The Secret Keepers Read online

  Reuben hesitated—he hadn’t said anything about her being a kid—then pressed on, feeling a powerful need to defend his plan. For the sake of his own confidence, he desperately wanted Penny to agree with him. “Hey, it was Penelope who gave me the idea, remember? And isn’t this exactly what she wanted? It’s what she risked everything for, what she dedicated her life to doing. And I can do it, Penny. I can finish it!”

  “You think I don’t know what Penelope wanted?” Penny snapped, scowling.

  Reuben drew back, stung. She doesn’t think I can do it, he thought, and he felt his fragile confidence beginning to break. He looked down, his eyes settling on his feet. They were bruised and scratched, and very much a small boy’s feet. The sight of them discouraged him even more.

  “Well, I’m sorry,” he said thickly. “I don’t have any choice. I have to go. I have to try.”

  Penny made a soft, anguished sound, as if she’d just received terrible news. She reached over and took his hand. Confused, Reuben let her hold it. He felt both grateful and embarrassed. He turned his eyes to the lantern again, but he knew she was looking at him.

  When at last he brought himself to look at Penny’s face, Reuben saw that her expression had changed to one of admiration, which embarrassed him further. Worse, he could tell that she was going to accept his plan, which meant that soon he would have to leave her and go out into the night alone, which not only made him sad but also scared him. He looked away again.

  “You should let my family help,” Penny said. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

  “You know as well as I do that they won’t let me do it at all. I like your family, Penny, but this is mine to do.” Reuben felt his throat tighten as if, once again, he might cry. He squeezed her hand and moved to stand up, but Penny wouldn’t let go. He sat back and looked at her.

  “Fine,” she said. “It’s yours to do. But I’m coming with you.”

  “What?” Reuben’s heart leaped. The very thought of her coming along made him feel a hundred times lighter. But surely he had misunderstood. “Do you mean to the train station, or…?”

  Penny rolled her eyes. “Why do you think I snapped at you, Reuben? I’m scared! But how could I possibly not go with you? How could I not help you? Am I supposed to just sit here while you go and try to stop that man all by yourself? When Penelope gave her life to put an end to all this? When my family has kept her secret for generations, just so something could be done about it?”

  Reuben was taken aback by Penny’s vehemence, but of course it made sense. He’d made her promise not to tell her family, and so the only way she could help him would be to go along herself. She felt compelled by her duty. The most Meyer-like of all the Meyers.

  “You don’t have to do that,” he began, trying to muster a tone of conviction.

  Penny interrupted him. “I don’t know if you’re just trying to be gallant or what,” she said. “I can tell that you want me to come. We’re partners now, Reuben. Might as well shake on it.”

  They regarded each other, both smiling nervously now. After a moment Reuben nodded, and they awkwardly shook the hands they were already holding, which made them laugh.

  “I’m glad that’s settled,” Penny said. “Also, I feel like throwing up.”

  “You kind of get used to that,” Reuben said.

  They lost no time. Reuben put on his socks and shoes while Penny stole back into the house for supplies. She soon returned, carrying a school backpack and wiping at her eyes. Reuben gave her a questioning look.

  “They’re going to be so upset,” Penny said, her voice cracking. “I left them a note telling them not to worry, but…” She shook her head and sniffed.

  Reuben nodded. He knew how she felt.

  “Well, enough of that, right?” Penny gave him a tight smile and gestured toward the door.

  They went out together. The crossing to the mainland was less difficult than Reuben had expected. Though the rain still fell, the wind had died down; the storm was passing, and though the deep water was choppy, it wasn’t terribly so. They sat side by side, each with an oar, and, pulling hard, finding their rhythm, they battered through the little waves at an encouraging pace. Soon they had tied the boat to the mainland dock and were making their way through the quiet town.

  They were headed for the train station. Reuben knew from the schedule that there was an early-morning train. When Penny had pointed out that the stationmaster knew her, Reuben replied that they would be sneaking aboard. They had to avoid leaving a trail.

