of laughter.
“It’s not like we were expecting any company,” Sam said, trying to muster up some scrap of dignity. He was relieved it was only Will and not a ghost, but that possibility still loomed as the only explanation for what he’d just seen and heard.
“I’m surprised you got as close as you did, but why don’t you go on inside instead of peeking in the windows?” Will asked, wiping his eyes on his T-shirt.
Rocky tried to hide his shaking hands by crossing his arms.
Then he forced his shoulders back, standing tall. “Maybe that’s what I was going to do when you showed up,” he announced.
His voice quivered slightly, but he leapt boldly to the joist closer to the
back door.
Before Rocky could leap over to the crumbling steps by the door, Sam jumped over and grabbed his belt. Rocky teetered for a moment and threatened to send them both off the porch. Sam forced his weight backwards, pushing himself and Rocky up against the house and away from the edge.
Sam took a deep breath and released Rocky. “Our decision has nothing to do with fear. It is supported by the necessity to obtain facts before acting impulsively. Intelligent people do not just charge into an old house without first determining if it is safe. We need more information about the structure and why it has remained empty for nearly two centuries.” Sam pulled on the front of Rocky’s T-shirt, turning him so they were face to face. “And that is just what we were going to do.”
Rocky pushed Sam’s hand away, turned to Will and blurted out, “Yeah, and we’re not stupid.”
Sam glared at Will. “Mr. Henley pointed out the library in town. We can find the information we need there. Being just a storyteller, I doubt you have felt the need to collect facts from there.”
“There’s a fine line between fact and fiction,” Will said, suddenly serious. “It gets blurry when you talk about the past. You’ll find that it’s less important to separate fact from fiction, and more important to figure out how to put them together.” He bowed as he had on the beach and slipped back into the bushes.
Sam and Rocky stood still for a moment longer listening to the diminishing rustle of the bushes before Rocky broke the silence.
“He sure does know how to rile me up. First he gets me
all excited about a treasure, then he scares me half-senseless pretending to be a ghost.” Rocky twirled his hat on his hand, then used it to fan himself.
“He does have a way about him,” Sam mused. He thought about what Will said about putting fact and fiction together. The portrait was real, but what he’d heard had to be fiction, unless he believed in ghosts. But he didn’t believe in ghosts. He had to stick to the facts. Facts would keep him safe. Believing a voice from the past was talking to him could only lead to trouble.
Rocky tapped Sam’s shoulder. “You look like you’re doing some mighty serious thinking. Maybe the kind that should be done on solid ground?”
“Oh. Yes. Right,” Sam said.
The boys walked single file down the length of the support beams and jumped down to the ground. Sam picked up his
backpack and swung it onto his shoulders while Rocky re-adjusted his cowboy hat. They walked back around the house and
headed towards town in silence.
“Thanks, Buddy,” Rocky said when they were well clear of
the house.
“For what?”
“Sometimes…no, most times, I get myself in trouble trying to prove I’m tough. I reckon it comes from years of trying to fill my brother’s boots,” Rocky said.
“Why would you need to be like your brothers? What’s wrong with being you?”
“I bet you’re an only child. My family is really big and when everyone is into roping calves and riding bulls, that’s what you’re expected to do too,” Rocky said kicking at some loose stones on the sidewalk. “We were planning this family vacation when a new rodeo came up. My folks chose to stay and watch my brothers. My aunt and uncle were still going, so I came along with them.”
“I can see why you might not like the sport of rodeo very much,” Sam observed.
“It’s okay once in a while. I just don’t want it to be my whole life,” Rocky said.
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Two. Both older,” Rocky replied.
“I always wanted a brother. I thought he’d be a built-in friend. You know, so even when you moved to a new town, you’d have someone to hang out with.”
Rocky laughed. “It’s for sure you don’t have any brothers or sisters. A few days with my brothers would make you appreciate being an only child.”
