by Patti Larsen
“Then you tell me what he wants,” she shot back.
Marsh couldn’t answer.
“I’m going to go see Joseph,” Chloe told him, mind made up. Joseph needed to face what he had done, even if he didn’t want to. Chloe was determined to make him pay.
“Hang on a second,” Marsh said. “We can’t just go marching up to his door and accuse him of murdering his brother.”
“Why not?” she demanded. Chloe got to her feet, too worked up to sit still any longer. “He did, didn’t he? Someone needs to be held accountable.” She felt tears rising in her eyes. “He needs to admit what he did.”
Marsh shot a look at the lady with the red glasses. She was frowning at them.
“We could call the police?” he suggested.
“Right,” she snorted. “Like they would believe us. ‘How do we know he killed his brother, officer? His ghost told us!’ Great thinking, Marsh.”
“Chloe… ” His eyes pleaded with her. “What if he didn’t do it?”
“What if he did? I need to find out. I’m going to talk to him.”
Marsh was squirming now. “But, he’s… you know… scary. You saw that shotgun he had! He’ll yell at us and call our parents.”
“You didn’t seem to care so much last night,” Chloe challenged him.
Marsh hesitated and dropped his eyes. “That was different,” he said, voice hushed. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”
The woman appeared beside them. “Are you finished?” she asked, looking anxious. Chloe scowled at Marsh. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Yes, I guess we are,” she said.
It was a long and silent ride home.
Chloe was in the house and running to her room before Mary could get the van backed up and turned around in the driveway. She heard the van pull away at the same time Aunt Larry’s office door opened, her voice calling Chloe’s name. She ignored her aunt and slammed her way into her room, throwing herself on the bed. She was so furious with Marsh and so wrapped up in the betrayal of Joseph and Joshua that she didn’t hear Aunt Larry until she was at the door.
“Chloe!” Her aunt’s voice was almost a shout. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” she yelled back.
“Chloe, open this door right now.” Aunt Larry was not impressed. “You can’t come barging into the house slamming doors and being impolite. What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Chloe answered. “Leave me alone!”
Aunt Larry was so quiet for so long that Chloe thought she had left until she spoke again. Her voice was very deep and sounded like Patrick’s did when her dad was trying to keep his temper.
“We need to make this work for both of us, Chloe,” she said. “I may not know much about kids, but I do know common courtesy at any age is to respect others. I’m getting tired of being shut out and talked to like I’m not important. You are very important to me, honey. But you need to talk to me sometime.”
Chloe didn’t respond. She didn’t care. All that mattered was Joshua.
After another long pause, she heard her aunt sigh.
“I didn’t want to do this. In fact I swore I wouldn’t. I know you’re going through a lot but you need to learn some manners, young lady. From this moment you are grounded. No leaving the house for a week. No Marsh, no beach. You can go in the garden, but that’s it. Are we clear? Chloe?”
“Fine!” Chloe yelled at her.
“Lunch is ready.” Aunt Larry’s voice was subdued.
“I’m not hungry,” Chloe told the door between them.
Aunt Larry left without another word, but Chloe could hear her start to say bad words when she was halfway down the stairs. She reminded Chloe so much of her dad that she wanted to cry.
Now that she was grounded, she wouldn’t be able to confront Joseph, either. Chloe collapsed on her bed with the journal in her hands. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to rescue Joshua, set him free. It wasn’t fair.
Chloe refused to go down to dinner that night as well, but did eat the food that Aunt Larry left for her on a tray outside her door. She waited a long time, dozing now and then, for night to fall. She jerked awake at one point, disoriented. The clock on her vanity said 2:13. Slipping out of her sneakers, Chloe crept to her door and listened. The house was silent. Determined to find out what Joshua had been doing the night before, she snuck out and down the stairs.
