by Nancy Thayer
In the middle of the screened-in porch, surrounded by the plywood, a section of the original floor of rough, unstained boards was exposed. Here a small wooden trapdoor with a frayed leather handle was disclosed, dirt demarcating its edges.
“We haven’t pulled it up yet. We’re going to now. Okay?” Doug looked at
Joanna.
She nodded but felt compelled to warn softly, “It might be only another way into the basement.”
“No,” Doug responded instantly. “The basement runs under the kitchen, the hall, the two front parlors, and the dining room. Todd and I have already searched for any kind of opening in this direction. All along this side there are no openings. No doors. No way to get through. The basement walls are brick and mortar.”
“So let’s go!” Todd urged.
Bending over, Doug took hold of the frayed leather handle and pulled. At first it didn’t give, and Joanna thought it might be somehow attached from underneath, but suddenly with a creak one side of the door parted, and as bits of dirt slid downward with a rustling sound, the door came up.
There were no hinges. It was just a large rough square of wood, which Doug laid aside. They looked down into a dark wood-framed hole barely two feet square.
“We need a flashlight.”
“I’ll get it,” Madaket said. In an instant she found one in a kitchen drawer and handed it to Doug, who immediately aimed the light downward. A rough wooden ladder led into a dark pit.
“There’s a room down there. Probably a cool cellar for the original house. They kept vegetables there during the winter.”
“It could even be Indian,” Madaket offered, almost whispering. “The Indians who lived on the island before the white settlers came made themselves dugouts, sort of caves dug into the ground for protection against the wind. This could be that sort of thing.”
Joanna leaned as far forward as she could over her belly. She could see only darkness. Madaket crowded close to the men, bending over to peer down.
Todd asked, “Can I go down?”
“All right,” Joanna said. “But be careful.”
Todd took the flashlight from his father, tested the first step for soundness, and began to descend.
Joanna sat watching as Todd’s taut body disappeared into the opening, first his long blue-jeaned legs, then his muscular torso, and with a twist, his wide shoulders. Then they saw the top of his head, his thick blond hair.
“It’s a room,” he called up. “Just a small room. Brick walls. There’s a hole in one—hey!”
They could see the darkness parted by his flashing light.
“I’m coming down!” Madaket announced. She squeezed herself into the opening. A few minutes later, she said, “Wow.”
“What is it?” Joanna called.
After a few seconds of frustrating silence, Todd spoke. “The damnedest thing. It looks as if there was a tunnel from this room. It’s pretty much filled in now, sand has sifted through the rough wooden beams—Dad, which way’s the ocean? I’ve lost my bearings down here.”
“Over here.” Doug stamped on the floor.
“Right. Then this would lead toward the ocean.”
“They always said there was smuggling going on.”
“There’s an old crate down here, too,” Madaket called. “But it’s empty. No lid or anything. Just an empty wooden box.”
“There’s something in the tunnel,” Todd muttered.
“What is it?” Doug Snow called.
For a few moments Joanna and Doug waited in silence.
“I have to … I need a shovel. Or a …”
“… a wooden spoon would do,” Madaket said. “Mr. Snow, could you get a big wooden spoon from the drawer on the right of the stove?”
Doug got it and leaned down to hand it to Madaket.
More waiting. They heard digging sounds.
“It’s a little chest!”
“Bring it up!” Doug ordered.
Madaket and Todd came up. Specks of sand glistened from their hair and clothing and shoes. Madaket put the box on the center of the kitchen table and they all gathered around to stare down at it, as if waiting for it to speak. It was a small chest, only about ten inches long and five high, made of iron with brass reinforcing the corners. The hinges were wrought-iron. The flat lock was brass.
“Open it,” Joanna said.
Todd tried to pull the lid up. “It’s locked.”
“We’ll have to break it open,” Madaket decided. “We’ll never find a key that fits.”
Todd looked at Joanna. “What do you say?”
“I hate to break it if there’s another way to get in,” Joanna said.
Todd grabbed up the box and shook it. They all heard the muffled rattle.
