The Secret

Then I will turn on them—and that will make it all worthwhile. I will enjoy the shock and terror in their faces. It will make up for everything my family suffered at their hands and all the pain I have endured to find them.

  I, Franklin—the last of the Goodes.

  Chapter 21

  Frank finished his coffee. Then he stood up, stretched, and smiled at the Fiers.

  “Thank you all, for everything,” he said. “You were very kind. But you must be getting tired, and I am keeping you up. I will be moving on now, so you can go to sleep.”

  “You are leaving?” said Kate.

  Oh, no, Elizabeth thought. He cannot leave. Not yet.

  “I have imposed on your hospitality long enough,” Frank said modestly. “You had better be careful—if you are too kind, you will have ragged drifters like Franklin Goode at your door every night!”

  Mr. Fier chuckled at that. He put a hand on Frank’s shoulder and said, “We cannot let you go off into the night this way. You must spend the night here, with us. I insist.”

  “Please, Frank,” said Mrs. Fier. “I will not get a wink of sleep if you leave now. I will worry about you all night.”

  “Well …” said Frank, pretending to think it over. “I would not want to interfere with your sleep, Mrs. Fier. I will be glad to stay. But just for tonight. Then I will be on my way.”

  Hurray, Elizabeth thought to herself, secretly. He is staying!

  Mrs. Fier sent Elizabeth to get the guest room ready.

  He is so brave, Elizabeth thought as she tucked a fresh linen sheet under the pillow. He is strong and self-reliant.

  She paused, remembering the ripple of muscle she had seen on his back. The memory gave her goose bumps.

  Franklin Goode, she thought. And then—she could not help herself—“Mrs. Franklin Goode.” She turned the sound of it over in her mind.

  It is a nice name, Elizabeth thought. A very nice name indeed.

  Elizabeth heard the heavy blows of an ax in the backyard as she made her way to the kitchen window to peer out.

  There was Frank, wearing Simon’s work clothes, chopping wood. When he raised the ax above his head, the metal glinted in the sun.

  It is a warm day, Elizabeth thought. Frank must be very thirsty. So she poured a glass of cool water and took it to him.

  Frank smiled at the sight of her. He gave the log one last blow, then set down the ax. He took the glass from Elizabeth’s hand and drank down the water without a word.

  Then he returned the empty glass to her, saying, “Thank you very much, Elizabeth. You must have read my mind.”

  “I just thought you might be thirsty, that is all,” she replied.

  Frank sat down on the pile of logs and gazed up into Elizabeth’s face. She found herself blushing.

  “Have you ever seen the sea, Elizabeth?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I have never been out of this town. Well, I have been to Worcester once or twice—”

  “Someday soon, Elizabeth, you must see the ocean. If you have not seen it yourself, you cannot imagine it. It is so wild, and so beautiful. On a clear day the ocean is a dark blue-green color that is so hard to describe. But—your eyes—”

  He stared intently at her face. Elizabeth’s eyes were locked onto his. His gaze was hypnotic.

  “But what?” she asked him. “What about my eyes?”

  “Your eyes,” Frank said. “Your eyes are the only thing I have ever seen that are the same wild color as the ocean.”

  Elizabeth’s heart fluttered. She had never heard anyone speak that way before.

  It is as if he is speaking directly through his heart, she thought.

  “I am just about finished chopping wood,” Frank said. “I would like to take a walk to look around. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me, Elizabeth?”

  “I would love to,” she replied. “Though I warn you, you will be disappointed. There is not much to see in town.”

  “I am not interested in towns anyway,” said Frank. “I would rather take a walk through the woods.”

  She set the glass on top of a log. He offered her his arm, and she accepted it. They walked across the grass of the back lawn to the woods that stood at the edge of the Fier property.

  The woods were magical that day. Rays of sunlight streamed through the tall pine trees, and the brown needles made a soft, fragrant carpet on the ground. Elizabeth led Frank to a clearing where two large, flat stones sat side by side like chairs.

