The Secret of the Stone House Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Book & Copyright Information

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Scottish vocabulary

  Scottish Oat Cakes Recipe

  Bibliography

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  About the Many Peoples Series

  About Lavonne Black

  © Judith Silverthorne, 2005. First us edition, 2006.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For an Access Copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll-free to 1-800-893-5777.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Edited by Barbara Sapergia

  Cover images: “Teenage Girl” by Steve Evans / Getty Images

  Stone house photo courtesy of Sandra and Brian Reeve

  Interior Illustrations by Kay Parley

  Cover and book design by Duncan Campbell

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Silverthorne, Judith, 1953-

  The secret of the stone house / Judith Silverthorne.

  (From many peoples)

  ISBN 1-55050-325-1

  I. Title. II. Series.

  ps8587.i2763s44 2005 jc813'.54 c2005-905079-9

  Available from:

  Coteau Books

  www.coteaubooks.com

  2517 Victoria Avenue, Regina, Saskatchewan Canada S4P 0T2

  The publisher gratefully acknowledges the financial support of its publishing program by: the Saskatchewan Arts Board, the Canada Council for the Arts, the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP), the City of Regina Arts Commission, the Saskatchewan Cultural Industries Development Fund, Saskatchewan Culture Youth and Recreation, SaskCulture Inc., Saskatchewan Centennial 2005, Saskatchewan Lotteries, and the Lavonne Black Memorial Fund.

  To Darrell, Barry, and Darlene, who shared many of the same stories about our ancestors upon which this book is based, and to Kay Parley, who inspires me beyond measure.

  – Judith Silverthorne

  This book, and the rest of the From Many Peoples series is dedicated to the memory of LaVonne Black.

  (See end of the book)

  CHAPTER ONE

  Emily squirmed in her seat and pressed her face against the car window. Scorching sun penetrated the enclosed vehicle, leaving her clammy and uncomfortable. Swirls of dust rose behind them as they floated by the lush green countryside, down the gravel road to Grandmother Renfrew’s farm.

  The closer they got, the more impatient Emily became. She was anxious to try her secret plan, but she knew urging her mother to step on the gas wasn’t going to help. They were about eight miles off the Number One highway that cut like a hay swath through the southern half of Saskatchewan. They still had several miles to go, south down the “Moffat Road” between Wolseley and Candiac, and then a couple of miles east.

  Just ahead, Emily could see the fir trees that grew around the Moffat Cemetery, where many of her family members rested. She thought about her ninety-six-year-old grandmother, who had been buried there three months before – the last time Emily had been to the farm. During that time in early springtime, she had begun the strangest experience of her life.

  After her grandmother’s funeral, she’d gone to their special place, an outcropping of rocks in the pasture. She’d climbed a large dolomite boulder that stood over the prairie like a sentinel and had been amazed to discover another girl already on the top ledge. The girl spoke with a Scottish accent and wore an old-fashioned ankle-length dress. Emily had been even more amazed to find that the girl, Emma, was from pioneer times. Somehow, Emily had ended up in the past with her.

  Emily had always known the rock held a special quality, but had never expected to experience anything so unusual. It seemed that she could travel back in time whenever she and Emma arrived on the rock at the same moment. She made several visits this way, getting to know Emma and learning about pioneer life, but it was hard to manage, because the time of day in Emma’s world was never the same as in the present. The girls solved the problem when Emma gave Emily a special stone that she could leave at the rock. As Emily held the smooth black stone and touched the boulder at the same time, she automatically appeared in Emma’s world – until the stone had gone missing, ending her trips to the past. But on the last day of her visit, she’d found the stone again. She’d left it in her room in the old farmhouse, thinking she would never visit the past again. Now, three months later, she was ready to go back.

  As they drew closer to the neatly kept cemetery, Emily strained to see out the driver’s-side window. Kate reduced her speed somewhat, as if trying to make a decision, but then resumed speed.

  “Wait! Mom!” Emily said in surprise. “Aren’t we going to stop?”

  Startled, Kate swerved slightly then steadied the wheels in the loose gravel. “I hadn’t intended on it.”

  “But we have to!” Emily protested. “It’s important!”

  Kate blew her straggly bangs out of her moistened face. “Okay, already.”

  She pressed her foot on the brake, coming to a halt on the roadside in a cloud of dust and grasshoppers. They gazed over at the cemetery, with its wrought-iron gate and page-wire fence, to the spot where her Grandmother Renfrew lay buried. The dark marble headstone was already in place, but from the road, they couldn’t see the inscription. All the monuments faced east, away from them.

  Emily sprang out of the car first. She bent to pick stems of white daisies and black-eyed Susans growing along the ditch. Clutching them, Emily headed across the road and opened the tall metal gate with a plaintive squeak. Her mother’s feet crunched on the gravel behind her, loud in the stillness of the day.

  Once inside the gate, Emily stopped in silent reflection. She always felt a sense of awe and peace here. Close to the entrance, a replica of the nearby stone church held a map that plotted the burial sites, and a wooden stand with a pen and a guest register. Emily had signed it several times over the years.

