by L. M. Abbott
Copyright © 2017 by L. M. Abbott.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written per-mission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Abbott, L. M.
Riddle / L. M. Abbott; illustrations by Jeff Brown
THE FORGETTING
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Chapter 1
Cailean was lost. Her heart thumped as she spun around and around, searching the trees for a familiar land mark. She cupped both hands around her mouth. “Barlo,” she called, her voice hollow in her ears. “Where are you?”
The wind whistled in reply.
A furry tail appeared from behind a cluster of oaks and disappeared just as quickly. “Barlo, wait.” Cailean charged after the white Newfoundland dog, twigs cracking underfoot, branches clawing her face, tiny droplets of blood oozing down her cheek. She pushed the branches away, and shoving sandy blonde hair from her eyes looked up at the sky. Through the heavy patches of leaves she glimpsed the sun dip low over wooded hills. No time to slow down. She had to find Barlo.
The dog burst into view not far from her and remained still, as if daring her to catch him. “Stay, Barlo,” she said, walking towards him, and almost close enough to touch his thick fur, he scampered away. “Come back,” she yelled and chased him out of the huge maples into a clearing. The dog was nowhere in sight. A large cave towered above her.
She moved closer and peered into a black void. “Barlo, I know you’re in there. Come out now. We gotta get home.” The swish, swish of wings flapped from inside and she ducked as a crow swooped out of the cave. The left wing had been gnawed at by some hungry or angry animal.
The stink of wet fur sailed up her nostrils. That couldn’t be Barlo. She’d washed him this morning and had to change out of sopping wet cloths as proof. Just inside the entrance, she trod on something that squished causing her stomach to churn. “Barlo, are you in here?” The words ricocheted off the walls with a hollow sound as her eyes darted in every direction. She groped along the stone wall, darkness pressing in with each step.
Her fingers slid to a sharp bend and she paused. It wasn’t too late to go back outside.
“Help me.” The child-like voice came from deeper in the cave.
Every nerve in Cailean’s body went on alert. “Who’s there?” she asked with as much calm as she could muster.
Silence.
Cailean took a deep breath and turned the bend into a cavern the size of a school gymnasium. She stopped, rooted to the spot. The ceiling radiated a sparkling blue light which flowed over her like an icy draft. Water trickled down the far wall and bubbled over a trail of boulders leading to a large pool in the centre of the cavern.
“Help me.” The voice again.
Cailean stiffened. The plea had come from the pool. She moved forward, each step slow, deliberate, listening, searching the water which fanned out in small waves as if someone had skipped a rock along the surface. “I can’t see you,” she called out. Her heart thumped faster. “Are you okay?” The blue light crackled with flecks of red sparks and fizzled out like a fire cracker. She froze, trapped in darkness, the only sound her ragged breathing.
“Cailean, are you in here?”
She whirled around. The light from a pen-sized flash light shone in her eyes.
“Where’s Barlo?” A boy with dark hair and even darker eyes said.
“Seamus, did you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“A cry for help from the pool.”
Seamus aimed the light on the crystal-clear water. The smooth surface beamed shinier than a polished mirror, with not even a ripple disturbing it.
Cailean stared into the pool, then lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t understand. That gave off a strange blue light just a few minutes ago.”
“Right,” Seamus said. “I’m hungry. Let’s go.”
“I really did hear-” Cailean clamped her mouth shut. Seamus had already gone. She ran after him stumbling in the dark. “How did you know I was in here?”
“You shot through the trees where me and Dad were setting our rabbit snares. I knew you were up to something.”
The late afternoon sun glared down when they came out of the cave. Seamus shaded his eyes and put the flashlight in his pocket.
Barlo sat under a cherry tree, grooming his cottony white fur. Cailean glowered at him. “Don’t take off like that again and leave me stranded.” The dog rose to its huge paws like a snowman coming to life, scratched behind an ear then romped past her with Seamus on its heels. “Slow down,” she moaned when she couldn’t keep up. Barlo cocked his head to the side as if to question why she dilly dallied. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “You have four legs. I only have two.”
Seamus approached a waist high bush and came to an abrupt stop. “Do you hear that?” he whispered, slowly backing up.
Cailean grabbed his arm. “What?”
“I’m sure Barlo spoke to us.”
Cailean pulled a face and scurried after the dog. The air grew damp, black swollen clouds tumbled over each other. Thunder banged like a drum roll in the distance. They came out of the forest onto the main road leading into Loon Cove. Seamus flounced his arms up and down, mimicking ghostly sounds. “I’ll warn everyone about the spooky cave voice.”
“Ha, ha,” Cailean said and hurried up the gravel hill to her house while Seamus continued down the road. Splatters of rain bounced off the dusty path with spitting noises by the time she sprinted round to the back. Wind pushed her through the door leading directly into the kitchen. Mugs dangling from hooks over the sink clanged in protest. Barlo shook his massive body, the blobs of water slapping Cailean’s face. Relieved of his wet burden, the dog buried his nose in the drinking bowl next to the fridge.
