“Well, most people don’t have an ancestor that sailed the seas in a ship either,” Fiona said.
“Cal suggested we look at the book from a different angle. Try to find text that isn’t in the format of the daily journal. There could be a clue.” Celeste looked at Morgan. “Those men didn’t break in here for nothing. I think you might have to admit there might be something to all this treasure stuff.”
Morgan sighed. “Well I guess it won’t hurt to look at the book some more. It’s late and I’m tired. I’m heading off to bed and I suggest you all do the same.”
Everyone murmured their agreement and the group headed for the main stair way together. Morgan’s stomach clenched when they passed the living room. She turned to her sisters and Jake.
“I’m really glad none of us were badly hurt tonight.”
“Me too,” Fiona added then glanced at Morgan out of the corner of her eye. “But I agree with Luke. This isn’t the end of our troubles with these treasure hunters. Maybe we should think about getting him on board with what we’re doing?”
Morgan sighed. “Maybe. Let’s see how it goes. I still don’t see why we need him. And I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”
“Yeah, we should think it over carefully,” Celeste said as they made their way up the stairs. “And don’t forget to trust your gut feeling, Morgan.”
Morgan thought about that. Lately it had turned out to be smart— life saving even—to trust her gut feeling. But right now, her guts were all roiled up. The truth was she didn’t know how she felt.
Seeing Luke again had caused a variety of emotions. She was mad, for sure, but she also couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to have gotten even more handsome in the past ten years. She couldn’t deny the way her stomach flip-flopped when she’d pulled off that mask or the way her senses had reveled in his familiar earthy clean smell.
She reached her bedroom door, said goodnight and tried to push all thoughts of Luke from her mind.
She didn’t want … or need … him to help them and she’d be damned if she’d let him screw with her feelings again. The further away he stayed the better. She’d done just fine these past ten years without him and she sure as heck didn’t need him now.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning Morgan stumbled into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker. She needed something stronger than her usual cup of herbal tea.
Fiona was already sitting at the island, sipping from a steaming mug, her red hair pulled back neatly in a ponytail at the nape of her neck.
“The strong stuff is in the left drawer.” Fiona pointed to one of the kitchen drawers and Morgan grunted her thanks.
She put the K-cup in the coffee maker. The thirty seconds it took to produce the strong brew seemed like an eternity and she drummed her fingers on the counter hoping to speed it up. Finally, the mug was full and she took it over to the island.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled the pungent aroma then took a sip.
“Ahh … that’s better,” she said as the caffeine started to do its job.
“Well, it’s not vanilla latte, but it does the trick,” Fiona said. “Still, I want to stop at the coffee shop on the way to work and get my regular.”
Morgan nodded. Fiona couldn’t function without a latte of some sort in her bloodstream and she’d settled on vanilla as her favorite of late.
“Speaking of the shop, remind me to bring home some arnica and aloe vera to put on that cut Jolene got last night,” Morgan said.
“I don’t think you need to bother,” Jolene said from the doorway.
Morgan’s eye’s widened when she saw Jolene’s arm. She had unwrapped the bandage to reveal a long scar underneath—the wound had almost completely healed.
“But that’s impossible,” Morgan heard herself say as she and Fiona got up to inspect the wound.
“Well, it should be,” Jolene said. “But apparently, it’s not.”
“How did that happen?” Morgan asked as Fiona pulled the carnelian stone from the middle of the gauze wrappings.
“Is that glowing?” Morgan squinted at the stone which appeared to be glowing bright orange from the inside. Fiona and Jolene bent closer.
“No, I think it’s just the sunlight reflecting from the window.” Jolene nodded toward the large kitchen window where the morning sun shone through.
Morgan ran her fingers across the scar. “This is amazing.”
“There’s a lot of strange things going on around us,” Fiona added.
Morgan agreed—cuts that heal themselves, gut feelings that proved to be accurate, pirates, buried treasure, a cat that seemed to know what they were talking about and relatives that talked to Celeste from beyond the grave sure were strange.
“That’s true.” Celeste appeared in the doorway with Luke. “A lot of things that shouldn’t be happening are. Maybe we should just accept it and go with the flow.”
Morgan felt heat rise in her body at the sight of Luke. Anger … or something else?
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Luke pointed in the direction of the living room. “The window, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Morgan looked toward the living room. “Hopefully that won’t take long.”
“About an hour. There’s a real mess in there. Should we just pick everything up and toss it, or do you want to save it?”
Morgan’s brow furrowed and she turned to ask her sisters, only to find they had snuck out of the room. “I don’t know. Let me look.”
They walked to the living room together, Morgan took care not to get too close to Luke—as if he had some disease she could catch.
Her heart clenched when she looked at the mess. The oak china cabinet lay on its front, the rounded glass doors shattered. She knew getting replacement glass would be expensive, but that was nothing compared to the antique china and crystal—family heirlooms that now lay in pieces on the floor. Those were priceless.
