Legacy of Secrets

by Ridley Pearson

  Jess looked even more disappointed than Amanda felt. “We have to let him know. He’s trying to connect with us.”

  “I don’t think we can,” Amanda said, discouraged.

  “I don’t accept that!” Jess grabbed the scissors. “We have to try. Wayne, Finn, everyone would want us to try.”

  She stabbed into the window trim and began drawing a heart around the lettering. But halfway through, she paused; the blond wood that formed the heart wasn’t aging like the initials had.

  “Come on,” Jess said, pushing the scissor blade deeper into the wood.

  Amanda stopped her. “It’s all right. He’s alive. We’ll think of something. We know it’s never easy—that it’s always harder than we think.”

  Jess dropped the scissors onto the floor. “I hate this.”

  “No you don’t. We are way better off than we’ve ever been, Jess. How can you possibly hate anything about this?”

  “How can you say that? How can you possibly say that? That’s your boyfriend!”

  “And he’s alive. We know where he is. Sort of. Now all we have to do is figure out how to let him know we heard him.”

  “You mean get a message to someone sixty years ago.”

  “Exactly,” Amanda said, smiling at the improbability of it all.

  DISNEYLAND COULD BARELY CONTAIN its euphoric guests. Main Street USA swelled with bodies. Feverish excitement filled the air, its energy heard in the anxious cries of eager children, the joyous laughter, all mixing into the music trumpeted from a brass street band.

  Sneaking out of the Opera House, the five Keepers kept their two-dimensional images pressed against walls and moving through shade. They did everything they could to be as inconspicuous as possible. They crossed Town Square and slipped past the fire station and held to the walls all the way down to the restrooms, then timed it just right to walk briskly past Town Hall.

  It was all so different from present-day Disneyland that the Keepers found it difficult to orient themselves. Once through the gateway tunnels beneath the Disney Railroad tracks, they faced two ticket booths.

  “This is going to be tricky,” Finn said. They were basically Flat Stanleys that could walk and talk; it would be difficult to stand in line without their lack of three dimensions being noticeable.

  Charlene came up with a solution. “We’re going to have to wait for the line to be empty. That’s the only way we stand half a chance.”

  “Well,” said Maybeck, “Willa and I should be able to help make that happen.”

  A minute later, Maybeck and Willa, dressed in their nearly formal attire, had started directing guests to the second ticket booth. The line in front of the booth nearest Finn, Philby, and Charlene dispersed.

  “I don’t mean this the way it’s going to sound,” said Finn, “but a girl is going to have a much better shot at this than either of us.”

  “You mean I’m taking full advantage of my charm and beauty,” Charlene said half-teasingly.

  “Something like that.” Finn smiled.

  “I hereby volunteer.” Charlene could add a few years just by the way she walked and carried herself. Sauntering up to the booth’s open window, she began speaking before she arrived. Doing so put the young Cast Member inside on guard and established it was she, Charlene, who was in charge.

  “So,” she said brashly, “I have this problem. A friend of mine gave me this coin that she said was worth a whole bunch in the park, and I don’t know where I’m supposed to spend it.”

  “Can I see it?”

  In her attempt to project confidence, Charlene had neglected to have the coin at the ready. She figured her projection was probably blushing around now. Luckily, when she blushed, she looked like a ripe strawberry. “Oh, yeah! That would help!” She handed over the unusual coin they had found in Lillian Disney’s purse.

  The cast member flipped it over repeatedly, studying both sides.

  “Nope.” He passed it back to her. “I’ve never seen one of these before. I have no idea what it is.”

  “Never?”

  “First time.”

  “So…what do I do with it?”

  “Make a necklace with it, for all I care. It won’t buy you any of my tickets.”

  “You have no idea? Seriously? You can’t think of any place I can spend this inside the park?” Charlene asked.

  “It doesn’t work that way. Look, miss, you know how it is. You buy tickets to the various rides from me. I don’t know, maybe Grandma’s Baby Shop or the Emporium will let you use it, but I’ve never seen such a thing. Now, could you maybe ask your friends over there to stop doing that?” He pointed to Willa and Maybeck, who were still moving guests to the other booth. “They really have no right. It’s not only impolite, it could get you all in trouble.”