“Hi, Gramps,” Cailean said over the sound of slurps. She kicked off her muddied sneakers and placed them on the rubber mat to the side of the door.
“Hello, Love,” her grandfather said, busy cooking at the stove. “Your father telephoned from the craft fair. He’s sold all the furniture and will be home in time for your birthday dinner tomorrow.” Mounds of cod fish mixed with potato and seasoning sizzled in the frying pan. Barlo barked, his tongue hanging down the side of his mouth. Gramps chuckled. “Don’t worry, fella, your food is ready as well.”
Cailean mopped up the puddles the dog trailed across the floor. “Barlo led me on a hunt for him.” She returned the mop to its bucket in the closet. “We ended up in a cave I’d never seen before.”
Gramps flipped over the fish cakes one last time humming the lullaby Cailean’s mother sang to her as a small child. She fought off tears to the slow haunting tune as he laid supper on the table and lowered his tall lean frame into a chair. He lightly touched a scra
tch on her cheek. “The caves are quite a ways off. You could’ve gotten lost or hurt.”
A hand under her chin, Cailean faked a wide yawn and pushed her plate away. “Gramps, I’m too tired to even chew.”
“Go have a little snooze. I’ll keep supper warm for you.”
She knew her grandfather watched her as she walked out of the kitchen.
In her room, a Scottish doll dressed in a kilt and sporting a set of bagpipes hung around its neck, sat in a white wicker chair by the window. The last birthday gift from her mother, she cherished it above all others. “Fergus, something weird happened today.” Cailean flopped down on the bed and fluffed up the pillows. “To tell the truth, I’m not so sure it was real.”
Barlo ambled into the room and jumped up on the bed. The spring squeaked as it sank lower to the floor. Cailean rumpled the damp fur on his head and reached for the book on the night table titled The Little Red Riding Wolf. Her favourite one in the series written by her mother, and read the inscription on the inside.
To my dearest Cailean
Enjoy as always
All my love
Mom
She sighed softly and turned to the third chapter where she’d left off the night before. Her eyes travelled over each sentence, but the voice in the cave crowded out the words. At the end of the page she couldn’t recall a single thing she’d read. She closed the book and snuggled into the Newfoundland dog. “I’m just missing Dad,” she mumbled as sleep overtook her.
Moonlight stole in through the partially open curtains when Gramps poked his head in the room. “Wake up, sleepy one. It’s after nine. You must be ravenous by now.” He propped a tray with fishcakes, homemade apple pie and milk on her lap. He wagged his finger at Barlo. “Don’t you touch a morsel of that food. Hear me?”
The dog flicked his tail along the bed.
“Good boy.”
Cailean’s eyelids drooped with every bite. Unable to sit up long enough to finish dessert, she crawled under the covers fully dressed. She awoke in the morning to the smell of brewed coffee. The tray was gone from the night table. “Good day, Fergus,” she said, throwing off the blankets. A fine mist fell and fog coated the hills in the distance. Beads of water dripped from the leaves of the maple tree hugging the house. “I won’t let the gloomy weather spoil my birthday.” At the bottom of the stairs she veered left into a wide hallway. Her slippers flapped against her heels as she sauntered the short distance to the kitchen. She sat down to pancakes sopping with molasses and whipped cream.
Gramps scraped butter on his dark toast and slopped on orange marmalade. “Have you seen the injured fox cub Tom Reilly found yesterday?”
“Not yet. I’m meeting Seamus and Josh at the Craft Store.”
“Hmm,” Gramps said. “The athlete and the book worm. An odd pair for best friends.”
Cailean finished breakfast and washed the dishes: the one chore required of her. “I won’t be late for lunch.”
“Your great Aunt Luperca’s coming at one for a visit.”
Cailean slumped against the sink counter. “I don’t see why she has to.”
“She was awfully fond of your mother.”
“She gives me the creeps,” Cailean muttered, unhooking her rain coat from the coat rack by the back door. Barlo waddled after her.
Gramps stuck a leg out in front of him. “Hey, fella, you stay put. We want our girl to get home on time.” Barlo trotted from the kitchen, his head drooped, paws clicking against the tiled floor.
At the bottom of the path, Cailean turned left and strolled down Garver Street, the main road through the centre of town. Eight roads jutted out from each side housing the majority of the community. Thick charcoal smoke streamed out from chimneys, shrinking into thin lines on its way to the sky. The smell of ham and bacon filled the air. A dog barked in the distance to the happy squeals of toddlers. Cailean passed Loon Cove Pharmacy, the combination supermarket/grocery store and the post office on the way to the Craft Store. The old- fashioned bell over the door jangled when she went in. Seamus and Josh stood at the counter. “Hey, guys,” she said.
Mellie, the owner, her steel-rimmed glasses balanced on the tip of her nose, nodded at Cailean. Short white hair framed an oval face wrinkled from too much time spent in the sun.
