THE MARINER’S SECRET ©
by
Mary Tomasi-Dubois
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2009 Mary Tomasi Dubois
Discover other titles by Mary Tomasi Dubois at
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Danger in the Jeweled City at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1414
Raising Harley at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1529
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Copyright Holder
Mary J. Tomasi Dubois, author
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Special thanks to my friend, Pat Lang, for all her help, and to my brother, John J. Tomasi, for the beautiful cover illustration—you both helped make it happen!
DEDICATION
To Paul,
whose inspiration, suggestions and help
made this work possible.
PROLOGUE:
Matt Townsend was a handsome 19 year old. His intelligent expression, along with the experiences of the past seven years, gave him an air of sophistication of a man twice his age. He stood in the large library, his green eyes focusing intently on the painting, their gaze softened by the smile on his face.
Matt unconsciously ran a hand through his light brown hair as the room brought back a rush of memories and mixed emotions for him. The icy stare of the old mariner in the portrait no longer seemed as mysterious as it had the first time he saw the painting. “No, I know your secrets now ol’ Captain,” Matt said; and his thoughts drifted to 1997 when he was 12, and of all the things he and Heather had experienced in the old San Francisco house.
CHAPTER 1
Matt and Heather were smart enough, in spite of their young ages, to know that Roger Hill, their great aunt’s butler and chauffer, was up to something. He was all smiles around Great Aunt Estelle, but when it was just him and the children or when he thought it was just him and his wife Manar, their governess and maid, Roger Hill took on a totally different character.
Yeah, he was up to something alright, and it was no good.
Roger was a tall, lanky man with pasty skin that made him look as though he came right out of a crypt. In fact, that’s how Matt and Heather came up with their nic-name for him, ‘The Crypt Keeper’.
“I don’t see how she can kiss him,” Matt said.
“Yeew,” Heather answered, screwing up her face as though she had a nasty taste in her mouth. Even though, at 11, Heather didn’t yet think of any boy romantically, she couldn’t imagine being married to someone like Roger Hill, ever. “And how can Manar let him put his arms around her? It’d give me the shivers. I’ll bet his hands are cold as ice, they’re so skinny and blue all the time.”
“Well, he was nice enough when we first met him. I mean, remember how he’d take Manar and us to the zoo and buy us ice cream,” Matt reminisced.
“I know. And remember how he was always trying to win stuffed animals at the carnival for us? Maybe that’s why Manar fell in love with him in the first place. She’s always saying ‘Looks aren’t everything. It’s character and kindness that count.’ ”
“Yeah, he’s a character all right, but what happened to the kindness?” Matt answered with a cynical tone in his voice.
“I know, huh? Manar is always making excuses for him whenever he’s mean to her. I think she’s been unhappy for a very long time,” Heather mused.
“Well how could she be happy? He’s mean to her all the time, except whenever Aunt Estelle is around.”
“Yeah, it was better before The Crypt Keeper came to live here,” Heather said. She wished Manar had never spoken to Roger Hill that day at the Japanese Friendship Garden in Golden Gate Park. But then, Manar had been lonely, Heather could tell.
Manar Jibari was born, raised, and well educated in Teheran, Iran. She came from a moderately-wealthy merchant family and her life had been very similar to that of American children – that is, until the regime change and the overthrow of the Shaw.
It became more and more difficult to adjust to the lifestyle changes imposed on everyone. But even more difficult for Manar to bear was the death of her father. He had been killed as a suspected conspirator against the Ayatollah, further shattering her life. Her mother just barely managed to escape to Turkey with Manar and her brother, Baruse - and from there, eventually to the United States. But, even though her life in America gave her some normalcy, Manar was never fully herself again and her demeanor took on a brooding quality.
Becoming Matt and Heather’s governess was the highlight of Manar’s early career. She had worked as a governess since she was 18, eventually landing a job with an English couple who had been temporarily transferred to the United States while working for a large computer firm. Once the couple’s transfer was up, though, Manar had to look for employment with another family. She came highly recommended and had excellent credentials when she was introduced to Matt and Heather’s parents, Jon and Josie Townsend. They liked her and hired her immediately. So, Manar had been the children’s governess since they were toddlers.
The Townsend’s treated Manar as though she were a member of the family, beginning with the very first day. They were even the ones who had sponsored her and helped her become an American citizen. Manar went with the Townsend’s everywhere – on family gatherings, on vacations, on visits to other families – in fact, because her own mother had died two years earlier and she had completely lost track of her brother, she began to feel that the Townsend’s were her family and almost felt as though Matt and Heather were her own children. But, while she was proud to be making her way as a new American, she wished she didn’t have to take care of other people’s children but instead, had a home and family of her own.
Finally, Matt broke the silence along with Heather’s daydreaming. “You mean it was better before we came to live here,” he said sourly.
