Chapter 22 Benny
Twenty-two
Benny
When they came over the hill, Benny spotted the chapel. It was a small white clapboard building near the cliff that had floor-length windows. It was beautiful.
“I can’t believe I forgot about this place,” Kimble said to himself.
“You really weren’t lying about building the chapel, were you?” she realized. “You built it yourself. So that must mean you must know where the next clue is hidden.”
“Not necessarily. Evelyn paid me to build a lot of things when she was alive. I worked on that house of hers and did projects for her around town to pass the time. I think she wanted to keep me busy.” His blue eyes glowed as they looked at hers.
“In the eighteen hundreds after…I got stuck here again…I spent many years building things. Houses. Some of those buildings on Main Street. Furniture. Wood carvings. And if my memory serves me right, I made some church pews too.”
Benny recalled the riddle. “‘With fellow pupils, on your knees. For if anyone can save those lost at sea, it will be you and him, because of me.’” Her heart started to thump.
Kimble furrowed his brow. “You think she means us?”
“I do,” Benny whispered, her fingers tingling as they stared at one another. “And the part about kneeling has to be about the pews.”
“Nope,” he said, working his jaw again, his shoulders strengthening as he threw open the door, which was unlocked. “She means the hassock.”
“What’s a hassock?” Benny hurried inside and shut the door behind them.
The chapel was quiet, the windows giving them plenty of light.
The room reminded Benny of Kimble’s boat cabin—all wood paneling and wooden pews with tufted cushions in red velvet.
There was no altar. No crosses or signs of a particular religion.
But there was a row of pews near the floor-length windows overlooking the Long Island Sound that were perfect for reflection.
Kimble walked through the rows of pews, running his hand along the wood and ducking his head down under the pews, clearly searching for something.
“A hassock is a kneeler,” he explained. “I built some of these for Evelyn. I remember doing it.”
“Oh!” Benny said, getting excited now. “So you think Evelyn hid something in one?”
“That would be my guess.” Kimble overturned cushion after cushion, pushing the hassocks in front of pews out of the way. “This was a big project, so I didn’t make every one, but the ones I did have my mark on them. I leave a symbol on all my work.”
“Mark,” Benny repeated, doing the same search in the row behind him. “Do you mean initials? A shape? If you tell me what I’m looking for, it would help me search.”
“It’s a small compass,” he said. “Something no one would notice but me when I came back to visit long after others were gone.” She could hear the heartache in his voice.
A compass. Something etched in wood. Benny’s backpack felt like it was on fire.
She took it off, placed it on the pew, and tried not to look at it.
You’re reaching. It can’t be. “Can you show me what yours looked like?” She grabbed a small offering envelope and a tiny pencil from a pew, and handed them to him with trembling hands.
Why did you tell Evelyn I was the one who could break the curse? she recalled asking Aggy that day on the island. I know she and I are related, but I still don’t understand why I’m the key.
Aggy had bit back a smile. I can’t tell you that. But I promise the answer is coming soon enough.
Benny watched as Kimble drew a circle with lines resembling a star pointing north, south, east, and west. He’d left off the letters, but Benny knew she’d seen this symbol thousands of times before.
That mark is on the bird Mom said my dad made me.
She would recognize the symbol anywhere.
Her heart beat faster. It can’t be. He can’t be.
“It’s a compass,” he said, looking down at the sketch. “Because life is a journey, and I have no idea where mine will take me next. I like to say the journey is more important the destination.” He looked at her then and offered a rare smile.
Benny’s voice was strangled. She couldn’t find the words. There is no way he’s… The symbol on the pew won’t match the one on my bird. I’m wrong. “I like that. A lot.” She could hear how her voice sounded shaky.
Kimble’s scowl returned, but Benny could tell it was for show. “Get back to work.”
They both did, Kimble tossing cushions, Benny neatly stacking them behind her. She tried not to think. Tried to ignore the thoughts screaming in her ears. She wished more than anything Zara was there so she could tell someone. Anyone. How am I going to tell Mom? How am I going to tell Kimble?
Fingers trembling, she searched on top of and underneath the pews, shimmying underneath them to run her finger along the beautiful lacquered wood. Finally her eyes landed on the hassock by the front windows. She went straight for it.
