by C. W. Trisef
“You’re not going anywhere, Ret,” Pauline overruled, “at least until the end of the school year.”
Despite Ret’s disappointment, Mr. Coy intervened, “No, no, Ret, this woman is right.”
“I am?” Pauline wondered in disbelief.
“Oh, yes; I’ll take it from here everyone,” Mr. Coy announced. “You’ve all been very helpful, but I regret to inform you that I am quite full of your help for the time being.” He plucked the Oracle out of Ret’s hands, causing it to shut, and retrieved the parchment. “Come back in a few months, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“That’s the first sensible thing I’ve ever heard you say, Mr. Coy,” Pauline told him. He gave her a confused glare, as if he didn’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted.
“Speaking of sensible, good mother,” Mr. Coy said, “I would highly recommend that you somehow make it very clear to Principal Pebble—”
“It’s Stone,” Ana corrected.
“—right, Stone,” said Coy. “I suggest you make it unmistakably clear to Stone that you are not the owner of the Oracle.” He held it out to show it to her. “This little doodad is what they were after last night, though I don’t know why they came to your house.”
“I do,” Ret piped up. “Principal Stone asked me a while ago if we had anything that was round and had markings on it, and I told him we did. But I was referring to Jaret’s RIB in the attic, so I guess he assumed we had the Oracle. I’m sorry; I didn’t know.”
“Ah, so there you have it, madam,” Coy said in vindicating victory. “No need to apologize for falsely accusing me.” Pauline made no attempt to do so anyway. “But, I repeat, if you wish to escape future danger and remove yourself from Stone’s hit-list, think of some way to tactfully assure him that you don’t have this.” Coy waved the Oracle once more and then returned it to his pocket.
“And how do you suggest I do that?” Pauline asked honestly.
Mr. Coy stepped across the studatory and stopped in front of one of the ladders against the wall. “You must ask yourself only one question, missy.” He mounted the ladder and started to climb. He stopped and asked, turning to face Pauline, “Have you ever—” Suddenly, the rung he was standing on gave way, and Mr. Coy slid down the ladder and through the glass floor. Though his body disappeared as he flew uncontrollably down the ladder, which faded into the depths of the study’s chasm, his voice reverberated off the walls of books, “Ben Coy?”
“What did he say?” Pauline wondered.
“Don’t worry about it,” Paige told her.
* * * * *
Despite its lively start, the rest of the holiday recess was rather uneventful for the Coopers. They devoted several days solely to restoring order to their ransacked home, straightening up and repairing things. The cleaning was interrupted frequently by the visits of neighbors and friends throughout the community who came to offer a grieving heart and a helping hand. The Coopers were active citizens who had established a good name for themselves, and their renown and reputation only intensified after Jaret’s heroic yet tragic disappearance. Tybee Island was a small community with a big heart.
While Ana was convinced that her mother was exploiting her children by forcing them to reconstruct their home during their vacation, Ret rather enjoyed the physical exertion, as it always helped him to think more clearly. By the end of the holidays, they had both memorized the message from the parchment and had reviewed it countless times, hoping to deduce its meaning. Their scanty and varied interpretations, combined with the unknown implications of the “cure the world” part, permitted Ana’s imagination to run wild, while Ret took a more rational approach. They naturally balanced each other that way in most things: she had visions of greatness while he maintained more modest perspectives; she longed for the future while he lived in the present; her nature called for thrills while his thrills came from nature.
So Ret wasn’t expecting much from whatever the message meant and its self-proclaimed Oracle entailed. In fact, he presumed that Mr. Coy, being the unpredictable brainchild of innumerable stunts that he was, would reconvene their powwow in a matter of days and either fess up to yet another practical joke (and a very good one, at that) or abandon the ordeal as nothing more than a fairytale’s treasure map leading to fool’s gold. With such a bleak outlook, Ret was obviously not the type of person to rely on lofty dreams or bombastic fascinations. But that’s not to say he never indulged in such things, for he did, although he was much less vocal about them than Ana. In fact, Ret never shared his personal speculations about his past or his future, mostly because no one seemed to ask. But even though nearly every particle of his being anticipated the norm and settled with the mediocre, the precious few and most basic elements of his psyche—the ones that predispose all the rest—hoped for something grander.
