The Sixty-Eight Rooms (17 page)

“Almost there,” she said, just as something happened that made them glad they weren’t quite there yet. They heard a deep rumble and a huge, warm gust of wind hit them from behind. It knocked them both flat.

“You okay?” Jack said, coming up on all fours and making sure that he still held the bucket securely.

“Yeah, I think so. I wasn’t expecting that,” she said, trying to keep her hair out of her eyes. “Good thing we weren’t at the end—that could have blown us right through the opening on the other side. We’ll have to remember that on the way back.”

“Exactly. But I think I can crawl the rest of the way safely—how ’bout you?”

“Sounds good. Let’s go.”

The warm air blew hard as they managed the last stretch of about one foot, which seemed like twelve feet to them. Soon they were peering, on all fours, over the edge of the duct at the canyon of the corridor below them.

“This is going to be a big leap … are you sure we can do it?” Jack asked.

“You know what? I think we should duct-tape our arms together,” Ruthie decided. The fall suddenly seemed longer and far more dangerous than she had counted on. “You wouldn’t want to accidentally let go of me halfway down. We need to be completely full size before we hit bottom, for sure.”

“I’m with you. Here, put your arm out,” he said, getting the tape out of the bucket and wrapping a length securely around their two arms, the warm wind of the heating system blowing on them all the while.

“Ready?” Ruthie asked.

“Ready,” Jack replied.

As Ruthie reached into her pocket and grabbed the key, she stuck one foot out over the edge and pushed off with the other, pulling Jack along with her. In the same instant, she let the key fall from her hand. She wasn’t quite prepared for how much bigger this leap felt—it was twice as high as the ledge jumps. When they hit the floor this time, full size, they made an audible thud and fell to the ground.

“Ouch!” Ruthie exclaimed. “That hurt.”

“I’ll say! You okay?” Jack asked, trying to roll over but having difficulty because of their taped arms.

“I think so. I’m definitely going to have bruises, though! Let’s get untaped,” she said, pulling at one end of the duct tape.

They looked around the corridor. It was constructed just like the other side, with a small ledge running around the entire inside of the installation. The only light came from the rooms.

“Let’s get started,” Ruthie said. Jack got the duct tape out and they constructed the climbing strip just as they had on the other side, from the floor past the ledge and up to the air duct. Now they were ready to explore. Ruthie held the key and Jack’s arm, completely at ease with the magic routine. This time the climb was easier; they only needed to go as far as the ledge, where they left the miniature bucket and tape to take back to the other side later.

“We need to head to room A1,” Ruthie directed. “I’m pretty sure that’s where the mug belongs.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jack agreed. “What kind of room is it?”

“The catalogue said it’s a kitchen from seventeenth-century Massachusetts,” she answered as they walked along the ledge, counting down the numbers of the rooms until they reached the first one. “I also remember it has a model of the
Mayflower
over the fireplace.”

Sure enough, Ruthie had remembered correctly. They found the opening for room A1, which put them first in a little room behind the main room. It contained two very low, narrow beds and a door that led to the bigger room. This kitchen was cozy, not grand like most of the rooms on the European side. Everything was made of wood: floors, walls, ceiling and all the furniture. A bench with a very
high back sat in front of a fireplace large enough to heat the whole room. Iron kettles and cooking pans hung from the mantel and grate, and on a tiny chair to the right of the fireplace sat a small doll. Ruthie hurried over to the cupboard and grabbed the mug out of her pocket. Sure enough, it was identical to the ones there. She checked out the markings on the bottoms; they matched.

“Look, Jack, it does belong to this set!” She noticed one empty hook along the shelf and hung the mug on it.

“Cool,” Jack said, responding both to Ruthie’s discovery and to something that had just caught his eye: a beautiful model of a ship. He took it down from the mantel and inspected it while Ruthie looked around the room. She checked in all the drawers and behind the furniture, looking for anything out of place for the time, maybe even another barrette. When she didn’t find anything, she looked out the window at the town outside. She saw an unpaved street with a few wooden structures that looked like houses. It seemed like a quiet, peaceful place.