“Listen!” he said triumphantly. “Something’s in there.”
“Please open it, Joanna!” Madaket pleaded.
“All right. Todd—see if you can do it carefully.”
Todd took a screwdriver off his tool belt and gently inserted it into the lock. He turned and twisted, but nothing happened. Running his screwdriver around the edge where the lid fit down onto the body of the chest, he searched for a space. He found one, dug in, drew the screwdriver along toward the lock. He pried upward. The lip of the lid bent back, but the lock didn’t give.
“Hell,” Doug said. “I’m getting my wire cutters.”
He went out to his truck and returned with a tool with long rubber-covered handles. He forced the blade between the lid and the box. In only seconds the lock was cut.
His son pulled back the lid, which made a rusty, rasping noise. Inside the box was a small pouch of dark muslin.
“Here.” Doug handed the pouch to Joanna. “Whatever it is, it’s yours.”
The pouch was simply closed by a drawstring around the mouth. Joanna pulled the strings and tipped two large stones into her hand.
“Rubies,” she said.
In the bright flat kitchen light, the stones glittered like capsules of red wine against Joanna’s skin. They were cut in rough ovals. Joanna handed them to Doug, who held one stone between thumb and forefinger up to the light and squinted, studying.
“I can’t judge gemstones,” he said. “Possibly they’re only garnets.”
“Possibly,” Joanna said.
“But maybe they’re rubies, Joanna.” Todd took them from his father and turned them in his hand. “And you know, if those were down there, maybe there are more.”
“Maybe we’ve found the treasure,” Doug said, awe coarsening his voice. The wine-red color of the rubies seemed to glow on his face.
“It is an important discovery,” Madaket told her. “This could be a whole chapter of Nantucket history. We should tell the Nantucket Historical Association.”
“Oh, Lord,” Joanna moaned. “I’m really not up to all of this. I mean, buried treasure—if this gets out, the press will be camping outside my door—no, they’ll be pounding on my door day and night, wanting to get in and take photos of the trapdoor and the cellar. I’ll never have any peace.” She felt weak and nauseated, and reached out a hand to steady herself.
At once Madaket was by her side. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not sure …”
“Here, Joanna.” Doug placed a chair behind her, and he and Madaket helped her sit down.
Joanna ran her hands over her face, taking deep breaths and collecting her thoughts. “Look, Doug, Todd. I’ll make a deal with you. Let me have these babies before we go public about finding these stones. I’ll—I’ll give you one of the stones if you’ll do that.”
“That’s not necessary!” Madaket protested, indignant. “That’s not even reasonable.” In a calm but determined voice, she said to Todd, “Give them to me. I’ll put them in Joanna’s safe with her other jewelry.”
“Who died and made you queen?” Todd demanded, his face flushed with anger.
Madaket answered calmly. “Joanna’s in a delicate condition right now. When she’s had some time to thin
k about it, we’ll see if she wants to give the stones away.”
“She’s right, son,” Doug said. “Give Madaket the stones.”
Reluctantly Todd held out his hand, watching the gems as Madaket took them and slipped them into the muslin pouch, and put the pouch in the metal box, and slammed the lid down.
Madaket bent over Joanna. “You’re trembling. Your blood sugar must be low. You need to have some lunch.”
“That’s all right, Madaket. I’m not hungry.” Joanna sat with her eyes closed. She heard Todd and Doug walk out onto the sunporch, where they conversed in low tones, then the sound of boots on wood resounded as Todd thumped down into the cool cellar, his father right behind him.
“Can that room collapse?” Joanna asked without opening her eyes.
“I don’t think there’s any danger of that,” Madaket answered. “It’s all brick, and the wall broken open by the tunnel exposes a layer of stone behind the brick. I’m sure it’s a strong foundation.”
“What’s the tunnel like?”
“I didn’t see much of it. Only two or three feet. It’s been framed in wood, but it looked to me as if most of it had caved in.” She set a drink before Joanna. “Here. Drink this.”