* * * * *
None of the Coopers was expecting the phone call from Tybee High’s office secretary, relaying Principal Stone’s desire to meet with Pauline on the first day back to school. Pauline gladly obliged. Ever since the break-in, she seemed a bit paranoid, double-checking locked doors and closed windows, leaving the porch light on all through the night, not sleeping well, even startling at the slightest stray sound—not to mention the stress of figuring out some way to assure Principal Stone of their innocence, while not disclosing Mr. Coy’s lack thereof, so that she could finally set her nerves at ease once and for all.
It’s hard to imagine anyone hating his job more than Lester Stone did his. In fact, as much as he despised children, he felt he related to them best on Mondays and the first days of resumed classes—days when no one but the bookworm was exactly anxious to get back to school. The first day after the winter recess was no exception. Principal Stone slithered from his car to the administration wing, greeting students with nothing but his usual scowl. Then, on his way inside his office, he coldly passed by his secretary, ignoring her polite “Good morning, Principal Stone” like he had done every day before, and shut the door.
In less than a minute, Principal Stone’s door flew open, and he leaned through the doorway to face the adjacent teachers’ lounge.
“Quirk!” he barked. Startled, Mr. Quirk spilled his cup of orange juice all over his corduroy jacket and leather pants. “Get in here, now!”
“But, sir,” Quirk protested timidly, “my muffins just finished warming up in the—”
“NOW!”
“I take it patience is not one of his new year’s resolutions,” Quirk muttered as he unhappily reported to Stone’s office.
Once inside and with door closed, Stone asked in a strangely unperturbed voice, “What do you notice about my office, Ronald?”
Mr. Quirk surveyed the room and then said, rather displeased, “Well, I see you still haven’t done anything with those ghastly drapes.”
“Look in the chest, Quirk.” Without emotion, Stone pointed to the unlocked trunk.
“Well slap me silly,” Quirk remarked. “It’s empty!”
“And why is it empty, Quirk?” Stone asked calmly.
“Don’t point any fingers at me. I didn’t touch it. You know very well I couldn’t read it anyway.”
“Then where is it?!” Stone shouted. “Where is the prophecy?!”
“Cool your jets, Les,” Quirk said with a bit of nervousness. “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.” He started to sift through nearby stacks of paper.
“We were so close,” Stone continued to rage. “I was sure we finally had it all—you, the boy; and I, the Oracle—until everything fell apart in one night—one blasted night!”
“And what a delightful night it was,” Quirk recalled with fondness. “Pity you had to miss the dance, Stone.”
“Lye won’t have this,” Stone worried, completely ignoring Quirk.
“And you can be the one to tell him,” Quirk added quickly. “I don’t think the old chap is very fond of me.” He rummaged through a box in search of the missing parchment. “Knowing him, he probably
committed it to memory anyway, whatever it said.”
“For once, Quirk, I hope you’re right.”
“It probably got misplaced that night; seems to be when everything else was thrown into disarray around here—you, turning the Coopers’ house upside-down; and little old me, dealing with the bomb scare, the rumored Russian spy, the hubbub surrounding that Coy fellow…‘twas quite a night.” Quirk moved on to another box. “Say, Stoney, did you ever hear back from Coy?”
“No, Quirky,” Principal Stone replied in derision. “Curiously, his contact information is strictly classified, and the school only has on file his daughter’s cell phone number and a post office box. My secretary reached the daughter, who would not cooperate, and their P.O. box is full of our letters—believe me, I’ve checked.” He sighed. “The normal, legal way of getting what I want is so inefficient. All I want to do is ask him a few simple questions.”