  “Kate and Simon and I loved to play here when we were children,” she explained. “We used to pretend this clearing was the throne room in a castle. Simon sat on that big stone there, and Kate on the smaller one.

  She sat down on the smaller rock, leaving the larger one to Frank. “Simon was the king, and Kate was the queen. I usually had to be the princess.”

  Frank smiled and sat down on his rock. Elizabeth paused and listened. She heard only the rustling of the squirrels and the chirping of the birds. There were no people around, she felt sure.

  Still, she lowered her voice as she said, “There is an old woman who lives in these woods. She hobbles through the pines with a cane, all stooped over. She has white hair and wears black clothes. Simon and Kate and I used to see her when we played in this very spot. We ran if we saw her coming.”

  “Why?”

  Elizabeth shrugged, feeling slightly slightly. “All the children were afraid of her. We called her Old Aggie. People said she was a witch.”

  “I am sure they were just trying to frighten you,” said Frank. “Your parents were probably hoping a story like that would keep you from wandering too far off.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I suppose you are right. StiU, I always believed that Old Aggie really was a witch. One boy I knew said that if you got close enough, Aggie’s cane turned into a live snake.”

  Elizabeth could not stop herself from shivering. “I often wonder if she is still alive.”

  “I am sure she is not,” Frank said in a comforting voice. She smiled. She felt safe with him there.

  A ray of sunlight fell on the silver pendant around Elizabeth’s neck. Frank reached for it.

  “Where did you get this necklace?” he asked.

  “It is a strange piece of jewelry, is it not?” said Elizabeth. “I found it in our backyard. It was buried in a rusty old strongbox.”

  Frank studied the pendant, turning it over in his hand, rubbing his fingers over the blue jewels. “What do the words mean?” he asked her. “Do you know who it belonged to?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not know anything about it. But I like it. I wear it for good luck.”

  Frank nodded absently and studied the amulet for another long minute. Elizabeth found it odd that he was so interested in her charm.

  Frank seemed to read her thoughts. He let the amulet fall back against her chest and smiled at her.

  “I am curious about it,” he said, indicating the amulet, “because it belongs to you. I only hope that this good-luck charm has enough power to keep you safe. Someday you might need a real protector. The world is full of danger, Elizabeth.”

  His eyes were shining as he said this, and Elizabeth’s heart swelled at his words.

  He is talking about himself, she thought happily. He wants to protect me. Could it be true? Could he really be falling in love with me?

  They strolled silently back to the house, arm in arm. Occasionally Elizabeth glanced at his face and found him watching her, a warm smile lighting up his face.

  “That dog followed me all the way to Boston!” Frank said, and all the Fiers laughed. Elizabeth and her family were sitting around the supper table while Frank told them about his adventures. Elizabeth watched the rapt faces of her parents as they listened to Frank’s stories.

  They like him, she thought happily. She wanted them to approve of him. She had an idea in the back of her mind that they wanted her to marry someone with property and money—and Frank was penniless.

  But character is more im
portant than money, Elizabeth told herself. Surely Mother and Father can see that.

  “You are not much older than I am,” Simon said wistfully, “but you have seen and done so much.”

  Simon envies him, Elizabeth thought, suppressing a smile. She could not help being pleased at seeing her older brother humbled a bit. As the eldest Fier and the only boy, Simon sometimes acted as if he were a prince.

  “Do not envy me, Simon,” Frank said. “If I still had a wonderful family like yours, I would never have left home.”

  Frank’s eyes paused on Elizabeth, and she smiled at him.

  “What exactly happened to your family, Frank?” Mrs. Fier asked. “You have not told us.”

  Frank set his fork and knife on his plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin. The Fiers watched him, waiting to hear the tragic story he would tell.

  “My family died mysteriously,” Frank began. “One by one. First my parents, then each of my brothers, until only I, the youngest, was left. They showed no sign of sickness, just died very suddenly, one at a time.”