At almost 13, Matt was feeling the rigidity of his great aunt’s household closing in on him. He was eager for adventure, and he suspected his best friend and sister was too. Matt often wondered what their lives would have been like if their parents hadn’t been killed that fateful day in 1989, and if they didn’t have to live in their aunt’s stuffy old row house. Yes, it was beautiful and luxurious, and yes, the bay views were fantastic, but Matt wished for something more. He wished he could be living on a ranch in Texas or on an island in Washington State - or in Hawaii. Yeah, that’d be great! Swimming with dolphins and whales, fighting off sharks, looking for sea caves; and he’d never have to wear street cloths again, just swim trunks and flip flops.
“Oh, it’s not so bad here,” Heather said, interrupting Matt’s daydream this time. Heather’s brown eyes sparkled with delight at the thought of her own bedroom all made up to look like that of a princess. As she sat there in her blue dress, with her golden hair pulled back, Matt had to admit to himself that she did look like Cinderella ready for the ball. But he wasn’t going to let her pretty face deter him.
“You mean you’d rather live here with Aunt Estelle, than with mom and dad?” Matt said, and turned his back to Heather, obviously upset.
“No, I really do wish we were with mommy and daddy, but - I mean if we can’t, then I’m glad we live here,” Heather said with a shrug.
It had been a little over eight years since their parents’ death, but Heather’s relationship with them was frozen in 1989 when they were still alive and she was only three years old, and so she still thought of them as mommy and daddy. Many of her memories of them had faded. What she could still remember, though, was her mother’s beautiful brown eyes looking deep into her own as she was sung to sleep with a lullaby. And she remembered her dad’s smile as she ran towards him, wrapping her arms around his legs when he came home from the research lab.
“So,” Heather continued talking, “I try not to think about it.”
CHAPTER 2
The school year was almost over and the buzz around school was all about vacations - who was going where and with whom, what places would be visited, and what the means of transportation would be - airplane, car, train, or ship. Everyone was excited, everyone, that is, but Matt and Heather. Their vacation wouldn’t be a vacation at all. They’d just go to the Exploratorium with Manar and The Crypt Keeper, or possibly on a picnic at Stinson Beach or Muir woods. Or worse yet, they’d be stuck in their great aunt’s row house, alone with Manar and The Crypt Keeper, while their aunt visited Europe. Then, when she’d return, because she’d feel guilty about having left them, she’d take them to lunch or dinner at one of her favorite stuffy ol’ restaurants - yuck!
Matt yearned for something more. He would be thirteen in two weeks. His life had to change soon or he’d go mad! It was so boring living in the old house.
Matt’s thoughts now drifted to the first day he saw the majestic row house perched on a rise in the wealthy Marina District of San Francisco. He and Heather had been driven to their new home directly from their parent’s funeral. It was a gray and dreary day, reflecting their mood. They sat in silence in the big, black limousine. Remnants of the earth quake’s devastation were still evident in parts of the neighborhood. The driver had to take a circuitous rout to avoid the police barricades set up to protect citizens from the potential collapse of structures. Parts of the area looked as though they were a war zone. Their great aunt’s house was one of the few that had remained untouched.
When they finally reached the home’s front entrance, they were escorted to the front door by their aunt and the limousine driver who had walked around and opened the door, holding an enormous black umbrella over their heads in an attempt to stave off the lightly falling drizzle. But he was so tall, the back of Matt’s neck got wet anyway, causing him to shiver. As they slowly approached the house, the two large, leaded-glass doors mysteriously opened, revealing the foyer and grand stair case. Matt and Heather just stood there looking up in awe, and Matt shivered again, this time wondering what fate lay before them.
The two had spent the next few weeks exploring, and the house’s intriguing architecture eventually brought out their natural playful nature. They could always find something fun to do, from sliding down the winding banister to playing hide-and-seek in all the mysterious rooms and corners. The garden and potting shed held their own intrigue as well.
But, today, on the cusp of becoming 13, Matt realized he had tired of all of the home’s interesting nooks and crannies long ago. He remembered he had especially liked the servants’ stair case that wound discreetly behind all the rooms from the kitchen up to the back hallway leading to the bedrooms, but that no longer held a fascination for him either. He had also enjoyed reading the thick book on the history of the house and of the unscrupulous mariner whose painting hung in a dark corner of the library, and who, it was rumored, had used indentured Chinese laborers to build the house – but, that, too, lacked appeal. Matt had, in fact, exhausted all avenues of pleasure once derived from his explorations of the old house.
Early on, Matt and Heather had agreed that the library was the neatest room in the whole house, and their next favorite besides their bedrooms. But, even its charms were beginning to wear thin, and it felt more like a prison to Matt than the cozy cocoon it had once been.
The walls and ceiling of the library were paneled in a rich American cherry wood, creating the cozy feeling in spite of the room’s large scale. In the evenings, before bed, Matt and Heather liked to either sink into the overstuffed burgundy sofas and chairs to read, or lie on the floor to play games. The only nice thing about living with their great aunt, in Matt’s opinion, was the fact that she was constantly buying them books since reading was one of her favorite things to do too. She would always say, “There is very little else a child can do that is better than reading.” So, she had had one of the bottom library shelves cleared of old ledgers to make room for new books for the children.