“And by simple you mean carefully crafted and intensely pointed. Right, sir?” Quirk expounded, giving him a wink.
“Had I known my search of the Cooper house would prove fruitless,” Stone said, “I would have attended the dance, just to get a feel for the one citizen of consequence in this town who I have yet to meet—the elusive Mr. Coy.”
Just then, the sweet voice of Principal Stone’s secretary sang from the intercom on the telephone: “Lester, Pauline Cooper is here to see you.”
“Ah, time for some answers,” Stone whispered with satisfaction. “Maybe this time we meet, she’ll give me what I want.” For several seconds, Mr. Quirk laughed loudly and menacingly, like any evil plotter should.
Stone stared at him with abhorrence and ordered, “Get out.”
“Muffin time!” Quirk cheered as he danced out of the office. “Top o’ the morning to you, Mrs. Cooper!” He tipped his purple- and yellow-striped bowler hat to Pauline before skipping back into the lounge.
“You must be Pauline,” Principal Stone said warmly as he stepped out to greet his guest.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Principal Stone,” Pauline responded, feigning a smile.
“Come right in.” Stone filched his secretary’s chair while she was away from her desk and rolled it inside his office for Pauline to sit on.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Pauline played innocent, despite also having an agenda of her own.
“Yes,” Stone began. “I heard about the terrible incident that happened at your home—what was it, about two weeks ago now?”
“That’s correct,” Pauline answered, pleased with the direction the conversation was headed.
“My heart sank at the news,” he lied. “Were the criminals ever apprehended?”
“Not yet,” answered Pauline, “but they won’t be back. They didn’t find what they were looking for, and I know we don’t have it.”
“Oh,” said Stone with a hint of pleasant surprise. “Well, you must be relieved. You know what they wanted then?”
“Well, uh…” Pauline stumbled, worrying she had said too much, “not exactly.”
“But you just said—”
“The simple fact that they searched my entire house and left empty-handed is proof enough of our innocence.” She seemed a bit emotionally unstable.
“I see,” Stone replied, mysteriously satisfied with her vagueness, which caused Pauline to feel a bit uneasy. “Well, Mrs. Cooper, given the alarming events of late at my school and in the community (namely, your house), the school board has asked me to reach out to my students and their parents to reassure them that we maintain the most stringent safety and security standards here at Tybee High School. I guarantee that we keep a watchful eye on all of our students, especially yours.”
“Well, thank you, Principal Stone,” Pauline said appreciatively yet with suspicion.
Just then, the face of Mr. Quirk appeared in the small window in Principal Stone’s door. With crumbs of hazelnut muffin stuck to his lips, he gave Stone an encouraging thumbs-up and a supportive smile.
“In fact, Mrs. Cooper,” Stone pressed on without abatement despite the distraction on the other side of his door, “I’ll be meeting with many other parents this week, assuring them of the same important matter, but I thought you should be the first.” Pauline forced a smile of gratitude. “Although, I’m having a difficult time getting a hold of one person in particular—a Mr. Benjamin Coy. Do you know him? I’ve noticed your children are good friends with his daughter—Paige, is it?”
“Yes,” Pauline admitted, though ready to leave. “I’ve met him.”
“Well then, you must be the envy of the whole community, since no one else has been able to so much as shake hands with the most mysterious man on the island.”
Pauline said nothing.
“But help me to understand something,” Stone continued, leaning forward across his desk. “The day arrived when the town hermit decided to finally show his face, and he attended a high school dance? And as a chaperone, no less?”
“So what?” Pauline asked in return. “Paige is his only daughter, and it was her first formal dance. I would’ve done the same thing.”
“And that very same night, at the selfsame venue, my office was broken into, there was a Russian spy in the building, there was a bomb scare, and—”
“A bomb scare?” Pauline questioned in shocked disbelief. “A bomb scare—at the dance?”
“You mean the children didn’t tell you?” Principal Stone put forth. “I wonder what else they aren’t telling you.” Pauline immediately thought of her recent meeting in Coy Manor when it seemed as though everyone was privy to some secret scheme except for her.