  Mrs. Fier clucked her tongue, and Mr. Fier slowly shook his head.

  “Each time someone died we called the doctor, but he never knew what had happened. No one understood it. All doctors were at a complete loss.”

  Frank paused and took a breath. “At any rate, the day came when I was the last Goode left. I was twelve years old. No one wanted to take me in, for fear they would catch whatever it was my family had. So I went off on my own. To this day, I wonder why I alone was spared. I am still waiting for the curse to come and strike me dead.”

  Elizabeth felt her eyes fill with tears. My poor Frank, she thought. She wished she could reach across the table to comfort him, but she knew her mother would think her too forward.

  She glanced at her sister Kate. Kate’s eyes, too, were shining with tears. Her face glowed as she listened to Frank, hanging on his every word.

  Kate’s expression made Elizabeth suddenly feel uncomfortable. Why was Kate gazing at Frank that way?

  Elizabeth did not want to think about it, so she turned away. Soon she forgot about it, caught up in the story of Frank’s first night alone.

  After supper the family gathered in the parlor. Mrs. Fier sat at the piano and played. Simon and Frank began a game of chess. Elizabeth picked up her knitting needles, and Kate focused on her needlepoint.

  The fire crackled and sputtered; the gaslights hissed; the clock ticked on the mantel.

  Elizabeth could not concentrate on the scarf she was knitting. She glanced over at Simon and Frank to be sure they were not paying attention to her. Then she leaned across the couch toward Kate.

  “I like Frank very much,” she confided to her sister in a whisper. “Don’t you?”

  Kate glanced up from her work, her eyes startled and wide. Her hands fidgeted nervously.

  “Of course I like him,” she whispered back. “We all do. Why are you asking me this?”

  “I was just making conversation,” whispered Elizabeth.

  Kate seemed to be embarrassed as if she had been caught in a lie. She put down her needlepoint and left the room, her full skirts rustling as she walked.

  Frank glanced up from the chess game when Kate left the room. He forced himself not to look at Elizabeth. Instead, he turned his head toward the fire so she would not see the smirk on his face.

  This is going to be easier than I imagined, he thought with satisfaction.

  “Your move, Frank,” said Simon.

  Frank tried to concentrate on the game. He could not let Simon beat him, not the first game. He would let Simon take the third one, maybe.

  Simon was staring at the chess pieces with total concentration. A lock of black hair hung over his forehead.

  He is just a boy, Frank thought. He does not understand what is happening.

  My plan is working, Simon, Frank told him in his mind. Your family likes me better with every passing day. Even you enjoy my company, do you not, Simon?

  I am winning your trust, all of you. Soon you will believe anything I say.

  As soon as I have that perfect trust, I will act.

  I watched my brothers die, one by one. You will soon know what that feels like, Simon.

  I will become your sisters’ only hope. Then I will watch them die, one by one.

  Frank slid his queen across the board. “Checkmate,” he said, grinning.

  Chapter 22

  “Put that watering can down.”

  Elizabeth glanced up from her garden, startled by the sound of a deep, booming voice. Then she broke into a laugh. It was only Frank, teasing her.

  “It has not rained all week,” she protested. “My flowers are thirsty.” She straightened her straw bonnet and continued watering the garden.

  Frank stepped closer to her. “All right, water them,” he teased. “I will go for a walk in the woods by myself.”

  She pouted. “I am almost finished. There.” She set the watering can down. “Let me come with you. I would not want you to get lost.”

  She took off her sunbonnet and left it on the grass. Her hair was tied back with a red satin ribbon. Frank took her hand and they started off through the woods.

  Every day, when the weather was fair, Frank and Elizabeth walked through the woods to the clearing with the two flat rocks. Elizabeth looked forward to their walks more and more. No one else in the family knew about them.

  I am not keeping our walks a secret, exactly, Elizabeth thought. I just have not mentioned them.

  Elizabeth knew that her mother would want to come on the walks—but that would ruin them. They would not be the same with her mother—not at all.