  “You mean ride without paying?” Penny had asked, sounding quite offended.

  “You can buy a ticket when this is all over, if it makes you feel better.”

  “I most certainly will!”

  There was no movement in the town, no sounds other than the steady patter of rain, the gurgle of rainwater in the drainpipes, the occasional distant rumble of fading thunder. They kept to the shadows, making use of the streetlights without passing directly beneath them. They stopped at every corner, gripping each other’s elbows, looking in all directions before hurrying across the street.

  At one such corner, not far off the square, Reuben glanced behind them. It was only a matter of habit now—he no longer half expected to see anyone.

  And yet this time he did.

  A few blocks back, a figure darted from beneath a streetlight into an alley between buildings. Reuben made a guttural noise, as if he’d been punched in the belly.

  “What?” Penny gasped, wrenching around to look at him.

  He grabbed her hand. “Run!”

  They ran two blocks as fast as they could go. Then Reuben pulled her into an alley. “We’re being followed,” he panted, peering around the corner of the building.

  “Are you sure?” Penny whispered, clutching at his raincoat. “You really saw someone?” Her hands were shaking.

  Reuben was scared, too. All he wanted to do was hide. “Remember, I can make us vanish if I have to. The important thing will be to keep quiet. We’ll squat down and hold our breath. You’ll need to get right up against me, as close as you can. Okay, Penny?”

  “Okay,” Penny breathed. “Does it—does it hurt at all?”

  “Hurt? No,” Reuben said, then remembered that he’d kept the blindness a secret. He hadn’t wanted to reveal any weaknesses, not even to Penny. There was no help for it now, though. “It doesn’t hurt, but you won’t be able to see.”

  “It makes you blind?” Penny hissed. Reuben felt his raincoat tighten around his chest and shoulders and understood that she was fiercely clutching the back of it with both hands.

  He turned his head to meet her eyes, which were very wide. “You have to trust me, Penny. It’s scary, but that’s all. Okay?”

  Penny’s face was taut with fear. Nonetheless, after only a brief hesitation she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

  Reuben turned back. He listened and stared, his eyes tracing the string of rain-fuzzed streetlights into the distance. Only his face was exposed around the corner of the building, yet he could not help feeling that someone even better hidden was out there peering at him. He kept perfectly still. The rain fell on pavement and rooftop, on parked cars and rubber trash bins. Otherwise there was nothing—until suddenly there was. The shadowed doorway of a house released part of its darkness into the lesser darkness of the rainy street. The figure stood on the sidewalk just over a block away. Reuben thought he could make out the movements of the head turning left and right. Searching for them.

  Abruptly the figure began to move. Some decision had been made. Their pursuer began to run in their direction. Not a sprint, but a deliberate, quick-paced run. Covering ground.

  Reuben drew back into the alley, his skin prickling horribly, and turned to Penny. He gave a nod, and together they squatted down, huddling close. Reuben’s hand was already in his raincoat pocket, already on the winding key. They vanished.

  The footsteps reached their alley and slowed. Then stopped. Penny was gr
ipping Reuben’s free hand so tightly it hurt. Her nails dug into his palm. There was a crackle of street grit as the person shifted. Then rainy silence again. Reuben imagined the eyes searching the alley. A shuffle, a scraping sound, and the footsteps started up again. They were oddly light and percussive, like tiny slaps, and faded rapidly as the person moved on.

  Reuben pushed in on the key. Penny’s face appeared before him, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Here we go,” he whispered, rising. He stepped across the alley to the opposite building and peered around it in the direction of the footsteps. Penny hurried up behind him.

  “Who is it?” she whispered, her mouth at his ear.

  “I can’t tell. A man, I think. He’s really running now. He’s turning at the next corner.”

  “We’re not far from the station,” Penny said. “Should we risk it?”

  Somewhere in the distance, a car door closed. An engine started up. There was nothing particularly menacing about either sound, except for the question behind them: who was getting into a car, in the rain, in the wee hours of the morning?

