The hell with it! I screamed and dashed down the stairs, intent only on putting as much space as possible between Kizzy's house and yours truly. I threw open the front door and crashed into Junior, who was standing on the porch, one hand raised to knock.
Chapter Fourteen
I grabbed Junior and held on like he was the lone life raft in a storm-tossed sea. His arms tightened around me. "Whoa, Emerson, you're shakin' like a leaf. You see a ghost?"
I managed to gasp, "Heard a noise. Somebody on the stairs and ... and ... thumps in the closet ... and ... and
To Junior's credit, he didn't laugh at my panic-induced hallucination. He stroked my hair and patted my back. "Your heart's bangin' away like crazy. It feels like it's gonna jump right out of your chest. Don't be scared. I won't let anybody hurt you.
Junior gently pulled away from me and stepped back. He cupped my face in his palms and looked into my eyes. "You okay now?
Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded.
The corner of his mouth twitched and he winked. "How about we go inside and check out that closet? See if we can find the boogey man and throw his ass out. Whaddaya think?
Embarrassed, I nodded again and avoided his eyes.
"Don't worry about it, girl. This spooky old house would scare anybody. Muy horripilanté!
I trailed behind Junior as he climbed the stairs and checked every room. The fear and panic that sent me screaming from the house vanished, lost in the onset of hysterical laughter. A fit of giggles bubbled up in my chest. I could hardly hold it back. But, we'd been down that road before, the night Junior took me home from the hospital. He'd think I was a real nut case if it happened again. I pinched myself hard to nip it in the bud. "Ouch. Damn, that hurts.
Junior spun around. "What?
"Paper cut." I pointed at my thumb. "English class.
Junior frowned and started back down the stairs. "Miz Kizzy's bedroom on the first floor?
I nodded.
"You're looking for a cedar chest, right?
"I already checked her room. No cedar chest.
"I want to see it anyway," Junior said.
I stepped in front of him to lead the way. A strange phenomenon had occurred with Junior's presence in Kizzy's house. The relief I felt swelled into a helium balloon of euphoria. The dark corners now looked like cozy nooks; the creaking floors were simply the sounds of a tired old house settling in for a good night's sleep. As I opened the door to Kizzy's room, I burst into spontaneous song.
"Do, a deer, a female deer, re, a drop of golden sun. Mi...
"Whaddaya singin', Emerson?
I turned to face Junior. "Have you ever seen The Sound of Music?
Junior frowned. "How the hell can you see a sound?
"No, no, it's a movie. We can watch it later if you want.
Junior remained silent as he gazed around Kizzy's bedroom, taking in the antique, four-poster bed, the massive bureau, the white-lace curtains, the elegant dressing table, the overstuffed thing Kizzy called a "divan" in the corner, her lacy blue shawl draped across one end. He gave an appreciative whistle. "Nice.
I crossed to the divan and picked up Kizzy's shawl. It smelled like lavender, Virginia Slims and the spicy potpourri she loved. Suddenly, nothing seemed funny, and I desperately wanted Kizzy back home, to feel her gentle touch and hear the words, "You're a special girl, Alfrieda." Kizzy, who'd moved heaven and earth to help me find my father. Kizzy, whose garbled memories held the secret to the moonstone tucked inside my shirt.
"Hey, Emerson. Do you even know what a cedar chest looks like?
Junior's voice, loud in the silent room, pulled me back into real time. He was peering into an old steamer trunk Kizzy used to store extra bedding.
"Well, I know that's not it," I said. "It has to be made of wood 'cause cedar's a tree. And since it's called a chest, I guess it would be big.
Junior looked at me and grinned. "So I'm guessing you don't have a clue.
I smiled back at him. "Pretty much.
He wandered over to the closet and opened the door.
"No room in there for a cedar chest," I pointed out.
Junior ignored me and pointed at the shelf above the hanging rod, a shelf stacked high with cardboard boxes. "Might be some important papers in the boxes.
I gave a little huff of disapproval. "I don't think we should be pawing through Kizzy's private stuff.
