The Mystery of the Indian Carvings Page 4

  She held it by its curved tail and when she shook it gently, she heard a dry, gravelly sound. She smiled. “A rattle!”

  “Right,” he said. “The Indians used rattles like this at feasts, or for dancing or singing. They used those masks, too.” He pointed to a row of beak-nosed masks hanging above the shelves.

  She couldn’t help shuddering at the devilish-looking expressions on the masks. With their bristling hair and toothy grins, they seemed to glare down at her.

  As she turned away, she noticed a familiar face on the highest shelf. But her uncle was sitting down at his desk, and he motioned her into the chair beside it.

  “I want to tell you about someone,” he said. “He’s an Indian boy you may have seen around here, although you probably don’t know his name because he’s shy. His mother does weaving, and he works part-time to help out. His father’s dead, and they have barely enough money for their needs.”

  Her uncle leaned forward, his face grave. “Some people think all Indians are worthless, but I don’t. I think they’re like white people—some are better than others. This boy, Robert Greystone, is one of the brightest kids I’ve ever known. He wants to be a doctor, and I intend to help him in any way I can.”

  He paused, glancing out at the balcony, and Julie knew what he would say next. “Robert comes to me at night for tutoring. He’s studying for medical school—subjects the local high school can’t give him. He’s working hard and doing very well. You may have heard him in here at night, and I wanted to tell you about it, so you’d understand.”

  Uncle Nate hesitated for a fraction of a second. “If your aunt knew about this, it would worry her. I’d rather you didn’t discuss it with anyone except me.”

  At Julie’s quick nod, he smiled, a quiet smile that lit up his blue eyes, and he stood to his feet.

  “Thank you, Uncle Nate,” she said, and stood up too.

  She glanced once more at the top shelf as she crossed the room and hurried out of the study. She had to check out what she had seen, right away.

  Melissa’s Letter

  Back in her room, Julie pulled the small otter pendant out from under her blouse. She studied its tiny face and forepaws, comparing it with the large sea otter she’d seen on Uncle Nate’s top shelf.

  They looked much alike, although the eyes of the large otter weren’t shut—they were wide open and shining.

  She smoothed the polished wood. Both carvings had a graceful curve to their turned-up flippers. But there was something else. She frowned, trying to remember. Something else was different about that large otter. If she could get back into the study to take a closer look at it . . .

  She shook her head. Didn’t she have enough problems without sneaking into Uncle Nate’s study?

  But one thing she was sure of—both otters had the same satisfied, secretive expression. They must have been made by the same person.

  When her father had given her the pendant, he told her something about the man who carved it. Paul Edenshaw was his name, and he lived down by the Indian village.

  Dad’s face glowed when he talked about the man and his carvings. “Paul would be a real friend to you if you ever needed one,” he said. “He’s a person you could trust.”

  She stared out of her window into the cedar branches. It would be nice to know someone like that. Maybe she could find out where Paul Edenshaw lived. If he still lived here—if he were still alive—he must be pretty old by now.

  An excited yip from Siem, who had treed a squirrel below her window, reminded her that she’d wanted to go back to the beach. She couldn’t stay in her room with the whole beautiful island waiting for her outside.

  Down on the rocks, she watched the waves roll in and thought about Robert Greystone. He sounded like an unusual person. How would it feel to have no father? Or to have one as mysterious as Karin’s?

  She wouldn’t trade her own father for either of them. Dad had been away a lot lately, but this fall his lecture tour would be over, and they could settle down together as a family. Or could they? Barbara would still be there.

  No! Stop worrying about Barbara.

  “Siem!” she called. “C’mon boy—let’s go for a walk.”

  As she scrambled across the rocks with the dog, she wondered briefly where Karin had gone. The girl was always riding off on her bike or disappearing into her room. At least she seemed to be resigned to Julie’s presence. Maybe there was still a chance they could become friends.

  She followed Siem farther down the shore than she’d ever gone before. She paused at the top of an especially large rock and discovered that it hung over a small white beach, only a few feet wide. She jumped down to investigate.

