The Secret of the Stone House Page 2

  She heard quick footsteps on the stairs approaching her room.

  “Emily?” Kate called from the other side of the door, tapping lightly. “What are you doing?”

  Emily flipped her jacket over the stones and stood up just as her mom opened the door.

  “Uh, just checking everything out.” Emily shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to appear relaxed, even though her heart was doing little flutters against her ribs. She pointed to her sports bag on the floor. “Unpacking.”

  “Let’s have a quick bite to eat and make our plans for the auction.” Kate left the room without waiting for Emily to answer.

  Emily sat back down on the bed, defeated. Her mom had added more activities to their agenda and ignored what Emily wanted to do. The pattern was all too familiar. Did her mom do this on purpose to irritate her? Did she even think about how she affected everyone around her? Oh well, there was just no point in getting upset over her mother’s attitude. She seemed extra harried and upset these days, because of The Divorce.

  The news about her parents divorcing hadn’t been a huge surprise to Emily when she’d thought about it afterwards. They’d hardly spent any time together as a family; always one parent or the other seemed to be gone. But when her parents finally voiced it, the reality of it had been like a sharp blow to the stomach. Mostly, she’d tried to stay numb, going about her life mechanically, but every once in awhile she felt an ache that just wouldn’t go away. That was another good reason to get away from her mother by going out to the rock. Would she never escape today?

  Emily eyed the jacket with the stones underneath it and decided they were safe for now. Her mom and her aunt weren’t likely to come into her room unless she was there. And maybe it was just as well her mother had interrupted her. Right now, she shouldn’t take any chances touching the black stone. She had to think about the consequences for awhile and come up with a plan. Consequences? Plan? She was beginning to sound like her ultra-organized mother!

  In the kitchen, her mom and Aunt Liz had whipped together a spread of ham and Swiss cheese sandwiches, raw veggies, fruit, and Aunt Liz’s fresh-baked Saskatoon pie. Emily tucked into them, remembering that they hadn’t stopped for lunch on their trip there.

  “Gerald Ferguson will be over at one to start hauling all the farm equipment into a row between the barn and the bins. His brother is coming to help too,” said Aunt Liz, looking over a sheet of paper with a list on it.

  “Donald is back?” her mom sounded surprised. “When did that happen?”

  “He got back a month or so ago.” Aunt Liz took a sip of her coffee and picked up her pen again.

  “How long is he here for?” Kate persisted.

  “My, aren’t we interested all of sudden?” Aunt Liz said.

  Kate shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “It’s just that he swore he’d never come back to the farm life.”

  Emily stopped crunching on a carrot and stared at her mother. What was up with her? Gerald Ferguson and his wife were their closest neighbours, and they had rented Grandmother Renfrew’s farmland for the past five years. But Emily didn’t remember ever hearing of Donald before. How did he fit in?

  “Things change. People change.” Aunt Liz peered at her over the top of her reading glasses. “Do I detect a little twinge of nostalgia?”

  “Nonsense,” Kate protested, reaching for Aunt Liz’s list. “I’m just curious, is all!”

  “So what’s the deal, Mom?” asked Emily, sensing a juicy story. “Was he an old boyfriend or something?”

  “Or something,” her mom snapped. “Anyway, it was a long time ago!”

  Aunt Liz raised her eyebrows.

  “Let’s get back to business. We only have two days to get this organized,” said Kate. She pushed aside her plate and stared at the list. “Who’s coming to help lug out the boxes of junk and the furniture on the front veranda and in the sheds?” she asked.

  “It’s all there,” Aunt Liz raised one eyebrow at Kate, then took the list back.

  Emily caught the faraway look on her mom’s face, before she turned to stare out the window. Boy, this Donald person sure rattled her. He’d be here soon with Gerald, so she could get a look at him then. Maybe he would take her mom’s mind off things for a while. On the other hand, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to have him in the picture. After all, her parents might get back together, even though they’d denied that was ever possible.

