The Secret of the Stone House

by Judith Silverthorne

  “Don’t go too close to the edge,” Geordie warned.

  Ignoring him, Emily went straight to what would be her bedroom, and leaned out of what would be the dormer. As she did so, she glanced down at a window opening on the floor below her. She was surprised to see the width of the stone wall and that it was actually two walls with gravelly rubble in between. She’d never considered the broadness of it before and how the builders might have achieved the sixty-centimetre width. She’d assumed they’d used big rocks, positioning them to the required thickness by staggering smaller rocks in between them for a close fit and filling the spaces with mortar to achieve a plumb, relatively flat surface on the outside and inside of each wall.

  “Aye, lass,” Geordie noticed her interest. “The wall has two faces. We wanted a good sturdy one.”

  The scene that greeted her through the window was similar to the one at home. She could see out across the pasture to the outcropping of rocks, although there were more bushes and bluffs blocking the view.

  “This is where I sleep,” she said, turning to Geordie.

  “In the attic?”

  She nodded, striding across the newly constructed floor, the smell of fresh lumber mingled with the dampness of mortar and the soft afternoon breeze. Gazing out the opposite window opening, she noted the new henhouse and the enclosure that held the pigs, hidden by trees. Neither of those buildings existed anymore in the farmyard of her current life.

  “Well, that’s it, then. You’ve seen it all,” Geordie said at her elbow.

  “Thank you for showing it to me.”

  “You’re welcome!” he smiled. “Would you like to help me feed the pigs now, then?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe some other time. I must get back.”

  “Och, you’re missing a real treat,” he grinned at her.

  As they descended, Emily savoured every moment, trying to imprint what she was seeing in her mind, so she could compare it when she got home. Once outside again, she looked up at the stone house, admiring it.

  “I can hardly believe I get to see my grandparents’ house being built.”

  “Tell me how they came to own it,” Geordie asked, as they began walking across the yard.

  Now was as good a time as any to talk about the family relationship, Emily thought, but how should she approach it? “My grandmother grew up in it,” she began. “She was the youngest in her family and the last one at home, so when she married she and her husband, my grandfather, took over the house and looked after her father until he passed away.”

  Geordie listened with rapt attention. “And how did her father come by it?”

  Emily paused for a few moments, trying to decide how to tell him. “Well, this is the tricky part,” she said, watching his face. “He built it.”

  “But he couldn’t have, my father did...” Geordie’s eyes widened. “Do you mean to tell me...?”

  Emily nodded. “Yes, we’re related.”

  A shudder ran through Geordie’s body as if someone were walking on his grave. “That can’t be possible,” he said, stepping away in shock.

  “It can be and it is,” Emily said, gently.

  He seemed oblivious to Sorcha, who had just joined them, looking for attention. Staring at Emily in fear, he shook his head. Abruptly, he walked off. Bewildered, the dog followed him.

  “You’re trying to put some kind of spell on me,” he said over his shoulder. “I don’t know for what purpose.”

  “Wait,” Emily called, starting after him.

  “Just stay away from me,” he ordered, quickening

  his pace.

  “Please, just think about it,” she pleaded. “How could I possibly know about the fireplace?” Instantly, she knew that was the wrong thing to say.

  She watched him head towards the henhouse with Sorcha racing ahead. How could she convince him she meant him no harm? And how could she prove their relationship?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  As Geordie put distance between them, Emily turned away sadly. She didn’t have time to try to explain and he didn’t seem to be in the mood to listen. She trudged home, her shoulders slumped as she thought about her conversation with Geordie, her parent’s divorce, and the whole idea of the auction and the loss of so many things tied to her grandmother’s life.

  When she reached the big rock, she climbed up top and sat looking over the prairies. A slight breeze whispered past her. The morning sun warmed her back and soothed away her unhappiness. She let the peacefulness surround her until she became calm again.

