Buried Secrets at Louisbourg (7 page)

“
WE'LL SEE ABOUT THAT?”
Mai yanked his arm, pulling him around to face her. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Reluctantly, he dragged his eyes from the keys in the case. “Just what I said.”

“You can't mean…are you saying you'd
steal
them?” Shocked round eyes stared at him like he was some alien creature.

He winced. It sounded really bad when she said it out loud. “Of course not.”

“Whew! You had me worried there for a second.” Mai relaxed her hold.

“I'm going to return them. So it's only borrowing, not stealing.”

“
What?
”

“Shh, here she comes,” Fred said.

The archaeologist re-emerged and carefully closed the door behind her, then locked it. “Well, good news and bad,” she said. “There are records, just not here at the museum.”

“Oh,” Fred said.

“Not to worry,” she added. “They were moved over to the records room at the King's Bastion. I'll pop over this afternoon and have a look, shall I?”

“If it's not too much trouble, uh, Professor…”

“Just Molly. And it's no trouble at all.” She grinned and patted his shoulder. “I'm thrilled you're so interested. And to write a report for your school? Warms my heart!”

Fred shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, thanks.”

“That's what I'm here for.” She waved a casual hand toward the displays. “I should get your school information. If you're doing a report, the least I can do is let them know what a help you all were. Since we don't pay volunteers, maybe you'll get some extra credit from your teacher, especially working on your summer holiday.”

“I think I wrote it down…” Fred trailed off. Good grief, they'd made up doing a report, and now she wanted to contact his school? Classes didn't even start for a week. No teacher who knew him would ever believe he was doing a report voluntarily. Mai, yes. Him, definitely not.

“No.” Molly eyed him expectantly.

Mai had turned pale. Fred was sure she was going to crack if he didn't get her out of there right away.

“I'll give it to you when we come back,” Fred offered. He'd put in a fake school and phone number if he had to. “When you get the information on the boxes and keys?”

“Lovely,” she chirped. Her gaze drifted to a family of tourists wandering past the displays. “Excuse me, won't you? Duty calls.” She hurried off to the opposite end of the room.

“C'mon, let's go,” Fred said.

They walked down the stone steps and paused on the dirt road. No one was in sight.

The wind had vanished completely. Ominous charcoal clouds hung low and the air was still. It was kind of weird. Like the sky was holding its breath. And where were Grace and Jeeter?

“Psst!”

“What?” Mai asked.

“Wasn't me,” Fred replied.

“You and I are the only ones here.”

“Psst, is he gone?”

Fred peered across the dirt road at a thick patch of high grass. “Grace?”

“Yeah, is he gone?”

“It's just me and Mai.”

The grass moved and Jeeter and Grace emerged. “Finally,” Grace said. She stood on the dirt road and shook out her skirt. “I swear a grasshopper climbed up this dumb dress. That wouldn't happen if I had pants.”

“Stop complaining. You'd have been in shorts anyways,” Fred said. “What happened?”

“The giant came back again. We barely had time to dive into the weeds,” Jeeter said.

At least Molly's longer-than-long tour had had one benefit. Giant guy had given up, for now. Fred had to get his box.
“I gotta go back to the tent.”

Ignoring him, Mai breezed past Fred and walked over to Jeeter. “You've got grass in your hair,” she said.

“I do?” Jeeter lifted his hand toward his head.

“I'll get it.” Mai stood on her tiptoes and placed her hand on Jeeter's shoulder. She reached up and pulled strands of grass free, waving them in front of his face. “See?” she laughed.

Jeeter smiled down at her. “Thanks.”

Fred swallowed. “I, uh, gotta go.”

“We're coming too,” Grace said. “Safety in numbers, I say.”

“She's right,” Jeeter said. “Whatever that guy is after, we have to stick together. Maybe we should look for your dad and find out what's going on.”

“Grow some gills and maybe you can,” Fred muttered.

Jeeter raised his eyebrows. “What are you talking about, Freddo? Did you say
gills
?”

“Never mind.” He started walking down the hill.

“What are you doing?” Grace asked. “We can't go that way. It's all in the open—we'll be sitting ducks!”