  If she hadn’t been strawberry already, Charlene would have turned purple. “Ah…yeah…sorry about that. I’ll get right on it.”

  Now came the tricky part: if she turned sideways, she was going to disappear. Talk about getting into trouble, she thought. She fixed on a solution that might get her away from the booth without being spotted for the odd projection she was: she bowed, placed her hands prayerfully, and nodded as she continued to back away. Seeing this, Finn called off Maybeck and Willa.

  The five Keepers met in the shade of a bushy orange tree, and Charlene explained her failed attempt.

  “So,” Philby said, “we’ll try Grandma’s Baby Shop first, and then the Emporium.”

  Discouragement had a way of spreading through the Keepers like the cold after sunset. You had to throw a blanket over it quickly and warm up before frowns and bad moods could prevail.

  “We need to look at this as a victory,” Willa said. “We’ve eliminated the ticket booth. That leaves two more possibilities—which is way better than facing a dead end, right? Come on! The more we eliminate, the better. We’re narrowing this down.”

  “Since when are you Miss Sunshine?” Philby asked. The minute the words were out, he regretted them. Over the years, he and Willa had gone in and out of crushing on one another. For him to get on her case now was not impressing Willa one bit. “I mean…look…You’re always sweet and—”

  “Forget it!” Willa snapped. “You’re only making things worse.”

  Philby looked like she’d slapped him. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided not to risk it. Girls are tricky, he thought.

  The visit to Grandma’s Baby Shop changed everything—and Willa’s determined optimism paid off. The store was tiny. Baby clothes hung on the wall, were laid out on tables and in stacks on shelves. They might have been cute and adorable for 1955, but to Finn, they looked more like ugly doll clothes.

  He and Willa approached the gray-haired woman behind the counter and showed her the coin. As with the boy in the ticket booth, she told them the coin could not be used to purchase anything. When an unhappy Finn took the coin back, the woman stopped him and asked to see it again. She measured its size and held it in her hand, trying to determine its weight.

  “Golly,” she said, “you know what you youngsters have there? I could most certainly be wrong about this, so don’t you hold me to it, but one of my favorite pastimes when I get me a break is to stroll on down to Esmeralda and take a little chance on my fortune-telling.”

  “Esmeralda’s still there,” Willa blurted out to Finn.

  “Still there?” the woman said. “We’ve only been open two days! Of course she’s there!”

  Finn shot Willa a disapproving look; they couldn’t afford such time traveling mistakes. A few more slipups like that, and they’d have half the Cast Members in Disneyland out looking for them.

  “Well,” Finn said, lying, “that’s a little disappointing.”

  “We hoped it was more valuable than that!” Willa said.

  “I hope I’ve helped you all,” the woman said, clucking her tongue.

  “More than you know,” Finn said. Taking care to make it look accidental, Willa pushed a baby onesie o
ff the counter in the direction of the Cast Member. In the next instant, she profusely apologized.

  The woman bent to pick it up. “Never you mind. Don’t trouble yourself.”

  Finn and Willa spun around, so she wouldn’t see them from the side.

  The woman heard the door open. She lifted her head above the counter, but the two youngsters were gone.

  “You’re welcome,” she said to herself. She had no idea she’d just changed the history of Disneyland forever.

  THE ESMERALDA WINDOW BOX stood in the front of the bustling Penny Arcade. It looked like a wooden phone booth with a set of metal legs. The top half was glass, with the fortune-teller’s name painted in lettering across the top. Inside the window, Esmeralda could be seen from the waist up. She looked like something out of Pirates of the Caribbean: a puffy green satin blouse beneath a gold brocade black vest. The gypsy headscarf topped her shiny ceramic or wooden head, which had incredibly realistic facial features and makeup.

  “If you squint,” Maybeck said, “she could be real, she’s so lifelike.”

  “We can’t stay here,” Finn warned. “Too many people.”

