The Secret Keepers Read online

  Reuben tried to keep his voice steady. He was having trouble catching his breath. “Well, what I can tell you right now is that I know what was inside the box, and I can promise you that it’s very important. I understand why Penelope was being so careful about it. She was right to be. And I’m trying to be very careful about it, too.”

  Some of the Meyers looked annoyed, but most looked impressed, and there followed a disconcerting outburst of half-whispered exchanges. They all knew he was hedging, Reuben deduced, but they also knew he was telling the truth.

  Penny’s father cleared his throat, and glancing around the table, he said, “At the very least, I think we can agree that young Reuben here has proved he has mettle. We can all see how hard it must be for him to stand up like this before an entire family of strangers.”

  There was a general nodding of heads. Mr. Meyer looked back at Reuben. “I’m sure we all want to help you, son, not least because this secret has driven our family crazy for generations”—this remark garnered some muttering and chuckles—“but it’s a serious matter, and we’ll need to discuss it before proceeding. Will you give us some time to speak privately? Perhaps Penny could show you around—”

  “But I want to stay for the discussion!” Penny exclaimed, looking horrified at the thought of being excluded.

  “If you don’t mind,” Reuben cut in quickly, “I think I’d rather just lie down for a while.” He started to say that he had a headache, but remembering how easily the Meyers sniffed out falsehoods, he cut himself off. The fewer words the better.

  “Of course,” said Mrs. Meyer. “You’ve been traveling. You must be tired. Penny will show you to the guest bedroom. If you need anything, she’ll be just across the hall from you, in her room. Penny, please close the door behind you as you go.”

  With a pained look, Penny stood up. “Come on, Reuben,” she said, sighing, with a lack of politeness that Reuben actually found touching, for it made him feel as if they’d been friends a long time. He followed her across the room, making as he did so a final, concentrated study of his surroundings: the dining table, the sideboard, the fireplace sitting area with its armchairs and overstuffed sofa.

  Yes, he thought, he could do this. It would be his best chance.

  At the hall door Reuben turned and looked back at the table. “Thank you,” he said simply. He glanced at the kitchen doorway, gauging distances and angles. Only a glance, for all eyes were upon him—he felt especially scrutinized by Jack, looking at him sidelong—and then he followed Penny into the hall.

  “I can’t believe they’re sending me below,” Penny mumbled when she’d closed the door.

  “Sending you where?” asked Ruben, suddenly confused.

  “What? Oh, that’s just a nautical expression,” Penny said. “I mean I can’t believe they’re not letting me discuss the important stuff.” And indeed she looked very downcast.

  “Sorry, Penny. I wish they would have let you,” Reuben said, and he meant it, mostly because it would have made things easier for him. He felt sure she’d been excluded because her parents wanted her to keep an eye on him, and that they’d tell her so later. But the funk she was in did suit his purposes—she was distracted by what she was missing, was focused much more on that than on Reuben.

  “Thanks,” Penny mumbled, and she led him down the long hallway to the guest bedroom. It was simply appointed, with a double bed, a small desk and chair, and a wardrobe. Sunlight shone softly through a curtained window. “Okay, I guess just let me know if you need anything,” she said, “or if, you know, you change your mind and want to tell me what was in the box.…” She looked at him hopefully, but Reuben only gave her an apologetic smile, and wrinkling her nose with frustration, she turned and went into her room.

  Reuben closed the door as if he were in no great hurry. Then, moving fast, he took out his watch, made sure it was wound and set properly, and shoved it back into his pocket. He inspected the door—it was quite old, with a latch apparatus that couldn’t be locked without a key. Tearing a scrap of paper from a notepad on the desk, Reuben wadded it into a marble-sized ball and stuffed it into the keyhole. Then he took the wooden desk chair and wedged its back beneath the doorknob. He couldn’t have Penny looking in on him.