  In the marsh, a furry brown muskrat slid into the water and swam to the other side, then disappeared into a mound of reeds and mud. Ducks skidded to a halt on top of the water, and then paddled about. They always made her laugh when they upended, stretching their heads into the water to reach their food.

  Peaceful once more, Emily rose and descended to the ground. Gently she placed the oval stone into the crevice of the rock. A sudden thought went through her mind. What if for some reason she got stuck in the past? Would she able to handle it? She decided that although she loved to visit, she wouldn’t want to live the rest of her life in those conditions. She couldn’t imagine not having running water or an indoor bathroom, or even a grocery store nearby. The very thought of all the hard work they did made her feel tired. She also felt hungry.

  Back home, Emily walked around the huge stone house examining it from all directions. A feeling of admiration welled up in her. She came around to the main door to find Aunt Liz standing on the porch watching her.

  “Why the sudden interest in the house?” she asked.

  Emily joined her aunt on the step. “I guess because we won’t be coming back again for a long time.”

  Aunt Liz seemed to understand how she felt. “So everything is taking on more meaning for you.”

  “This house is so much a part of our heritage,” Emily said proudly.

  “Yes, it is.” Aunt Liz seemed sad.

  “Couldn’t we keep it somehow?” Emily suddenly realized how important this was to her.

  “I’m afraid not, sweetie.” Aunt Liz gave her a hug. “You know, we’ve already made arrangements for Gerald to buy the place.”

  Suddenly, her mom called from the doorway, “Breakfast is ready.”

  “Did Mom make it?” Emily asked.

  Aunt Liz nodded. Emily groaned. Her mom wasn’t the greatest cook in the world.

  “It won’t be so bad,” said Aunt Liz. “It’s only cold cereal and toasted bagels.”

  “Good thing!” Emily went into the kitchen

  with a grin on her face. She polished off a bowl

  of Cheerios and a cinnamon raisin bagel with choke-cherry jam.

  “You have quite the appetite this morning,” her mom commented, passing her the milk.

  “A little walk in the morning helps,” she admitted.

  “Great, then you’ll be energized to help carry the boxes out of the veranda and set them on the tables for tomorrow.”

  Emily’s first instinct was to complain, but then she thought of all the work the Elliotts did. Shuffling a few boxes around didn’t seem like such hard work compared to hauling stones to build a house. As her mom and aunt set up tables, Emily loaded herself up.

  “I think we should set the tables in shorter rows, vertically,” Kate suggested. She stood with her hands on her hips and surveyed the tables they’d set up so far.

  “That will make it too confusing,” Aunt Liz said. “We want people to be able to get around them easily and not have any traffic jams.”

  “Well, leaving them in one long row makes people have to walk the whole length.”

  “And what’s the problem with that?” Aunt Liz sounded exasperated.

  “Well, maybe they don’t want to see everything. I think it would be better if we did it in sections.”

  Emily set her load of boxes on the nearest table and watched her mom and aunt.

  “How about a compromise?” Emily suggested. She didn’
t want to waste any more time.

  Aunt Liz looked at Emily in surprise. “Okay, we’ll leave them in one row, but leave gaps every few tables so people can get through. Will that satisfy you, Miss Bossy Boots?”

  “Fine,” Kate answered sourly, snapping the legs up on another folding table. “Just quit calling me that!”

  Emily laughed at her mom’s childhood nickname.

  As she carried more boxes out, Emily wondered what to do about Geordie. She wanted to be his friend, and she’d just have to go back and convince him of that. It didn’t matter if he believed they were related or not. When she finished helping with the boxes, she’d go back and try to talk to him.

  Gerald and Donald Ferguson arrived about an hour later, along with a couple of other men and one of the

  auctioneers. Together, they hauled the rest of the smaller equipment, tools, and assorted farm gear out of the Quonset and bins. The auctioneer made suggestions on where to place everything. A cheery atmosphere prevailed, with everyone chatting and calling out instructions. Emily was happy to be part of the group working together, but she felt sad to see all her grandparents’ belongings strewn about the yard for all to inspect. She’d give anything to be able to go back to when her grandmother was alive.