“Come on,” Sam said. “Siblings can’t be worse than
being alone.”
“You just don’t know,” Rocky said, shaking his head. “Brothers will hold your head under water in the pool until your face turns blue. They’ll spook your horse and then laugh at you when you fall off. Even when I leave my brothers at the ranch, I’ve got twelve cousins, half a dozen aunts and uncles and two sets of grandparents watching and grading me on every move I make. It wears me out trying to avoid them and find a little time for myself.”
Sam smiled sadly. Time to himself was all he had.
They walked on in silence, reading the plaques on the historic homes and a newer youth center.
“I wonder who owns S & H Yachts. They sponsored the picnic area and many of the historic buildings we’ve passed. Like that one from 1785,” Sam said pointing to a small white house with black shutters. “That’s about the same time Henry’s house was built and it’s in great shape. I still wonder why no one took care of
Henry’s house.”
“It’s a shame they didn’t ‘cause it could look so friendly,
you know?”
“How can a house be friendly?” Sam asked.
“See how that walkway is just wide open? It’s like it’s asking you to come on up and visit on the porch. That’s friendly. We got us a nice wide porch like that one back home. It’s a right nice spot for sitting a spell and watching the world go by. ‘Course we don’t have those crazy vines like they do here, crawling up anything that sits still for a minute.”
Sam couldn’t imagine the point of “watching the world go by,” but he was interested in the wisteria vines. They looked like the same variety he’d seen at the Humbolt house, but they didn’t twist and swirl in the same bizarre way. He made another note on his phone, this one about looking into wisteria varieties in North Carolina.
“Whatch’a keep putting on your phone?” Rocky asked.
“Questions I want answers to that I don’t have time to figure out right now.”
Rocky was quiet and Sam felt the need to explain. “If I don’t have an answer, I just feel like I have to find the answer. I can’t always do that right away, so I make a note to look into it later.”
“I guess that’s why you’re so smart. If my brothers saw me doing something like that, they’d grab my phone and toss it in the pool. Unless of course, I was looking up something for them about rodeos.”
“And that would be another good reason to not have siblings?” Sam asked.
“Darn right. I know for sure if I didn’t have those two on my back all the time, I’d be all kinds of smart.”
“So that’s your story?” Sam’s mouth transformed into something close to a grin.
Rocky responded in kind. “Yes-siree. There’s no one here to say otherwise so I’m sticking to it.”
They walked on in amiable silence until they reached the grandest home in town.
“Whoever lived here must have made a lot of money,” Rocky said. “But it wasn’t enough to keep it from becoming the library.”
Sam walked up the wide steps to read the historical plaque and Rocky followed. “It says the house was built in 1785 and the library was established in 1802.”
&nbs
p; “At least they kept that homey feel, what with all these flowers and such,” Rocky said, tipping his hat towards the red and white petunias spilling over the flower baskets on the porch railings.
“I’m more impressed with these double mahogany doors than the vegetation,” Sam said walking over for a closer look.
“Each one must weigh close to seventy pounds and you can clearly see the chisel marks on this ‘H’, which means it was hand carved. The etching on these glass insets is very intricate for this time period,” Sam said, reaching out to run his finger along the delicate etching of a sailing ship. “So much detail and so meticulously done.”
Rocky laughed. “There you go again, all into the architecture of the door, instead of just using it for what it was meant for,” he said, gently pushing Sam out of the way and pulling on the polished brass handles shaped like giant goldfish.
Chapter 7
The doors opened with a muffled “swoosh” and the boys stepped into a spacious hallway. Sam inhaled the cool air scented with the familiar and comforting smell of books. He enjoyed everything that new technology had to offer, but he still loved the feel of a book in his hands as he turned the pages.
