Paperquake (22 page)

"We know," said Rose. "You think they're like a prophecy—whatever happened to Verity Stowe happens to you. We've already gone through that, Baby."

"I know, I know. And I still do think it's true, but there's more. I think I've figured something out. The letters aren't just a warning to
me
—it's not just that /might die. It's bigger than that. We
all
might die."

"I feel perfectly healthy," said Jasmine. "And you're healthy, too, Vi."

"Physically healthy maybe, but I told you, she's getting paranoid," said Rose glumly.

"It's been too easy," Violet continued, ignoring their comments. How could she explain the vague theory that had come to her as she read Laela's dream?

"All these papers and letters and things have practically been planted in my path! Think of it—the first letter fell out of the old sales cupboard. The second from the wall after that little quake. The first diary entry in the old suitcase. The letter in the museum! Another diary entry in the box of cast-off things at the Academy. Another in the box at Sam's house—and he'd even pulled it out and saved it for me. It's as if I just walk along collecting these things, don't you see?"

"You're giving me the creeps, Vi," murmured Jasmine, sitting up and looking distinctly nervous. She untied her scarf and tossed it on the bed. "It's like a—a trail."

"It gives me the creeps, too," said Violet. "And it gets worse. Because just now I was sitting in my room working on my history project, and what should fall out of one of the books?
Another
diary entry! And not only that," she went on, ignoring her sisters' excited exclamations, "the book I found it in belonged to someone named Hal Emerson. He wrote his name inside."

"Hal?" squeaked Jasmine. "Was Hal's last name Emerson?"

"I think it was. At least, the handwriting is exactly the same as in the letters."

"I don't believe it," snorted Rose. "That is just too much coincidence!"

Violet looked at her sisters and couldn't help the note of triumph that crept into her voice. "Exactly! It
is
too much coincidence. That must mean—it
isn't
coincidence."

The three of them stared at each other for a long moment. Then Rose jumped up. "Well, come on, let's see the book and the entry!"

"In a minute. First I have to tell the dream I had—"

"A dream?" yelled Rose. "Who cares about a dream?"

"We want to see the diary entry first," insisted Jasmine.

"No, just
listen.
The dream matters. It's another—connection. I dreamed that I was on the Golden Gate Bridge with my science class. It was noon, I could tell because the sun was right overhead. And suddenly there was an earth
quake and the bridge was shaking like crazy—and ghosdy children were screaming and crying, and there were flames—and then Mr. Koch was pushing books at me and yelling that I needed to get busy on my work. Then I woke up. It wasn't even really a scary dream—I mean, I've had dreams of those children before. But then I read Laela's diary entry." She unfolded it. "Listen to this."

She read them Laela's dream, then handed them the page to inspect for themselves. She also showed them Hal's signature in the book. "Do you see what I mean?"

"You think that there's going to be another earthquake," Rose stated flady.

"Yes," said Violet.

"Well, of
course
there is. This is California. We've already had zillions of quakes."

"No, I mean a
big
one. Like the one in 1906. Big enough to destroy the bridge."

Jasmine shook her head. "The Golden Gate Bridge? Oh, Vi, I don't think so. The bridges were all retrofitted after the earthquake in 1989, remember? We saw that on the news."

Rose spoke up. "And you're forgetting that the bridges weren't even built across the bay when Laela wrote this entry. So she couldn't be talking about the Golden Gate Bridge."

"But that's just what I mean," Violet said fiercely. "Verity and Laela didn't even know what they were dreaming. It's as if their dreams are a prophecy. Look, Laela mentions strange, shiny vehicles. Those are modern cars, of course—but she didn't know that. She didn't know there would be a golden bridge, either, but there is one. And I had the very same sort of dream—with an important difference. In my dream, Mr. Koch was pushing books on me. I thought it meant I'd better get started on my science project, but now I think it was a message that I should open the books he gave me and find Laela's diary entry."

"I wonder how Mr. Koch got hold of Hal's book in the first place," mused Jasmine.

"I'm going to call him now and ask," said Violet, jumping up.

"What!" Rose looked shocked. "Call a teacher at home?"