I might as well have been talking to the wall. He hooked his fingers under the uppermost box and slid it forward. As he pulled it free, the box tipped and an avalanche of papers cascaded over his head. Swearing in Spanish, Junior staggered under the weight of the box and let it drop to the floor. I burst out laughing. "Serves you right for being nosy.
He glared at me and began pawing through the papers. "Sometimes it pays to be nosy.
I picked up a bundle of envelopes held together with a rubber band. Bank statements. Old bank statements dated in the 1980's. Why would Kizzy save bank statements that old? I felt a flash of annoyance as I glanced over at Junior still sifting through the box. Weren't we supposed to be looking for a cedar chest? "We're wasting our time. It's just Kizzy's old bank statements.
Junior gave a grunt of surprise then looked up at me, a look of triumph on his face.
"What?" I made no effort to hide my irritation.
"Cedar chests are big, huh, Emerson?
"Well, duh! What else could they be?
"Not big." Junior held up a small wooden chest. The lid was fitted with a metal hasp and fastened with a tiny padlock.
"Oh," I said in a small voice. Part of me didn't want to admit Junior was right. "Well, I got the impression it was much bigger. Besides, it's locked, and you don't have the key.
Junior smirked. "Can't handle it when you're wrong, huh?
"Who says I'm wrong?
Junior walked to Kizzy's dressing table, picked up a nail file and began working on the padlock. I watched, fascinated, as he probed the slotted opening at the bottom of the padlock. "Looks like you've done that before.
"Graduate of a life of crime." Junior gave the padlock a yank. It popped open. He set the chest on the table and lifted the lid. I peeked over his shoulder, expecting to see a lock of Carmel's baby hair tied up in a pink ribbon or pictures of Kizzy's old boyfriends. But all I saw was a rolled parchment, yellow and crumbling with age. Was this what Kizzy wanted me to find?
I unrolled it carefully while Junior looked over my shoulder, his breath warm on my cheek. "What the hell?" he muttered.
The handwriting was spidery, the ink faded and smudged and written in a language that might as well have been Greek.
"Not Spanish," Junior said.
The only words I could make out were Nicolae Romano and 1755. My mouth dropped open. Was I looking at a document written in 1755? By Nicolae Romano? Directly below the signature, was a smudged hand print. Apparently this Nicolae dude had dipped his hand in ink and pressed it against the paper so that every crease and whorl from his palm appeared on the paper. But why? He'd signed it. Why the palm print?
I set the paper on Kizzy's dressing table. "Great. Just great! We find the cedar chest, and all that's in it is a piece of paper written in some language that probably doesn't even exist now, and a hand print.
I went over to the divan and plopped down with a heavy sigh. Yeah, I was disappointed, but more than that, I was scared. How could I keep her from dying if I couldn't find the directions or whatever it was Kizzy wanted me to find?
When Junior didn't answer, I looked up and saw him bent over the wooden chest poking at something with the nail file. I heard a metallic ping and Junior's triumphant cry, "Yes!
"What?" I vaulted off the divan.
Junior was studying the blue-velvet lining inside of the lid, turning it this way and that. He pointed at a tiny hole in the center of the liner. "Somebody put a screw right there. No reason to have one there.
"But why would...?" I stopped mid-sentence and watched as Junior stuck the point of t
he file into the narrow crack between the lid's wooden edge and the lining. One quick twist and the liner popped off.
"That's why." Junior pointed at the compartment hidden under the lining. A narrow metal band bisected the center of the lid. Tucked beneath the band was an envelope.
I beamed a smile at Junior. He handed me the envelope without saying a word.
I opened the envelope and found a single piece of paper folded in half. No ink blotches, no spidery writing. Nothing but a solid block of neatly-typed text. I scanned it quickly. Nicolae Romano's name was typed at the bottom. My hand shook as I read words and phrases that had a familiar ring. I'd heard them before. From Kizzy. From Trilby. I'd found the prophecy.
Though my heart had leaped into my throat, I calmly handed the paper to Junior. "It's a translation." My voice sounded strange, like it was coming from a different person.