Aunt Estelle enjoyed retiring to the library along with Matt and Heather to sip her after-dinner coffee. She would muse about their interest in the room, and often said how funny it was that this should be their favorite room. “It was your Uncle Hubert’s favorite room too. He picked all the furnishings and a lot of the books.”
Whenever Aunt Estelle talked about Uncle Hubert, Matt could imagine the uncle he had never met sitting in one of the large leather chairs, smoking his favorite cigar, his hand around a cut-glass snifter of cognac, resting on the elaborately carved mahogany table next to him.
It was a man’s room alright. There were trophies and models of ships and narrow gauge trains everywhere. Matt had especially loved to listen to the Saint Michael’s clock that sat atop the mantle, its chimes different from the ordinary Westminster chimes of every other clock he had heard. And on a cold rainy day, he and Heather loved to lie on the Persian carpet, listening to the crackling of the fire in the green-marbled fireplace with its carved mahogany surround and large, open hearth. They would quietly lie there, mesmerized by the eerie dancing shadows cast by the fire’s glow, lost in their own thoughts.
On days when Roger had driven their aunt downtown to go shopping and Manar was busy doing laundry, Matt and Heather would head for the library to play the majestic old pipe organ that sat in the corner. They didn’t believe their aunt’s insistence that it didn’t work properly and that ‘she’d have to get someone in to fix it one of these days.’ Everyone in the household seemed to ignore the fact that on some nights, the sound of organ music could distinctly be heard wafting upstairs from what seemed like the library - everyone but Matt and Heather that is.
Their favorite room held still another fascination for them - the sliding, library ladder. Its purpose was to reach the upper shelves of the 12-foot-high book cases that wrapped around three walls of the room. Instead, they’d take turns pushing one another on it until Manar would finally yell from the laundry room to ‘stop behaving like wild animals’.
For Matt, the room had always inspired thoughts of sailing to far away places and of adventure, and maybe that’s why he couldn’t derive as much pleasure from it these days because he wasn’t sailing to far away places and he certainly wasn’t having an adventure!
The only spot that still held some interest for him was his and Heather’s secret spot in their favorite room. Their finding it was purely by accident. One day, the inspiration the old library evoked of a captain’s quarters on an old sailing ship had induced Matt to bombard Heather with waded up note paper – and the battle began.
Matt had strategically placed himself behind one of the arm chairs while Heather looked for a place to hide and plan her own moves. That’s when she crawled on the floor and hid behind the sofa. It was a perfect spot. It was a narrow, tunnel-like space, created by the wall on one side, the sofa on the other, and the custom-made sofa table as its ceiling.
“Whoa,” she said. “Look at this, Matt.”
Matt dropped the wadded up paper he held in his hand and crawled next to Heather. “Cool,” he said. “What a cool hiding place.” And they had been hiding there ever since, for almost six years now.
They even had a stash of candy bars, cookies, and other junk food their aunt otherwise refused them. Shortly after finding the spot, they had rummaged through the kitchen and found a small plastic storage tub in one of the cupboards. It fit perfectly under the back of the sofa, hiding their stash until they could get at it.
Somehow today, though, even that no longer held the same interest for Matt. Instead he lie on his bed, thinking of far away lands, of what he might be when he grew up, of everything but his boring life in his Great Aunt Estelle’s house.
CHAPTER 3
The big day finally arrived, but Heather seemed more excited about it than Matt.
“What’s wrong Matt? Aren’t you excited about being 13?” Heather asked.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“What’s the matter, you’ve been mopey for two weeks now. Come on, your going to have a party, cheer up.”
“A party? You call what we have a party?” Heather knew to what Matt was alluding.
Other than when they were attending private school, Matt and Heather were seldom around other children. Aunt Estelle didn’t like having what she called ‘little heathens’ running around, destroying all her fine things, and seldom allowed young visitors to call on Matt and Heather. So, contrary to every other child of their age, not only did Matt and Heather find the summer months somewhat boring, but likewise, birthday parties and holidays too. These generally incorporated cocktails, quickly degenerating into dull, adult social gatherings rather than proper children’s events. They were almost exclusively attended by adults, some of whom did occasionally bring a grandchild or niece or nephew to play with Matt and Heather. But that was rare since the visiting children had found the household boring too.
And so, on this occasion, Matt and Heather were the only party goers below the age of 18. After a polite thank you to everyone, Matt and Heather excused themselves and escaped to the library rather than hang around and listen to silly adult chatter.
Heather fell onto the sofa, grabbing her latest edition of Cricket magazine on the way down. “Ahhh! So, what’ll we do now Matt?”
“Ugh, I wish we could escape from here,” Matt said, trying to immerse himself in a computer game. But, it was no use, the game was boring. He had played it, for what to him, seemed like a million times.
