by Lea Nolan
He pulls a fresh shirt and shorts from his dresser. “I’m going to take a quick shower and will be right back, Emmaline. You should be able to search whatever you need now.”
Um, yeah, if I could think straight and my hands weren’t shaking.
He used my real name. Finally. I’ve waited a whole school year to hear it, and it sounds just as good as I remember, slipping easily off his tongue. No one besides my parents calls me that, and that’s only when I’m in serious trouble. I’ve banned its use by everyone else because no one can get it right, always mangling the “line” to “lynn” or even “leen,” and that drives me crazier than Brillo on a chalkboard. But Cooper has always known how to pronounce it, almost singing it in that silky southern accent of his. It was worth the wait.
The bathroom door clicks closed, and I stare at the blank search engine, trying to remember what I’m doing here. Oh, right. Burn remedies for Jack.
Even though I already know how to treat the burn, I do a few searches anyway, just in case Cooper checks. A few clicks later, I’ve seen pretty much all I need to know. Compared to the nasty burn pictures splattered across the screen, Jack’s wound is a joke.
Bored and alone in Cooper’s room, I go through the stuff on his desk. The edge of a glossy photo sticks out of his school agenda. My pulse pounds. Maybe it’s a picture of him and a girl from school. Even though I know I shouldn’t look, and he’s totally free to date whoever he chooses, I can’t resist. I peel the corner of the agenda back and sneak a peek.
My heart cracks. It’s a picture of Cooper and his mom, probably taken just before she died. He looks about five and is nestled in her lap, gazing at her in adoration. She’s beyond beautiful—golden-blonde with a kindness in her eyes and a warmth to her smile that reaches right off the paper and wraps around you. I’ve only seen this picture once before, by accident, when I was looking for a sweatshirt on a cool summer night, and it was tucked inside one of his hoodies. Just as I did then, I slip the photo back in its hiding place, vowing never to mention it. Her sudden death hit him hard—apparently he stopped speaking, got left back in kindergarten, and suffered years of nightmares. Beau wasn’t much help, either, stripping all her things from High Point Bluff. Aside from Cooper, this picture’s pretty much the only proof she ever existed.
The bathroom door opens, and Cooper steps out, freshly showered and smelling of sandalwood soap. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but whew, that felt good.” He plops down on his bed. His eyes look baby blue now to match his new, clean shirt. “So what’d you find?”
Not a hidden picture, that’s for sure. I swivel to face him. “Pretty much what I thought. Ointment, bandages. He’ll be fine.”
Cooper laughs. “Good, because I don’t think I can take much more of his crying.”
I snicker. “Yeah, he’s the biggest baby on the planet. But still, that was weird, wasn’t it?”
“Totally.” He scratches the small patch of stubble on his chin. “You know, with all his hollering, I expected that burn to be much worse.”
“Me, too. But I guess the booby trap freaked him out. It was scary.”
He shakes his head. “But that’s the thing that keeps bothering me. My military history teacher said those traps were used in war against enemies. That letter doesn’t say anything about that. I mean, why would a pirate ask for help and then lead someone to an explosion? It doesn’t make sense.”
An odd, almost pinging sense of foreboding crawls around the base of my scalp. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s take another look at that letter.” He bounds off the bed, pulls a geometry text off his bookshelf, and opens the front cover. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but this isn’t the time for math. He must read the expression on my face because he chuckles. “It’s the perfect hiding place. No one would ever voluntarily open this book.” He lifts the letter from behind the front cover.
I laugh. “You’ve got a point.”
He plops down on the bed and motions me over. “Come here.” He waves the thick yellow parchment.
As if he needs to ask. I spring from the office chair and ease down next to him, willing my heart to stay in my chest.
But the giddy tingles stop as soon as I start reading. Just like the first time, the words make my gut sink. Sure, Bloody Bill offered to share his treasure, but only after someone helped him break the curse. The one an old Gullah hag imposed after his crew plucked a flower. The same curse he said was heinous and gruesome and ravaged that crew. How can something called “The Creep” be anything but bad, especially if it leaves behind a bundle of dry bones? An eerie, unsettled sensation fills my chest.