  “Let’s not waste too much time,” Kate steered her away. “Aunt Liz is waiting for us.”

  “Waste time?” Emily felt a stab of hurt as she followed her mom.

  “I didn’t mean it quite that way,” Kate said, but didn’t stop until she reached their destination.

  Emily sauntered along the trimmed path, gazing over the mowed lawns, the occasional lilac bush, and the rows of stately headstones. Walking over to a far corner where some particularly old gravestones stood, she thought about the special people buried there, especially one close to her heart.

  Wild roses bloomed all around a small headstone that read: Emma, Beloved Daughter of George and Margaret Elliott, 5 May 1887 - 27 September 1899. Emily’s chest tightened as she remembered her pioneer playmate, Emma. She’d later discovered that she would have known Emma as her great-aunt, if Em
ma hadn’t died so young. Instead, she was a dear friend to Emily, as close to her as any friend she’d ever known. She had run with her across the prairie and explored the meadows. They had shared adventures and worked together.

  Emily had even been instrumental in helping to rescue Emma’s family from a deadly flu epidemic, although she had not been able to save her friend from later complications. The twelve-year-old girl had died after a long bout of pneumonia. Emily had tried to get back to her in time, but that was when the stone had gone missing and she could do nothing to help.

  “Hurry up, Emily,” her mother’s irritating voice erupted into her thoughts.

  Emily sighed and joined her at Grandmother Renfrew’s gravesite. She thought again of her grandmother’s funeral. She could almost hear the bagpipes playing “Amazing Grace” across the rolling prairie hills just showing the first touches of spring green.

  Solemnly, Emily knelt and placed the flowers on the bottom ledge of the headstone, their petals bright against the black granite. She thought of the many times she and Grandmother Renfrew had picked wildflowers together. She missed her every day.

  For several moments, Emily stood beside her mom in quiet contemplation. When she stole a glance, she saw that her mother’s face had softened. As Emily looked out at the prairies, she felt her hand on her shoulder. Then felt a quick squeeze.

  “They did a nice job of the engraving,” her mother said, stepping back and swiping at a few mosquitoes that hovered nearby.

  Engraving! Was that all her mother could think about? Emily rolled her eyes. Kate glanced away, sweeping unruly strands of hair from her face. Then she strode back towards the car, flapping her top to get a little breeze on her body. With one last look, Emily followed.

  Several sweltering miles later, Emily cranked down her window as they slowed to make the turn from the grid road into the lane to her grandmother’s yard. Along the ditches, sweet clover, foxtails, and white-flowered yarrow grew amid wild rose bushes pushed tightly against barbed-wire fences. The fresh summer air held a fragrant scent. Emily breathed deeply and sighed with pleasure. Her thoughts turned to her grandmother again and the times they’d spent exploring the pastures and fields.

  Aunt Liz’s car was in the driveway when they pulled to a stop by the impressive two-storey stone house. Made of local unpolished fieldstone, it was a large square-shaped home with curved arches above each of the many windows. Emily had spent many happy hours there.

  As Aunt Liz came out on the veranda to greet them, Emily alighted from the car first and ran up the wide wooden steps. Engulfed in her aunt’s strong hug, Emily caught the delicate bouquet of her perfume. Her aunt’s blonde hair was dyed to hide the grey flecks, and cut into a stylish new bob. She was dressed in matching blue-green Capri pants and top that accentuated the aquamarine colour of her eyes. Although she’d been working, she didn’t look a bit dishevelled, except for a slight brush of dust on one cheek.

  As Emily watched her mom embrace Aunt Liz, the contrast was evident between the two. Her mom’s long dark hair, caught up in a careless ponytail, had strands falling loosely about her face, framing her dark, serious eyes. Her lightweight tan pantsuit was crinkled from the long drive, and she seemed anxious.

  “Kate, Emily, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been going over everything and I have a few questions for you,” Aunt Liz said, pulling Emily close to her.

  “Nothing hard, I hope,” Kate said, straightening her clothes and juggling her laptop computer, briefcase, and purse. “I don’t think I want to deal with anything difficult right now.”

  “Hmm,” Aunt Liz replied, leading them into the house. “This divorce business is taking its toll, isn’t it?” She gave Kate a light-hearted squeeze on the shoulder. “How about a cup of coffee? I have some freshly made.”

  “At least that’s not a hard decision to make!” Kate sighed, setting her laptop down on the kitchen table, and plunking herself onto one of the antique wooden chairs. Aunt Liz poured her a steaming mug of coffee. Kate took a sip, then set it down.

  “Did you want some apple juice, Emily?” asked Aunt Liz.

  “No thanks, I’m going for a walk instead,” Emily said, edging towards the outside door. She couldn’t wait to visit the sentinel rock.

  Her mom and Aunt Liz exchanged a cautious glance. She knew they were thinking of the springtime, when she’d tried to convince them that her time-travelling adventures linked to the rock were real. Although they hadn’t believed her at first, thinking she was making up stories because of loneliness or depression at the loss of her grandmother, she’d thought that in the end they had finally understood. Maybe they were just nervous about her going back again. Or maybe they hadn’t believed her, after all.