Junior gave me a sharp look before his gaze dropped to the paper. He began to read aloud:
I am Nicolae, the cutter of stone. Tonight, I awake from a deep slumber to see the moon slip beneath a thick veil of darkness and disappear. By the light of a candle, I write the words that follow, words I seem compelled to write for I have heard the murmuring of the moonstone in my dreams. Just yesterday, I freed it from its homely prison. It was cut and shaped by these rough hands to reflect the glorious light of the moon. I am but a simple man and, as such, cannot fathom the true meaning of the words I write. I am only the vessel.
As Junior's words washed over me, seasoned by his native Spanish, I pulled the moonstone from my shirt and watched the reflected light play across its surface. In my mind, I was transported back to the simple hut of the stone carver. I could see him hunched over a circle of flickering candlelight, dipping his quill pen into an inkwell, scratching out words that would inextricably tie us together across the years. When silence filled the room, I heard my own exhalations and came back to the present. Junior was studying my face.
"Read the prophecy." My voice was voice husky with emotion.
"You okay?
I nodded. He cleared his throat and began, reading...
I am the moonstone and this is my destiny. I will pass through many hands before I reach the one whose heart holds the key. Brought to life by the stone cutter, my shimmer of light attracts the Gypsy, who takes me for his own. Though he casts me in silver, my position is not fixed. I wax and wane like my namesake moon. The Empath's will is strong but her heart is selfish. In her hand, my magic sparks to life, but heartache and sadness follow. Tossed aside like an orphaned child, my wayward path leads to the Slacker, a careless woman who defiles my purpose and tarnishes my name. When finally, I am passed to the Guardian, she holds me fast while seeking the one whose palm bears the mark of the star. At journey's end, I lie close to her heart, the maid who is strong of mind. Tested by the power of three, she is the Keeper of the light. Our destinies become one.
It all made sense. Magda, the Empath. Trilby, the Slacker. Kizzy, the Guardian. Me, the maid who was strong of mind. The three tests.
"There's more," Junior said. His face looked grim. He traced the words with his finger and read, I look to the sky and see a miracle. The moon has emerged from its dark thrall. What lies beyond is hidden in the mists of time, but this I know ... the maid who is strong of mind will determine the course that follows. Two paths appear. One brings great glory, the other, death. I pray she chooses wisely. By my signature and the mark of my hand, I swear what I have written is a true account.
In the year of our Lord, 1755.
Nicolae Romano I felt the hair on my arms prickle. "But why the palm print?" I whispered.
Junior shrugged.
I set the palm print directly beneath the small lamp on Kizzy's dressing table. With my index finger, I traced the clear, deep lines etched in the hand of the man who'd shaped the gemstone tucked inside my shirt. I knew about the heart line, head line, fate line and life line. Kizzy had taught me. They all appeared as they should ... strong, unbroken lines A series of smudged chains, crosses, islands and tassels dotted Nicolae's broad palm. These were the small but important details, according to Kizzy, that filled in the rest of a person's history, revealing their secrets, traumas, good and bad fortune. And I didn't have a clue what they meant. Why hadn't I paid closer attention?
I shook my head and sighed.
"Try this." Junior picked up the magnifying glass next to Kizzy's chair, where she read the morning paper. I held the magnifying glass over the paper. After a brief stomachlurching moment of blurriness, I moved it closer and was rewarded with a much larger and clearer view of Nicolae's palm print. That's when I saw it. The star. At the base of his little finger. I inhaled sharply. The magnifying glass slipped from my hand and clattered onto the table top.
"What?" Junior said, a frown furrowing his brow.
"He has it too." I pointed at the star on my palm.
Junior took the paper from me and scanned it again. "The Keeper. She guards me well while seeking the girl whose palm bears the mark of the star." He set the paper down. "So that's you. You got the star.
He paused and scratched his head. "And this guy's got the star. So, does that mean this old dude's like your great-great grandfather?
I shook my head. "Not from my mother's side. Her people came from Norway.
"Maybe your dad's?
I thought about Mike Purdy's hand and shrugged. I reached for his hand. "Hey, maybe you've got a star on your palm. Maybe that's why we're here, together, trying to figure this out.