But she had no thirst, no appetite. She felt weak, exhausted, overwhelmed. “I think I need to rest before I eat anything.”
Madaket was at her side. Putting her hand on Joanna’s shoulder, she lifted the glass to Joanna’s lips, and as if speaking to a child, coaxed, “Just a sip.”
Joanna drank some of the cool, sweetened herbal tea and immediately felt better. The Snows thudded back up from the cellar and into the kitchen.
Todd stepped in front of her, the veins of his hands bulging as he fought for control, hands clenched at his sides. “Joanna. Miss Jones. Would you please give me permission to explore the rest of the tunnel?”
Joanna looked at Todd. He looked tremendously handsome now that he’d dropped the sullen mask from his face. His dark blue eyes glittered.
“Is it safe?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t take any risks,” he replied.
“I don’t know. We have no idea how old the tunnel is or what shape it’s in. The land is all sand, it could easily fill in on you—”
“I’ve looked at it,” Doug intervened. “I don’t think there’s any danger.”
“I’ll help him,” Madaket interjected. “I’ll go down with him and help.”
“Absolutely not!” Joanna cried. “That’s all I need, for one of you to get killed under my house!”
“All right, all right, we’ll talk about it later,” Madaket quickly conceded. “Let’s get you up to bed. Then I’ll bring you some lunch.”
Joanna was not unaware of the look Madaket shot Todd, but she had no energy left to use for confrontations. Madaket supported almost all her weight as she climbed the stairs, but her feet were so swollen that she nearly wept with the effort.
Upstairs she sank gratefully into her chaise by the window. She closed her eyes. She heard Madaket pad across the hall into her study and return.
“There. I locked the little box with the bag of stones in your safe,” Madaket said. “We’ll deal with this all tomorrow.”
“I don’t mean to spoil your fun.” Joanna spoke with her eyes closed.
“Joanna, I wouldn’t call this fun,” Madaket admonished gently. “Not to the Snows and me, at least. You shouldn’t treat it lightly. It will set you apart from those of us who love this island and its history.”
Joanna opened her eyes and looked at the young woman. “Madaket. I promise that after I’ve rested I’ll listen to you. Now let me rest.”
How she wished Jake were here to help her think this through! The old professional side of her longed to put this all on record, even on videotape; a discovery like this could be the focus of an entire show.
Suddenly the nausea flared up, swamping her, pulling her into a vortex of discomfort. Her vision blurred. The message was clear. If she wanted to carry these babies to term, she had to rest.
Sixteen
The evening after they discovered the rubies, Madaket drove Joanna to a dinner party at the Hoovers’.
“My dear!” Pat exclaimed when she opened the door. “How can you even walk?”
“Pat, it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I’m only in my sixth month.”
“Dear Lord. I wasn’t this big at nine months. Come in and let’s get you seated before you fall forward on your face.”
Joanna wasn’t sure she felt well enough to enjoy the party, but when she entered Pat’s beautiful living room and saw the cluster of people assembled there, and when they came rushing over to greet her and to offer her drinks and canapés, she was glad she had come. Claude was there in a gorgeous burnt-sienna silk suit she would have loved to own herself; June and Morris were there, standing side by side, finishing each other’s sentences, nodding simultaneously; and Gardner and Tiffany were there.
Gardner looked tired, harassed, and jumpy. He wore a beeper on his belt and had dark circles under his eyes and he still had a piece of tissue stuck to a spot on his neck where he’d cut himself shaving. His shirt was wrinkled and the cuff of a trouser leg was unraveling. Tiffany, on the other hand, twinkled like a Christmas tree as she tossed her sparkling golden curls and flashed her engagement ring with every sentence. Her body-hugging leopard-print spandex dress was something Joanna might have worn during one of her clandestine nights of disguise with Carter. Joanna sank onto a sofa, joining Tory and Claude and Tiffany.
“Don’t imagine you’ll be wearing a dress like that anytime soon,” Tory murmured so only Joanna could hear.
“Or anytime in the rest of my life,” Joanna replied.