  Quickly, Aunt Liz said, “I’ve been going through everything again to make sure we’re not giving anything we want away, or keeping anything we shouldn’t. You might want to take a look too.”

  “Nah, that’s no fun!” Emily groaned. “I’d rather be outside in the fresh air.” It was more than that, though. They had come to prepare for Grandmother Renfrew’s things to be auctioned, and she didn’t want to think about that right now.

  “Plenty of time for walks, Emily,” her mother said, briskly straightening the tablecloth. “How about we bring in our stuff and get settled, then we can come up with a plan, so we can take all the time we want for other things.”

  Emily groaned. Her mom could be such a damper at times! Spontaneity just didn’t come naturally for her. Emily plodded back out to the car and loaded herself down with luggage and other stuff that she’d brought for their week-long stay. Her mom and Aunt Liz followed her out, and within a few minutes, they’d lugged everything into their rooms on the two upper floors.

  While Kate and Aunt Liz returned to the kitchen for their coffee, Emily remained at the top of the house. The attic had been divided in two long ago. One part was used for storage, and the other was an intriguing bedroom that Emily had used since she’d been old enough to be up there on her own. For a long time, it had been her own special world, where she was free to think and dream.

  A nightstand and lamp stood to the left of the bed, which was centred along the slanted outside wall, right next to a dormer window with a wide ledge. A stream of sunlight filtered through the lace curtains and across the gaily coloured handmade quilt and the carved headboard. A maple rocking chair sat off to the side beneath the window, and near the doorway sat a matching antique pressback chair.

  At the end of her comfortable double bed stood an old wooden trunk with leather straps, which her grandmother’s family had brought with them from Scotland in the mid-1890s. It was rumoured that some ancestor in her family had made it from old kegs used for storing beer in a public house they had operated. The trunk had been lovingly sanded and varnished so many times that the finish still gleamed. A tin address label painted with the words “Broadview, Assa., N.W.T.” was attached on the side. Broadview was one of the train stations when the railroad first came through the west, and before Saskatchewan became a province in 1905. The area where her gran lived had been known as the District of Assiniboia, part of the vast North-West Territories of Canada.

  Emily plunked her belongings on the bed, headed to the window, and opened it to look at the countryside out past the farmyard – at the silvery-green grass of the pasture, and beyond, at the familiar outcropping of rugged grey rocks. Among them, the three-metre high dolomite boulder stood overlooking the valley beyond. She and her grandmother had often gone there on their walks and had picnics. It was as if the rock had called to them – two kindred spirits in happy accord with the prairies. Emily breathed deeply of the fresh air and the scent of sage from the pasture. She felt her grandmother’s presence around her.

  However, the rock meant even more to her. It was the gateway that took her to a long-vanished world.

  With trembling fingers, Emily probed the gap underneath the window ledge. Yes, her journal was still there. She pulled it out and set it on th
e nightstand. Reaching deeper into the wall space, her fingers touched a soft cloth pouch. She let out a deep sigh, then drew it out. She sat down on the edge of the bed, turned the hand-embroidered pouch over in her hands, and pulled at the leather thongs to open it.

  Then she poured the dozen or so stones onto the bed. They had belonged to Emma, who had brought the collection with her as mementoes of her Scottish homeland when they’d immigrated to Canada. Emily scanned the assortment of pebbles. It was still there! The smooth black stone looked so ordinary, but it was her channel to the past! Did she dare touch it?

  She listened for noises down below. Her mom and aunt were on the second floor, discussing something, but she couldn’t catch the words. Maybe this wasn’t the best of times to try an experiment. Either of them could come up to her room unexpectedly, and she didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot within a few minutes of arriving. Neither of them had been happy in the spring when she kept disappearing without any believable explanations of where she’d gone. They’d have a fit if she vanished now. Knowing she had the stone again thrilled her. She hoped it would be possible to go back in time again, but she could be patient.

  Emily didn’t know why or how the stone had disappeared before, but she suspected Emma’s younger brother Geordie of taking it without realizing its significance. They’d often noticed him trying to follow them secretly, and he may have seen the hiding place. After Emma’s death, the oval black stone had mysteriously reappeared. Emily had discovered it quite by accident, along with the rest of the stones in Emma’s embroidered bag, concealed in her own bedroom in the gap under the window ledge. She had no idea how they came to be there.

  Emily hadn’t tried to go back into the past when she’d found the stones again, because Emma was no longer there. She and her mother had left the farm right afterwards. Since then, though, she’d had time to think about everything, and she wanted to see how Emma’s family was doing, and spend some time with the baby who would grow up to be Grandmother Renfrew. This was the only way she could be close to her again. Her dying had left a deep well of sadness inside Emily that never seemed to go away. It was compounded by the sadness she felt about her parents’ recent separation and filing for divorce, but she didn’t even want to think about that right now.