The Old Cape House (6 page)

Maria scrambled to her feet and stood tall. The spring air blew
her hair back behind her head like ribbons in the wind. As she
turned away from the coast, she noticed the bright green grass of the sand dunes and smelled the fresh salty air. She was sad, but began to feel light and excited too, as if she were beginning her own journey of waiting that would be filled with hope. Her course now would be different from her previous life. It would require planning for Sam’s return. She knew he would come back. He loved her. He would rescue her from her dismal life. She would wait for him.

Soon a smile began to grow across her face as thoughts of Sam
circled in her head. With each step she took toward home she
imagined the two of them together, working side by side, as husband and wife. She became intrigued with what they would say to each other. She pictured Sam waking her up in the morning with a kiss before they would start their day. She felt good about their future together.

By mid-morning, her father’s house came into view. She
conjured another image of Sam standing in the door. As she reached out to
grab its latch, her father’s loud voice jolted her from her day-
dreaming with, “MARIA!” It yelled again, “MARIA, where you bin? Where’s my food?”

“Coming....” She hurried over to the hearth to stoke the fire. She didn’t care that he was angry with her.

“Where you bin?” he yelled as he hunched over the table.

“Just walking,” she sweetly replied. “Sorry Father.” Maria was
thankful he had kindled the fire and did not question her
whereabouts during the prior night. She ran to her room, promising, “I’ll be right back Father,” and closed the door.

Maria relieved herself in the nightjar and changed into a clean shift and skirt. A pile of soiled clothes lay in the corner by her bed, a grim reminder of laundry and her ongoing ordinary life. Today, it didn’t bother her; she was in love.

As she prepared breakfast for her father, Maria again pretended it was for Sam. She placed the Dutch oven with biscuit dough on the hot embers, poured strong cider into a tankard and opened a jar of
beach plum jam for the table. She liked the idea of Sam as her
husband and imagined how this fine meal would satisfy him. Checking the biscuits in the hearth, she reassured herself that her future would be with Sam. She knew it.

Suddenly the angry voice interrupted her thoughts again,
“Hurry up, you worthless girl.”

“Yes, Father.”

She was accustomed to hearing her father’s fury in so many ways; his actions and words were always sharp towards her. This time she turned away from him. With her back to the old man, she held his plate of biscuits and closed her eyes. Whispering a pledge to herself, she mouthed, “I promise to keep my hopes and dreams in my heart right next to Sam’s promise of returning to me, and no one will take that from me!”

Her father yelled over his shoulder, “What’s that you’re saying, girl?”

 “Nothing, Father.”

Hallett banged his fist against the table. “God has cursed me with an irritating and useless female. Where’s my drink?”

 From that day forward, Sam’s face and touch stayed with Maria. She worked hard and tried to do as she was told, even when her
father’s harshness interfered with her secret daydreams. Her
solution
was to pay little to no attention to his words. By ignoring his
rudeness
she could weave her dreams of happiness throughout the day,
making
life with her father easier to endure. Sadly, her lack of attention
aggravated the old man to such an extent the tension between them
grew stronger. Each night, exhausted in her bed from the day’s
work, her hopes felt shattered into tiny pieces of broken glass across the sandy floor. But knowing that Sam was coming home–to–her, and remembering his promises, she was able to patch them back together so she could sleep and dream of her future with him.

Present Day – June 23

BREWSTER – CAPE COD

AS I LOOKED OUT OF THE FRONT BAY WINDOW,
I couldn’t believe that three weeks had passed. On this gorgeous morning I felt a light ocean breeze caress my face. Leaning closer into the middle window, I touched my forehead against the old screen. What a great
idea it was to move close to the sea. A deep breath of salty air
dispelled any doubts I’d had about our uprooting the family. I sensed a perfect day was ahead of me. If I had one more cup of coffee and then secluded myself into the downstairs bedroom, alias office, I could polish off those pesky bills.

Within a few minutes, Jim quietly knocked on the bedroom door. “Mom?”

“Hi, honey.” He looked handsome in his white shorts and shirt. “Will you be late tonight?”