Even though there was a television in addition to the computer in the library, Matt and Heather were restricted to only two hours per day of watching it, and then only on selected channels or programs. They were only allowed two hours on the computer too, originally just for research and homework, but then Aunt Estelle relented when Manar had given them a computer game for Christmas one year. So that was it. One stupid computer game, Matt thought and pounded the end button, walking away from the screen.
“OK. Come on. I’m gonna give you my special present now,” Heather said, and headed for their secret hideaway behind the sofa. “Aren’t you coming? Come on.”
“Why do we have to go there for it? Why can’t you give it to me here?
“Because it’s more special in our secret place.”
When they finally settled in, Heather handed Matt his gift and he hurriedly ripped the wrapping paper from the present, guessing it was a book by the shape of it. But it wasn’t just an ordinary book, it was a dairy, similar to the log book their dad had used to jot down his sudden insights and creative solutions to problems.
“When I saw it at the stationary store, I suddenly remembered daddy and how he was always writing things down,” Heather said. “I know how you like to read and take notes, so I thought this would be perfect.”
The children knew very little of their parents, just that they had been scientist conducting research. The truth is, their parents had been successful biochemists who, in 1988, had started a biotechnical firm, SafGen, in Burlingame, California. The firm was under contract to other larger companies to conduct genetic research. But Jon and Josie Townsend had been privately conducting their own research to find the genetic markers for intelligence. Once discovered, the markers could have a major impact on society - with a potential for good or bad. Consequently, when news leaked that they might have, in fact, been successful, their research raised some controversy over the fact that genetic manipulation to produce a race of super intelligent babies would be available to only the wealthy; or worse, if the process were ever to get into the wrong hands, could be manipulated to produce a race of Zombie-like humans, obeying the commands of a fiend.
“Thanks Heath, the diary is perfect,” Matt said and hugged her, forgetting for a moment how bored he had been earlier.
They both lie on the floor, head-to-head, talking of their drab lives when Matt, who was lying very close to the wall, suddenly discovered a feature that started at the baseboard and went up the paneled wall. It looked like an opening of about two square feet. Matt had never noticed it before. It was a chink in the paneling.
“Whooa. Look at this!” Matt said. And his heart began pounding in excitement and anticipation, hoping he had discovered a secret trap door to a passageway (possibly added by the Chinese laborers who built the house long ago).
Matt tried to pry the door open with his finger tips. “I just can’t get a good enough grip to open it.”
“Hold on, I’ll get the letter opener.” Heather backed out of the tunnel-like space and ran to the desk and grabbed the sterling silver letter opener. “Here Matt,” she said, and tossed it to him from the end of the sofa.
Matt stuck the blade end in on the right side, but couldn’t get enough leverage to pry the door open. He slid the blade around the top and over to the left when they both heard a click and the panel opened, revealing a small passageway barely big enough for an adult.
Both their hearts began pounding this time. Matt poked his head through, but it was so dark he could hardly see what was beyond the threshold. He decided to venture further, prodding Heather to come with him.
“No. I’m scared. Anyway, shouldn’t I stay here and make sure no one catches us?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Matt whispered as he maneuvered his body around to sit at the opening rather than have only his head poking through. He was sitting on what felt like a ledge with his feet dangling in air. As he scooted forward, to his surprise he began sliding down a 45º ramp.
“Whooooa!” Heather heard Matt’s shout trail off into the abyss as she was left there kneeling at the opening. She listened for the sound of Matt’s voice to assure her that everything was OK, but still on the alert for one of the adults, should they decide to see what the two children had been up to for so long.
CHPATER 4
On this, his maiden voyage into the unknown, Matt entered a dim counterpart library. While it had many of the same features of the library he was so used to, it was somehow different. There were overstuffed mohair settees in dark colors, not the usual leather sofas and chairs Matt was used to. In the corner sat the majestic pipe organ. Above it the familiar painting of the old mariner still stood watch. But the paint seemed fresh and brighter, with none of the aged patina one would expect of an old painting. Matt walked closer to the pipe organ. It looked like the same one, but the wood was shiny and new and the labels on the pulls weren’t worn like the ones he was familiar with.
A prickly feeling began to creep up on the back of Matt’s neck and his stomach started getting queasy – it was time to find his way back to the real library and to Heather.
Matt frantically tried to climb the ramp, but his feet kept slipping back. He was beginning to feel faint. He sat on the floor at the base of the ramp, exasperated, trying to think of a solution and trying to calm himself. He looked around for something to help with his assent when he spotted a lever at the side of the ramp. Matt stood up reaching for it with a quivering hand. He gingerly took hold of the lever and slowly pulled. There was a loud crack, then a creaking sound, and Matt jumped back in fright.
The ramp flipped over, revealing stairs.
Matt slowly tested the first step. He stood on it for a short while to make sure it would hold his weight and make sure it wouldn’t suddenly flip back over, exposing the ramp side. When he was satisfied, he quickly climbed the rest of the steps, hoping to get to the top before the ramp did reappear.
Finally, he was at the top and through the opening. He took in a lung full of fresh air, realizing the air in the library he had just visited was dank and musty. Heather was still on her knees, staring and waiting for him to say something.