  Leaping onto the bed, he reached behind the curtains and unlocked the window. The screen behind the glass had a warped frame that squealed when he raised it. He froze, listening for Penny. Nothing happened. The screen was only halfway up, but Reuben was able to wriggle through the narrow gap and drop down behind the shrubberies lining the wall. Keeping behind the shrubberies and below the windows, he headed around the back of the keeper’s house, where there was no longer any cover and the lighthouse tower loomed overhead.

  Reuben reached into his sweatshirt pocket and vanished.

  The back entrance was a plain wooden door with no screen, and Reuben remembered (for he had been paying close attention) that Penny had lifted up on the knob when she opened it, to prevent it from sticking. He did the same, his heart thumping madly, and swung the door partly open. He waited, listening, then slipped inside. The back door led into an anteroom just off the kitchen. He could hear the murmur of voices from the great room, but only a murmur. He crept through the anteroom, his shoulder brushing against jackets hung on wall hooks, then stepped through the open doorway into the kitchen.

  The smell of cullen skink was powerful here; his stomach churned. He saw, in his mind’s eye, the stove to his left, the counter and refrigerator to his right, the small table straight ahead. The doorway into the great room stood just beyond the table. He moved forward, careful not to let the rubber soles of his shoes squeak on the linoleum, and crouched near the open doorway. He could almost make out the words being spoken around the dining table. But only almost.

  You have to do it, Reuben told himself. So do it.

  He stepped through the doorway into the great room. There was no break in the conversation, no exclamation of surprise from the direction of the fireplace. Reuben stole across the open space, found the sofa exactly where he thought he would, and got down behind it. He reached through the fabric drape hanging from the bottom of the sofa’s frame and felt around. There was nothing beneath the sofa, and just enough room. He lay on his back, his head turned toward the room, and squeezed himself into the narrow space beneath it. An extremely tight fit—the sofa springs pressed down against him through thin fabric. If anyone decided to move to the sofa, Reuben was in for a lot of pain.

  For now, though, he was in the perfect hiding place. With a practiced twitch of the winding key, he regained his sight. Yes, he was completely hidden from view, and his left eye was positioned exactly at the half-inch gap between the floor and the fabric drape. Across the room, Reuben could see the feet of everyone sitting at the dining table—a motley assortment of stockings and socks and bare feet, for in their excitement none of the visitors from shore had bothered to put on shoes after removing their muck boots. He swiveled his eyes toward the fireplace. Yes, there were Jack’s dirty sneakers. Everyone was accounted for. Now he could concentrate on what was being said.

  “—got here without being seen, though?” one of the older women was saying. “Was no one in the watch room?”

  “That’s my fault, Aunt Caroline. I was working up in the dome. Thought I was keeping a decent lookout, but I guess not.”

  “It doesn’t matter how he got here,” said one of the men. “What matters is if he was followed. Do we even know for certain that he’s alone?”

  Penny’s father said, “I spoke with Carmichael at the station. Reuben was the only person to get off the train. We haven’t seen any other strangers in town, so I think we’ve established that it’s just him.”

  “For now,” said a woman’s voice.

  “Point taken, Aunt Penelope. Let’s all keep an eye out the windows for any strangers near the dock. I’m not sure what more we can do until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  “One thing we do know,” said Penny
’s mother. “We’re dealing with a child on his own. Where is his family? Where did he come from? How is it he’s traveling by himself? It was all I could do not to reach out and hug him to me.”

  “Give the kid some credit,” said a low, drawling voice from very close by. “He’s looking out for himself, isn’t he?”

  “What was that? Speak up, son! We don’t all have young ears.”

  “He said that Reuben seems self-reliant, Uncle William,” Mr. Meyer said loudly. “And I agree with Jack in the sense that we don’t want to underestimate him. But I also agree with Rebekah that we are now responsible for him. He said he was in a serious situation. We can’t let him leave here alone. We have to keep him safe.”

  On this point everyone voiced agreement. Reuben was touched. He had never had so many people express concern for him (and if ever he had deserved concern, it was certainly now). But it would do him no good. He couldn’t let the Meyers keep him here. He had to go back for his mom.