Fred stopped. Much as he hated to admit it, she was right. The road back down the hill was flanked by gravel and short grass. Absolutely no hiding places. They needed cover. Giant guy could come back any second. What about the King's Bastion at the top of the hill? Lots of people and cover, but it was in the wrong direction.

The large patch of meadow directly in front of them would hide them for most of the way to the edge of the town. Then there were lots of places to hide as they made their way back to their campsite on the quay. “Okay, I guess you're right.”

“What was that?” Grace smirked, her hands on her hips. “Could you say that again? I didn't hear you.”

“Oh, stuff it,” Fred grumbled. He waded into the tall grass. Well, not really grass. More like a maze of tall brown stalks with fuzzy, dull-white balls on top, like dandelions. But it did the trick. When he crouched down a bit, the stalks were over his head. Crickets trilled as Fred, Mai, Grace, and Jeeter began to snake through the weeds.

They inched forward, popping up every few minutes to check for the giant. It seemed like he really had given up on them. Maybe he had already gotten what he wanted from the tent, Fred thought. No! He'd hidden it well. No one would find it.

But then, who would even be looking for it? No one knew he had it, right? Maybe he was overreacting. He didn't even know this giant guy. He was probably just being paranoid.

Something flew into his mouth. “
Pllfff!
” Fred spat. A swarm of no-see-ums had come out of nowhere and enveloped them in a cloud. The miniature flying pests were everywhere at once. In their mouths. Up their noses. In their ears. They were under attack! Gagging and spitting, they pushed forward through the last of the meadow, their arms waving crazily over their heads at the receding cloud of bugs.

Pieces of the fuzzy flowers were stuck to their clothes. Fred kicked off the wooden clogs and dumped them out, bits of dirt and plants scattering on the ground. Grace and Jeeter's complaints were a faded drone in the background.

He looked up to find Mai staring at him. He recognized that look. Disappointment. She probably thought he was becoming a total criminal. But there was nothing he could do about it right now. Borrowing a bunch of old keys was nothing, really. The box was too important.

On the lookout for the giant and crazy Gerard, they zigzagged through the streets, from one building and group of tourists to the next. Halfway down the main street, they paused in an arched doorway. The smell of baking apples from inside the building taunted their noses and stomachs.

“That smells so good,” Grace said. “Let's go in.”

“I'm hungry, too,” Mai said, stepping inside. “Come on.”

Fred's fists clenched inside his empty pockets. How much did it cost? What difference did it make? He had no money. His stomach rumbled. “You guys go in, I'll be back.”

Jeeter wrapped his arm around his shoulder and edged him inside. “Don't worry, Freddo, this one's on me.”

Fred pulled away. “I'm not hungry.”

“Freddy, is that you?”

Fred froze. He stared into the dark gloom of the restaurant's interior. A thin figure approached him. She walked slowly, her shoulders slightly bent. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles—brown eyes that used to twinkle but were now flat and dull.

“Mom?”

“What are you doing here,
Mom?” Fred said. “You should be home.”

“I'm fine,” she replied, grinning weakly. “Marjorie called me. One of the waitresses quit and she knew we needed—”

“Does Dad know about this?” Fred could feel heat burning in his ears. This was his dad's fault.

His mother shook her head. “I only found out last night. You two were already here.” She placed a hand on his arm.

He tried not to wince. Her fingers were ice cold, even through the fabric of his shirt. “Quit.”

“Sweetheart, I can't do that.”

“He should be the one getting a job, not you!”

“That's enough,” his mother replied. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Now come in and have something to eat.”

“Mom—”

“Sit,” she ordered.

He sat—at an unoccupied table against the back right wall. Even though seeing his mom had thrown him for a loop, thoughts of the giant were not far away. Choosing the seat against the wall, he faced outward. Never leave your back exposed to your enemies. He knew that from the movies. Good advice.

His mother turned to Mai and Grace, her voice soft and sweet. “What a delight seeing you two. It's been a while.”

Mai looked like she was trying to swallow something that wouldn't go down. Her eyes were extra bright as her gaze slipped to Fred's. It was no longer filled with disappointment. Pity had taken its place. He liked that even less.

“Nice to see you too, Mrs. D.” Grace's voice sounded scratchy as she slumped onto the bench seat beside Fred.

“I don't believe I know you,” his mother said to Jeeter. “Are you one of Freddy's school friends?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Jeeter said, scooting to the far end of the table.