Just behind the high-backed bench, another door opened to a small entryway. Clothes hung on hooks by the door. There were two cloaks for adults, one for a boy and one for a girl and a garment small enough for a toddler. There were hats, stockings and shoes too. That would mean a family of five living in a two-room house! Ruthie began to think she didn’t have it so bad after all in her family’s crowded apartment. Remembering the barrette she still had in her pocket, she quickly checked the pockets of
these garments for anything out of place, but she came up empty-handed.

“Hey, Jack! Look,” she called to him. “Clothes!”

“Great!” he said, putting the ship back in its place. “You wanna explore?”

“I think so. We know they speak English out there.”

They decided that they could just put the cloaks on over what they were wearing. They were made of lightweight fabric in solid dark colors, blue-gray, brown and black. The only decorations were the big white collars. There was a Pilgrim-style hat for Jack and a bonnet for Ruthie. Jack cuffed his pants so they didn’t hang out under the calf-length cloak. They both wore the stockings and shoes instead of their own.

“Do these clothes remind you of something, Jack? They look so familiar.”

“Well, they should! Remember last fall when we studied the Salem witch trials in history? What’s the date of this room again?” Jack asked.

“Oh, right … the late seventeenth century.” Ruthie tried to remember what she had read in the catalogue. “It was a town called Topswood … no, it was Topsfield, I think.”

“The witch trials took place in 1692, remember? And I’m pretty sure I read that some of the accused came from a town with that name! These clothes sure look like the stuff we studied.” Then he added, “Maybe we’ll meet a real witch!”

“Oh, right!” She gave Jack a look. She knew this was his kind of adventure.

There were no mirrors anywhere in this room, so they had to rely on each other to make sure they had everything on correctly. Just like in the French room, the clothes weren’t a perfect fit but they could manage with them. Ruthie led the way out the door and they entered the seventeenth century.

T
HE SUN SHONE BRIGHT AND
the air was warm but not too hot. They stood in a well-kept kitchen garden with a picket fence around it; the façade of room A1 was behind them, partially obscured by a large oak tree. The scent of the growing herbs was strong as the sun heated them. There were no sidewalks, but there was a well-tended path leading from the garden gate out to the street. A large wooden signpost indicated they were standing at the corner of Summer and Essex streets. They saw people walking by and a horse pulling a cart filled with straw. Essex Street was lined with wooden buildings—some looked like shops, others like houses. All the houses had fenced gardens on one side, like the one they were in. From the other direction, down Summer Street, they heard the sound of children laughing.

“Let’s go see what they’re doing,” Ruthie said. “I’m not sure I want to talk to grown-ups yet.”

“Good idea,” Jack agreed.

They walked down the street until they came to another corner, around which they saw four children playing, two boys and two girls. They appeared to be between the ages of four and eight. Jack and Ruthie watched for a few minutes while they played a game that looked like hopscotch, except that instead of chalk outlines on a sidewalk they drew squares in the dirt road with a sturdy stick. Soon, however, the children noticed Jack and Ruthie and an uncomfortable few moments passed while no one said anything. The children stared suspiciously.

Jack gave a little wave and, smiling, said hello. Ruthie smiled too.

Three of the children ran down the street, onto a garden path and into a house. One of the girls yelled over her shoulder, “Thomas, come!”

Apparently Thomas was the oldest and bravest. Or perhaps he was simply the most curious. In any event, he held his ground and stared at the two strangers.

“Hello, Thomas,” Jack said in his friendliest voice. “My name’s Jack and this is Ruthie.”

“I’ve heard of the name Ruth but never Ruthie,” he said, sizing them up. “Where are you from?”

“We’re from Chicago. Ever hear of it?” Jack asked.