  Anyway, Frank has never done anything improper, she thought. I have no reason to worry.

  Now they had reached the clearing. Elizabeth sat down on her rock, the smaller one. But instead of sitting on his rock, Frank lingered behind her.

  Elizabeth felt a gentle tug on her hair, and then felt it fall loose about her shoulders. She sighed. Frank had untied the ribbon from her hair.

  She leaned back against him. Frank playfully draped the red ribbon across her throat. She giggled. He tugged on it lightly. She giggled again.

  Then Elizabeth sat still, quivering with excitement, waiting to see what would happen next.

  Behind her, just out of her sight, Frank held the two ends of the ribbon in his hands.

  He wound each end around his index fingers.

  Elizabeth sat in front of him, trusting her fate to him, completely in his power.

  He smiled.

  Then he tugged on the ribbon, preparing to strangle her.

  Chapter 23

  A twig cracked nearby. Frank froze.

  Elizabeth’s body tensed.

  She heard the snap of another twig. Then the shuffle of someone moving through pine needles.

  Someone was close by.

  The ribbon fell from Frank’s hand.

  Elizabeth climbed to her feet and clutched at his arm, her eyes scanning the woods.

  The shuffling noise moved closer. Then Elizabeth saw a stooped figure walking slowly and steadily their way.

  A white-haired old woman, dressed all in black, hobbled through the pine needles, a cane poking the ground in front of her.

  Elizabeth gasped. “Aggie!”

  She grabbed Frank’s hand and pulled him through the woods, back toward the house. She did not look back, and she did not stop until they were safely in her yard.

  “That was the old woman,” Elizabeth said, panting. “Old Aggie. She is still alive!”

  “She appeared to be a harmless old woman,” Frank told her.

  “No, she is not!” Elizabeth cried breathlessly. “Somehow I know she is not just a harmless old woman. There is something different about her …”

  Frank took Elizabeth in his arms and held her tight. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, catching her breath.

  She felt safe now. I will always feel safe with Frank, she thought. br />
  Calm at last, she lined her head and smiled. “It is too bad Old Aggie came along,” she whispered. “She spoiled such a lovely afternoon.”

  Frank hesitated a second, then smiled.

  He is embarrassed, Elizabeth thought fondly. He was going to kiss me. He was going to ask me to marry him, and he wanted to surprise me. But now he knows that I know.

  Oh, well, she thought as she and Frank started back toward the house. He will ask me soon. And I will not disappoint him. I plan to say yes.

  Elizabeth opened the back door, and she and Frank stepped into the kitchen. They found Kate stirring a pot of soup.

  Kate glanced at her sister and Frank when they walked in. Elizabeth smiled at her and said, “How is the soup coming?”

  Kate did not answer. Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. She dropped the soup spoon and ran from the room.

  Elizabeth stared after her» shocked. She suddenly felt aware of her hair hanging loose about her shoulders. She turned to Frank, who had a strange, thoughtful expression on his face.

  “What could be the matter?” Elizabeth asked him. “Do you think Kate is all right?”

  “I am sure she is fine,” Frank replied. “Perhaps she burned her hand on the pot.”

  “I had better make sure she is not hurt,” said Elizabeth. She started to follow Kate, but Frank caught her by the wrist and held her back.

  “Do not worry about her,” he said. “Your mother is upstairs. I am sure she is taking care of Kate.”

  “I suppose you are right,” Elizabeth said doubtfully. She felt she should go after her sister, but Frank seemed to want her to stay with him.

  The soup began to boil. Elizabeth picked up the spoon to stir it.

  I cannot go running after Kate, she reasoned as she felt Frank run his hand through her hair. Someone has to stay here to watch the soup, after all. If it boils over, we will not have any supper tonight, and I am sure Kate does not want that.

  A few weeks later Elizabeth paced the house impatiently, searching for Frank.

  Where is he? she wondered. It was time for their walk, and she could not find him anywhere. She sighed and sat down on a chair in the parlor and picked up her knitting.