While she waited for her friends, Cailean browsed around the store, her preferred place in town. Shelves with knitted hats, scarves, gloves and socks lined the far wall. To the right, gold earrings and bracelets adorned a ceiling to floor cabinet. On the left, tins of cocoa, pickles and beets were arranged in neat rows.
The glass counter displayed four large silver trays, each one spilling over with a different type of candy Mellie baked every Tuesday and Friday. The first tray held soft yellow gels, the second, orange sugar coated creams. The third contained powdered green hard squares. Mellie scooped up sticky Bullseyes from the last tray and chucked them into a white paper bag. The barrel-shaped jaw breakers were the store’s speciality made from brown sugar and molasses. Joshua Reilly sketched in his pad. Shorter than his two friends, plump with a pale complexion, he lacked freckles despite having red hair. One side of his face bulged out with candy.
Seamus swung an acorn in circles, the once white rope stained brown from constant usage. “Mellie,” he said with a sly wink at Cailean. “There’s a rumour all over town that you’re giving up making Bullseyes.”
Josh’s pencil paused on the page. “No way that’s true.” He gaped at the elderly lady. “Right?”
Mellie tutted. “Seamus O’Byrne and Cailean Wadly. It’s not nice to joke about such a serious matter.”
Josh elbowed his friends aside. “You’re such juveniles,” he said and paid for his treat.
“Excuse me,” Seamus said. “Is that your big word for today?”
Cailean saw Mellie smile to herself as she pressed the buttons on the hundred-year old cash register. The coins almost popped out of their slots when it opened with a noise similar to the growl of a crocodile.
Josh offered Cailean a candy as they shuffled outside, refusing Seamus when he reached for one. They walked past three side roads before turning down Ivany Street. “Isn’t that right, Cailean?” Josh said. She stared at him with a blank expression.
Seamus jabbed her in the shoulder. “What’s up with you?”
“Up with me?”
“You haven’t heard a word we said.” He flashed Josh an I told you so look. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about the cave?”
Cailean bore a hole in the ground with the toe of her sneaker. “What if I am?”
Josh fidgeted with a loose thread on the sleeve of his jacket. “Maybe you imagined it. You were lost and perhaps a little scared. I would be.”
“Forget it,” Cailean said and marched past the boys.
Josh’s house came into view; painted lime green with bright yellow trim. “The fox cub is in the shed,” he said. “The gash on its paw should heal in a week or so. Dad says it’s the next animal to become extinct in these parts.”
Cailean walked faster, flecks of blue appearing in the grey sky. “I can’t wait to see a real live fox.”
Seamus shook his head. “I don’t get that. You’ve lived here your whole life like us.”
“You both know how Dad hates me going into the forest.” She threw open the shed door and spotted several portraits stacked against the side wall. The first was a perfect replica of Barlo as a pup romping around in a patch of dandelions. She could almost hear him bark. “Josh, you really are good at drawing. He seems alive.” She pulled out the second painting and looked into her own eyes, sad, lonely.
Josh lowered his head. “I did that one six months ago.”
Seamus whacked his baseball cap against his thigh to get rid of the rain and flung it to the door knob. “We thought you’d never stop crying.”
Josh went to the work bench nestled between two filing cabinets and lifted out a three-by-four wire cage. “Here’s Foxy.” He removed the white cloth covering t
he front. The bandaged paw rested on a pillow while the other one lay on a patch of beige fur above the cub’s mouth.
Cailean returned the paintings to their proper place in the stack. As she turned, sunlight flooded into the shed. Dust particles frolicked in the rays of light. A shadow swooped along the wall next to the window, enlarging as it moved. She gasped at the impression of huge shoulders and a muzzle. “Look,” she shouted.
Josh dropped the cloth and stared out the window. “W-what’s the matter?” The leaves of a hundred-year-old maple tree danced in the breeze.
“Thought I saw a... a full-grown fox.”
“You scared Foxy,” Seamus said. The cub whimpered, cowering against the wire mesh. Spots of blood stained the bandaged paw.
Cailean squatted down to the cage. “Sorry little guy.” She sneaked a glance towards the window, shivering ever so slightly.
Chapter 2
Cailean jogged up the gravel hill a few minutes before noon, her raincoat tied around her waist. Sunlight reflected off the windshield of a strange blue car parked in the paved driveway. She slowed to take a look when Barlo bounded out the door, plopped down on the porch and tucked his eyes under his paws. Cailean giggled. “Silly dog. Whoever it is can’t be that bad.”
She went inside meeting her grandfather in the front hall. “There’s someone to see you,” he said with a look that held only one meaning: Be on your best behaviour.
Luperca Moores strutted from behind him. Straight hair, blacker than soot, hung down to narrow, stooped shoulders. Her long pointed nose protruded over pale thin lips. Her skin was so white she looked drained of all blood.
Cailean stepped back from the woman who reminded her of a battered old crow. No, more like a vampire crow. She wasn’t supposed to be here for another hour.
Luperca approached Cailean with short quick movements. “It’s lovely to see you, my dear.”
Gramps drew his granddaughter close to him. “Love, say hello.” His calloused hands rested on her shoulders.