  The beach curved in a crescent shape, carpeted with oyster-shell fragments that had been crushed by the waves and bleached white by the sun. There was just room for her to sit down. She leaned back against the warm rock, kicked off her sandals, and slid her feet into the lapping sea. Even the water felt warmer here.

  She lost track of time, gazing out at the ocean, keeping her mind quiet, until a robin trilled in the woods nearby. The joyous sound reminded her of the light in Uncle Nate’s eyes when he talked about Robert Greystone.

  She trickled a handful of white fragments through her fingers. Her uncle had his good points. Although he was so immersed in his work and didn’t smile much, he had a gentleness about him, and a strength she admired.

  The robin trilled again, wavelets rippled across her feet, and she realized that she was beginning to love this island. If it weren’t for Karin, they probably wouldn’t mind if she stayed all summer.

  The way things stood now, though, she’d be leaving in three weeks—no, two weeks. The first week was almost over, and tomorrow was Sunday.

  Stan had invited her to come to church. If only the whole family would go! Funny, how she used to think church was pretty dull.

  She lifted her head to follow the soaring flight of a gull and noticed that the sun stood straight overhead. Noon! Why had she forgotten her watch? She was going to be late for lunch, and her aunt was particular about being on time.

  Promising herself that she’d come back, she hurriedly scaled the rock and rushed down the beach.

  Sure enough, Aunt Myra was upset when she arrived panting, windblown, and ten minutes late.

  Karin looked smug as Aunt Myra delivered a scolding, and as soon as Aunt Myra turned away, she murmured, “Tut, tut, Cousin Julie. Where have you been?”

  Julie reached for her water glass, shaking with anger, and couldn’t help overturning it across Karin’s sandwich.

  Her cousin jerked back with a shriek—quite a satisfying reaction.

  Julie tried to look repentant. She threw her napkin into the puddle on the floor and helped to clean up the mess and didn’t say a word for the rest of the meal.

  But later, sitting in her room, she wished she hadn’t let go of her temper. Karin had made a tremendous fuss over the soggy sandwich and would probably find a way to get back at her. Aunt Myra, of course, had been less than pleased. One of them would surely tell Uncle Nate.

  She’d messed up her chances again.

  Sunday morning, Aunt Myra reminded Karin to hurry up and get dressed so they could leave for church, and Julie was glad to hear it.

  She hadn’t been at all sure they’d go, because last night when she asked her aunt about it, she had looked vague. From Karin’s annoyed glance, Julie could tell she probably shouldn’t have suggested it.

  When they got to church, she wasn’t surprised that Karin ignored her and stalked over to join a group of chattering teenagers. Her cousin looked grownup and pretty in her pale blue dress.

  Julie glanced down at the ruffles on her yellow skirt, and they seemed childish. For a moment she wished she hadn’t said anything about coming to church.

  She felt better when it was time to follow her aunt and uncle into the small auditorium. Stan and his parents, both gray-haired and slender, were sitting near the front. As she sat down, s
he caught sight of Vivian Taylor’s blond head on the other side of the room. The writer was listening attentively to the tall, white-haired woman beside her.

  Her aunt nudged Julie and whispered, “That’s Lucy Warner. There’ll probably be a lot about her in the article.” Aunt Myra looked mournful.

  Compared with Melissa’s church in Chicago, this one was kind of plain, with its white-painted walls and simple furniture. But Julie’s feeling of strangeness faded as she noticed the friendly smiles that came from everyone who sat around them.

  The pastor stood up and announced that he was going to read from the book of Mark. Aunt Myra seemed to know where it was, but Julie had trouble finding the place in her Bible. Finally she stopped looking and settled down to listen.

  The verses told about Christ and His men, how they were out in their boat and a terrible storm came up. Waves started filling the boat with water, and His men cried out in fear. He just stood there, told the wind and waves to stop—and they did.