“I don’t care what you and Jack think. That letter freaks me out.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one who was all gung ho. That was Jack.”
My brow crinkles. “Are you kidding? You guys saw the word ‘treasure’ and totally forgot about the curse part.”
“Listen, I don’t want to argue, Emmaline.” The creases on Cooper’s face soften, soothing all the weirdness I’m feeling. “I don’t understand what Bloody Bill wrote any more than why that box was booby trapped. Nothing makes sense. All that matters is Jack is safe.”
He’s probably right, but that spooky feeling clings. Cooper flashes his easy grin, shooting a fresh set of goose bumps over my skin. The good kind.
I look out his bedroom window and notice it’s pitch dark. My dad’s probably home by now. “It’s late. I’ve got to go.” I suppress a sigh.
He pops off his bed. “Let me take you home.”
There’s no way I’m turning down a personal escort. We tiptoe down the stairs, hoping to avoid Beau and Missy. We’re nearly at the front door when Beau’s voice carries down the hall into the grand foyer. “Cooper? Emma still with you? Bring her on in here.”
Cooper rolls his eyes. “I’m taking her home. Be back later.”
Even though the cut on my foot still twinges, we sprint for the door and race down the porch steps into the steamy June night. Laughing, Cooper veers away from the still charging golf cart and instead slows down to walk toward the wooded path that leads to the caretaker’s cottage.
The woods are thick with tall, spiky cabbage palms, leafy cypresses dripping with resurrection ferns, and small, scrubby post oak shrubs. It’s so dense, it’s nearly impossible to glimpse the sapphire sky and its silver constellations. Cooper and I grow quiet, walking in time to the sounds of summer, supplied by the rattling cicadas and croaking toads.
Suddenly Cooper breaks the silence. “I’m sorry my dad’s such a jerk.”
Truer words have never been spoken. But Beau’s the last person I want to think about right now, so I wave it away. “That’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” He sighs. “I guess it’s just one of those things.”
“What things?” When it comes to Beau, I’m almost afraid to ask.
He stares at the path, avoiding my eyes. “An example of how not to act when I’m older. He’s given me lots of those lately.”
“Maybe he’d be different if your mom was still here.” My words are soft to lessen the blow.
“As much as I’d like to think that, even though I was young, I remember things weren’t great between them. Before she, well, you know.” He mashes his lip, swallowing years of regret and pain.
There’s so much longing in his voice, I want to reach out and hold his hand, or hug him—anything to share the burden. A year ago I might’ve been able to. But now, even though it’s exactly what he needs, I can’t. I don’t want to just be his friend anymore. I want more.
But he’s not interested. So I keep my hands to myself and offer a few useless words instead. “I’m sorry, Cooper.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s in the past. Nothing you can do about it.”
A snap, loud and cracking, ricochets in the woods.
My heart seizes, and I stop short. “What was that?”
Cooper shakes his head. “I didn’t hear anything.”
�
��Are you sure?” The echo of the sound still rings in my ears. I stand stiff, straining for any sound. Night creatures sing, filling the night air, but theirs are the normal sounds of summer. Crickets and toads aren’t big enough to crunch things in the forest.
He grasps my arm and smiles. “Trust me, Emmaline. There’s no boogeyman waiting to eat us.”
Warmth fills my quivering chest, easing my tense shoulders. I’m being silly. It’s been a long day. Between Jack, his burn, and that creepy letter, I must be going nuts.
I start down the path again, passing sedge brooms and saw palmettos. As crazy as the day has been, I don’t want the night to end. Maybe I can get Cooper to stay awhile, watch a movie or something. It’s not like he’s dying to get back home to hang with Missy and Beau in the hot tub.
Another snap, sharper than the first, slices the night.
My pulse charges. Cooper and I freeze.
The night critters suddenly stop mid-song, leaving a heavy silence in the sultry air. My heart threatens to leap from my chest.
