Coven (31 page)

At the same time, no two words paired
together have caused more eye rolls and explanations of disbelief.
People don't partake of such adventures, and anything remotely like
that kind of endeavor rarely happens. Surely, buried treasure does
exist, but not on such a large and grand scale.

Or does it?

At one point in my life, I would have called
myself a skeptic. Lost gold only brought trials to my mind, family
issues, and a hate I didn't quite understand. But now? Hidden
fortune tells me a story of danger, death, a love that conquered
all time, and the greatest adventure of my life.

Chapter One

Tapping the toe of my shoe against the tiled
floor, I checked my phone once more, frowning as I looked at it. He
was more than an hour late. What a great way to start our
unfortunate time together.

In all honesty, I should have known better.
If what Mom had said about Dad and his punctuality was even
remotely true, I ought to have planned to tell him the plane was
arriving two hours earlier than it actually was. It'd been so long
since I'd seen him, though, I couldn't remember if she'd been
exaggerating or not.

The issue was this: my father was
legitimately, one hundred percent crazy. He spent all day digging
in the ground, looking for some lost treasure he was convinced lay
just beyond his reach. Each night was spent planning to do the same
thing when the sun rose again. Because of this obsession, he won
himself a divorce after three years of marriage and shared custody
of his only child—me. He used to come visit me in Arizona every
spring, before returning to his stupid quest, but that all stopped
after my tenth birthday. Becoming so involved in the search, he
slipped further and further from us, spending more time away,
quitting his day job, and eventually disappearing from our lives.
We wrote every now and then, but there wasn't all that much to say.
It'd been twelve years since he last visited and the basics of what
we'd said to each other over that time could probably fit on a
piece of notebook paper.

Something had changed when Mom got sick,
though. Suddenly, she wanted Dad and I to talk more, to really know
each other. She instigated a few video calls, insisted I write
letters about school, and even invited him to my high school
graduation. He hadn't been able to make it, saying something came
up about a swamp he was swimming in. I think.

“
Why are you defending
him?” I’d practically demanded from my mom, not wanting to admit I
was hurt he'd missed my big night.

“
He's your father,
Samantha,” she answered simply, just like she did any time I asked
why I had to stay in touch. “I spent so many years keeping you from
him, wanting you for my own. When I'm gone, I want you to have a
parent to go to, even if it's someone who believes in buried
treasure.”

“
He's the one who stopped
wanting to see me! That stupid hole in the ground is more important
to him than I ever was.”

“
That’s not true. I—I
asked him to stop coming,” she replied softly, sadly.

Shocked, I stared at her for a moment,
feeling guilty when I noticed the slight paleness to her skin and
the way each breath seemed to hurt. Her light brown hair had been
curled for the occasion, brushing past her shoulders, the red
fabric of her dress hugging her skinny form. “Why would you do
that?”

“
You used to get so
excited when he talked about that treasure. I just knew that if he
kept coming and telling you those fanciful stories, one day you
would go with him when he left. I didn't want that for you. There
is so much more in store for you than spending your life trying to
dig up something that doesn't exist.” Tears in her brown eyes
suggested to me she'd only done what she thought was best, but in
that moment I felt a rage like I'd never known toward
her.

“
But that wasn't your
choice to make! If that's what I wanted to do, then you should have
supported it! You’re always telling me that everyone should be free
to make their own decisions, even if we don’t agree.” Hands balling
into fists, I yelled at her, my own hot tears building up. “I spent
years feeling like my own father didn't love me. And now, thanks to
you, he probably doesn't, because he hasn't seen me! No wonder he
didn't come to graduation!”

“
I'm so sorry, Sam,” she
said, her voice shaking as a single tear slid down her cheek. “I
just didn't want you to—”

“
What? Be like him? Would
you hate me then, too?”

“
I don't hate your
father,” she snapped, a nerve obviously hit. “He's a good man. He
was a good husband and father, too, before that pit entrapped him.
He spent every dime we had trying to figure it out, and even after
the money was gone, he kept going. It's a miracle our finances ever
recovered. He’s the one who stopped spending time with us. He was
obsessed. And he probably still is, since he's not found one thing
of worth on that island, yet, just like all the men before him.
It's not healthy! I was tired of being second best, of feeling
unloved. Another woman didn’t replace me, I was replaced by a hole
in the ground that people have tried to get to the bottom of for
two hundred years. Can you really blame me for not wanting to stay
with him? For not wanting you to be sucked in by that as
well?”

Her chest heaved as she spoke and,
fearfully, I suddenly realized how worked up she was becoming. Rant
finished, she began coughing, and small flecks of blood came from
her mouth. Hurrying to her side, I helped her to lie down, grabbing
a bottle of water from the bedside table and offering it.

“
I'm sorry.” I cried
softly as she drank. “I don't know what came over me. I’m just
upset with him, I guess. I feel a lot like you said—like the pit is
more important than me.”

“
It's not,” she said,
placing her palm against my face. “You’re the most important person
I've ever had the privilege of knowing. There are great things in
store for you, Sam. I'm proud of you.”

She lived for another four years, just long
enough to see me graduate from our local university. I thought she
was still in remission, but it turned out she’d known the sickness
was back for a year and refused to go through chemo again. Instead
of telling me, she planned a two-week vacation to Hawaii that
September and invited me along.

“
Samantha Greene, you’re
the most beautiful woman on the beach.” She laughed, watching as I
tried to build a sandcastle.

“
Whatever,” I scoffed,
shoveling more wet dirt into the childish pail. “If anything, you
are. All anyone ever tells me is how much I look like you,
therefore, you are the prettiest one here.”

She laughed, long and hard, until the
terrible, hacking cough I knew so well started. When she uncovered
her mouth, there was blood on her hand.

