by K L Going
When she finished, Father was silent, staring into his teacup intently. After a while he got up and paced back and forth in front of the fire. Maggie and Evie watched, but neither one said a word.
“Evie,” he said at last, “you know I’m a realist. I always have been. I trust what I see with my eyes, and it’s hard to believe anything you’ve told me is true.”
Evie glanced at Maggie, and already she could feel the disappointment pressing in.
“But I’ll tell you a secret I never even told your mom,” Father continued.
Evie looked up. “What is it?”
Father took a deep breath.
“I was always a little jealous of the two of you, telling stories every night. I’d come in from the orchard and there you’d be, sitting on your mother’s lap, a book open on the bed before you. ‘Clap your hands if you believe in fairies,’ your mom would say, and the two of you would clap and clap, your eyes glowing . . . Sometimes I’d stand in the doorway and watch you there, wishing I could play, too.”
“You could have!” Evie said. “We wanted you to . . .”
Father nodded.
“You’re right,” he said. “I should have. I don’t know why I didn’t. But I can tell you this, I’m not going to make the same mistake again. If you need a seed to find Adam and bring him home, then, by God, we’re going to find a seed.”
Maggie sat up and clapped.
“Bravo!” she said, and Evie threw her arms around Father’s waist. Before she knew it, he’d scooped her off her feet and thrown her over his shoulder the way he’d done when she was small.
“If we’re going to look for this thing we might as well start at the top. I figure the attic is as good a place as any to find a missing seed.”
Father carried her all the way up the stairs, then chuckled as he set her down.
“Bet you thought I couldn’t do that anymore,” he said. Evie wasn’t sure if he meant carrying her or laughing with her, but either one would do.
Father pulled down the small ladder that led to the attic, and Evie climbed up. Dusty shelves lined the walls, and there was only one small window to let in the light. Maggie had grabbed a couple of flashlights, which was good because the snow was coming down hard and steady, blocking most of the window.
“Weather’s getting nasty,” Father said, looking out.
Evie glanced at Maggie.
“Let’s get to it,” Maggie said. “I say we start over here. Once we’ve searched a box we’ll set it off to the side; that way we won’t miss anything or end up looking through stuff twice. Remember, the seed might be anywhere, so open everything you find.”
They opened box after box filled with masks and statues and animal bones, but there were no seeds.
“Papa kept everything,” Maggie said. “I remember looking through this stuff as a child, fascinated by every object, but Papa would never talk about his trips. I wish I knew the stories behind everything here, but I don’t.”
Father set his hand on Maggie’s shoulder.
“Maybe it’s not too late to find out,” he said.
Maggie nodded. They worked in silence again after that, and the searched boxes piled up on the opposite side of the room. Soon, that whole side of the attic was full, but still there was no sign of the last seed.
Father pulled the final three boxes off the shelves, and Evie inspected hers carefully, pulling out carved bowls and old issues of National Geographic magazine.
“Nothing,” Evie said. Father and Maggie shook their heads.
“Should we look downstairs?” Evie asked, but Father scratched his beard.
“Let’s think things through first,” he said. “It could take us a week to search the whole house. Sometimes you need to ask the right questions before you can figure things out.” He paused. “Maggie, did your brother keep anything in a vault for safekeeping? At the bank maybe?”
Maggie shook her head. “He never had anything of value,” she said. “Rodney only had one bank account, and I closed it out after he died. They would have told me if he’d had a safety-deposit box.”
“And he never left you a note or anything to give to Evie with the seed?”
“No,” Maggie said. “There was only the box. He thrust it at me one day when I was here cleaning up and said, ‘This is for Eve, whenever she may come.’”
Father thought things over. “If Rodney didn’t have a safe, where else might he have kept something valuable?”
“He would have hidden it, that’s for certain. My brother was paranoid in his old age, always convinced the townsfolk were after him. His memory wasn’t very good though, so I suspect he would’ve had to keep something hidden in plain sight if he was going to find it again.”
Evie looked up. “How would he do that?”
“Oh, maybe he’d put it someplace where he’d pass by it every day. Or maybe he’d set something out as a reminder for himself . . .”
Evie’s heart began to race.
“I have an idea,” she said. “I know where we should look next.”
It was so obvious now that Evie wondered how she could have missed it. But who would have thought to look for anything behind an old painting? Still, it had been staring her in the face all along.
She and Maggie and Father went into her bedroom and studied the portrait of the little girl in the garden. It was done with oil paints and seemed simple enough, but when Maggie looked closely, she nodded.
“That’s Eve,” she said. “I’ve seen photos of her, but I never paid attention to this painting before. Rodney must have made it himself.”
“It’s definitely in plain sight,” Father said.
He took the painting off the wall, and Evie blew away a thick film of dust, then the two of them unscrewed the fasteners that held the backing in place. A single weathered manila envelope fell out, and Evie grinned.
“This has to be where he kept the seed,” she said. Father lifted the envelope and turned it over. It smelled musty and crackled with his touch.
“You open it, Evie,” he said.
“You pick, Tally.”