This hassock was different, the kneeler resembling a beam, with a cushion sitting on the ground in front of it.
Benny ran her hand along it, the cushion pinned to the beam, forcing Benny to remove tiny buttons that the cushion was looped around.
A quick look at the top revealed nothing.
Same with the sides. She went to the end to flip the beam over, and that’s when she saw the mark.
A gasp escaped her lips before she could stop herself.
The compass branded into the wood, the lines deep, dark, and meant to last forever.
Just like the small bird in her backpack.
A bird he—Kimble—carved—for her mom, never knowing Benny would eventually claim it as her own.
The symbol on the wood wasn’t as worn on the hassock.
No one had spent years rubbing their thumb over the mark wondering about the wood-carver.
Captain Jonas Kimble is my father. Benny felt like she couldn’t breathe. I have to tell him. I have to say something.
“Kid, you okay? Did you find it?” Kimble asked, ambling over.
Benny couldn’t speak. She pointed to the symbol.
“That’s me, alright,” he said, his voice softening for a second. “Good work. Let’s see if Evelyn hid the treasure here before Gracey shows up with that Rudd kid.”
Benny felt like the room was spinning as she scooched back, watching as Kimble dropped down beside her, his once neat tie now hanging loose around his neck, sweat creasing his brow. They had the same nose. And possibly the same chin. She definitely had his stubbornness. He’s my dad.
Kimble traced his finger along the tiny symbol. “Evelyn made me put a compartment in one of the kneelers. Now we know why.”
Pop! Kimble rapped the wood with his fist; then with a push of two fingers on the symbol, the end of the beam popped open. Benny’s throat went dry as Kimble pulled the narrow compartment out of the side of the pew. He reached a hand in and fished out a velvet pouch.
Inside was a stack of papers, folded together and tied with red ribbon. This time, Benny could see there was no invisible ink. Evelyn’s handwriting was clear as day. Kimble handed her the pages and opened the pouch. A single coin was inside.
Kimble held it up, and Benny heard voices as if the coin was speaking directly to her.
Welcome, Everly Benedict! Welcome home!
“There you are,” Kimble whispered, looking at the piece of silver from all angles. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time. One more down.” He paused, as if just remembering she was there. “Why aren’t you excited? This is what we’ve been looking for, kid.”
Tell him, the voice in her head said. You have to tell him! She forced herself to reach for her backpack. “The mark…on the hassock.”
“Yes. I made it,” he said impatiently. “I was a woodworker. I told you.”
“You said you made all sorts of things—furniture. Carvings.” She unzipped the pouch and felt around for the small bird. She held it up. “Did you make this?”
She heard him give a strangled gargle. “Where did you get that?”
Benny forced out the words. “You gave it to my mom when she was here on vacation, and she gave it to me when I was born.” The next sentence might be the hardest thing she’d ever said aloud. “She said my dad made it.”
Kimble held on to a pew and looked at her. She could see his Adam’s apple moving up and down. “You’re the key,” he whispered in shock.
The door to the chapel flew open and Grace looked from the two of them to the treasure Kimble’s hand and sighed contentedly. “Brilliant! You’ve already done my work for me.”
July 1825
For Gil,
Hello, my dear friend.
If you’re reading this, then Aggy has finally told you the truth. Please don’t hate me for what I’ve done. You mean the world to me. We may not be flesh and blood, but we are family. I could not go on if I knew any of you succumbed to the Cough.
Taking the treasure was the only way I could save you, but I also know what it meant giving up.
I’ve cursed us both. You must wait for the next Blood Orange Moon to leave the island.
I must live my days without you. I often wonder what would have happened to you and me if the Cough had never come to Greenport and the island had never appeared.
Who would we have become? Would we journey through life together?
As painful as it is to wonder, I know I would do it all again if given the choice.
Promise me, whether you’re reading this now or during the next Blood Orange Moon, you will make your new life a grand adventure, just like you always wanted.
Carry me with you in your heart, and I will get to experience that life too.
My wish is that you’re reading this in Greenport, the curse is broken, and you’ve met my descendant, Everly Benedict. Is she anything like me? I hope so. If she is, I know she can run faster than you can, Gil. Try to keep up.
All my love,
Evelyn Terry