Breathlessly, Matt started to describe what he had just seen, when they both heard footsteps on the marbled floor beyond the library doors. It was The Crypt Keeper rapidly approaching. He would be through the door in a matter of seconds.
CHAPTER 5
Matt and Heather just barley managed to close the secret door, slide out from their hiding place, and sit on the sofa, Matt jotting down notes in his new log book, and Heather reading her magazine.
“It’s upside down,” Matt whispered, out of breath.
“What,” Heather asked, puzzled.
“Your magazine, it’s upside down.”
“Oh,” and Heather just barely managed to get it right side up when The Crypt Keeper slowly opened the library doors.
The Crypt Keeper stared at the two of them, first Matt then Heather, causing shivers to go up and down her spine. His beady eyes looked like two small yellow spot lights glowing from beneath his one large bushy eyebrow. The rest of his face was in shadow as he stood in the doorway, one large silhouette, arms outstretched holding the doorknobs.
Finally his raspy voice broke the thick silence. “Madam wishes your presence in the drawing room.” The Crypt Keeper stood there, waiting, as though he were a jailer about to take his prisoners to their doom.
Matt and Heather got up and slowly walked towards the tall skinny man. Matt stopped just in front of The Crypt Keeper, looking at him defiantly, waiting for him to move away from the doorway. The Crypt Keeper stared back. Finally, he dropped one hand from the door knob, allowing Matt to brush past. Matt’s shoulder pushed The Crypt Keeper’s arm aside and this time Matt looked straight ahead, trying not to reveal how much he detested the man. Heather followed, but unlike Matt, she couldn’t stop looking up at The Crypt Keeper and turned sideways to scoot past him, trying not to touch any part of his body with hers.
No one knew very much about Roger Hill’s past. When Manar had told Estelle Furgeson she had received a proposal of marriage, Mrs. Furgeson insisted she meet this man. “My dear,” she had said to Manar, “as your employer, I feel responsible for your happiness and your future. So, I would like to meet your gentleman friend. After all, I am much older than you and I think I have enough experience to tell if he would be right for you.”
Matt remembered the day Roger Hill first came to the old house. He disliked the man from the start. He seemed disingenuous with his overly polite behavior. Roger explained that he had been unemployed for a short while, but said that he knew a lot about cars and had driven for a limousine company, taking passengers to the airport or out on special occasions. He said that currently, though, he was employed as a night guard, but was rather unhappy with that since he wasn’t using his talents nor intelligence to their fullest potential. He never mentioned his employment with SafGen.
Mrs. Furgeson was completely enamored with Roger, and because she needed one anyway, she decided to offer him a job as her chauffer and butler, but not until after his and Manar’s wedding. That way, he could move into Manar’s room and the problem of housing another employee would be solved. Roger accepted. His plan for gaining unlimited access to the old house had worked.
The wedding was held in the drawing room of Aunt Estelle’s large home. The only people in attendance were Aunt Estelle and a few of her friends who had a special fondness for Manar because of her caring treatment of their grandchildren or nieces and nephews whenever they were brought to play with Matt and Heather. There were no guests in attendance who knew Roger. Matt was the ring bearer and Heather was the flower girl. Manar cried, wishing her real family could’ve been there to share in her happiness.
So, Roger Hill had been the family butler and chauffer for three years, and Aunt Estelle had remained completely satisfied. It was only Matt and Heather who suspected The Crypt Keeper of no good, even though they, nor anyone else, knew of his secret past and how much of a threat to their safety he really was.
Unbeknownst to them, Roger had been originally employed as head of security for SafGen. However, he had been quietly dismissed on the night of October 16th, 1989, when Jon Townsend had found Roger taking snapshots of the log book for the genetic research he and Josie had compiled. The log explained their process for identifying the biomarker for intelligence.
When Jon walked into his private office and found Roger bending over his desk, he confiscated the camera and asked Roger to leave the premises immediately. “I’ll be filing charges this Friday, the 18th – be forewarned.”
Roger, The Crypt Keeper, really wasn’t on Matt’s mind today, though. In fact, all the depressing feelings and thoughts he had had these past few weeks were completely gone. He was thinking of other more exciting matters now, and as he and Heather walked towards the drawing room, Matt whispered, “Wait ‘til I tell you what I saw down there!”
Because of his long stilt-like legs, The Crypt Keeper was able to reach the drawing room doors first and slide them open, announcing Matt and Heather’s arrival. “Master Mathew and Miss Heather, madam.”
“Oh, come in children. Mathew, your guests are about to leave. Thank them for coming and for your gifts. Wasn’t it nice of them to have been so generous?” Aunt Estelle said in a dramatic, slightly tipsy voice.
Why do I have to say all that, Matt thought, didn’t you just say it for me. And, besides, I’m not some little child that has to be told what’s proper to say.