"Why not? This is important."

"Brave Baby," said Jasmine. "But why not just wait a couple hours and you can ask him at the dance. He and his wife agreed to be some of our chaperones, so I know he'll be there."

"Girls!" interrupted the voice of their mother calling up the stairs. "Your dad and Sam are here!"

"Send Sam up!" called Violet, and she went to the top of the stairs to meet him, her sisters close behind.

"Hi, Vi!" he said cheerfully. "Good evening, Ladies of Mars. Or is it Venus?"

"Jupiter," said Rose. "Where's
your
costume?"

He was wearing blue jeans and a red sweatshirt, his dark mop of hair windblown. He looked wonderful, but Vi's earlier excitement about the dance was overshadowed by this new development.

"Don't worry about that now," said Violet, taking his arm and propelling him into the pink-and-yellow bedroom. "We have something really important to talk about."

"I brought a mask," he told her. "Not an organ-grinder, though. Not even a monkey." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a rubber Frankenstein mask.

"That'll be great, Sam," she said, hardly looking at it. "But listen. Something's happened." She thrust the book and diary page into his hands.

He looked around the room and grinned at Rose and Jasmine. "I guess it's got to be business before pleasure." But he sat down obediently next to Violet on Jasmine's bed and struggled to read Laela's handwriting.

"Violet thinks there's going to be a big earthquake that destroys the Golden Gate Bridge," Rose told him as he finished reading Laela's dream. "She says she had the same sort of dream herself."

"
Hmm,
" Sam said, looking intrigued now. "And why do you think this is all happening? I mean, who or what is making it happen? Is it magic?"

"
Whooooo,
" wailed Rose. "It's a ghost!"

But Violet didn't laugh with the others. "Rosy, I think you're right."

"Oh, come on," said Jasmine. "Not ghosts now! You don't believe in ghosts."

"Laela's ghost," Violet said, her mind whirling to fit this new puzzle piece. "Trying to do a good deed to make up for getting rid of Verity so
she
could marry Hal."

"I thought we had decided that she
didn't
kill Verity," said Rose.

"Well, she did
something
." Violet chewed her lip. "Something she felt was wrong."

"Look, I've got something to show you," Sam said before Rose could respond. "My dad looked in the newspaper archives for me and printed out copies of what he found." He reached for his backpack and unzipped it, pulling out a manila envelope. "It's not much, but it does answer some of the big questions."

He handed it to Violet. She lifted the flap and pulled out the folded papers. Her sisters pressed close to see.

First there was a short article with the headline:
FASHIONABLE HATS FILCHED
. "Look at the byline," Sam said, pointing. "Look who wrote it."

"By Hal Emerson," shrieked Rose.

"He worked for the paper!" Violet said, and felt as if another piece of a puzzle had dropped into place. "He was a reporter. That explains why he was awake when the earthquake hit. Reporters must keep all sorts of weird hours in order to cover stories for the newspaper." She read the article aloud.

 

"
FASHIONABLE HATS FILCHED

—by Hal Emerson

"Police were called to the Stowe Millinery shop on Chance Street on Friday after the owner, Mr. Albert Stowe, raised the alarm that a thief had entered sometime during the afternoon and stolen a dozen made-to-order ladies' hats. The shop room was untended for a short time because the Stowe family members, who all work in the business, were helping one of the daughters, Miss Verity Stowe, who had fallen down the stairs in the back of the building, sustaining both a strained back and a twisted ankle. By the time the family had settled Miss Stowe in her bedchamber and returned to the shop room, the hats were gone.

"Police speculate that the thief was a passerby—or even a potential customer—who, upon entering the shop and finding it empty, took the chance to make off with the beautiful creations meant to adorn the heads of San Francisco's finest matrons. Mr. Stowe has promised to make new hats for the customers whose hats were stolen, but for some, the replacements will come too late. Mrs. Gilbert Morrison, of Haight Street, had planned to wear her new hat to an engagement that same evening. 'Nonetheless,' she is reported as saying, 'I will continue to patronize Stowe's Millinery. Mr. Stowe and his wife are simply the finest milliners in all of California.'