Battling the tears that stung the backs of her eyes, she squatted down and picked through the shards. There was nothing worth saving.
“I guess we should throw it out. The china cabinet we’ll have repaired but everything else is broken.” She ran her fingers through the pile, jerking her hand back when she felt the sharp sting of a shard of glass.
“Ouch!” She looked at her finger as it turned bright red.
Luke was next to her in an instant, grabbing her hand before she could react. “You cut yourself. Let me see.”
Their eyes met and the past ten years melted away. Morgan’s heart fluttered like a frightened bird. Then she remembered how hurt she’d been when Luke had chosen the military over her.
She wrenched her hand away.
“It’s nothing,” she said standing up and going back to the kitchen, feeling annoyed when she noticed Luke was following her.
She ran her finger under water then turned to face him. “Is there something else?”
“I was hoping you would have changed your mind about trusting me.” Luke’s green eyes stared into hers.
“And why would I do that?”
“We’re both after the same thing. If we keep the lines of communication open it will be easier for both of us.”
Morgan snorted. “Communication? I hope you’re better at it now than you have been for the past ten years.”
Luke ran his hands through his short cropped hair while Morgan wrapped her finger in a paper towel.
“Morgan, I’m sorry about all that. I couldn’t stay here and lead a cushy life while others were fighting for our country. I wanted to talk to you … to write, or call but I figured it was better for you if I didn’t.”
Morgan ripped her gaze from the pleading look in his eyes. She never could resist that look and he knew it. He was probably using it on purpose now to get her to tell him about the treasure.
“Well, I didn’t need you to decide what was best for me then, and I certainly don’t need you to do it now.” She s
tarted toward the stairs, turning to look at him over her shoulder as she left the room. “I trust you can show yourself out.”
Then, before the tears that were threatening could fall, she ran up to her room.
Chapter Thirteen
Morgan breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled into the driveway after work. The day had been torturous. She was overtired and couldn’t concentrate on anything. She’d had to toss out several herbal mixtures because she’d made them wrong. And the worst part was unwanted thoughts about Luke kept forming in her mind no matter how hard she tried to stop them.
When Celeste called to announce that she and Cal had found something in the journal, it was just the excuse Morgan and Fiona needed to close up early for the day.
As she walked up the porch steps into the house, Morgan felt a tingle in the back of her neck that was starting to become all too familiar. She whirled around, but no one was there. Was Luke watching her … or the bad guys?
Inside, Jolene, Cal and Celeste were huddled over a piece of paper on the kitchen island.
“I hope you guys can help us decipher this poem—it’s a haiku,” Celeste said.
Morgan and Fiona crossed over to the island and Celeste slid the paper around so they could read it.
Those seeking the map
Find joy in the turtle’s dome
And under the rhomb
Morgan’s brows mashed together. “Huh? What’s this mean?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Jolene said.
“Turtle? What turtle?” Fiona asked.
“And what the hell is a rhomb?” Morgan added.
“Who knows?” Jolene shrugged as she tapped something into her smart phone. “Oh, here, it says it’s another word for rhombus … you know, the geometric figure.”
Morgan raised her brows. “This poem doesn’t even make any sense. Could it be another code of some sort?”
“It could,” Cal said. “Don’t forget it was written long ago—and probably meant for someone who would understand the hidden meaning.”
“The important thing is it seems to verify there is some sort of map.” Celeste pointed to the first line of the poem.
“Or was,” Morgan said.
“Right. Now if we only knew what it meant by turtle dome we might be on to something.” Jolene settled back into her chair with a sigh.
Morgan felt something niggle at the back of her brain. Turtle. Dome. Why did that seem familiar?
Morgan snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it!”
She ran for the stairs to the attic with everyone following. At the top she surveyed the space, trying to remember where she had seen the little trunk.
“Mew.”
She should have known Belladonna would be up here and she followed the sound.
“What is it?” Fiona’s slightly out of breath voice came from behind her.
“I saw a domed box when I was up here before and I think it was made of tortoise. That could be the turtle’s dome mentioned in the poem.”
The cat led them to an alcove and Morgan’s heart clenched when she saw the box. She reached down and picked it up, holding it in front of her for the others to see.
Cal reached out and she handed it to him.
“This is really old,” Cal said. “It definitely could be from the era of the poem.”
His words sent a chill up Morgan’s spine. Could there really be a treasure map inside?
“What are you waiting for? Open it up,” Jolene said, leaning over Cal’s shoulder to look at the box.
Cal held it out to Morgan. “Go ahead.”
Morgan took the box in her hand, thinking how delicate it looked. A ripple of excitement surged through her like an electric current as she held the box. She grabbed the top and pulled.
Her heart sunk like a stone.
“It won’t open.” She tried to pull harder, but the box was sealed tight.
“It’s probably locked.” Cal pointed to the tiny keyhole on the front.
Morgan’s excitement deflated. “What are the odds of finding the key in this?” She spread her hands to indicate the vast space.