  “Gerald made the arrangements for us with some of the other neighbours for tomorrow morning. The auctioneers are coming then too, to provide some guidance on where to place things,” Aunt Liz read down the list.

  “Agnes Barkley and the ladies from the Moffat community will serve the coffee and provide the snacks. Proceeds will go to the Moffat Church ladies auxiliary.”

  Emily grimaced when she heard the name Agnes Barkley. She was a busybody neighbour with a double chin and eyes like a hawk. She’d caused trouble in the past for Emily, spying on her when she’d gone to be with Emma.

  Aunt Liz read down the list, “We just have to make sure we have all the essentials: coffee, teabags, juice, sugar, milk, paper cups, plates, napkins, and stir sticks, and anything else we think we might need.”

  “I suppose the auctioneer has someone to look after the accounting, bidding, and money things?” Kate asked absentmindedly

  “Earth to Kate,” Aunt Liz snapped her fingers playfully. “That’s why we hired auctioneers!”

  Kate blushed and ran her fingers through her bangs, then attempted to tuck the stray wisps of hair into her ponytail. “Good, then I guess we could head into town in the morning and run our errands.”

  Aunt Liz stood up and began clearing the dishes from the table. “Yes, and I thought we could take one more look over everything right away.”

  Kate nodded, putting the food away. “Okay, let’s

  get to it!”

  “Wait a minute,” Emily protested. “Do you really need me? I want to go to the rock.”

  Aunt Liz and her mom exchanged wary glances again.

  “You’ll see it soon enough,” Kate cut in, motioning her to do the dishes. “You have work that needs doing.”

  “Come on, kiddo.” Aunt Liz took Emily’s hand and led the way.

  Kate followed behind, mumbling about making the trek back up the stairs again and not looking forward to doing all the bedrooms. Emily remembered the stone lying on her bed. As they reached the second floor, she managed to move in front of Aunt Liz, hoping she looked natural.

  “Speaking of bedrooms,” Aunt Liz said, as they reached the attic floor, “Is there anything you want to get rid of in yours?”

  She reached for the doorknob of Emily’s room.

  Emily stepped in front of the door before her aunt could open it.

  “No thanks!” She sure didn’t want her mom or aunt snooping around inside.

  Her mom groaned, and pushed past Aunt Liz. “You’re already going to have enough to furnish a whole house with what your grandmother left you!”

  Emily smiled. “That’s the idea!”

  “Surely there’s something you can give up?” Kate started to open the door.

  Emily caught sight of the jacket she’d thrown over the bed. One corner was flipped up! She could see the edge of the embroidered pouch.

  “Do you have to throw your clothes about?” Kate asked, about to open the door wider and step in. “We just got here!”

  Suddenly Emily blocked her mom’s way, feeling her knees give a slight tremble at her daring. She didn’t want them to see the stones! Her mom’s eyes were still on the discarded jacket; she probably itched to hang it up. Emily tugged the door closed. “I’ll hang my clothes up later.”

  Kate dropped her hand from the knob in surprise. “We still need to examine the lot.”

  “No, we don’t,” Emily said firmly. “I want to take everything!”

  “We don’t have room! Besides,” Kate stepped back as if to assess Emily, “in a few years you’ll probably cha
nge your mind.”

  Emily shook her head. “All these things are part of our past. They belonged to our ancestors. How could you not want them?”

  “She has a point,” said Aunt Liz.

  Kate looked from her sister to her daughter in annoyance, as if she wanted to ask why Liz always seemed to end up siding with Emily. For a moment, it seemed to Emily that her mother looked smaller, more vulnerable.

  “We’ve no place to store them,” she said.

  “Don’t worry,” Aunt Liz said gently. “We can leave them here until Gerald wants to do something with the house, if he ever does.”

  “Well, all right then,” Kate conceded. She turned instead to the storage attic next to Emily’s bedroom.