"Any information leading to the return of the stolen hats and the apprehension of the thief should be directed to the Chief of Police.

 

"It's weird, isn't it," said Violet, laying down the paper, "reading about the Stowes—and knowing that Hal wrote this himself."

"Yeah," agreed Rose. "It makes them all seem more real. I bet this is how Hal met the Stowes in the first place. Remember Laela's diary entry that mentions how her 'poor charge' had fallen down the stairs, and that's why they needed to hire a companion? Probably Hal met the family when he came to cover this burglary for the newspaper, and he met Verity then, too."

"And fell in love with her," added Jasmine. "But for some reason the parents wouldn't let him date her—"

"They didn't call it dating in those days," said Sam. "He probably asked to court her, and the parents said no—because she was too sickly. We keep reading about how weak she was."

"But he didn't want to take no for an answer," said Violet dreamily, taking up the story. "So he had the idea of asking his friend Laela to apply for the companion job. He probably wanted to use Laela as a way to get to know Verity. He didn't know that Laela was in love with him."

"Look at the next article," Sam directed her. "It tells you more."

Violet looked down at the page in her hand and drew a ragged breath. It was an obituary. She sat staring at it until Sam gently removed it from her hand and read aloud:

 

"
STOWE, VERITY ELIZABETH
—

"Miss Verity Stowe, age 18 years, passed away on April 17, at her home on Chance Street in San Francisco after a long decline. The eldest daughter of Albert and Eleanor Stowe, owners and proprietors of Stowe Millinery, Miss Verity Stowe was at first thought to have perished in the earthquake which struck early the next morning.

But her companion, Miss Laela Baublitz, hired to assist with her care in these past months, reported that Miss Stowe drew her last breath shortly after retiring for the night. Doctors concur that death occurred due to heart failure, not an uncommon occurrence in wasting diseases of the sort from which Miss Stowe long had suffered. Miss Stowe is survived by her parents and two sisters, Jane and Rachel Stowe, age 12, also of Chance Street A memorial service will be held on Saturday at St Paul's Church."

 

Heart failure,
Violet thought uncomfortably.

"She was only eighteen," whispered Jasmine.

"But," said Rose, "she died of an illness. So that lets Laela off the hook."

Sam looked puzzled. "But why should she feel guilty if she didn't have anything to do with Verity's death?"

Violet tried to ignore her heart. Was it really fluttering madly—or was she just imagining it? "Baublitz," she read aloud from the clipping. "So now we know Laela's last name, too. Is there anything else, Sam?" She reached for the papers he held. "Oh, listen to this one. It's you-know-who's wedding announcement!

 

"
BAUBLITZ-EMERSON

"Miss Laela Baublitz and Mr. Hal Emerson,
both of
San Francisco, were married on June 20, 1906, at the Courthouse
in
this city. Miss Baublitz, now Mrs. Emerson, worked until her marriage as a nurse/ companion, employed by the Albert Stowe family of Chance Street Mr. Emerson, a well-respected reporter with this newspaper, was born in San Francisco. The couple plan to make their home
in
New Jersey, where Mr. Emerson will work for the
Trenton Times.
"

 

"Laela got her man," said Jasmine with satisfaction.

"I still want to know what Laela did to feel so guilty about," muttered Sam.

"And I," said Violet, "want to know why I had the same dream that she and Verity did. That's the key, I'll bet you anything, and—"

She broke off when Greg called up the stairs for them all to come down for supper. Lily had ordered two large pizzas, which were set out in the dining room along with a big bowl of fresh salad and tall glasses of juice. "Now don't stuff yourselves too much or you won't be able to dance!" Lily told them with a smile as they trooped into the room.

They settled themselves at the table and heaped their plates with salad and hot pizza. "Don't mention Hal and Laela," Violet warned Sam in a whisper. "My mom and dad don't know anything."

She was silent, only picking at her pizza while the others talked about normal everyday things like school and Halloween and earthquakes. She kept feeling that despite all the incredible connections between the past and the present, between Verity's life and her own, there was still some connection they were meant to make but hadn't. And time was passing.