Chloe was extra careful. She peeked around the corner at her aunt’s door. She could hear faint snoring and knew Aunt Larry was asleep. Being as quiet as she could, now accustomed to the creaking places on the landing and stairs, Chloe wound her way past the noisy boards and to the main floor. Once there, she flew to the little stairway, tripping on her socks as they slipped over the worn treads.
Panting, Chloe paused at the top. The room was empty and quiet, with no sign of the ghost boy.
“Joshua!” She whispered his name into the black. “It’s me! I’m here. I know everything, Joshua, about the fall and Joseph. I know what he did. I’m going to make sure he pays for what he did to you.”
The boy appeared so close to her, she gasped. He looked even sadder than ever. Chloe reached out to him, but paused when he moved. He pointed to the far corner, near the floor. Chloe followed his gesture then nodded.
“He’ll be punished, I promise,” she said.
Joshua was crying without sound, shaking his head. He continued to point. Then, he vanished.
Chloe went to the spot and switched on her flashlight. She felt around the floorboards but found nothing. Frustrated, she sat back on her heels. As she did, her eyes drifted slightly upward. She shone her light on the wall, noticing for the first time that one of the panels, the one in the corner, was raised at the bottom. She dug at it with her fingernails and felt that it was loose, but couldn’t get it to budge.
She ran back downstairs and to the kitchen. At the last second, she slowed and slid, rather than jerked, open the cutlery drawer. She pulled out a butter knife. Then she raced back to the room.
On her knees, she propped the flashlight against her leg and dug the knife into the gap between the boards. The corner one rocked. She wiggled the knife, trying to pull it loose. The board was stuck and needed a lot of prying. It popped off all at once, clattering to the floor. Chloe froze, listening for her aunt. The house remained quiet. Chloe set down the knife and aimed her flashlight into the hole she had made.
Resting within it was an old wooden box. She reached into the wall and pulled it out. It was yellow. On the top was some worn writing she couldn’t read. The box was warped but was held shut by two lengths of some kind of twine. Chloe used the edge of the knife and they parted without effort. Eager for the clues inside, she flipped the box open.
On the top she found a photo. At first she was confused. This wasn’t Joshua. The young man was dressed in some kind of uniform. The photo was damaged, yellow with age. She flipped it over. She couldn’t make out the writing on the back so she set it aside.
Underneath the photo were various bits of girl treasure. A pin with a rusting flower attached. A bow of some kind of velvet that crumbled when she touched it. But, most important of all, on the bottom under the decay of seventy years of harsh Island winters, lay a small round toy with string hanging from it. Chloe lifted the golden yo-yo out of the box with great reverence. It was cracked on both sides, the old wood shrunken but still intact. The string seemed made of tougher stuff than the ribbon. Chloe gave the loop on the end an experimental tug. It held.
Chloe tried to still the rapid beating of her heart. The yo-yo! She knew how important it was. In her eyes it was the last piece of the puzzle. And seeing as it was in the possession of someone much more feminine than Joshua, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had been falsely accused.
More determined than ever to make sure Jos
eph was brought to justice for the murder of his brother, Chloe put all but the yo-yo back in the box and, carrying both with her, retreated back to her room.
Chloe wasn’t sure how she was going to get past Aunt Larry the next morning, but she knew she needed to. According to the calendar, it was seventy years to the day since Joshua had died. She didn’t know why it was so important that she see Joseph that day, but somehow she knew it was.
She was still racking her brain for a way to sneak out when there was a soft knock on her door.
“I’m going out for the morning,” Aunt Larry said. “You don’t have to stay in your room, but I expect you to be here when I get back.” Her retreating feet didn’t wait for an answer.
Chloe sat on her bed, heart pounding as she listened to the sound of her aunt leaving. It was perfect! Of course, she suffered a twinge at once again being forced to deceive Larry, but when her task was done, Joshua would be free and she wouldn’t have to do any more sneaking around.
That thought made her pause. Joshua would be free. Which meant her new ghostly friend would be gone from her life forever. It made Chloe want to cry. But, as selfish as she wished she could be, Chloe knew what she had to do.