“Achem,” Matt cleared his throat. “Thank you all for helping me celebrate my birthday.” Then he stood before each guest and shook their hands. “Thank you Mr. Bartley, I needed a new baseball mitt. Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Gannon, the sweater and slacks will be perfect for a visit to the De Young. Mrs. Hopland, I’m sure I’ll enjoy the book on dinosaurs.” And he continued on, amid whispers of what a polite young man he was and how proud Mrs. Furgeson must be. Finally, he had personally thanked everyone, including his Great Aunt Estelle, who because of too much champagne, was unusually demonstrative and grabbed him in a bearish hug.
“Oh, my poor children,” she said, and grabbed Heather too and held them both in her arms in a tight squeeze.
Aunt Estelle loved drama and loved to be the center of attention. She had never had children of her own, so by the time Matt and Heather became her wards she hadn’t a clue as to how to deal with them. And so it seemed only natural to have Manar continue on as their governess – never mind that she had given her other responsibilities too.
“Dear,” she would say in her affected, sweet tone - “Won’t you wash these few things for me? You haven’t anything to do while the children are napping have you? It would be such a help. Thank you.” Or “Dear, would you mind terribly fixing me a little something to eat, and fix yourself something too. Thank you dear, you’re so kind.” So, before long, Manar found her responsibilities went beyond just watching Matt and Heather; she really was a full blown housekeeper too. If Manar hadn’t have loved the children so much, she might have considered finding work elsewhere.
Hubert Furgeson, Aunt Estelle’s husband had been in the diplomatic service and had traveled extensively throughout the world. His tragic death in 1979 on Flight 007 to Korea came as a sever shock to her. But, with a strong will and determination, within a short while Aunt Estelle was her old self again, throwing and attending parties.
Because of a successful career as a concert pianist, with everyone ooing and awing at her brilliant talent, Aunt Estelle had already built up a tidy sum in her bank account before marring Mr. Furgeson. But his death had left her one of the wealthiest women in San Francisco, and now she enjoyed her life as a socialite, courted by politicians and foundations alike for her generous donations and influential support.
As a child prodigy, Estelle Furgeson had a demanding schedule of private piano lessons; constant practicing, recitals, and tours; and found herself surrounded only by adults. Consequently, coupled with the fact that she had no children of her own, she was uncomfortable around Matt and Heather and distant and stiff with them. The three of them did, at times, have quiet dinners together, though, but there was generally no laughter, only polite conversation, with a sprinkling of prodding by Mrs. Furgeson to “remember your manners.”
Great Aunt Estelle’s idea of a good time for children was to take Matt and Heather to the symphony or the ballet. And, when she found the subject matter intelligent, she occasionally took them to see a children’s play. Fortunately, neither Matt nor Heather knew their aunt also had plans to introduce them to the opera when they ‘were of appropriate age’. If he had known, Matt certainly would have gone crazy with the prospect of his stuffy, ol’ life only getting worse.
CHAPTER 6
Matt and Heather waited anxiously for the right time to head to their secret spot - and the hidden door. While they both had a slight aversion to its secrets, they were also drawn to uncovering its mysteries.
Even though Heather found Matt’s tale of the strange, alternate library hard to believe, she had had dreams of falling and of dungeons and darkness. Actually, neither of them had actually been able to get a restful night’s sleep, but, like all adventurous discoverers, they were compelled to continue on.
At breakfast Manar asked them what all the whispering was about, and The Crypt Keeper, who was sitting at the end of the kitchen table, polishing silver, looked suspiciously at them through his one bushy eyebrow. “Nothing,” Matt said nervously, “I, --I was just asking Heather if she wanted to play the computer game.” They needed any excuse to get alone and devise their plan.
“No, you play the game,” Heather said in an unusually high, stilted voice. “I’m going to finish reading my magazine.”
The children finished their breakfast and uncharacteristically brought their dishes to the sink, looking steadily at Manar with an occasional glance at The Crypt Keeper. Manar knew from their behavior that something was up, but The Crypt Keeper didn’t pay any further attention and wrote their actions off as insignificant childhood folly.
Matt and Heather finally reached the library. “We need enough time when we’re sure that no one will be around to bother us,” Matt said.
“Isn’t Aunt Estelle going on that house tour with her woman’s group Friday? She’ll be gone almost all day.”
“Yeah, and Manar will be busy cleaning house and The Crypt Keeper will be washing and polishing the cars. That’s perfect; we’ll have practically the whole day alone.” Matt could hardly wait.
CHAPTER 7
Friday finally arrived. The house was empty except for Matt and Heather, and Manar who was busy upstairs tending to the bedrooms.
This time Matt didn’t prod Heather into going with him through the secret door. “Stand watch again, Heather, and if you hear anything, start singing Take Me Out To The Ball Game, nice and loud.”
“OK, be careful!”
“I will. Just make sure you keep listening for footsteps at the door.”
Matt took the silver letter opener and his log book and crawled through to their spot behind the sofa. Heather followed. Matt slipped the blade of the letter opener in, and again, there was a click and the panel door opened.