“
Mom?” I couldn't even
stand to ask the question, but I didn't have to. The answer was in
her eyes.

“
Oh, Sammy,” she said
mournfully, her voice catching. “I simply wanted to end with some
happy memories.”

That February she was gone, like a whisper
on the wind you thought you heard, but weren't really sure of. She
was asleep in her bed and I'd gone to get myself a glass of water.
As the liquid poured into my cup from the faucet, it was if the air
in the house suddenly changed and I knew she'd left. Hurrying back
to the room, I found her with a small smile on her face, her body
finally spent from the battle it'd waged.

When she first became sick, we took care of
the sad details of what would happen after her death together.
Insisting that she didn't want to be stuck in a hole for all time,
she asked to be cremated, so that her ashes could be spread and she
would see the world. That request, along with a sneaky little note
left in her will, was what had landed me here in Maine, waiting at
the tiny Seaport airport for my father to pull himself out of the
hunt long enough to come pick me up.

Sighing, I glanced down at the urn resting
on top of my luggage. It was red, her favorite color. “Oh, Mom,” I
muttered. “Why did you want me to spread your ashes with Dad? You
must have known that would mean I had to come here. Did you really
want to be so close to that stupid Treasure Pit?”

Personally, I would’ve much preferred to
keep her with me. She was all the family I had and it was
comforting to feel like she was still so close, but the last thing
I wanted to do was dishonor her final wishes, so here I was.
Originally, I'd called Dad, a feat that took much more effort than
it should have—owing to the fact that I hadn’t spoken to him by
phone or video since graduating high school—and told him what
happened.

“
Was she in a lot of
pain?” he asked quietly.

“
I'm sure, but she really
tried to hide it. I think Mom wanted everyone to remember how she
used to be, not as the sick, dying person she became.” A long
silence followed and I waited, somehow knowing he would speak when
ready.

“
Thank you for telling
me,” he finally said, his voice sounding somewhat choked. “I wish I
could have been there. When is her funeral? I'd like to come, if
you don't mind.”

“
That's the thing.” I
sighed. “She wanted to be cremated and for the two of us to spread
her ashes together. I didn't know if you wanted to see her before
she was . . . you know.”

“
Oh,” he replied, shock
obvious in his tone. “I would, truly, but I don't think I'm going
to make it in time before—uh—she, well . . .”

“
I understand.” He had a
point there. They could preserve her body, but not for very long.
“When can you come to spread her ashes?”

“
Maybe in a couple
months?”

Sucking in an angry breath, I paused, trying
to keep from exploding at him. “A few months! Dad, you've got to be
kidding! Is that pit really so important you'd put off a dying
woman's last wish? Because that's what this is. She didn't even
tell me herself, she wrote it into her will.”

“
It's not that,” he rushed
to reply. “It's just that, well, I don't have enough money. I spent
the last of what I had on some new equipment, recently. My next
payment doesn’t come in for a while and a lot of it is already tied
up in other things. There’s a couple guys coming out to survey the
island before we start up again this season, too. If I leave now,
someone else will come in and take my permit or the land owner will
grant permission to another to come dig. I can’t leave my team high
and dry, not when we’re so close to getting started again. I could
try and cash out some stocks, but that would take a lot of time and
I’m not sure that they would approve the request. I didn't know
about Lucy or I would have come before she passed, I
swear.”

“
You are unbelievable.” He
couldn't see me rolling my eyes, but I was pretty sure he heard it
in my voice.

Checking my phone again, I pressed my lips
into a thin line. He was now an hour and a half late. At this
point, hiring a cab and renting a room for the night sounded like a
good idea. Grabbing the extended handle of my rolling bag with one
hand, and safely tucking the urn into the crook of my opposite arm,
I started for the door, eyeing the few taxis waiting by the curb
outside. Just as I was about to pass through the exit and into the
spring air, I heard someone call out.

“
Sammy! Samantha!”
Turning, I saw my dad running up behind me, apology written all
over his face. “Sorry I'm late! I lost track of time and then the
car had a flat—look at you! You've grown into a woman!”

Having finally reached me, he gave me an
awkward hug, apparently not knowing if such an action was
acceptable or not. Studying him, I realized he resembled most of my
memories; tall, with wispy blonde hair that stuck up off his head,
as if he'd just been caught in hurricane force winds. His face was
well tanned from years of being outside, with blue eyes that
sparkled whenever he smiled. I'd inherited his thin lips, but
thankfully none of his apparent clumsiness.

“
Hi, Dad,” I said, smiling
tightly.

Chapter Two

The old car smelled musty, almost like it
had been left with the windows rolled down for a long time and the
sea air had taken its toll on the brown fabric seats. If anything,
the aroma matched the battered appearance of the outside. Paint
spots had worn away from sun exposure, giving the yellow vehicle
the look of peeling skin. A few good scratches marked up the sides,
and there was a chip in the windshield on the bottom, passenger
section. A tree shaped air freshener hung from the rearview mirror.
It was this final item that I stared at, watching the piece of
cardboard swing ever so slightly as we traveled down the road. The
silence between us was so thick I felt like I could reach out and
touch it.

Outside, the coast went by, beautiful and
foreboding at the same time. Everything was so incredibly green,
unlike anything I'd seen at home in the desert. There was something
to be said for having all that water right here to liven things
up.

“
So,” Dad finally said,
shattering the quiet surrounding us. “How was your
flight?”

“
It was good,” I answered
again, having already told him at the airport. “Long.”

“
Quite a way from
Arizona.” Pursing his lips, he fell silent. It was painfully
obvious we didn't know what to say to each other. Getting down to
business would be best for both parties.