She wished Mom were here, but then she glanced over at Father, and his eyes were bright. Slowly Evie reached out and took the envelope.
It wasn’t sealed, or else the glue had long since dried up, so she was able to reach inside and pull out the contents.
A single piece of paper.
“Will you look at that,” Maggie said.
Evie turned the paper over, but it was nothing more than a newspaper clipping, yellowed with age.
“It’s just a stupid article about the library exhibit,” Evie said, remembering the searchers’ discussion the night before. “Why bother hiding that?”
Father took the article and read it carefully.
“Evie’s right,” he said to Maggie. “It’s about your father’s exhibit at the Beaumont library. Strange thing to keep hidden behind a painting,” Father commented. “Doesn’t say anything about a seed being part of the collection, but do you think it’s possible Rodney never had the last seed and this is a clue to where it’s kept?”
Maggie tapped her fingers against the painting’s frame.
“It’s very possible,” she said. “Papa left a good portion of his treasures with the library before he died. They put them away in the vault, and after a time most people forgot all about them. Papa asked me to honor his wishes and keep the collection there, so I did.”
“Do you think we could get to it?” Evie asked.
Maggie nodded, but Father paused. “Of course we’ll have to explain why we’re asking to see such an old exhibit . . . ,” he said, but Maggie just chuckled.
“I think the daughter of Joseph Clayton could find a reason to visit her father’s treasures.” She looked at Evie. “There’s almost always a way to get things done. Isn’t that right, Eve?”
This time Evie agreed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Inside the Vault
The snow was comin
g down in a sea of huge flakes. Evie was surprised to find it was already a foot deep when they left the house. The three of them bent forward as they trudged down the driveway, leaning against the force of the gales.
Evie was grateful to shut the door of the truck and muffle the sound of the wind’s sharp whine. Father turned the key, once, twice . . . The engine turned over, then stalled.
“Darn it,” Father grumbled, turning the key again and again. Evie couldn’t imagine trying to walk to town in this kind of weather.
“I’ll get it,” Father said, getting out and opening the hood of the truck. For a moment he was lost in the blinding snow, but then she saw the hood shutting and Father got back in, shaking the snow out of his hair. He turned the key and the engine rattled to life.
Maggie and Evie cheered, but Father shook his head warily.
“We’ve still got to get out of here,” he said, hitting the gas hard. The driveway was unshoveled and the roads hadn’t been plowed, so the old truck shook with the effort of carving its path.
Then Evie had a sinking thought.
“What if the library is closed?” she asked. She could tell Father and Maggie had already had the same idea, but Father shook his head.
“Nah,” he said. “This came on quick. My guess is everyone opened up as usual and now they’re stuck there.”
Evie hoped he was right.
They drove slowly, past the cemetery then onto Main Street, where the store signs blew back and forth in the wind.
“There it is!” Evie said, pointing to the library in the distance. Its light was glowing brightly against the colorless sky.
“Looks like someone’s there,” Maggie said, letting out a deep breath. Father pulled the truck into what might once have been a parking spot and turned off the engine. They climbed out and the wind and snow filled their eyes and ears. Evie pushed herself forward until she’d reached the front door, then she pulled at the handle, but nothing happened.
Locked.
Father tried the door again, then he pounded on the windowpanes with his gloved hands.
They have to let us in, Evie thought. Please let someone still be here.
Then a figure appeared—a young woman with long spiraled hair like Mom’s. Evie guessed she was the librarian who’d been missing from the empty desk, and she felt a wave of relief to be in the world of real live people again.
The woman opened the door a crack, just the length of the inside security chain.
“I’m sorry. We’ve closed early due to the weather,” she said.
Evie glanced at Father worriedly, but Maggie stepped forward.
“Hello, Kit,” she said. “We’re here to pick something up from the vault. If we could just come in for a minute . . .”
The young woman smiled.
“Oh, hi, Maggie. I didn’t see you back there.” She undid the security chain, and the door opened wide. “Come on in,” Kit said. “Who are your friends?”
“This is Frank and his daughter, Eve. They’re the ones who just moved into Rodney’s place.”
“Would you like library cards?” Kit asked, but Maggie shook her head.
“Today we’re here on business. Evie is home-schooled and she’s studying many of the places my father visited, so I thought I’d let her take a look at his collection if it’s still here.”
“You came all the way out in this weather for a look in the vault?”
Maggie just shrugged.
“Well,” Kit said, “you’re lucky I was here. My husband’s coming to get me with his four-wheel-drive truck soon as he gets off work in DuPont. He said it just started flurrying there, but it’s picking up now. Strange weather so early in the season, don’t you think?”
Evie nodded and glanced at Father.
“We don’t want to keep you,” Maggie said, “and we’re hoping to get back before the snow gets any worse, so . . .”
“Oh right. Of course. Follow me downstairs.” Kit waved them forward, then down the familiar spiral staircase. “The vault’s over here,” she said, stepping up to the huge iron door with the combination lock.
“I remember this,” Evie breathed. “It’s like something from a movie!”