Because of the novelty of the hidden door and because of their excitement of finding it the first time, neither had noticed the Mariner’s clock that hung on the left-side panel just inside the opening of the secret passageway. It must have been the way the sun’s rays shown through the room at this early hour that caused Matt to look at it. “Whooa. What’s this?”
Heather moved in to get a closer look. “What kind of clock is that?” Instead of the normal 12 hours she was use to seeing, this clock had more numbers. And where the 12 should have been, there was the number 24, right next to the digits 0,0. Puzzling over the strange clock, she noticed something even stranger. Heather silently pointed to the riddle inscribed in the paneling just below the clock. It read:
Tic Toc,
Tic Toc,
Time is in the hands of this clock.
Whether to go forward or whether to go back,
Whichever you choose will determine your track.
Never tarry longer then when the next watch is struck,
Or wherever you are,
That is where you are sure to be stuck!
After several moments of silence, Matt said, “I think I have an idea of where we might find out what this all means.” He scooted out of their secret spot and walked to the bookshelves. “It’s here somewhere.” He was looking for the large book on the history of the old house to see if there was any information he might have overlooked mentioning the hidden door and strange clock. He flipped through the pages twice, but slapped the book shut with a sigh when he found nothing. Then he and Heather both began scanning the shelves looking for titles that might lead them in the right direction. They found several that seemed promising, but disappointingly, lead nowhere.
Finally, Heather spotted one on the very top shelf that had the word maritime in it. “Hmmm,” she thought, “MariTIME, I wonder if that would have anything to do with it.”
She rolled the ladder to the shelf she needed to reach. Matt watched as she slowly climbed it. When she got to the top, she called down, “It’s called Maritime Rules of the Seas. Do you think it would help?”
“Maybe. Bring it down. Let’s look.” Matt was willing to try anything at this point.
It was a thick book and Heather held it close to her chest with one hand, and held the side of the ladder with the other. She carefully stepped on each rung – first with one foot then the other, to make sure she wouldn’t slip.
Matt watched her anxiously – it seemed to take her forever.
At last her feet touched the floor. Matt took the book from Heather’s aching arm and laid it on the leather sofa. They both knelt in front of it, Heather watching as Matt slowly turned to the index to look up the words clock or time. Under the heading Time, they found the sub-entry: Ships Clock, page 329.
“I’ll bet that has something to do with it,” Matt said. “This house was built by a sea captain.” He hurriedly flipped through the pages -350, 338, --finally, page 329. Staring up at them was a diagram of a clock that looked exactly like the clock hanging inside the secret passageway. They both silently read the text.
DEVELOPMENT OF THE SHIP’S CLOCK
When a ship is underway at sea, it is necessary to man the essential operating stations, such as the Navigation Bridge and engine room, 24 hours a day. To accomplish this, the ship’s crew is divided into “watches” which rotate duty time or being “on watch” in shifts usually four hours long.
In the sailing ship era, before the development of mechanical clocks, the passage of each 4-hour watch was marked with an hourglass which ran 30 minutes each side. When the glass was turned over each half hour, the ship’s bell was struck. Over time, a traditional pattern of striking the bell in couplets or pairs of strikes developed, which added a strike each half hour, thus, using an example of a watch beginning at noon:
Noon 8 bells (a new watch comes on duty)
12:30 1 bell
1:00 2 bells
1:30 3 bells
2:00 4 bells
2:30 5 bells
3:00 6 bells
3:30 7 bells
4:00 8 bells (the watchstanders are relieved by the next watch)
4:30 1 bell (and the pattern starts over)
A person standing watch could tell by listening to the bells where he was in his watch and how long it would be before the next watch came on deck. Also, if the strike was an even number, it was on the hour. If it was an odd number, it indicated it was the half hour, and which half hour it was. As mechanical clocks were developed, this bell pattern was transferred into ship’s bell clocks, hence the 24 hours marked on the face.
They both finished reading at the same time and silently looked at one another. “Well,” Matt finally said, breaking the silence, “that explains the clock. But what the heck does the riddle mean?”
CHAPTER 8
Heather began repeating the verse to herself, her gaze focused on some inner landscape while she tried to decipher its code.
In exasperation Matt said, “You can stay here and try to figure out the riddle, I’m going down the passageway again. Just remember to sing loud enough for me to hear if someone comes.”
Matt scooted close to the edge of the opening - this time he was fully prepared to slide down the ramp. He found himself enjoying the ‘ride’ and imagined it might be something like a ride at a theme park, even though he had never been on one.
Matt reached the bottom and got up, straightening his pants and shirt while he looked around. It was the same library he had visited the first time. He decided to venture further this time though. He slowly approached the double doors. In his home there would be a powder room to the right, just outside the library doors. He slowly opened the doors and poked his head around to the right. It appeared there was a powder room in this strange house too. He opened its door and felt around for the light switch, but instead of the familiar switch, he felt two buttons. He pushed the extended one in, and a bare light bulb suspended from the ceiling came on.