  As the pastor talked, she began to see Jesus more clearly. He’d been a wonderful person who healed the sick and preached wise sermons. But more than that, He was God, the mighty, powerful God.

  After the service, Stan introduced her to his parents. His mother smiled and asked, “Have you seen our carved rocks at the north end of the island?”

  When Julie shook her head, Mrs. Caldwell said, “Be sure to get a look at them while you’re here.”

  “Karin likes that place too,” Stan said. “Why don’t we plan a bike trip out there this week? My brother won’t be using his bike, if you want to borrow it. Hey, Karin!” He dashed off through the crowd.

  Julie wasn’t sure that her cousin would be interested in such an idea, but when she caught up with Stan, he was leaning against their car talking to Karin, and she looked amiable enough.

  He nodded at her. “It’s all set for Tuesday—okay, Julie? I’ll bring that bike over with me when I come.” He grinned and strolled back to join his parents.

  As they got into the car, Julie looked at Karin, expecting her to say something, but her cousin’s expression was as cool and distant as ever, so she didn’t attempt to discuss the bike trip on the way home.

  The next morning, when Karin rode off on her bike to get the mail left by the morning ferry, Julie was glad to see her go.

  Her cousin had been sullenly unpleasant this morning, ever since breakfast time, when Aunt Myra had started worrying aloud—again—about the missing raven club. Finally Karin had slammed out of the kitchen, leaving Julie with her despondent aunt.

  There certainly was something strange about that club. Strange and disturbing. How could it just disappear without a trace?

  Never mind, she told herself. This would be a good time to get into the woods, away from the shadowy house with its secrets. She called Siem and set off to explore. Maybe she would run into Robert Greystone again.

  When she got back from her walk, just in time for lunch, she forgot her disappointment at not seeing the Indian boy. A letter was waiting for her, from Melissa! Happily she slipped it into her pocket to enjoy in private.

  As soon as she saw Uncle Nate, she knew that the mail had brought him some good news. He’d lost his absentminded expression, and his blue eyes were snapping with excitement. While constructing a gigantic ham-and-cheese sandwich, he announced that he would leave on the afternoon ferry to go to Vancouver for a few days.

  Aunt Myra’s face clouded with dismay, and she left the table to make preparations for his trip. Karin looked stormy and resentful, so Julie concentrated on finishing her sandwich and stacking the dishes in the dishwasher so she could get upstairs to her room.

  By the time she finished, Karin had disappeared down toward the beach, and Aunt Myra had left to take Uncle Nate to the ferry.

  Now she could read Melissa’s letter in peace. As she ripped open the envelope, a strip of silky blue cloth fell into her lap. Absently, she wound it around her finger as she read.

  The long letter was warm and funny, just like Melissa, and it filled her with desperate homesickness. Near the end, Melissa mentioned the bookmark she’d enclosed.

  That verse is really true, Julie! The Lord Jesus always keeps His promises. I miss you LOTS, but I’m glad that God is there with you. Read your Bible, and you’ll get to know Him better.

  Slowly she unwound the bookmark from her finger. The bright yellow words gleamed at her: I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.

  Get to know Him better? Most of the time, He seemed to be pretty far away, but she hadn’t read her Bible at all since she got here.

  Why not read the book of Mark? She’d liked what she heard of it on Sunday. She dropped the bookmark into her pocket and jumped up. She’d get her Bible and start right now.

  She pulled open the bottom drawer of the chest and stumbled backward in fright. A fiendish brown face stared at her with a mocking grin. Its horrible, beaked nose curved sharply below empty eyes.

  Julie looked away and took a deep breath. It was just a mask—one of those scary Indian masks from Uncle Nate’s study.

  But who had put it in her drawer? And why?

  A Great Idea

  Julie sank into the blue chair. Anger flashed through her. It wasn’t hard to guess who had put that mask in her drawer. Karin again. Just because of a soggy sandwich?