  They looked at each other with anxious eyes.

  “That’s him,” Reuben whispered, and Penny nodded.

  They stayed where they were, listening. But rain and distance played tricks on their ears. Neither could tell from which direction the sounds had come, nor could they trace the path of the car as it moved through the town, its gears shifting as it picked up speed. The only thing they knew for certain was that the car was not coming closer. Slowly, they began to relax. The engine sound faded. Soon there was only the rain again.

  “What is going on?” Reuben whispered, not expecting an answer.

  “Please let’s go,” Penny said, a response as good as any.

  Minutes later they were at the edge of the train station parking lot, crouching behind a hedge. On the far side of the lot stood the station house, its windows glowing. In the lot was parked a single old van, which Penny said belonged to the stationmaster. It was the sort with a flat front—this much Reuben could make out, but the rainy darkness made its features difficult to discern. For some reason it reminded him of a sphinx.

  “How long until the train?” Reuben whispered. Penny was wearing a watch that actually worked as a watch.

  “Less than an hour. We should hide near the platform. It won’t stop for long. Some dockworkers from Tucker get off every morning, but that’s it.”

  The hedge, which was formidably prickly, ran all the way around to the back side of the station. They would have to walk across the wide-open parking lot. But there was no one around, and—a lucky stroke—the lot’s only streetlamp was broken. They would have the cover of darkness.

  Hand in hand they moved out from behind the hedge. Reuben kept his other hand in his raincoat pocket. They walked quickly, anxious to get across the lot and hidden away behind the station house. As they passed beneath the streetlamp, a crackle sounded beneath their feet. Broken glass. Someone had put the lamp out with a rock, Reuben thought. And at first the thought did not alarm him, for he was thinking of mischievous boys.

  But then a different possibility occurred to him, and he felt suddenly cold. What if someone had broken the lamp precisely because he wanted this parking lot to be dark? And no sooner had Reuben thought this than he heard Penny suck in her breath. He turned and saw that she was staring at something off to their left.

  Reuben followed her gaze. Next to the stationmaster’s van, on the side opposite the lot entrance, so that they hadn’t been able to see it before, was parked a second car. And even as they looked—even as they realized that they’d been outsmarted—the car’s headlights flared on, illuminating their shocked and frightened faces, blinding them completely to whatever was coming next.

  Reuben pushed in on the winding key. Everything went black. He wrapped his arms around Penny and tried to pull her back toward the hedge. But Penny resisted; she seemed rooted to the spot. “Come on!” he hissed. “Penny, come on!”

  “Hey!” shouted another voice, loud but muffled, as if coming from inside a box. The car door opened and the voice shouted again, sharper and clearer this time. It was a man’s voice, charged with alarm. “Penny! Oh my—where are you, Penny? What happened? Penny!”

  “It’s okay!” Penny pulled free of Reuben’s grasp. He heard her running toward the voice. Still frightened and uncertain, he scurried sideways until he imagined he was out of the headlights’ glare. He crouched in his private darkness, listening.

  The man’s voice was at once shocked and relieved. “What in the—what’s going on, Penny? Holy—” (It was Jack’s voice. Reuben recognized it now.) “Are you okay? You just disappeared! I can’t believe that just happened! It did happen, didn’t it? You disappeared—just like that! Or am I crazy?”

  “No, you aren’t crazy,” said Penny’s voice, surprisingly assured. “But quick, Jack, you have to tell us. Were you the one following us through town? Because if it wasn’t—”

  “What? Yeah, it was me. Who else would it be? But, Penny, where’s the kid? What happened to him? Oh man, I think I need to sit down. I can’t believe this.”

  “Reuben!” Penny’s voice called. “It’s okay. It’s just Jack.”

  Reuben said nothing.

  “Is he gone?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t think so. It’s—well, it’s hard to explain. But, Jack, we really need to know for sure that you were the only one following us. Did you drive here just now? In this car?”