  By the time Emily finished helping clear out the veranda, it was noon. All the boxes were laid out, but unpacked. They’d do that early the next morning, just before the auctioneers arrived. Overnight, they’d keep them safe from the weather under plastic tarps.

  As she worked, Emily had kept alert for anything resembling a small box that would take her small key, but nothing came close. She ambled over to the other side of the yard and inspected everything there, half-heartedly poking into boxes, bins, and buckets of bolts.

  “Needing something special?” Donald asked, carrying a paint sprayer from the tool shed.

  “No, just taking a last look,” she said, not willing to tell him the real reason. “Making sure something isn’t getting sold that I might want,” she added with a grin.

  “Don’t let your mom hear you say that!” he laughed, setting the paint sprayer in place on the ground.

  “Has she been talking to you about me?” asked Emily annoyed.

  “No, ma’am,” he grinned. “I just know what she’s like.”

  “You seem to know her pretty well,” Emily fished for more information.

  “Somewhat. We dated in high school,” said Donald, heading back into the shed. He emerged with a box of nozzles, hoses, and other gadgets.

  High school sweethearts. Emily wrinkled up her nose at the thought. Somehow, she couldn’t picture her mom as a carefree teenager with a boyfriend like Donald. She seemed too serious for that.

  “How long did you go out?” asked Emily.

  “Three or four years. Right up until we both left for university.” He wound the cord back around the paint sprayer.

  Emily sat on the edge of a stack of boards. “Couldn’t you continue to see each other?” she asked, not bothering to hide her curiosity.

  “We moved to different cities at opposite ends of the country,” he answered.

  “You still could have written and seen each other on holidays. What happened?”

  “Your dad happened,” Donald shrugged his shoulders.

  “Oh.” Emily didn’t know what else to say.

  “Life’s like that sometimes,” he said, straightening up.

  Suddenly, Emily heard her name called.

  “Don’t talk Donald’s ear off, Emily,” her mom called across the yard. “We could use your help with lunch.”

  “Coming,” Emily replied, relieved at escaping from an uncomfortable situation. She turned to Donald, “See you later.”

  He nodded and headed back into the shed.

  With the five men joining them in the kitchen for lunch, Emily could easily observe Donald and her mom without being noticed. They seemed to be doing their best to avoid each other, although she did catch them eyeing one another across the table. Once Donald caught Kate looking at him and she glanced away, her face flushing. For two people who hadn’t seen each other in a long time, they sure were keeping track of one another. Emily decided she’d ask Aunt Liz more about their early romance. Her mom probably wouldn’t tell her.

  As they cleaned up the kitchen, Emily had other thoughts on her mind. She waited until they were alone, then she approached her mom, “Mom, is there any way we could keep this house?”

  Astonished, Kate stared at her. “Of course not! Whatever would you want to do that for?”

  “It’s special. Your grandfather built it. You grew up here. We should keep it in the family.” Emily felt the pride growing inside her again.

  Kate groaned. “Emily we’ve been through all this before. We have to let this place go!”

  “I know we can’t keep up with the farm, and Gerald’s letting us use the house for a while. But why couldn’t we buy it back from him? You know, just keep the house and the yard.”

  “We can’t afford the upkeep. And you know none of us has the time to worry about the place.” Kate seemed exasperated. “Subject closed!”

  Deflated, Emily dried the dishes without another word. Aunt Liz, who had just entered the room, avoided looking at either of them.

  Finally, Kate broke the silence. “How are you doing with finding the box that fits the key?”

  “Not so good,” Emily admitted. “I don’t know where to look. Do you have any ideas?”

  “None so far,” said her mom, wiping off the counters.

  “He probably hid it somewhere and forgot where,” Aunt Liz teased.

  “You know, that’s a possibility,” said Kate.

  “You’re a genius,” Emily added.