  She jumped to her feet. Karin’s trick wasn’t going to work, not this time. She’d return that mask to Uncle Nate’s study right now, while Aunt Myra was still away. Hurry!

  She picked up the ugly thing, trying not to touch its bristling edges, and stepped into the hall. Even though she knew the house was empty, she tiptoed to the study and cautiously opened the door.

  Beside the Indian carvings, she hesitated. As long as she was in here, it wouldn’t hurt to take another quick look at his sea otter. As she stepped past the shelves, the hairy fringe of the mask caught the corner of a shelf, and something crashed to the floor. It sounded as if it had shattered into a hundred pieces.

  She dropped to her knees in panic and picked up two curved pieces of shiny brown wood. It was the whale rattle. It had split apart, and all the little stones inside were scattered in every direction.

  As she stared at it, she noticed that the rattle wasn’t actually broken. It had been made to snap apart, with small interlocking pieces of wood that held it together.

  She crawled across the floor snatching at the little gray stones. They were everywhere: under the desk, in the rug, beside the fireplace, behind the door. She dared not miss a single one, or someone would find it and ask questions.

  When she was sure she’d picked up the last stone, she checked the floor again and snapped the whale back together. It looked as good as new, and she placed it on the shelf with a pounding heart.

  She picked up the mask from where she’d dropped it, and froze. Slow footfalls sounded on the stairs. That must be Aunt Myra, back already.

  For an instant, she couldn’t move. Then she darted behind the open door. She was going to push it shut, but remembered, just in time, the way it creaked.

  Her aunt paused at the top of the stairs and murmured, “What is that door doing open?” She stepped into the study, looking worried. Her eyes widened in astonishment.

  “Julie! What are you doing with that mask?” she said.

  “I was just putting it away.” She couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice. Her knees shook as she walked over and hung the mask on its hook.

  She turned to face her aunt. “It was in my room—” she began. She stopped. Nothing she said would do any good.

  Her aunt was already furious. A red patch flamed in each pale cheek, and her eyes glinted like splinters of glass.

  “I don’t think you were putting it back, Julie,” she said. “I think you were taking it. Didn’t your uncle tell you to stay out of here that first day?” Her voice rose. “Didn’t he?”

  She could only nod.

  “You’ve turned out to be nothing but a troublemaker.” Her a
unt shook her head. “I thought it would be a good idea to have you here, but I’ve changed my mind. You can’t even get along with Karin.”

  The woman swayed and put a hand over her eyes. “Why does this have to happen now? I have enough problems already.” She dropped her hand to look at Julie. “Go away! Can’t you see I want to be alone?”

  Julie turned and ran—out of the house, down the stone steps, along the warm brown rocks—all the way to the oyster-shell beach.

  But when she got to the top of the overhanging rock, she stopped short. High tide! Her little beach was completely under water.

  Blindly she rushed into the trees that lined the beach and ran until she found a trail. She had no idea where she was going, and she didn’t care.

  Why had God let this happen to her?

  She ran down the twisting trail until her breath came in short gasps. Finally she slowed in front of a tall, moss-covered stump, just off the trail. It must have been a huge tree because its trunk was as wide as her bed.

  She stumbled around the broad base and crouched behind it among the ferns.

  This would be a good place to hide until . . . until when?

  Until her father came to bundle her off to camp? She could picture herself at camp, alone in a crowd of rebellious girls, following the rules and going to “activities” and hating every minute of it.

  She rested her head against the stump’s rough gray bark. She’d been hoping that Uncle Nate would forget about finding her in his study that first morning. It was bad enough to have Aunt Myra angry at her again, but when he got back and heard about this . . . Oh, that Karin!

  She shoved her hands into her pockets and her fingers closed around something. Melissa’s bookmark. Slowly she pulled out the blue strip and smoothed it over one knee.

  Its bright letters glittered at her: I will never leave thee nor forsake thee. She read the verse again through her tears, the blue and yellow blurring together.

  She wasn’t alone—Christ had promised He’d never leave her. But what did that really mean?