“Nay. Is it far?” Thomas asked without smiling.

“Yes. It is very far to the west.”

“Are there Indians there?”

“Lots of them!” Jack said with his eyes wide. Ruthie realized that Jack had figured out a way to talk to this younger boy.

“Are they savage?” Thomas asked.

“Not usually. We try to get along with them.” Thomas looked a little disappointed with that answer.

“Do you live in that house?” Jack asked, pointing to the house the other children had run into. It was similar but not identical to the Thorne Rooms house.

“Aye.”

Ruthie finally joined in. “Were those your brother and sisters?”

“Aye. Anne, Jane and James. We’ve been told not to talk to strangers anymore. That’s why they ran away. They are frightened.”

“Why are they frightened?” asked Ruthie.

“Because of the witches,” Thomas answered.

“But you’re not frightened?” Jack asked.

“Nay. I am not,” Thomas said defiantly.

“What’s this game you’re playing?” Ruthie asked.

“Scotch-hoppers,” Thomas answered. “Want to play?”

“Sure,” Ruthie replied, walking over to him. “Only we call it hopscotch.”

“In Chicago?” Thomas asked, remembering the name perfectly.

“That’s right.” She picked up a small stone, tossed it into the first square and jumped in. Jack followed suit. As they played, Ruthie could see the other children watching them through the window of the house.

“So, Thomas, why are your brother and sisters afraid and you’re not?” Ruthie asked, hoping that they had gained his trust.

“They are afraid because they are just children. I’m almost grown. I’m eight,” he answered proudly.

“But aren’t even some of the grown-ups around here scared?” Jack asked.

“Aye. But nothing frightening ever really happens, as far as I can see. If there really are witches, terrible things should happen. And they don’t. So I’m not afraid.”

“You’re very smart, aren’t you, Thomas?” Ruthie asked.

“I can read and write,” Thomas stated as he tossed his pebble into a square. “Can you?”

“Yes. We both can,” Jack replied. It was his turn again to toss his pebble. “You’d get along well in Chicago. No one believes in witches there.”

“Do you like Chicago?” Thomas asked as he jumped.

“Yes. It’s a nice place to live,” Jack said.

“Then why are you here?” It was an obvious question and neither Jack nor Ruthie had an answer.

“Can you guess?” Jack stalled for time while he thought.

“Why should I guess when you can tell me?”

This is a tough kid. No wonder he’s not afraid
, Ruthie
thought. She also thought of an answer for him. “We’re on our way to Boston. Jack will be going to school there and I’m keeping him company.”

“Then you are brother and sister?”

They said yes simultaneously. Just as with Sophie, giving any other answer would have been far too complicated.

Thomas was in the middle of a jump when a woman came out of the house.

“Thomas! Come here at once!” she called to him sternly. He obeyed immediately and ran to where she was standing by the garden fence. Jack and Ruthie looked on while they talked, Thomas pointing at them a few times. Then he came back over to them.

“My mother would like to know if you would come inside,” he said, and then added in a softer voice, “I told her you were friendly.” Jack and Ruthie looked at each other, wondering if they should dare. Ruthie answered first.

“Thanks, we’d like to.”

“Come,” Thomas directed.

The woman at the gate greeted them with eyes turned down to the ground and head bowed. “Welcome. I am Sarah Wilcox.” Then she raised her head and looked at them. Ruthie could see she had the same blue eyes as her son.

“I’m Ruthie Stewart and this is my brother Jack,” Ruthie said, lowering her head in the same fashion.

“Hello,” Jack offered.

“Please forgive Thomas. He is too bold,” Sarah said. “Nay! I am not!” Thomas protested.

“You prove it every time you speak so!” his mother said to him firmly, hiding a hint of a smile as she spoke. Then she said to Ruthie and Jack, “Will you come inside?”

“We’d like that very much, thank you,” Ruthie answered.