“Tiffany, you look very Marla Maples tonight,” Claude said.
“Oh, thank you!” Tiffany cooed. “I just feel so like celebrationy, I guess.”
“And why is that?” Claude asked.
“Well …” Tiffany leaned forward. “Don’t tell a soul, but I’ve convinced Gardner to move back to the real world.”
“Child, whyever would you want to do that?”
“Oh, Claude, don’t be dense. You can’t think I’d really be able to live here in the winter. I would like die of boredom.”
“I hope Gardner will be here through October,” Joanna said, slightly alarmed.
Tiffany looked at her. “Why?”
“Because she’s going to have twins and Gardner’s her doctor,” Tory snapped.
“Well, the hospital does have other doctors,” Tiffany countered, her voice rising defensively. “This is just the thing I mean, anyway,” she continued. “All these people thinking Gardner is theirs somehow. I said, Gardner, now look. Think of yourself as a kind of technician. Say a television repairman. People don’t have to, like, bond with some guy just because he fixed their TV.”
All heads swiveled toward Gardner to see what his response would be, but he was intensely involved with a scallop wrapped in bacon on a toothpick. Conversation stopped. Joanna’s eyes swept the room.
Claude smoothly picked up the dropped thread of conviviality. “Yes, I can see that’s one way of looking at any profession.” Eyes twinkling mischievously, he leaned forward and asked, “What do you, like, do? I mean, for a, like, profession.”
Tiffany scrutinized him a moment, suspicious, then tossed her glittering curls and said, “I don’t do anything, Claude. I want to spend my life taking care of Gardner and seeing that we both have some fun. Instead of being at the beck and call of everyone else. Before we get too old.” With a meaningful flash of eyes at Tory and Joanna, she finished: “Excuse me. I want to powder my nose.” She rose in one lithe movement and on gloriously sleek long legs strode out of the room, her leopard spots undulating all over her.
Morris asked Bob about an expensive piece of real estate which had just sold and the discussion rose, surrounding Gardner so completely that Claude and Tory and Joanna, seated near one another, could gossip without the other
s hearing.
“What a little terror!” Claude whispered, rolling his eyes.
“I wonder what her father thinks of her now,” Tory said.
“He adores her. I’ve watched them together. But poor Gardner. He looks like she’s literally chewed on the man.” He flicked his wrist and waggled his eyebrows. “Not that I wouldn’t mind doing that myself.”
“Claude, mind your manners!” Tory said reprovingly.
Joanna sat smiling, pretending to listen to their banter but with her thoughts in a turmoil. She’d intended to ask the group their advice about how to deal with the business of the rubies, but Tiffany’s announcement drove all other thoughts out of her head.
Gardner couldn’t leave the island! The thought of entrusting her body and its precious cargo to a stranger was terrifying. She would have to ask him point-blank, during the evening, when he planned to leave, or rather, if he planned to stay through her delivery.
Pat called them in to dinner and Joanna was helped up from the sofa and delicately ensconced in her dining room chair, where she oohed and aahed with everyone over the artistic arrangement of the flowers and the food, but she was trembling inside. The conversation washed around her. She nodded and smiled and worried, until over the salad Claude leaned forward and said, “Gardner, I hear you’ll be leaving us soon.”
Gardner flinched. A hunted look passed over his handsome young face.
“Well, ah, um, it’s not definite exactly,” Gardner began, but his fiancée cut in sharply.
“Oh, it is, too.” Looking defiantly around the table, Tiffany announced, “I have to live in the real world.”
“It’s um, uh …” Gardner struggled for words, finally took a big sip of wine, and promptly dissolved into a coughing fit.
“Traitor,” June accused, glaring at Gardner and, whipping her gaze toward Tiffany, pleaded, “Darling, couldn’t you get a pied-à-terre in New York and leave Gardner here? I don’t think we can manage without him.”
“Of course you can!” Tiffany retorted. “And I’ll tell you something. I’ll tell you all something! I’m not going to live my life sharing my husband with you. I grew up without a father and—”