  The conversation moved around for a while, sometimes focusing on how to find out what Reuben knew about the box’s contents, and other times on how best to help him when he was so reluctant to share information. Finally, and rather forcefully, one of the great-aunts declared that the answer was obvious—they simply must retrieve whatever the original Penelope had hidden in the secret place.

  Reuben concentrated all the harder now, straining to register every word.

  “What are the odds,” the great-aunt said, “that after all these many decades there is still some Bartholomew-type prowling about? I, for one, would give almost anything to know what’s behind all of this, and we now have a legitimate opportunity. I think it’s safe enough; I think we risk little. Let the Jacks fetch crowbars and flashlights and go down there, and let us see once and for all what this has all been about!”

  There was scattered applause and suppressed cheering. Reuben could sense the mood shifting at the table. Excitement and relief were winning the argument.

  “But do we share what we find with the boy?” someone asked. “Without first learning from him what he knows?”

  “Perhaps what we find would help us to decide,” said Mr. Meyer.

  “Well, we can’t go now,” said Penny’s brother Luke. “The tide’s started to come in. The next low tide isn’t until three in the morning. Do we want to plan for then?”

  “It’s true we’d have the benefit of darkness,” said Mr. Meyer. “No one could see us from the shore. Oh, but wait—”

  “Right,” said another voice. Then all at once the others burst out saying “Oh yes, the storm!” and “It’ll be such a nasty blow” and “Couldn’t ask for a fouler night” and other such things, and everyone agreed that they had better wait until the following day, when the skies would be clear.

  No one was more in tune with the weather, Reuben realized, than a family of lighthouse keepers. And perhaps their foreboding should have been more contagious, but where the Meyers saw a need for caution, Reuben saw an opportunity. They had said enough to reveal that the smugglers’ tunnels were right here on the island.

  And so, bad weather or not, tonight was the night he would make his move.

  When Mr. Meyer knocked on the guest room door, Reuben opened it, rubbing his eyes and yawning. No doubt he looked so genuinely weary that Mr. Meyer thought it pointless to ask if he felt rested after his nap. “You look wrecked, son,” he observed instead. “Are you feeling all right?”

  Reuben forced himself to focus. “I’m fine, thank you. Just tired.”

  The fact was that in his efforts to return to the guest room, he had been forced to use the watch not once but twice, and each time for the full duration of its winding. The Meyers had caught him off guard with how abruptly they adjourned their meeting and scooted back their chairs, and Reuben had spent a harrowing half hour getting out of the house and then back to the guest room window, with Meyers young and old wandering around, indoors and out, seemingly at random.

  “Well, perhaps you’ll sleep better tonight,” said Mr. Meyer, turning to include Penny, who had just emerged from her room. “The family hasn’t quite agreed on what information to share with you, I’m afraid, and will probably take the weekend making that decision. In the meantime we’d like you to stay as our guest. Maybe when you get to know us better, you’ll feel more comfortable sharing, as well.”

  “Thank you for having me,” said Reuben, careful to keep his expression neutral. “I think I can stay a night or two. Would it be possible for me to make a private phone call, though?”

  This request was met with an uncomfortable pause, and Reuben realized that he wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a phone without revealing whom he intended to call. Mr. Meyer clearly felt the need to be careful himself.

  “I have to check in with my mom,” Reuben admitted. “So she won’t worry.” He looked Mr. Meyer directly in the eye. In this instance, anyway, he was telling the truth.

  “That’s good of you,” said Mr. Meyer, after studying him a moment, “and honestly, I’m glad to hear it. I’m relieved to know you have a family. Even better, the fact that you feel compelled to call your mother will put some of our more nervous Nellies at ease. It’s very Meyer-like of you, you see.” He gave Reuben a cheerful wink, and to Penny he said, “How about you help me clear everyone out? This will take some doing.”