Junior stepped back and jammed both hands into his pockets. "Naw, I don't have nothin' like that.
Why wouldn't Junior let me look at his palm? Jeez, he acted like I was trying to steal his soul. What was he trying to hide? Definitely weird.
I set the palm print aside and picked up Nicolae's prophecy. The words, "The maid who is strong of mind will determine the course. Two paths appear. One brings great glory, the other death. I pray she will choose wisely," jumped from the page.
I moaned. "I chose the wrong path. Kizzy's going to die!
"You don't know that," Junior said. "It might be part of a test, you know, to see if you can figure out who did this to her.
"But ... but...
Junior gripped my shoulders, gave me a little shake. "Listen to me! We're making progress. We found the cedar chest, didn't we?
"I didn't. You found it.
"Doesn't matter. Remember, you're the maid who's strong of mind.
"Who can't even find a cedar chest? How pathetic!
The irony of the situation hit both of us at the same time. We looked at each other, grinning like fools. As if this situation was totally normal. As if we were just two teenagers out on a Friday night date, not an ex-gang banger and a trailer-dwelling, moonstone-wearing, fatherless girl forced to make life and death decisions.
"You're a piece of work, Emerson." Junior wrapped me up in his arms and I nuzzled his neck, savoring his smell. Naturally my stomach chose that moment to growl so loudly Junior must have felt it clear down to his toes.
I felt his smile against my cheek. "I've got food in the car.
I pushed away from him. "What are we waiting for?
Before we left Kizzy's room, we put everything back exactly as we'd found it. Since Kizzy had gone to such great lengths to hide the prophecy, the least we could do was keep it from falling into the wrong hands, even though it was unclear whose hands they were.
Junior had just reached the door when the phone rang. He froze, one hand reaching for the knob. "Answering machine?
I nodded and stared at the phone like it was a ticking bomb. After three rings, Kizzy voice instructed the caller to leave a message.
"Carmel? Chris Revelle. I need to talk to you. I'm parked in front of your house. Can I come in?
Chapter Fifteen
At the sound of Revelle's oily voice, my stomach clenched into a burning knot, driving away all thoughts of food. Revelle paused, the brief silence filled with the sound of a c
ar engine idling in the background. Junior crossed to the phone and stood over it. Scary Junior was back. His muscular body was all hard edges, coiled for action like a big jungle cat ready to pounce. The glitter of menace in his eyes made me shiver.
"I was driving by and saw the lights," Revelle continued. "I have something important to discuss with you. Something that would benefit both of us ... money-wise."
Junior snapped, "Pick the phone up. Say you're Carmel. Tell him you can't come to the door right now.
I saw my hand obeying him, reaching for the phone. When my mind caught up, it screamed, Are you nuts? He'll know it's you! Maybe Baxter's with him and they'll come after us.
The image of Patti, the bus driver, discovering our bloody, bullet-riddled bodies danced through my mind in living color. I snatched my hand back and shoved it into my pocket.
Junior took a big breath, let it out. The warmth returned to his face. "Come on, kid. You can do it.
Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the phone and in Carmel's little girl voice said, "Oh hi there. Who are you again?
Junior reached over and hit the speaker phone button.
I jumped about six inches when Revelle's voiced boomed, "Is this Carmel Lovell?
"Yes," I squeaked.
"My name's Chris Revelle. Revelle Investments. We need to talk. Can I come in?
I gave a little shriek of horror. "God, no! I'm a mess. You got me out of the shower. Can't you just tell me over the phone?
"I've been asking around. I hear you could use some dough.
I breathed into the phone, trying to gather my thoughts. "Well, yeah, who doesn't?
"I'm talking a big score. Not just your mother's estate which, by the way, I heard she's not leaving to you. Millions, even billions.
"How do you know about my mother's estate?
"Look, we need to talk in person. Cell phones conversations are tricky.
I pretended to think it over. "Well, Mr. Revelle," I cooed. "Maybe you should give me a teensy little clue as to what you're talking about.
Dead silence. I looked at Junior and shrugged.
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