Chapter 9
Nine
Nature is whole and yet never finished.
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, playwright and philosopher
Chase sat in the back seat and repeated the clue: “‘Where the waves strike like a hammer and the air cries in answer, there is a piece of fortune hidden by Neptune’s fury.’” He exhaled sharply. “I have no idea what that means.”
“Thunder Hole,” Naki said.
Chase tilted his head. “Thunder Hole?”
“It’s a natural inlet carved into the granite. When the tide is right, waves rush in, trapping air and water together. The impact makes a sound like thunder.”
“I know all about Thunder Hole,” Chase said. “I did grow up here, y’know. But what’s the deal with Neptune?”
Scout glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Neptune’s the Roman god of the sea.”
“Oh, right,” Chase said, slumping back into his seat. “So . . . gold is hidden at Thunder Hole?”
“We’re going to find out,” Naki said.
“Still doesn’t explain why we had to be on the road at four a.m.”
“Lowest point of today’s tide,” Naki said. “We need enough time to search before the water moves back in. The tide turns fast up here.”
Scout caught Chase’s “duh!” expression in the mirror and bit back a smile.
He really was trying to redeem himself. He was the one who’d thought to bring coffee and doughnuts for everyone this morning.
He’d even remembered that she loved glazed old-fashioned doughnuts best of all.
He’d called the owner of the bakery last night to put in an order for doughnuts to be ready by three thirty in the morning.
Sweet. Despite his unscrupulous act of stealing the envelope right out from under Maisie’s nose, she felt herself softening toward him.
By the time they reached Thunder Hole, there was a faint hint in the sky that promised the sun’s arrival. The Frantic Atlantic stretched before them, restless even in its retreat, its waves washing up against the rocks.
Walking in single file, they followed their flashlights’ beams to the staircase that led to the viewing platform. Chase peered down the granite stairs, his breath misting in the cold. “Y’know, I’ve been here a lot, but I’ve never actually been here when it’s thundering.”
“Today won’t be your day,” Naki said, moving quickly down the stairs. He turned to hand his flashlight to Scout, then swung one leg over the railing, then the other, and landed with a soft splash in the water below.
Scout stepped to the edge of the platform and stared down at him. “What are you doing?”
“One hundred and seventy-some years ago, these steps wouldn’t have been carved.
” Naki looked up at her. “Hand me my flashlight.” She tossed it to him.
He started wading through the water, sending the beam of the flashlight up and down the granite wall.
“If it’s here, it’s got to be on this side.
” He looked up at them. “It would help if one of you would light the wall with your beam.”
Right! “Yes, sir,” Scout said, a little embarrassed she hadn’t thought to help.
“Naki will do,” he said over his shoulder.
Chase leaned over the railing. “Does he really know what he’s doing?”
Scout didn’t hesitate. “He definitely knows what he’s doing.” She watched as Naki’s hands skimmed over the rock face.
He moved along the wall with quiet precision, stopping every so often to run his hands along a hollow or crevice. Finally, he turned and looked up at Scout. “You need to come.”
She blinked. “Come where?”
“Here,” he said, pointing to a shadowed gap in the granite, just above the waterline.
Scout glanced down at the water below. Her boots. Her pants. She could feel herself shiver just thinking about it. But she didn’t hesitate for long. She took off her jacket and ranger hat and handed them both to Chase.
“Don’t lose the hat. It’s my next-best hat.”
“What happened to your best hat?”
She jabbed a thumb toward the ocean. “Somewhere out there.” Then she slipped under the railing and jumped, landing with a splash. The cold bit into her knees like sharp teeth, but she gritted her teeth and waded toward Naki as he stood waiting.
“Here,” he said again, gesturing to the narrow crevice. “My hand is too large to try.”
Oh, not again. My poor hands. Scout crouched slightly, shining the flashlight beam inside the dark crack. She didn’t see anything at first—just the slick sheen of granite, carved away by centuries of waves. She didn’t want to stick her arm into a cold, slimy rock for no good reason.
Then, there it was. A glint.
Scout didn’t say anything. She handed Naki the flashlight, reached in as far as she could, the granite cold and rough, scratching against her arm—until her fingertips brushed something solid.
A box.
She hooked her fingers around its corners, pulling gently at first, then harder as it resisted. “It’s really jammed in here.”
“Try to wiggle it up and down,” Naki said, “not side to side.”