  It was true: they were being stared at. Some kids circled them, obviously intrigued by their disappearing act.

  “I can help,” Maybeck said. He faced the kids. “Pretty neat, huh? You ever seen something so cool-o before?” The kids shook their heads. “They’re going to use us in a new attraction. Would you like that?” The kids’ heads bobbed enthusiastically. “But right now, you gotta zip the lips, okay? We’re kinda top secret—a secret only you know!”

  As Maybeck kept the kids occupied, Finn tested the slot in the machine to see if their coin would fit. It did.

  “So?” he asked the others. “If I do this, there’s probably no getting it back.”

  Philby reached to stop him. “Why give one to Roy and one to Lillian? Are they supposed to know what to do with it? And Roy’s is in glass.”

  “Glass can be broken,” Willa said.

  “If we have to,” Charlene said, “we could go back to Roy’s office and get his coin. I mean, if we lose this one. Right? So, as much of a hassle as it would be, we don’t really lose anything by trying.”

  Philby kept his projected hand over the coin slot. “I don’t know.”

  “Special coin,” Finn said. “Special message. It feels like something Walt would do, you know? Esmeralda’s always going to be here. For the next sixty years, she’s in the park. Maybe he left specific orders to never remove her! Someone gets one of these coins, and whatever message Walt hid in here comes out. Doesn’t matter how long it’s been.”

  “A little help here,” Maybeck said. He was running out of ways to keep the kids busy.

  Finn and Philby shared a moment. They weren’t going to fight about it; it was going to be a team decision. At last, Philby pulled his projected hand away. Finn pushed the coin into the slot, and the five Keepers heard it roll down into the guts of the machine.

  Esmeralda’s head moved from side to side.

  “Creeeeeepy,” whispered Willa. “I’ve had her tell my fortune twenty times, I’ll bet. It never feels anything but weird.”

  The gypsy’s right arm lifted and fell. Her head lifted slightly, and her torso bowed toward the window.

  Willa jumped back. “She has never done that! Never ever. Ever!”

  Other curious guests collected around the machine, putting the Keepers at high risk. Esmeralda already had fans that knew her movements. The bowing forward and raising her arms was new to everyone watching. A great chatter arose, sounding like crickets and tree frogs on a summer’s night.

  A card slipped out onto the metal tray below the coin slot. Willa reached for it, but her fingers couldn’t grab it. Finn tried and took hold. “One, two, three!” All the Keepers spun around in unison; it happened too quickly for anyone to believe the five might have briefly disappeared. Then they took off running.

  Willa snatched the card from Finn, her hands functioning again. “This isn’t right!” she panted. “Esmeralda prints out a whole paragraph on the card. This is just two sentences!”

  “Proving,” Philby said, “that it’s special.”

  “What does it say?” Charlene asked. She’d had to slow down to allow the rest of the Keepers to catch up.

  Finn stole the card back. Philby took it and skidded to a stop. The Keepers backtracked. “What?” “Tell us!” “Read it!”

  Philby’s voice faltered as he read, “‘I named it after you. I hope it moves you as much as it does me.’”

  BEING SUMMONED TO THE LOBBY at the crack of dawn had an immediate effect on Amanda and Jess. First, they were tired from having been up in the middle of the night; second, they’d had no time to put themselves together, so they were deeply concerned about their appearances; third, this was not a request, but an order from the highest level.

  It was impossible not to think they were in trouble—though they were always getting in trouble. Was this for carving the window trim? Amanda wondered.

  For allowing files to be taken from the basement? Jess wondered.

  In the lobby two men in uniforms met them. They had badges and arm patches. Definitely not a good sign. The two girls were led outside to a black SUV with dark tinted windows, put into the backseats and told to buckle up. The driver did not break the speed limit, but he was clearly in a hurry. The forty-five-minute drive took forty-five minutes, a first.

  As they approached Burbank, the man in the passenger seat called someone on his cell phone. He spoke softly, too softly to be understood. Amanda nudged Jess, but Jess was off somewhere, staring out the darkened window, a frown on her face.