Before long she was marching with determination across the yard and through the field to Joseph’s fence. It wasn’t until she was almost there that she spotted a familiar figure waiting for her. Chloe slowed her pace, coming to a halt in front of Marsh. His grin was sheepish.
“Larry said you were grounded.” He looked guilty.
“I am,” she admitted.
“Figured you’d be along anyway,” he said.
“I’m going, so don’t try to stop me,” Chloe answered.
“I know. I couldn’t let you go alone.” He beamed his smile at her. “You’re way too much fun.”
Chloe was glad he was there. “Thanks, Marsh.”
Together, they climbed the fence and headed for the cottage. They made it all the way to the front door with no sign of Joseph. Now that she was there at his door, Chloe was afraid. Marsh had been right about the shotgun. And now that she knew, or thought she knew, what had happened to Joshua, she was worried the old man might not think twice about getting rid of two kids who knew his secret. She was about to call the whole thing off when Marsh stepped up and knocked on the door, sealing their fate.
She could hear movement inside, a shuffling step, before the door opened and Joseph was there. He scowled down on Chloe and Marsh, face getting red right away.
“What do you want?” he demanded. “Won’t buy no damned cookies or magazines, don’t have no bottles or nothin’. Now git!”
Marsh had shrunk back the moment Joseph started yelling, but Chloe got angry. Instead of answering him, she handed him the yellow box.
“What’s this?” he grumbled. He stared at it for a long moment, setting his cane aside to turn it over in his large hands. Chloe held her breath, silent. Marsh stared at her, his face a big question mark, but Chloe gave a tiny shake of her head to silence him while she waited for Joseph’s response.
It took a while, but Joseph seemed at last to recognize the box, the red in his face fading to pale, pale white.
“Margaret’s treasure box,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “Where did you get this?” he asked.
Again, instead of speaking, Chloe held out her hand and opened her fingers. The yo-yo glowed golden in the morning sun.
Joseph let out a great breath and sagged against the doorframe. He seemed reduced and no longer frightening at all. He was just a sad old man. He reached out and took the toy. Chloe was shocked to see tears rise in the old man’s faded blue eyes.
“You found it,” he whispered. “Where did you find it?”
Chloe felt her anger melting and had to force herself to remember why they were there.
“In the old part of the house.” She shuffled her feet, knowing she had to share the rest. “I found an old diary,” she said, “in a cubby above the stairs.”
Joseph’s shoulders slumped even further.
“Come in,” he said. He clutched the box and the yo-yo in one big hand and retrieved his cane in the other, gripping it tightly as he turned into the house.
Chloe was surprised by his change of attitude, so much so that she accepted his invitation without thinking. Marsh followed along behind her, his mouth open. They found themselves in a small living room with a cramped kitchen attached. The carpet was very old and faded with several spots that looked like they would never come out. The air smelled like onions. Chloe wrinkled her nose and tried to inhale in shallow breaths. The room was quite warm, the dusty windows all shut. The walls were covered in old wooden panelling, the same stuff she had seen in Marsh’s house. A small television sat on a rickety table across from a worn and sagging recliner. She watched as Joseph made his way to the recliner and collapsed in it, his cane set to rest on the arm as he laid the box and the yo-yo in his lap.
He looked up at them and motioned with one hand. “There’s chairs. Pull up a seat.”
Chloe turned, but Marsh was way ahead of her. She sat on the edge of the wobbly old wooden chair he provided her, and he perched on its double. Chloe noticed a bunch of photographs on the wall behind Joseph. None of them were recent. She was too far away to see details, but she knew one of the boys in the family portrait was Joshua.
She felt very sad all of a sudden, her anger at Joseph fading away in the face of how he lived. He looked so forlorn with the simple toy in his big, weathered hands that she forgot to be mad. Still, she needed to know the truth.