Dead leaves rustle just a few feet away. It’s right behind us.
Forgetting to breathe, I sink my nails into Cooper’s arm. Together, we pivot on our heels.
Two enormous, glowing yellow eyes flash in the pitch black.
CHAPTER FIVE
I scream.
Cooper snatches my hand and bolts down the path, dragging me behind him.
Twigs break and crack in the woods behind us. Heavy, quick footsteps pound. Whatever it is, it’s keeping pace, following us.
“Run faster!” Cooper yells and tugs on my hand, navigating us around the thick roots that cut across the path.
I try to keep up, but my flip-flops and flapping bandage trip me up, and my short legs struggle to match Cooper’s long stride.
“I’m going as fast as I can!”
The footfalls gain speed and draw closer.
“Not fast enough! Come on, dig in!” He yanks hard on my hand and flings me in front of him, launching me farther down the path. Still running, I gape. He has taken my place, wedged himself between me and whatever is out there. “GO!” he yells, and I do, tapping into an unknown reserve of adrenaline, speeding toward the caretaker’s cottage. Cooper is right behind me.
The porch light glows up ahead. I pump my legs and zoom toward home and safety. The woods thin, and the path widens. Charging up the porch steps, I yank the screen door and hold it open for Cooper.
A six-point buck blasts out of the woods next to the cottage and sprints across the front lawn, then down the gravel driveway.
Chest heaving, Cooper roars in laughter. “Nothing but a dumb deer!” He doubles over and grips his side. “But Lord, you had me spooked there for a minute.”
There aren’t enough words to express how supremely stupid I feel. “Well, it sounded scary.” My cheeks burn as my pulse rages. “And you saw those yellow eyes.”
He rolls his baby blues. “Uh-huh, a real monster.”
“Bucks have been known to attack people during their rutting season.”
Cooper just shakes his head.
The front door yanks opens. Dad’s scowling. “What’s going on? What’ve y’all been up to?” He looks exactly like Jack plus twenty-five years and a whole lot of manual labor.
Still sucking for air, my mouth opens to answer, but my brain is empty—how can I begin to explain what happened today? Instead, I laugh, releasing pent-up fear, panic, and exhaustion. It must seem like I’ve lost my mind.
Dad isn’t amused. When I stop to take a breath, he says, “Emmaline Claire, I just got back from Charleston searching for some nonexistent parts for the weather vane Missy wants restored. I’m tired. Just tell me, are you okay? And why’s your brother in bed already?”
Cooper saves me. “We’re fine, Uncle Jed. Just wiped after a long day. Jack was so tired he crashed early.”
Dad quirks his brow. “Oh-kay.” He shifts his gaze between the two of us. “It’s late. I’m packing it in. Best you two do the same.”
I find my voice and reply, “Be right in.”
“You do that.” Dad shuts the door.
“It’s been a crazy day,” Cooper says.
I smile, his new height making me tilt my head back more than normal. “You can say that again.”
He grips the screen door handle but turns to face me. “I’m so glad we were together, Emmaline. I couldn’t have gotten him home without you.”
I shake my head. “Well, you carried him—” My cheeks fill with heat.
“Yeah, but you still helped.”
He bends down and wraps his arms around me, pulling me close in a tight embrace.
I melt against him. “No problem,” I manage, clinging to him as my heart races, and wishing he’d never let me go.
…
“Dang, Em, that hurts.” Jack jerks his right hand from the ointment I’m squeezing onto his fingertips and scoots away from me on the couch.
I clamp his wrist and yank it back. “Well, what do you expect? It’s a burn. It’s not supposed to tickle.” After all his whining this morning, he’s exhausted my patience.
He stares at the ceiling, tears welling. “You can’t imagine how much this hurts.”
I sigh. “What else do you want me to do? I’ve followed all the burn-care instructions. Unless you want to go to the hospital, I’m out of options.”