 “Yeah, I have the late shift.”

 “How’s work at the restaurant?”

“It’s okay. Everyone’s pretty nice.” Then with a quick kiss on my
forehead, he was off. As he shut the door he said, “I’ll see you
tomorrow morning. Have a good night.”

I was sorting through the mail as I watched him back out of the
driveway. I marveled at how much Jim had matured. I wished Mom
and Dad could have lived a little longer to see everyone’s
accomplishments and how our decision to move east was turning into such a good idea. A wave of inspiration for some gardening blew over me from the open window–physical work that I didn’t have to think about. I hid the bills under the roll-top desk and looked for Paul. I found him in the garage working on a carpentry project. “Paul, I’m going to do some digging out back.”

“Okay.”

I grabbed a shovel, trowel and kneepads. Near the rear of the barn a sunny spot beckoned me to choose it for a vegetable garden. I
placed the shovel’s blade over the grass. Its sharp edge hit the
ground and sliced into the green grass. I set the green sod aside for planting in a bare spot on the lawn. My foot hit the top of the shovel again, pushing eight inches into the black dirt. This is easy, I thought.

Moving to the right, I repeated my movements, slicing the grass and hitting the ground. But this time my foot stopped with such a force that it vibrated through my whole body, sending a sharp pain into my hand. I shook my fingers then massaged my palm. One more try, but I reminded myself to go slower this time. As I dug down, the shovel stopped again. Lifting the dirt, I could see the edge of what looked like a red brick. A brick? That’s odd. Of course, my curiosity pushed me farther in my digging. The more I dug the more bricks I found. They began to make a flat pattern that covered an area of about four to five square feet.

I dropped the shovel to tell Paul, who was still in the garage. Before I even reached the side door, I was yelling his name, “PAUL!” Out of breath with excitement, I called out again, “You’ve got to see this. Come on.”

Paul has always loved me for my adventuresome spirit and this time was no exception. He stopped sanding the old cabinet door
from the dining room and attentively followed me out to the back of
the barn. I thought I heard him mumble, “Never a dull moment with
you.”

“What did you say?” I asked as I hurried ahead of him.

“Nothing.” He was laughing.

It didn’t matter; I was too keyed up to care. I pointed to the uncovered bricks. “Take a look at what I found.” I watched him walk around the red bricks. “What do you think?”

He looked intrigued. “You want me to dig them up?”

“I don’t know. I guess we could use them in another garden area. Wait! Let’s take a picture of this for our scrapbook. I’ll get the camera.”

Paul grabbed a shovel. By the time I returned he’d uncovered another layer under the bricks that consisted of old gray stones. He stopped and stared. “Look at this.”

We stood in silence, gazing upon the multi-layered mystery. I handed him the camera. “Take some pictures of it just the way we found it.”

Paul took two close-up shots and one to show the position of the find in the yard.

“Should we keep digging?” I asked.

Paul didn’t wait to answer me; he started to pry up the red bricks, one by one. I quickly put them in a wheelbarrow. Slowly, the gray stones were uncovered. They formed a circle beneath the red bricks. Its center was filled in with dirt but was broken on one side, with an opening of about three feet. Paul dug within the open space. His first shovel went down several inches before hitting another flat stone. He lifted more dirt away.

I couldn’t resist getting closer and knelt down on the grass,
scraping away the black topsoil. “Look, it’s a step.” I leaned in
farther and brushed more dirt from the top of it. I pointed to the other side. “Dig over there, on the inside of the circle. See if the dirt goes down below this step.”

Paul dug down twice more with his shovel on the opposite side, to reveal only dirt. That confirmed my idea of steps on only one side. Now I was excited. I stood up to get a better look. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure, but it looks like a stairway down into some kind of a small room?”

“Maybe it’s a root cellar?” I asked thinking of where people, centuries ago, used to store their winter foods.

“You may be right; it’s too small for anything else,” Paul said as he stood up.

I could smell the freshly dug dirt. It reminded me of spring but within a few seconds, my thoughts slowly turned dark. I wondered if there was anything dead–animal or human– underneath the soil.