“Let me see.” Jolene held out her hand and Morgan placed the box in it.
Jolene squinted at the lock, turned the box this way and that then rummaged in an open trunk that was sitting on the floor. She pulled out an antique hairpin which was about eight inches long and had a large pearl on the end. She stuck the pin end into the keyhole, wiggled it around and the box popped open.
Morgan’s heart dropped when she looked inside. It was empty.
“Hey, where’d you learn to do that?” Fiona furrowed her brow at Jolene.
“Oh, I’ve been looking into some private investigator stuff online … just a little trick I picked up.” Jolene shrugged.
“Figures, it’s empty,” Morgan said. “I guess it was silly to think an old treasure map would still be in here after all these years.”
“It’s a nice box though.” Celeste took the box from Jolene.
“Very nice … and very valuable,” Cal said.
Morgan shrugged. “I guess we should put it back.”
“Wait,” Cal said. “A lot of times, these old boxes had false bottoms.”
Morgan peered over Celeste’s shoulder into the box.
“It doesn’t look like it has a false bottom,” she said, bending down to look at the box from underneath.
She held out her hand and Celeste put the box in it. The inside bottom was an indigo blue velvety material—worn and faded over the years. She could barely make out the pattern, oddly shaped diamonds in gold.
A jolt of electricity shot through her heart as she remembered the last line of the poem “and under the rhomb”. She jerked her head in Jolene’s direction. “What shape is a rhombus?”
Jolene made a face. “I think it’s like a diamond with equal sides or something. Why?”
Morgan didn’t answer. She was too busy ripping out the velvet lining. Her stomach flip-flopped when she saw the aged parchment underneath. Gently, she reached into the box and pulled it out.
Celeste, Fiona and Jolene gasped as she held it up by the corner.
“It’s the map!”
“Careful, that looks awfully brittle,” Cal said. “Let’s bring it over to this bureau.
He indicated a large Eastlake style bureau a few feet away and Morgan carried it over and spread it out on the marble top.
The dry parchment was tattered on the edges, the ink faded, but there was enough for them to make out a small map and some writing. The map depicted a point of land with water on three sides. Arrows pointed toward a large tree and the writing gave further directions.
“That looks like our land.” Fiona looked out the window.
“Yes!” Jolene pointed excitedly. “Here’s the Atlantic on this side and the channel leading to the cove on the other … there’s no big tree there though.”
“Maybe there was a tree three hundred years ago,” Celeste offered.
“We need to copy this so that we don’t damage the original,” Cal said.
“Right,” Morgan agreed, looking around for a paper and pencil.
“There’s a paper and pencil over by the bookcase, where I copied some of the journal,” Celeste said and Cal started off in that direction.
“Do you really think this is our yard?” Fiona asked.
“Sure looks like it.” Jolene’s eyes sparkled as she studied the map.
“There could be buried treasure right out there.” Celeste pointed out the window.
Morgan looked out to where Celeste was pointing, a familiar tingle forming in her lower belly. Even though her logical brain kept telling her the thought of pirate treasure being buried in her yard was ridiculous, her gut instincts were telling her something big was about to happen.
Chapter Fourteen
The sun was about to set by the time Celeste had copied the map. They stood in the side yard, huddled around the copy, shovels at the re
ady. The wind from the ocean licked at the edges of the paper, threatening to tear it from Cal’s hand.
“It says start at the tree. Anyone know where the tree was?” Cal asked.
Morgan didn’t remember any tree, so she tried to figure it out by looking at the map.
“Meow.” Belladonna sat off to the left, her tail twitching in the grass.
“From looking at the map, it looks like the tree was right about where Belladonna is.” Morgan was getting used to the cat showing up in the exact right spot and at the right time.
“Okay, it looks like it says thirty paces east.” Cal walked over to Belladonna’s spot, then turned east and took thirty steps. Everyone ran over to stand beside him.
“Then ten steps toward the point. What’s that mean?” Celeste asked.
“I assume the point of the cliff.” Cal took the ten steps.
“Now three quarter turn as the sun rises.”
“Does that mean toward the east? That’s where the sun rises,” Jolene said.
“I guess so. Let’s try that.” Morgan watched Cal turn then take a few more steps indicated by the directions on the map. After a few more turns and paces he stopped.
“Well, if I followed the directions correctly, this is the spot.” Cal pointed to an area of grass right in front of him.
The five of them looked at each other uncertainly.
Should they start digging?
Jolene broke the ice by plunging her shovel into the grass and the rest followed suit.
Morgan jabbed her shovel into the rocky ground. It wasn’t as easy as she thought it was going to be and she had to jump on the edge of the blade in order to get it to sink in. She removed a small shovel full of dirt and placed it aside.
“How deep do you think this thing is buried?”
Cal shrugged. “Who knows? Probably not too deep, I mean it’s not like whoever buried it in 1722 had machinery. They would have had to dig by hand. Just like we are.”
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