Kit only laughed. She had a nice laugh, bright and vibrant.
“Or a book,” she said, and Evie blushed.
“The truth is,” Kit said, working the combination, “other than Maggie’s father’s collection, there isn’t anything remotely exciting in here. We’ve got some old holiday decorations, but mostly it’s full of paperwork.”
The heavy door swung open and a stale smell greeted them. Kit stepped in and set the security bar so the door wouldn’t swing shut. The vault was a mess and it was impossible to see where one pile ended and another began.
“The boxes are over here,” Kit said, taking one down from a line of them. “Which ones do you want?”
“All of them,” Maggie said.
“That will take us a while,” Kit commented, handing a box to Father. “Why don’t you start with this one?”
Father opened it and pulled out a large carved figurine.
“You see,” he said, clearing his throat, “this is exactly the type of thing I was telling you about. In our lessons.” He nodded seriously, but Father was a horrible actor. Evie would have laughed if she hadn’t been so nervous.
“Did Joseph Clayton have any seeds or plants in his collection?” Evie asked. Kit only shrugged.
“I’m afraid I don’t know,” she said. “This stuff hasn’t been on display in years, but you’re welcome to poke around.”
Through the darkness Evie could see the Halloween decorations and then a rack with a picture of the Cat in the Hat on it. She walked as far back into the vault as she could and studied the boxes lined up on the shelves. There were lots of them. Even with everyone looking, it could still take all day to find something as small as a seed.
Then she thought of what Father had said back home.
“Sometimes you need to ask the right questions before you can figure things out.”
Evie wondered what the right questions would be. She stopped and read the labels on each box. CHRISTMAS, ACCOUNTING, SUMMER READING, GIRL SCOUTS, FIRE SAFETY, JOSEPH CLAYTON 5, JOSEPH CLAYTON 6, JOSEPH CLAYTON 8, NOT FOR DISPLAY . . . She paused. That was a strange label for a box. It was smaller than the rest, too. Then she thought of a question.
If I were Joseph Clayton and my daughter had disappeared after planting a seed, would I put one of them on display?
Evie guessed that she wouldn’t. If she believed Rodney’s story even the tiniest bit, she would lock that seed away. Slowly Evie took down the box. It was the size of a shoe box, and at first when she lifted the cover, she saw only crumpled-up yellowed paper, but when she pushed the papers aside, there was a stone box exactly matching the one she’d been given by Rodney.
She took it out, and her palms were clammy as she opened the lid.
A warm breeze swirled through the vault, but neither Father nor Kit nor Maggie seemed to notice. Evie breathed out long and full. She poured the seed onto her palm and clutched her fingers tight around it.
Adam, she thought, I’m coming to get you.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Not That Kind of Tree
When Evie came out from the back of the vault, the seed was burning her hand.
“Pop, can we go yet?” she asked, using the nickname she knew he hated. Father looked up, and she wondered if he’d understand, but he nodded.
“I suppose these old maps and artifacts will be plenty to get us started,” he said to Kit. “Your husband will probably be here soon, and we ought to head out before things get worse.” Kit stood up and closed the box she’d been looking through.
“I appreciate you letting us take these things,” Maggie said, but Kit only laughed.
“Technically, they still belong to you.”
Maggie nodded. “Someday I just might come back to look through the rest. I should have done this a long time
ago.”
Her voice trailed off, and Evie slid up next to her. Together they followed Father and Kit out of the vault and back up the stairs. Kit found a plastic bag for their things, then she led them to the front door, where they piled on their coats and boots and gloves.
“Maybe I’ll see you back again before too long?” Kit asked Evie, unlocking the door to let them out.
“You will,” Evie said, knowing it was true.
Then Evie, Father, and Maggie stepped outside into the snow, fighting their way to the truck. The moment the doors were slammed tight against the wind, Evie opened her palm and looked at the seed.
“You’re certain this is the one?” Father asked.
Evie nodded. “I think we ought to plant it on Rodney’s grave, just like I did before.”
Father nodded, then he gunned the engine and stepped hard on the gas, but the trip back to the house turned out to be even slower than the trip into town. In the rearview mirror Evie saw a truck pull up in front of the library, and Kit ran out, but other than that the town was empty and silent and the last few lights were slowly flickering off.
“Hurry,” Evie said, but Father was trying to keep the truck’s wheels in the grooves they’d made on their way in. The snow crunched ominously, and when they finally made it back to the house, the front wheels spun angrily into a snowbank.
“Close enough,” Father said, opening the door so Evie and Maggie could climb out. “Looks like we’re walking the rest of the way.” Father started toward the orchard and Evie followed, but Maggie stopped.
“What is it?” Evie asked, turning back.
Maggie sighed. “I’m not so young as you folks,” she said. “I’m afraid I won’t make it too long out in this weather.” She trudged up next to Evie and hugged her tight. “Good luck, Eve,” she said. “Whatever happens, make sure you come back.”
Evie nodded.
“I’ll have the fire going when you return,” Maggie said. Then she winked, and Evie watched as she walked away, her form gradually disappearing through the snow.