  “Not quite,” Aunt Liz said. “Just because he built secret compartments in desks, doesn’t mean he hid the box.”

  “But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” asked Emily. “We already know it can’t be anywhere out in the open. We’ve sorted, cleaned, packed, moved, and otherwise gone over this entire house centimetre by centimetre.”

  “True!” Aunt Liz agreed.

  Suddenly Emily thought about the outbuildings. “Would he have hidden it outside somewhere?”

  “I doubt it,” said her mom.

  “He would have been more careful than that,” Aunt Liz agreed.

  “Well, do you have ideas where it might be, then?”

  Jokingly, her mom said, “Let’s just hope he didn’t hide it behind a stone like in one of those old English mysteries!”

  Aunt Liz groaned. “Could you imagine trying to find a loose stone in this big house?”

  The two of them started to laugh, but Emily interrupted them.

  “That’s not such a far-fetched idea,” Emily said seriously. “It would make sense wouldn’t it?”

  Thoughtfully, they considered the options.

  “Well, it wouldn’t be just any old stone,” Aunt Liz said. “It would have to be in a special, well-thought-out place. That’s the kind of man he was.”

  “I didn’t know him,” said Kate.

  “Really?” Emily looked at her mother, hoping she’d continue.

  “No, he died just after I was born.”

  “Yes, I was quite young when he died, and I’m ten years older than your mom,” Aunt Liz confirmed.

  “Do you have any of these dates written down anywhere?” asked Emily.

  Her mom shook her head, looking over at Aunt Liz.

  “Not that I know of,” Aunt Liz said, thinking hard. “But you know, if anyone knew if there was any hidden place, it would be your Aunt Maggie.”

  “Let’s call her,” Emily said.

  Aunt Liz smiled. “No can do. She’s in New Zealand for another two weeks.”

  “Darn,” said Emily. “Isn’t there anyone else?”

  “No,” said her mom. “No one else took any interest in the family history.”

  “Maybe Uncle Ian would know about a hiding place?”

  “We can ask him,”
her mom agreed. “But we’ll have to do it later. We have to slip into town now and pick up those supplies for serving coffee at the auction tomorrow.”

  “Agreed,” said Aunt Liz. “So much for an early morning start. If we don’t get a move on right now, the stores will be closing for the night.”

  “Do you have the list?” asked Kate, searching for her car keys.

  Aunt Liz nodded, grabbing it off the kitchen counter.

  Before Emily had a chance to ask if she could give Uncle Ian a call, they were already out the door.

  “Make sure you stay put, Emily,” her mom called as she got into the car.

  Emily didn’t respond. She watched them drive out of the yard, followed shortly afterwards by the Fergusons and the other men. Now was her chance to make a quick trip back to the past and deal with Geordie. She had to make him understand their connection. Even if he wouldn’t believe it, he had to realize that she was his friend.

  At the outcropping of rocks, Emily braced herself for her talk with Geordie. She thought about showing him their family photograph, but he’d just say she’d found it in the house somewhere. All she could do was try to explain the situation to him. If he didn’t believe her, there was nothing else she could do.

  She used the stone and the sentinel rock to transport herself back to the past, then slid the stone into her pocket. Stumbling over the uneven ground, she headed to the sod homestead site first. Even before she arrived, she knew the family wasn’t there. Quickly, she followed the path behind the barn and aimed for the stone house, wondering what she might say to Geordie. Would he even acknowledge her?

  When she reached the crest of the hill, she was astonished to see the exterior walls and roof of the house finished. Although there was no glass in the windows, the shutters were attached. Forms made of rough planks for building the stone steps were in place. She couldn’t make out who they were, but two of the men worked on levelling them. She could hear hammering inside.

  She slid behind a stand of trees situated halfway to the house and peered about. In the distance, on the south side of the house, she noticed a garden with figures bending over the plants. Just beyond it was a field of corn and a huge potato patch. She moved closer for a better look.