and get everything settled. Then you can leave on good terms.”

“Gotta go. Love you and tell everyone I love them, too.”

I sat there for a minute staring out of the window as my eyes
started to moisten. Lately, my thoughts had been with the map, the news about the stolen earrings, and the fact that Nick might be coming for Thanksgiving. Brian’s news had hit a nerve; I was upset. I missed
him. The holidays were so special to me. I wanted him home with
the
family. Then I slowly reasoned that he did warn me about his not coming home. Besides, he’d be proud if we could give his buddy a
warm New England welcome. I felt a little better.

I grabbed a tissue and made my way towards the studio to tell
Paul that Brian wasn’t coming home. It might even be nice to have Nick here with us, I rationalized, as he seemed like an okay guy, and he was so interested in what I had discovered. Brian would be home before we knew it.

***

Within the hour, I headed out to the grocery store. As I drove I
thought it would be fun, before shopping, to stop at the library in Orleans to see if they had any old maps of the Lower Cape that I could research.

The library had burned to the ground around 1960, so I wasn’t sure how far back their records went. The land where Orleans is now
located was called the South Parish of Eastham in the 1700s. I
promised
myself that if no new information was found today, Eastham’s
library would be my next visit.

I parked opposite the entrance, locked the car, and walked
toward
its glass doors. As I entered the building, I noticed in the door’s
reflection an old maroon Toyota slow down behind my van. I could see there were no available spaces next to me so I continued to watch the car. It eventually backed into a space over to the side but close enough to see who came and went from the library.