Matt stepped into the room. There weren’t the modern bathroom fixtures he was use to. Instead, a pedestal sink stood where the cabinet-mounted sink should be, and a wooden box stood where the toilet should be. A smaller, wall-mounted box hung above that, and a long chain with a wooden handle dangled from the overhead box. Strange contraption, I’ll have to remember to make note of it in my log. Matt thought, and turned to exit while pushing the other button to turn off the glaring light bulb.
Matt tiptoed slowly down the hall with one hand skimming the wall; he wanted it there as support if he should come upon something that might startle him and cause him to loose balance.
He finally reached a door he guessed led to the kitchen. He opened the door and stopped mid swing when its hinges began squeaking. Matt held his breath, squeezing the door knob. He stood there not daring to make another move or sound, expecting to hear someone come running at him, shouting in protest at the intruder.
After what seemed like the longest minute, Matt exhaled and began breathing normally. He slowly opened the door all the way and a kitchen lay before him, but not the kitchen he was use to.
Matt looked across the white-tiled room to the windows overlooking Marina Boulevard. His eyes opened wide and he stood there, transfixed. This was the strangest sight he had seen so far in this strange version of his house.
There, before his very eyes, were horse-drawn carriages, Model-T Fords, and two steam ships in the bay.
Matt turned around slowly, his eyes still wide open. He slowly walked through the doorway he had just entered. He didn’t bother to close the door. When he made it to the hallway, he broke into a sprint, desperate to reach the library and the waiting ramp.
Breathless, he pulled the lever next to the ramp. There was the familiar crack and creaking, and the ramp obediently turned over to reveal its steps. Matt was already on the first step before the system had even completely settled into place. Skipping to every third step, Matt reached the top and flung himself into the kneeling Heather, both of them falling into a heap.
“What are you trying to do Matt, kill us both?”
“Heather, you, ---you have to come with me. Even if it’s just to prove I’m not going crazy!”
“What’re you talking about? You look awful! What just happened down there?”
“Heath, ---I, ---I just saw old things. But they weren’t old, they were new, but they’re old things, ya know?” Matt couldn’t find the right words to describe what he had just seen.
“No, I don’t know. What did you see? Tell me, slowly.”
“OK, OK. I, ---I saw carriages with horses,” Matt started slowly. “And old cars, I think they’re called Model-T’s or something, and I saw a steam ship. No, I mean two steam ships. Like in the olden days you know?” He was talking faster again.
“What do you mean steam ships? How do you know they were steam ships? And, anyway, people still drive old cars. It’s a hobby. And the carriage was probably from Pier 39 – you know they have that for the tourists.” Heather was trying to convince herself as much as Matt. Somehow she suspected he had actually seen what he had described. And, if he had, she wasn’t sure that would be a good thing.
They both knelt there in silence. Matt ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “What the heck is all this? The riddle. It says something about ‘time is on this clock___’ ”
“No, it says ‘time is in the hands of this clock,’ do you think that has something to do with all this?” Heather asked.
“Yeah, it must. Why, would they’ve put a clock here at the opening? And why is there a secret opening in the first place?
CHAPTER 9
“What else does the riddle say,” Matt asked, as he scooted himself around to get a better look at it. “Whether to go forward or whether to go back, whichever you choose will determine your track? What the heck does that mean?”
“Sounds like time travel to me,” Heather said. “Remember the movie Back to the Future? The scientist built a car that took the driver back and forth in time, just by setting the clock - Oh my gosh! Do you think that’s what this does?” Heather’s heart started pounding and she could feel her pulse in her throat.
Matt hadn’t really heard Heather. He had guessed he was time traveling when he entered the library at the bottom of the ramp the second time. “Whether to go forward or whether to go back___. Hmm, I wonder what would happen if I changed the time,” Matt whispered, just loud enough for Heather to hear, but not really speaking to her.
Matt took hold of the clock with both hands and carefully removed it from the hook. The clock was stopped at 10:00 am. “What time is it now?” he asked Heather.
“I don’t know,” she answered as she scooted out of their secret place. “Let me go look at the mantle clock. Oh, my gosh. It’s already eleven thirty!” The time had rushed by, and two and a half hours had seemed like only one.
“Let me just set the time and wined___” Matt had just set the clock to 11:30 when he and Heather heard Manar call from the kitchen “Hey you two, lunch.”
“Hurry up Matt,” Heather said, just loud enough for Matt to hear as she stood in front of the fireplace. “The Crypt Keeper will be coming to get us for lunch. Hurry.”
Matt tried to hang the clock back up but couldn’t get the slot lined up with the hook. His hands started shaking and he almost dropped the clock through the opening and down the ramp. He took a deep breath and angled his head so he could see the hook and hopefully successfully guide the clock’s slot over it. He raised the clock slightly and slid it down over the hook, hoping to engage it, but missed again. He took another deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. He raised the clock for the third time and slowly slid it over the hook again. This time it took hold, and not too soon. Those footsteps were unmistakable. Matt heard The Crypt Keeper’s cursing under his breath at ‘how he wasn’t a baby sitter and if they missed lunch it would serve them right’.