  Upon arrival at the studio, the SUV maneuvered around a long line of waiting cars and irritated drivers. It was waved past the security booth, which stunned both girls. Every Cast Member and visitor had to stop and show an ID. What suddenly made Amanda and Jess so special?

  Amanda figured it out first: the line of waiting cars had something to do with them. No one was being allowed into the studio until she and Jess arrived.

  “What the heck is going on?” Amanda called into the front seat.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but we aren’t at liberty to say. Mr. Garlington will explain everything, I’m sure.”

  The SUV’s tires yipped to a stop.

  “Joe?” Jess said.

  “Joe,” Amanda echoed, seeing him standing all alone on the stone terrace in front of the Frank G. Wells building. He wore shorts, sandals, and a Disney company gray fleece, the morning air being chilled by a fresh breeze. As they drew closer, the girls were both offered similar jackets.

  Joe had a team with him, all of whom looked grim. The girls slipped on the fleeces; Jess zipped hers all the way to her neck.

  “Are we allowed to ask what’s going on, Mr. Garlington?” Amanda asked. Her last meeting with him flashed through her mind; she hoped this wasn’t payback.

  “You are, and you are entitled to an answer, since apparently he’ll only speak to one or both of you.”

  Joe motioned, turning the girls almost fully around. There, on a thick, gray concrete bench set on the terrace amid other such benches, sat a young boy. A dead boy.

  “Dillard!” Amanda cried.

  AMANDA AND JESS APPROACHED slowly, unable to believe their eyes. Dillard Cole, Finn’s neighborhood buddy and best friend growing up, had lost his life to the Overtakers, a tragedy that lingered for all the Keepers—and for the Fairlies, too. Just seeing the boy—a DHI beyond any doubt—forced a lump into Amanda’s throat.

  Following his untimely passing, Dillard’s DHI had appeared before, once or twice. It was a rare occurrence, and both Jess and Amanda understood the significance of the boy asking to speak to them.

  “Dillard?” Amanda asked, a few feet from the hologram. The boy sitting there wasn’t a movie version of a hologram; he appeared absolutely real, his skin, hair and clothing opaque. His freckles, his green eyes, the smug expression were all Dillard. Two thin
gs gave away his projected state: his hair wasn’t moving, despite the wind, and the girls could see an extremely thin blue line along his perimeter. It was only visible because they were looking for it.

  “I will speak only to any of the five Kingdom Keepers, including Amanda Lockhart and/or Jess Lockhart. State your name, please.”

  Amanda glanced over her shoulder at Joe. Now she understood the summons, and why other Cast Members were not being admitted onto the studio property. Joe regarded this appearance as a company secret.

  Before she spoke to Dillard’s DHI, Amanda returned to Joe. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “You can see the situation we’re in,” Joe said.

  “You did this?”

  “No. He appeared sometime overnight. A guard spotted him this morning, just before sunrise.”

  “And you have no idea what’s going on?”

  “All I can do is speculate,” Joe said. “Prior to his death, Wayne created a project he code-named ‘Luke.’”

  “Like the Bible?”

  “More like Skywalker. Luke Skywalker saved the New Republic from the Galactic Empire. In the process, he discovered his true origins, learned the history of the Republic, and founded the New Jedi Order.”

  “I don’t understand,” Amanda said honestly.

  “Wayne prepared a message in case anything happened to him. Those of us who knew him well believed it was probably something like the Stonecutter’s Quill. Something some could decode, but not everyone. Remember when the Keepers—?”

  “Yes! But I still don’t understand.”

  “There may be more messages of his than this. Wayne was tricky that way. ‘Luke’ was to be triggered by an anomaly in the space-time continuum. In other words, someone, something time-traveling. Wayne claimed to have found a gateway to the past Disneyland. Some laughed, others, not so much. When this morning…Dillard shows up, I knew it had to be part of project Luke. He asked for the Keepers and you two by name. He’d obviously substituted DHIs at some point: the DHI of Dillard for himself. He must have felt having Dillard to speak to you or the Keepers would make more of an emotional impression.”