Time dragged on as she patiently wiggled the box, switching arms every few minutes.
Then, with a sharp tug, the object finally came free.
Scout stumbled back, but Naki caught her before she fell.
She turned around to hold up the box. “Would you look at that!” She glanced up just in time to catch it—Naki’s smile, slow-building and full wattage.
Good night. If he did that more often, he could bottle it, sell it, and single-handedly fund the national park system.
And suddenly a beam from Chase’s flashlight was in her face. “You found it?”
“Chase! You’re blinding me.”
“Sorry!” He turned off his flashlight. “But did you find it? Is that what’s in your hand?”
“We think so.” She peered at Naki in amazement.
“I just can’t believe you’re able to figure these clues out.
” She glanced at the enormous granite wall.
“And then to find where the gold has been stashed. You’re just .
. .” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Words were logjammed in her brain.
And thank goodness for that! Because what she wanted to say was, You’re just .
. . brilliant. Brave. Insightful. Fascinating.
Complex. She hoped his wife knew what a keeper she had.
“Let me see your hands.”
She gave him the box and held out her scratched-up, bleeding hands. “Looks like I’ve been in a fight with a feral cat.”
“And lost.”
Her head jerked up. Had Naki made a joke? She burst out with a laugh, and then his face spread open in a smile. Good night. That smile! Overwhelming. Like trying to look at the sun. “I think I’ll start wearing gloves.”
A wave rolled in and splashed up above her boot line.
“Tide’s coming in,” Naki said. “We should go.” But he stood still, watching her with his typically measured calm, though there was something in his expression—something Scout couldn’t quite name.
“Well,” Chase said, leaning over the railing, “assuming there are gold coins inside, that’s a check mark for clue number three.”
Naki cupped his hands so he could boost Scout up onto the platform. As she got to her feet, she turned to give Naki a hand, but he’d already hoisted himself up and was brushing himself off. As fast as Superman.
“What are you waiting for?” Chase said. “Let’s open the box and see if there’s gold inside.”
Scout didn’t even need to open it. She knew what was inside. Everything about the box was the same as the other two.
Carefully, Naki opened it, revealing the worn sack inside. The weight of the coins shifted audibly as he untied the string and poured a few into his palm.
Chase stepped in for a closer look. “Same as before?”
Naki gave a small nod. “Same markings. Mid-1800s.” He tucked the sack into the box and started back up the granite steps.
Scout lingered for just a moment longer, staring at the churning waves below as they hit the granite wall. In a few hours, much of this wall would be submerged. That box had remained hidden for well over one hundred years. “This whole thing. It’s just . . . incredible.”
Chase stood beside her, quiet for once. He held out her jacket for her to slip her arms into, one by one, then handed her the hat. Sweet. Gentlemanly.
He tipped his head. “Your pink ribbon. It’s gone.”
She ran a hand through her hair. “The wind took it. But . . . better a ribbon than a hat.” She adjusted her next-best hat. Still felt a little stiff. “On to the next clue.” And they followed Naki back up the stairs as a sliver of sun emerged on the horizon.
The early morning sky, a pale wash of pink and orange, spilled light over the horizon as the jeep rumbled along the Park Loop Road.
Outside the windows, the coastline glimmered, the sunlight catching on the rippling waves.
Chase leaned back against the seat, momentarily letting himself soak it in—the salt air, the rugged cliffs, the ocean stretching toward forever.
He loved this place. Acadia wasn’t just scenery.
It was part of him, of his family’s history, the same way these gold coins might be part of someone else’s.
The buzz of the hidden gold—the kind of story that could save his family newspaper—pulled his thoughts away from the view.
Six generations of Fletcher dedication deserved a future.
If these coins were the key to it, he couldn’t let the trail slip through his fingers.
He’d promised Ranger Rivers that he would wait until Monday to break the story, but the weight of that promise pressed heavier with every mile.
The thought of running a special edition of the Gazette kept intruding into his mind.
Scout glanced at Chase in the rearview mirror. “Repeat the next clue one more time?”
“‘I left it where the ocean weeps, for what I couldn’t carry weighs me still.’”
Her eyes flicked to Naki’s briefly before returning to the road. “That could be anywhere, couldn’t it?”
“Our lighthouse keeper was a poet,” Naki said dryly, rolling the coins in his hand before dropping them back into the sack.
“A melancholy poet,” Scout added, half smiling.