Fred watched his mother as she chatted to his friends, recommending food choices. She was so…delicate. A strong wind would whip her around like a leaf. It was as if she was being erased, a little at a time. No wonder Mai and Grace were reacting this way—they hadn't seen her all summer. She'd lost so much weight. She was—

“Freddy, did you hear me?”

He snapped back to the present. “What?”

“What did you want to eat?” His mother was looking at him expectantly.

“I, uh…” he said, scrambling.
What's she doing? She knows I don't have any money!

“It's okay,” she added, as if reading his mind. “I'll take care of it. What do you want?”

“You pick,” he said. She finished their order, which didn't take long. A menu from the 1700s wasn't full of choices. She took another order in French from a family of tourists at the next table, and then disappeared into the kitchen, and Mai excused herself to go to the washroom. Fred's mind wandered, churning with confetti pieces of worried thoughts.

Their order took awhile. The restaurant was busy. Finally, his mother returned with a large wooden tray laden down with food and drinks. Halfway to the table, the tray wobbled slightly. She was going to drop it! Fred leapt up and grabbed it before it slid from his mother's trembling hands.

“That'll teach me to carry a lazy man's load,” she joked. It might have been funny if her voice hadn't been trembling, too.

Mai rushed in and plopped into her seat just as they began passing out the food. “Sorry, there was a line-up,” she said, blushing.

Fred held the tray while his mom passed out glasses, a large pewter pitcher of water, and the dishes of food—bread and cheese to Mai, stew to Jeeter and Grace, leaving one dish and mug remaining.

“An apple tart?” Fred gaped.

His mom grinned, the hint of a twinkle returning to her eyes. “Why not dessert first? In fact, that's my new motto—always eat dessert first! Your meat pie will be ready in a minute. And here's a hot chocolate. I know it's warm out, so excuse the hot. I figured the chocolate part would make up for that.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He grabbed the large spoon and dug in. The mouthful of sweet apples and thick syrup melted in his mouth. “Mmm,” he groaned, washing it down with a swig of chocolatey heaven and wiping his chin on the large, white cloth napkin.

“Um, Mrs. D?” Mai said. “How am I supposed to cut my cheese with this?” She held up her large metal spoon.

“Sorry, dear,” his mom said, “that's part of the authentic 1700s experience. You'll figure it out, I'm sure.”

His mom started clearing the table across from them. Sunlight streamed through the white-paned window. She leaned over and unlatched it, pulling both halves open. A breeze blew through, rustling the strings of her bonnet. She lifted her face to the sunlight and smiled, closing her eyes.

Fred swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Framed in flickers of sunlight and shadow, his mom looked just like before—before his world had flipped on its head. Before the normal parts of summer—beaches, camping, and picnics—had been replaced with doctors, hospital visits, and tests.

“This is not very practical,” Mai grumbled. Digging with the dull end of the spoon, she was breaking off uneven pieces of cheese from the bigger cubes.

“Suck it up, Mai,” Grace said. “It's not going to taste any different if it's not in perfectly even slices.”

“Maybe not to you,” Mai said.

Fred also inhaled the tart and spicy meat pie that followed. With a full stomach, his brain was back in overdrive. He had to get back to the tent and his legs twitched, anxious to get going. But as usual, Mai was the last to finish, dainty as she nibbled the small bits of cheese.

He stared around the silent table. Everyone was deliberately not looking at him. Grace was examining the small metal jug she'd picked up off the table like it was the most interesting fossil she'd ever uncovered. Jeeter was staring at the plastered log wall and Mai was playing with the cutlery and twirling her hair. He let out a deep breath, the sweet apples turning sour in his stomach.

“The cancer's back,” he said.

Mai lifted her stricken eyes to meet his. “Why didn't you tell me?”

He couldn't explain why he hadn't called. How could he talk about the jumbled emotions and thoughts mashed together in his head when he didn't understand them himself?

“She got really sick at the beginning of the summer—pneumonia. She wasn't getting better, so they did some tests.”

The darkness of the restaurant's interior and Fred's own thoughts began closing in on him. Feeling the sudden need for fresh air, he jumped up and strode out into the sunlight.

And ran smack into the giant.