“I saved for months to buy this, you know.” Joseph’s voice was very deep and very soft in the quiet dimness of the room. Chloe almost held her breath as he went on. “Saw it at the store and had to have it. But it was wartime and we didn’t have much money, when we had any at all. Poppa made me a bargain. If I worked really hard on the farm, did extra chores, he would give me what he could.” Joseph slid an old white handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped at his eyes. “I loved this yo-yo.”
He looked up, meeting Chloe’s eyes, and smiled. It completely changed how he looked. In fact, that simple smile actually made Joseph look kind for once. “Want to see?”
She glanced at Marsh. They both nodded.
Joseph grunted his way to the front of his chair and spun out the string. Then, he wound it up again and set the yo-yo spinning. He laughed. Chloe could almost see the boy he had been.
“Still works,” he said. The shrunken toy landed in his hand. He sat back.
“I read the diary,” Chloe blurted. Joseph looked up at her, eyes grave. “I know you and Joshua fought about it.”
“I thought he took it,” Joseph admitted. “I was so sure. We didn’t get along much, Joshua and I.”
“I know,” Chloe said.
“Guess you do,” Joseph answered. He set aside the yo-yo so he could open the box. His eyes widened as he lifted out the photo.
“Angus Morrison,” he said, flipping it over then back again. “Well, I’ll be.” He looked in the box, poking about with one finger. “This belonged to Margaret, my oldest sister.” He sighed. “She must have taken the yo-yo,” he said. “For Angus. She was so sweet on him back then, always going on about him in his uniform and such. Trying to impress him. I guess she stole it to give to him but never got the chance.” He looked up at Chloe and Marsh again. “Angus died in France someplace. Never came home again.”
Chloe shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. She remembered Marsh telling her about Joseph’s dead sister and guessed it was a heartbroken Margaret. The boy in the photo was the reason she was gone. Still, Chloe hadn’t come to find out about Margaret or even about the yo-yo. She had one question for Joseph. He must have sensed her impatience because he put the photo and box aside and reached behind him. He took down a picture from the wall and leaned toward her, holding it out. Chloe took it from hi
m. She and Marsh bent over the old photograph as Joseph talked.
“That’s Momma and Poppa on the right. Margaret in the back with my older brothers. And there, kneeling in front, that’s me. My little sisters, Emily and Emma. And next to Emma… ” he trailed off. “That’s Joshua.”
Chloe’s eyes went right to him and stayed there. She knew that face so well by now she had no trouble picking him out, twin and all. She ran her fingers over his face before looking up.
“You killed him,” she said.
“I did,” Joseph answered.
Chloe was so shocked she couldn’t breathe. Marsh was quivering beside her but she ignored him. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it would fly out of her chest altogether.
Joseph had killed Joshua. She was right. And all over a…
“All over a stupid yo-yo.” He said what she was thinking, his voice full of bitterness. “My brother died July 14, 1941, seventy years ago to the day, because I thought he was a liar.”
Chloe had to breathe. When she did, it seemed to shatter something inside her. “How could you?” she blurted. “He was your twin!”
Joseph was nodding, rocking back and forth in his recliner. “He was so much smarter than I was. Loved books and learning. All I wanted was to farm, like Poppa. Did most of his chores for him, too. Did he write that in his journal?”
Chloe shook her head, scowling, not wanting to admit her beloved Joshua had any faults.
Joseph nodded. “We fought like cats and dogs,” he said, a laugh in his voice. “But I loved him, make no mistake.” His laugh died away. “I hated him that day, though, I’ll admit it. My yo-yo… I had it one day and then it was gone. He had admired it, gotten mad when I hadn’t let him try it. I was so sure he had taken it. But when he insisted he hadn’t and I saw him writing in that book of his all smug, I wanted to teach him a lesson.”
Joseph looked off into the distance, seeing not the room or the dust motes floating in the air or Chloe and Marsh, but the memory of what had happened seventy years ago.