Rocky’s sneakers smacked loudly on the black and white tiled floor while Sam’s deck shoes made more of a smush-squeak sound. Chairs creaked as people turned to check out the noisy intruders and Sam felt his cheeks turning red. In spite of being the new kid in town over half-a-dozen times, Sam never got used to being stared at. Next to him, Rocky was walking along like he was the lead attraction in a parade, smiling and tipping his hat at the gawkers. Sam envied Rocky’s ability to be so relaxed in a new situation and tried to relax by studying the architecture.
On either side of the hallway, double-arched doorways opened into salmon-colored rooms. Each room was filled with rows of bookcases and comfortable chairs arranged in front of the fireplaces. There were side tables with outlets for laptops and cushioned benches under the windows. Sam appreciated how well they’d integrated the modern conveniences into the older building, but the wavy glass of the windows reminded him that a long time ago, this used to be
a home.
Sam elbowed Rocky and whispered, “That type of window was common in houses of this period and the colors in the stained glass are exceptional.” Sam pointed to the window shaped like half an orange slice crowning the paned glass. Unlike the clear glass of the front windows, these were alternating pie-shaped slices of red and orange stained glass. When the sunlight filtered in, the illusion of a beautiful sunset danced on the hallway tile.
“Whoever owned this place sure liked fancy stuff.”
“Not just fancy, expensive too,” Sam said. “The only way you got red stained glass like that was by adding gold. And the marble around these fireplaces is Carrara, one of the most expensive marbles in the world.”
Further down the hallway was the reference room. At the end of the hallway was the circulation desk. Despite being nearly
20 feet long, the desk was dwarfed by the massive wooden staircase beginning to the right and curving up behind it.
“All that brass and wood carving must have cost a bunch of money too,” Rocky said, pointing to the polished brass handrail and spindles carved to look like giant seahorses.
Sam was more interested in the nearly life-sized portrait hanging above the circulation desk. Two men and two young girls stood on a porch overlooking the ocean. Sam recognized the figures on the left as Henry and his daughter Genny. Henry wore a kindly expression and Genny leaned comfortably against him. The man on the right had a daughter too, but she kept as far away from the man towering above her as she could. Sam didn’t blame her. He stood stiff and unyielding as if he was used to getting his own way no matter what it took. Sam’s neck prickled and when he looked at Genny he swore she smiled at him.
“Rocky!” Sam whispered, “That’s Henry and Genny Humbolt.”
“Right! Like the picture in the brochure. The plaque says it’s the owners of Humbolt & Humbolt Shipping,” Rocky said, leaning over the desk to read the description. “Henry Humbolt and his daughter, Genevieve. Harold Humbolt, and his daughter Margaret, 1785.”
Sam walked towards the librarian on duty. “Can you tell us anything about where Harold Humbolt lived?” he asked.
“Why yes,” the librarian replied. “This library used to be his house. The town took it over a few years after he…died unexpectedly.”
“That sounds like an interesting story,” Rocky said, coming up next to Sam.
“Well, he wasn’t the favorite of the brothers, that’s for sure,”
she replied as she started stacking books. “No one really knows how he died, but it was shortly after the shipwreck and the passing of
his brother.”
More questions lit up in Sam’s head like fireflies on a summer night. Before he could decide which one to ask first, Rocky glanced at the librarian’s name tag, took off his hat, and jumped in.
“Pardon my manners, Mrs. Madison. I know better than to keep my hat on in the presence of a lady. You must be exceptionally good at research to know that much about the Humbolts.”
Sam watched the older woman stand a little taller and look up from the stack of books.
“We’re just visiting your fine town, but we’re very interested in the Humbolts’ story both on a personal level, and as it pertains to the Dragonfly. Is it possible you could tell us more about them?”
Sam expected Mrs. Madison to tell Rocky to shove off, but she
appeared intrigued.
“I’m not sure about that,” she said, appearing to give it some thought. “I learned a lot from the old newspapers, but they’re in the restricted section and children aren’t allowed in without an adult.”