Present Day – July 1

BREWSTER – CAPE COD

THE SOUND OF RUMBLING GRAVEL
on the driveway distracted the two of us as we stood over the mysterious stone circle. What time was it? I brushed the dirt from my hands. “That must be Molly.”

I left Paul in deep thought, staring at the circle. He called over his shoulder, “I’ll stay here.”

Molly was smiling from inside the big SUV’s rear seat. She waved with one hand and flattened her drawn picture up against the window with the other. “Mom, look what I made,” she said as she scrambled out of the car.

As we walked to the backyard, I waved goodbye to my new carpooling partner for day camp and asked Molly, “Do you want to show Daddy your beautiful picture? He’s in the backyard and…we have something to show you.”

“What? Is it for me? Can I play with it?” she said, happily
skipping, holding fast to me with her tiny fingers and gripping her artwork in her free hand. We rounded the garage and saw Paul leaning on his shovel. Molly ran over to him, circling his legs in a big hug.

“Hi Daddy!” She pointed to the round patch of dirt. “What’s that?”

“Well, it’s something that your Mommy and I found. We’re not sure what it is.”

“Can I dig in it?”

“Yes, but only if you stay on the grass. Go get your digging
stuff.”

In a second she was back and squatting on the edge of the stones with eager anticipation of finding something important.

The crunch of gravel echoed again into the air. “I’ll go see who it is. You keep your eye on Molly. I’ll be right back.” I headed towards the back of the gallery. My head ducked under the low doorframe that was once the entrance to the old outhouse. As I passed our antique cash register, I could see potential customers already browsing the artwork.

Paul looked at his little girl, “Molly, Daddy will be in the garage painting a cabinet. I can see you through the garage window. Be careful to stay on the grass, and no eating dirt!”

Molly smiled with satisfaction. She loved to get dirty and this
giant hole pleased her. As she dug, she found several broken
clamshells and laid them carefully on the grass in a row. She pulled out an old spoon, which she conveniently made into a shovel, and scooped out
more dirt from inside the circle. Something small and round
embedded in the dirt caught her eye so she knelt down to get closer. Cautious not to go into the circle, she reached in as far as she could and dug around the tubular shape. Her old rusted spoon quickly uncovered what looked like a pipe, almost two inches long, with a flat handle attached to its end.

She whispered to herself, “What’s that?” She spat on her fingers and rubbed them over the handle to reveal markings. Pleased, she pushed her hair behind her ears to get a better view, leaving long black smudges across her cheeks. With a big smile on her face, she looked around to see if her Daddy could see her, then she stepped into the circle to pull the treasure out of the dirt.

I returned from the gallery to find Paul in the garage. “They
were just browsing; here for the week. They said they’d be back before they head home to Connecticut.” I sat down in the lounge chair next to the drawing table. “They seemed interested in your full sheet
watercolor
, Cape Cod Bay
.” I looked over to Paul. “It would be great
to sell a big painting. We could really use the money…where’s Molly?”

“I let her dig in the dirt. She’s fine. She was getting pretty dirty a few seconds ago.”

I peered out the window of the garage and saw Molly standing up, covered in dirt, examining something in her hands.

“What did she find now?” She was holding an object straight out with her hands. “Oh my God, what is that?” Fear gripped me as I ran outside, Paul following close behind me.

“Molly!”

The little girl turned, pointed the object at me and said, “Bang!”

Present Day – July 1

BREWSTER – CAPE COD

I TRIED TO REMAIN CALM
and gently coaxed Molly, “Give it to me, honey.”

Molly kept her hands on its handle. The gun was covered with dirt but its identity was obvious and Molly knew exactly what it was.

Coming a little closer, I asked again, “Molly give it to me so we can look at it together.” I had hoped she would just drop it on the ground. Lunging forward, I latched onto it as fast as I could and whisked it away from her little fingers. Up close I could tell, with a sigh of relief, that the gun was only a toy. “Do you know what this is?” I demanded from her.