  The telephone in the kitchen, evidently, was the only one in the house, and Reuben’s request for privacy caused a great deal of disruption and took a remarkably long time to accomplish. Sitting awkwardly in the kitchen, nibbling on a plain cracker (for his stomach was still unsettled, but his hunger had returned), Reuben listened as Penny and her father chased down all the Meyers wandering in and out of the house, upstairs and down, explaining repeatedly why everyone needed to clear out. Finally, amid a fair amount of grumbling and confusion—and a hostile glare from Jack as he passed through the kitchen—Penny and her father managed to get all the Meyers ushered outside.

  “Sorry for all the trouble,” Reuben said, blushing, when Penny came to announce this. He was mortified to have caused such a commotion.

  “Are you kidding?” Penny replied with her bright laugh. Her freckled cheeks were flushed and glistening with perspiration. “It isn’t every day I get to order them around. That was fun!” She wished him well with his phone call—pausing for yet another wondering look at this mysterious new friend of hers—then bounced out of the kitchen humming, her fine mood having returned.

  Reuben watched her go, wishing he felt half as carefree as she seemed to. What a relief it would be to feel no worry, no guilt, no expectation of danger to come. He looked with dread at the clock over the counter. His mom would have just gotten home from the market. Time to act quickly, no matter how much he wanted to put it off.

  “Reuben?” That was how she answered the phone, and Reuben was instantly on guard. Her anxiety and expectation seemed to reach through the line and squeeze his throat. Why was she so worried?

  “Hi, Mom!” Reuben said, forcing the words out. His chirpy tone sounded false to his own ears, but he had to press on. “Just checking in, as promised.”

  Her sigh of relief sounded like interference on the line. “Oh, honey, thank you. Everything going okay?”

  “Everything’s great, Mom. I’m having fun. You can stop worrying.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” his mom replied. Then she added, “You’re sure?”

  Reuben realized now that she wasn’t just worried. She was worried about something specific. “Mom, what’s the matter?”

  There was a pause. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t going to bother you with this over the phone, but I think maybe it’s too important to wait. I just spoke with Mrs. Peterson from across the hall. She said those men came around today—you know who I mean.”

  Reuben felt ice in his belly. The Directions. His mom always referred to them as “those men” if she had to mention them at all. The Directions were just about the only thing his mom nev
er joked about. With an effort he kept his tone even. “Of course I know. What do you mean they came around?”

  “Mrs. Peterson said they’re going all over the neighborhood—not just the local ones, evidently, but scads of them from all over the city. They started showing up around lunchtime. They’re asking about a boy who fits your description. Well, they said they think he’s nine or ten, but since you’re small for your age, I thought they might mean you.”

  Reuben’s pulse sounded like kettledrums in his ears. He could barely hear his mother’s voice. So The Smoke knew. Somehow he’d figured out Reuben was from the Lower Downs. Why else would the Directions suddenly be searching there? Reuben tried to remain calm, yet when he spoke, his voice sounded distant to his own ears, as if someone else were speaking. “Why would they be asking about me?”

  “A boy like you,” his mom said. “I was hoping it wasn’t actually you. They say this boy found something that doesn’t belong to him. They want him to hand it over so they can return it to its owner. They say he won’t be in any trouble, they know that boys will be boys—that’s what Mrs. Peterson said. It’s just that this thing is important, so they need to get it back. A skinny brown-haired boy, that’s who they’re looking for.”

  Reuben’s temples throbbed. His face was burning and slick with sweat. Yet somehow he managed to keep his voice steady. “Mom, there’s tons of skinny brown-haired boys in the Lower Downs. And I’m eleven.”

  “I know. Of course. But—”

  “Mom. Whatever it is, I don’t have it. I’d have to be crazy to keep something if I knew they wanted it, wouldn’t I?” Reuben asked. And at that moment he did feel crazy. Completely insane.

  “Oh, Reuben, that’s what I thought!” his mom said with another gusting sigh of relief. “But you’re sure, though? You’re absolutely sure? This sounds pretty serious, kid.”

  “I’m sure, Mom,” Reuben said. “Whoever they’re looking for, it isn’t me.”