“But, Ma’am,” Rocky said, in his soft Texas drawl. “I hope you can see we’re very responsible for our age and interested in the Humbolts only on a scholarly level.” He pointed to Sam. “We’re actually researching family disharmony in the past to see if it can help us understand the problems of today.” He gestured towards the painting. “This painting is a good example of family disharmony, don’t you think?” he asked.
Sam waited for Mrs. Madison to point them to the library’s computer catalog, but instead she sighed. It looked like Rocky was persuading her to break the rules for them without presenting even one solid reason for her to do so. People continued to confuse and bewilder him.
“I shouldn’t do this,” she said. “You’re supposed to be at least 18 years old to get into the archives.”
“What!” Sam exploded. “No information stored in a public library should be kept from the public.”
Mrs. Madison’s posture snapped back to stiff and uncompromising. Sam inhaled sharply and held his breath, hoping against hope he hadn’t ruined all of Rocky’s work.
Unruffled, Rocky found the words to make things right. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Madison.” He turned his head, beckoning Mrs. Madison closer and whispered just loud enough for Sam to hear.
“Sam is one of those troubled folks I was talking about. You see one day he woke up and his mom was gone. He’s been searching for her ever since.”
Mrs. Madison peeked back at Sam who slumped his shoulders and tried to look as pitiful as possible.
Rocky continued. “Of course, since he’s so young, he’s been fighting against limited access to records for a while, so I hope you can understand why he got so upset.”
“Ah,” Mrs. Madison said, nodding slowly. “I understand. I never much liked the age limit either.” She fumbled with her glasses to read her watch. “It is almost closing time so I could get you down to the documents, but you’ll only have 20 minutes to look them over before the library closes.”
“Any amount of time you can give us would be appreciated,”
Rocky said smoothly.
Sam only nodded, forcing his lips together to preve
nt him from ruining Rocky’s plan again.
Mrs. Madison offered to lock up for the day and her assistant hightailed it out of the library without looking back. Speaking just loud enough so the closest people could hear her explanation, she said, “I’m so glad you boys can help. The boxes I need moved are down in the basement.” She grabbed a skeleton key off a hook behind the desk. “Follow me.”
Sam shook his head in disbelief. Rocky really had won her over.
They circled around behind the desk and Mrs. Madison pressed on what looked like a regular wooden panel. Sam heard the click of a latch as it popped open to reveal a small room tucked under
the staircase.
“Please close the door behind you,” Mrs. Madison said. “The material is down here.” She unlocked a smaller wooden door ahead of her, flipped on the lights and motioned to the boys to follow her down the stairs.
Sam took a moment to examine the hidden latch before he closed the door. “Very ingenious mechanism for the time period,” he said to Rocky.
“You can tell me all about it later, but for now, let’s keep up with Mrs. Madison before she changes her mind.”
Sam followed Rocky and Mrs. Madison down the narrow wooden steps into a low-ceilinged room with brick walls.
“Not much head room down here,” Rocky noted.
“It is unusual for a house this close to the ocean to have a basement at all,” Sam said.
“Correct,” Mrs. Madison said. “It seems Harold Humbolt wanted everything about his house to be special.” She turned on another set of overhead lights, illuminating a wooden doorway at the far end. “Supposedly the door was for delivering provisions, but some say he used it for clandestine meetings. I guess we’ll never know for sure. Obviously, we’ve modernized it to suit our purposes.”
Even though Mrs. Madison didn’t say it directly, Sam knew she thought Harold was arrogant too.
“We recently copied some of the older papers onto discs, so you shouldn’t have much trouble finding the information you’re looking for,” she said, pulling out a few discs from the storage cabinet. “These have the newspapers and fliers from 1780 to 1820, which covers the time Harold joined his brother at Humbolt Shipping Company all the way past the shipwreck.” She flicked on one of the computers sitting on an old wooden table around the corner from the cabinet.
A Ghostly Twist Page 4