“And, if all of that were not enough,” Stone added to sweeten his words, “your house was looted—all in the same night, simultaneously. Coincidence, Mrs. Cooper? I think not.”
By now, Pauline was thoroughly confused. Apart from the hearsay Mr. Coy had told her, she knew Lester Stone to be an honorable man; his very position as a high school principal confirmed such, and she had no concrete evidence to the contrary. She also knew Ana and Ret loved her as their mother and would never do anything, at least knowingly, to harm her. Her vexation, therefore, centered around the questionable character of Mr. Coy. Principal Stone was right: who was this mysterious man, and why had he taken such an interest in Ret? What was his purpose in inconsequential Tybee, and why was he so intensely secretive? Why didn’t he answer any of her questions that day in the manor, and why had his first night in public caused such a ruckus? Why was he so quick to blame Stone for breaking into her house when Stone was now reassuring her of their safety? And what exactly was that spherical trinket that Coy possessed and others wanted so desperately that they were willing to violently rob an innocent family?
Suddenly, Pauline didn’t know who to place her confidence in anymore, but she could think of many more reasons to trust Principal Stone than Mr. Coy.
“What’s he up to? What’s he hiding?” Stone asked rhetorically, sensing his pointed questions had thrown Mrs. Cooper into mental dilemma. “I need your help, Pauline. The whole island needs your help. You are in a unique position to reveal the secret plans of Mr. Coy and disperse the silent terror that seized every heart when the walls of that ominous manor went up.” He knew he was gaining her trust as she stopped breaking eye contact with him. “I suspect he’s got something, Pauline—something that doesn’t belong to him; something that can harness untold power. He must be stopped, and you are the one who can stop him.”
Captivated by fear, Pauline then said the very words Stone was hoping to hear: “What must I do?”
CHAPTER 9
A WHALE OF A SHADOW
In a few months’ time, the excitement surrounding the Oracle had faded until it was all but forgotten. Day after day, Ret waited to hear back from Mr. Coy—something, anything—but nothing. The illusion that his future was finally falling into place had turned back into a barren wasteland—quite unlike the world around him, which was blooming with evidence that spring was fast approaching
. With budding branches crowding the sky and fresh shoots littering the dirt, Ret found consolation in the harbingers of spring. Birds were back to nest, amphibians returned to mate, and the sun was dancing behind the cottony clouds. All winter long, nature had conserved its energy, which, now that the time was right, it was gradually beginning to release. The natural world’s rebirth surged through Ret’s being, causing him to feel electrifyingly alive.
But Ret wanted to know why nature had a mind of its own—how the natural world moved and acted according to its own freewill, totally independent of anything manmade. “What is it that prompts a seed to sprout,” Ret would wonder, “and how does a root know what to absorb? When does a plant decide the design of its leaf, and why does the rushing wind die? Just what exactly is a fire’s flame, and why does the earth ever think to tilt?”
“It just does,” Ana would say to his questions. “Just go with it.”
And, whether he understood it or not, that is exactly what Ret had to do—just go with it—because, despite man’s self-proclaimed supremacy over all things natural, there was yet one large swath of nature that had always eluded humanity’s control: the elements.
Rain falls. Lightning bolts. Earth quakes. But why? Ret already knew how these natural processes happened; now he wished to know why.
Because he felt much the same way. Secretly, Ret hated being acted upon, relying on outside people and forces to determine his destiny. But he waited—he endured—with all patience and forbearance, trusting in nature’s timing, for while he was certain the answers rested in his palms, he also knew the will of nature was out of his hands.
On the other hand, Ana’s patience waned thin. “It’s time for us to visit Paige,” she said as she grabbed Ret and pushed him out the backdoor. “Her father has ‘Ben Coy’ long enough. We need some answers.”
As they drew nearer to the outer fence of the manor, Ret asked, “Should we let Paige know we’re here?”