His eyes flash. “No, no hospitals. They’ll ask how it happened, and then we’ll have to tell them about the treasure. I don’t want anyone to know.” He inches his hand back toward me and winces, anticipating the pain. I hold his palm as gently as I can and dab a tiny bit of cream on his middle finger. He bites down on his tongue and lets out a high-pitched moan.
“Can we at least ask Dad to take you to his doctor?” I apply the ointment to his other fingers as quickly as I can.
“No,” he grunts. “Can’t tell Dad. He’ll tell Beau.”
“Fine.” I loosely wind a strip of gauze around his tender fingers and tape the end down.
“Thanks.” He exhales and collapses back onto the couch. “We have to get back to the ruins to see what we found.”
“For real? After what happened yesterday, I figured you’d want a break.” I return the ointment and other medical supplies to Dad’s first-aid kit. “There’s no rush. The ruins are in the middle of nowhere. No one’s going to steal it.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving it out there.”
“Jack, the box isn’t safe. It could blow up again.” I bring the kit to the kitchen and fill a large glass of water to keep him hydrated.
“There’s no way it’ll explode again. Eighteenth-century gun powder only gives you a one-time blow.”
I hand him the water. He’s the history genius, but something still bugs me. “Yeah, but I don’t remember smelling gun powder, do you?” There was that momentary putrid scent, but Jack was probably too spazzed out to notice before it disappeared.
His eyes shift upward as if tracing his memory. “I’m sure I did. At least I think I did. But even if I can’t remember, it’s probably because I was busy freaking about blowing my hand off.” He tips the glass to his lips and downs it in one long gulp.
“Which is why we shouldn’t chance it again.” I sigh. “Your hand’s already hurt.”
He tilts his chin. “I’m fine, Emma. Besides, we have to go back. Maggie said she’d meet us this morning.”
Ugh, Maggie. The hand-holding, sort-of girlfriend with the overprotective grandmother. I bite my bottom lip. “Jack, don’t you think she’s a little weird? I mean, you hardly know her, but you two are all over each other.”
“Wow, jealous much?” He arches his eyebrow.
I scoff. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
He winks. “Sure. It couldn’t have anything to do with the fact you’ve basically thrown yourself at Cooper and he hasn’t noticed, yet I can get a girlfriend without even trying.”
I open, then close, my mouth. Has it been that obviou
s? Does Cooper know, too? I was sure I’d done a good job of covering. If we were a normal brother and sister, I could lie to him and deny it, and maybe be convincing, but our stupid twin sense ruins everything.
I spit out the only response that comes to mind. “You’re a jerk.”
He laughs. “Awesome comeback.”
The doorbell rings, and he springs from the couch to get it, awkwardly reaching across his body with his good hand to open the door.
Cooper smiles when he sees Jack. His pale yellow T-shirt turns his eyes royal blue today. “Hey, bro!” He slaps Jack’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you up and about. After all that crying, I was afraid you might not make it through the night.”
Jack holds up his bandaged hand. “Yeah, well, this hurts like a mother, so thanks for the sympathy.”
Cooper chuckles. “No problem. Seriously, I was worried, though.” He nods in my direction and smiles. “Hey, Emma.”
I exhale in relief. He’s acting totally normal. There’s no way he knows. Plus there’s no way he would have hugged me last night if he suspected anything. As much as that hug meant to me, I know it was only a mutual-support thing for him, a gesture of thanks for sharing the weirdest day ever.
Jack steps in front of him to slip into his flip-flops and conveniently breaks our eye contact. “No worries. I’ll live. We’re headed back to the ruins. You coming?” He jams his baseball cap onto his head.
Cooper cranes his neck around Jack. “Really?” he asks me.
I push off the couch and walk over to them, wiggle my still bandaged foot into a flip-flop, and snatch my messenger bag off the floor. The cut has formed a nice scab and is nearly healed, but I still want to keep it covered. “He doesn’t want to keep his girlfriend waiting.”
Cooper nods. “Hmm, I see.”
Maggie’s already there when we arrive, sitting on one of the ruins with her sea-grass hat. Her long black hair is twisted into thick spirals that drape down her shoulders.