  Emily let out a silent sigh of relief. Two close calls already. She had to help them get through this work as quickly as possible, so she could get back to the stones. She’d been thinking about them for weeks, half expecting they wouldn’t be there. But now she had them and she had to figure out what to do.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Emily slipped over to the other side of the attic where the gradually slanted walls rose to a peak, allowing just enough room for most adults to walk upright down the centre of the room. The framing and beams were visible, and the walls unfinished like a ship’s hold. Dust motes could be seen when they pulled on the strings of the bare light bulbs that lit the long, narrow space. Emily sneezed as their movements stirred up the dust.

  Walking single file, Emily and her mom followed Aunt Liz past neatly stacked boxes and trunks of old things they’d decided to keep, including some furniture. They went by antique side tables, dressers, a rocking chair, and knick-knack tables for Emily when she was an adult.

  Although she wasn’t the only grandchild, no one else wanted anything more. Some of her aunts and uncles had taken a few pieces of furniture that belonged to the family, but they really weren’t that interested in the past. Mostly the leftovers were things Emily had claimed before her mom and aunt could sell them in the upcoming farm auction.

  When they reached the west end of the attic, Aunt Liz stopped beside a tall piece of furniture covered with a dust sheet. She removed the cloth to reveal a carved maple desk. Emily ran her hands gently over the hand-polished surface, touching the carved roses and ivy on the front. The desk stood about thirty centimetres taller than her and had a curved front with several hand-carved drawers below the drop-leaf.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Emily said. “I still can’t believe Gran left it to me.”

  “It is a superb piece of work,” Kate said.

  Aunt Liz laughed. “I take it, then, that we’re all in agreement that this piece stays.”

  “As if there was any question,” said Emily firmly.

  “Just like all the other things,” Kate said in exasperation. “Surely you don’t need two rocking chairs!”

  “Maybe I don’t, but I think it would be best to decide that later when I do have my own home,” Emily pointed out, feeling way older than her age.

  Aunt Liz stared at the maple drop-leaf desk. “I seem to recall there is a hidden drawer in this desk somewhere.”

  She flipped the leaf down and began examining the tiny drawers and shelves.

  “I don’t remember anything like that,” Kate said. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever saw this desk downstairs.”

  “No, it was brought up here after our granddad passed away,” Aunt Liz said. “Dad had his own desk and there was too much furniture cluttering the downstairs.”

  “I’m sure Mom didn’t want to dust it, either,” said Kate.

  Emily was sure this true; her gran preferred being outdoors to doing housework. That’s why Emily managed to spend so much time with her learning about their natural environment.

  “Granddad loved hiding secret drawers and compartments everywhere,” said Aunt Liz. “I only saw the inside of the desk once, when I was really small, and that was by mistake,” she confessed. “Granddad didn’t know I was in the room when he opened it and stuck in some papers. I’m sure he had the writing lid down and did something inside the desk to make it open.”

  Emily began to help Aunt Liz search, while Kate made suggestions about where to look. They poked and prodded, pulled out drawers, and felt inside all the cubbyholes. Some were deeper than others. Finally, Emily got down on her knees and pulled out all the drawers, handing them to her mom and Aunt Liz. As she peered into the shelves, she saw something metallic.

  “There’s some sort of hinge in there, so there has to be a door of some kind.” She reached inside and began pushing on all the solid surfaces.

  “I know Granddad didn’t take all the drawers out,” said Aunt Liz. “It’s got to be simpler than that.”

  “Let’s put them back in, then,” said Emily. “I’ll watch to see what happens to the hinge.

  One by one, they placed the drawers back into position, starting with the bottom one first, until they’d replaced them all, but nothing changed. Emily examined the depth of the drawers, while Kate measured the exterior of the desk.

  “There has to be something inside there,” Kate guessed. “There’s too much space left between the cubbyhole section and the back of the desk.”

  “Maybe it has something to do with the balance,” Emily surmised. Slowly she pulled the bottom drawer out. When it was about halfway out, she heard a small click. She pulled a little more, but knew she’d gone too far. Pushing the drawer back into the “click” position, she tugged on the next drawer up, until it too clicked.