  “What are you talking about? Of course I did. You just saw me get out of it.” He sounded worried. “Are you really okay? How many fingers am I holding up, redbird?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Three fingers. But, Jack, I didn’t know you had a car! Since when?”

  “Since a while ago,” said Jack, his voice still very uneasy. “Alex Ling lets me keep it in his garage.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me!”

  “Penny, for crying out loud, forget the car. I just saw you disappear and reappear—right there in my headlights. Like something from a bad dream. Am I dreaming?”

  “I know, it’s amazing, isn’t it?” said Penny with a little laugh. “Did you hear that, Reuben? It was Jack the whole time. But how did you know to come here, Jack?”

  “Wild guess. He came by train. I figured he’d be leaving by train, too. The question is what you’re doing here with him. And where is he, anyway? Hey, kid, are you out there or not?” Jack’s voice, though calmer now, was tinged with anger.

  “Reuben?” Penny called. For the first time, she sounded concerned that he might actually be gone.

  “I’m here,” Reuben said.

  Jack sucked in his breath, clearly startled. “Was that him? Where is he?”

  “He’s invisible,” Penny said simply.

  “You have got to be kidding me. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Reuben,” Penny called out, “won’t you please come back? So that we can see you?”

  “Not just yet,” Reuben said. “He has to promise.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Jack demanded. “Promise what?”

  “Right,” Penny said. “Of course, I see. Jack, you have to promise that you won’t try to take anything from him or try to stop him.”

  “And why should I do that? When I don’t even know what he’s up to? He made you disappear, Penny. Is that even safe?”

  “Please, Jack. You have to trust him. I trust him, and I know more than you do about all this. He’s trying to do the right thing, trying to do what Penelope and Jack would have wanted.”

  “You’re joking, right? Him?”

  “Well, gee, I don’t know, Jack,” Penny said. “Do you know any other invisible people around here? Yes—him. Now promise.”

  There was a long pause, during which Reuben felt sure Jack was trying to make him out in the darkness. It occurred to him that Jack might charge in the direction of his voice, hoping to catch him by surprise and nab him. Moving in his habitual crouch, the r
ain obscuring his already quiet movements, Reuben took up a new position several paces to his left.

  “Fine,” Jack said tersely. “Whatever. Hey, kid, I promise I won’t try to rob you, stop you, or otherwise do you bodily harm. Okay? Now show yourself, why don’t you?”

  “I don’t think so,” Reuben said. He heard Jack make another startled sound and curse under his breath. There was a shuffle of feet as brother and sister turned instinctively toward his voice.

  “He’s moving around out there and we can’t even see him,” Jack muttered. “This is some creepy business. I don’t like it.”

  “Reuben, what’s the matter? He promised.” Penny sounded worried now. “Won’t you please come out?”

  “You have to promise her,” Reuben said. “Not me. Promise Penny.” His words were met with a brief silence. He imagined the brother and sister looking at each other. He crept to a different spot, just in case.

  “Well?” Penny asked. Reuben thought he detected a hint of amusement in her voice. Amusement and perhaps a little pride.

  Jack grunted. Then, after another pause, he said, “Yeah, okay, redbird. I promise you.” More loudly he said, “Did you catch that, you spooky little kid? I promised her. We’re all good here.”

  Reuben reappeared. This time he was able to enjoy the look of shock on Jack’s face. Penny looked startled, too, even though she’d known what to expect. Then she broke into a smile, and to Reuben’s surprise she ran over and hugged him, as if she truly had been afraid he was gone for good.

  “This is crazy,” Jack said, shaking his head.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Penny said.

  “What say you start filling me in, then?” Jack was studying their faces. He heaved himself up onto the hood of his car, a battered little black sedan, and braced his feet on the bumper. Bare feet, Reuben noticed. That explained the light slapping quality of the footsteps they’d heard. And his clothes were soaking wet—he wore no raincoat. Of course, to follow them, he must have swum to the mainland from the island. He would have had to. They had taken the rowboat.

  Penny looked at Reuben. “Can we tell him? We might as well, right? He can help us.”