  Behind her, Aunt Liz and Kate watched as she pulled out each drawer into its snicked position until she’d reached the top and had created a staircase effect. Still nothing happened. Remembering the placement of the hinge, Emily tugged on the front of the drawer section. All at once, the top segment swung open.

  Emily gasped. “We did it!”

  Secreted behind the top drawer section was a small compartment about ten centimetres high. Inside there was a sheaf of papers and a small envelope. Carefully, Emily drew them out and handed them to Aunt Liz. She and her mom inspected the stack.

  “The original homestead papers!” Kate said, examining them.

  Aunt Liz and Emily moved in for a closer look at the legal-sized sheets. The old-style handwriting on the yellowed pages was difficult to read, but Emily managed to decipher some of it. Besides her great-grandfather’s name, as the applicant for entry, she found his age, the quarter section of land he was applying for, mention of his wife, and the number of children.

  Kate unfolded the next set of papers and found the patent application for the land, dated only a few years later. “He sure worked hard and fast,” she said, noticing the dates of each document. “Sometimes it took people ten years or more to prove their homesteads.”

  “What does proving mean?” Emily asked.

  Aunt Liz answered. “The homesteaders made an application of entry for a homestead, paying the ten-dollar registration fee, and then they had to “prove” it before they could apply for the patent. If I remember correctly, the proving part was living on the land for at least six months out of each year for three years, and making improvements, such as breaking a certain amount of land and constructing buildings.”

  “See here,” said Kate, pointing to the homestead patent papers. “This describes all the improvements your great-grandfather made. He broke ten acres in 1899, thirty-five in 1900, and eighteen in 1901. He added twenty-seven acres in 1902, but then nothing in 1903, which seems odd.”

  “I bet that’s because they built the stone house that year and didn’t have time to do anything,” Aunt Liz guessed. “Besides, they’d already met their requirements by then.”

  “Wow, there’s even the size of buildings like the house, the barn, and the shed,” Emily noted. “Look at how much they were worth! Eighty dollars for the house, and fifty dollars for the barn. And look at how much fencing he did!”

  “Well, he had four strapping young sons to help him,” Aunt Liz remi
nded them. “Still, it’s impressive.”

  “Can I keep these for a while?” Emily asked, hoping to study them more.

  “Sure,” Aunt Liz said, folding them back up again.

  “Handle them carefully, though,” said her mom. “They’re fragile.”

  “Mom,” Emily said in an annoyed tone. Her mom must think she didn’t have any sense at all.

  Aunt Liz turned to the envelope. As she opened it, a small key fell to the floor. She picked it up and examined it.

  “Look. It has a little tag attached with the letter E on it.” She looked at Emily in surprise. “It must be for you.” She handed it to her.

  “But, your name starts with the letter E, too,” Emily said, remembering that Liz was short for Elizabeth.

  “No dear, I’m sure he meant it for you. If it was for me, he’d have given it to me years ago and told me what it was for.”

  “But he didn’t even know me!”

  Kate furrowed her eyebrows. “You’re right. You weren’t even born yet! I was only small when he passed away. I barely even remember him.”

  “Well, maybe Dad stuck it in here for Emily,” Aunt Liz guessed.

  “Funny, Mom didn’t mention it to us,” Kate insisted.

  “I suppose she just forgot. She had no reason to come up here much.” Aunt Liz shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever. It’s Emily’s now.”

  Emily accepted it reluctantly, turning it over in her hand.

  “Too bad we don’t know what the key fits,” Kate said.

  “You don’t?” Emily was surprised.

  “I sure don’t,” her mom said.

  “Not a clue,” said Aunt Liz.

  Emily noted that the key was smaller than one used for a padlock, but larger than a diary key.

  Aunt Liz said, “It obviously belongs to a smaller box of some kind, like a jewellery box or something. But I don’t recall seeing anything likely while we were sorting through things.”