Summer of Lost and Found (16 page)

Ambrose opened his mouth to speak again, but I shushed him. “I think you
did
know how much trouble. If you hadn't, then you probably wouldn't have bailed on me. You got to avoid Lila's wrath, but I didn't.” I paused, staring at the ground and my muddy feet. Letting out my emotions, even those angry ones, felt excellent. It was like I had released a steam valve of all the bad feelings that had been building up in me for the past day. Now that the worst of my anger had subsided, I peeked at Ambrose's face. His lower lip and chin were quivering ever so slightly, like he might be trying not to cry. His wide eyes brimmed with disappointment. In himself, maybe? My stomach dropped, with the first, tiniest hint of empathy.

“It's not a fun feeling, to think that someone—a friend—let you down like that,” I said quietly. I kicked at a rock with my mud-caked right foot. “I was enjoying exploring with you, learning about this place, uncovering its secrets. I still want to know what happened here—I
need
to know it. Maybe now all that is a lost cause.”

“Oh, Nell. Never give up.” Ambrose's voice cracked with those words. “What you think is lost may still be found. But I truly didn't mean to hurt you. Nor see you accused of being a cutpurse. I only thought—that it would be better if they saw you, and not me.”

“
Cutpurse”? What does that even mean? Is that some weird British slang?
“Do you want a shovel? Because it seems like you're trying to dig yourself even deeper.” I crossed my arms over my chest. That is actually a comeback my mom used on my dad once. It seemed pretty effective.

“Huh? I'm not digging. . . .” Now he gave me a weird look. “It was too late by the time I heard Lila entering the room. That girl knows you, not me, and so I thought she'd be more understanding if you were alone. You left with such alacrity that I didn't have a chance of finding you afterward.”

“
Alacrity”?
Either he meant anger or speed, because I'd stormed away from Fort Raleigh like someone chasing a crosstown bus that skipped their stop. I studied Ambrose's face to see if he was telling the truth. “You were hiding somewhere outside, waiting for me?” Knowing that made me feel an ounce better. I'd imagined Ambrose traipsing down the road and leaving me there, dangling like a fish on one of Lila's mom's hooks. (Actually, she said she uses a trawler, which has big nets.)

He nodded. “But I didn't follow when you left. She would have seen me. Believe me: I feel terrible about what happened. It is”—he paused dramatically—“my
bad
.”

I couldn't help but smile. “I guess I believe you.”

“Will you allow me to escort you back to civilization, then? You
were
lost, right?”

“In my defense, I
was
using my compass. But once I got into the woods it stopped working. My whole phone did. I have no idea what's wrong with it.” I pulled it out again and turned it on.

“I'm not missing much after all, not having one of those,” Ambrose said, laughing.

The compass wasn't acting crazy anymore, but now I didn't have any bars. “I think it's coming back to life.” I waved the screen at him, realizing it was the perfect time to snap a picture of Ambrose on the sly. Now that I wasn't so mad, I could see that he looked awfully cute today. Jade kept bugging me for a photo, ASAP. She'd also said that she and Sofia hadn't had any luck meeting boys in their tennis lessons, which was a relief.

When Ambrose glanced up at a tree, I held out my phone and snapped. But he moved at the last second, and one of my fingertips was in the way of the lens. The photo was too blurry to be good. Maybe I'd have to work up the nerve to ask if we could take a picture together.

We walked through the woods, which felt peaceful and lovely, like when I'd started walking, and not ominous and creepy like when I'd figured out I was lost. Ambrose could step quietly, while I moved like a herd of wildebeests on the run. “Do you come here a lot? You know how to walk without carving a path of destruction through the forest.”

Ambrose shrugged. “I'm light on my feet, I suppose. Always have been. I do spend a lot of time in the woods.”

“Don't you ever hang out in town? The bookstore is fun, and the food is delicious. You know, fudge and ice cream and stuff. I suppose you get enough of the tourists, though, at the Festival Park.”

Ambrose nodded. “I don't mind the visitors. I like to see people—who are happy to have traveled here.”

I remembered a question that had gotten lost in my anger. “Oh! I forgot to ask—why did you tell Mr. Midgett that you were in that play?
Are
you in it?”

“That's a long story. I was in
The Lost Colony
,” Ambrose said, “but some stuff came up.”

“Like working at the Festival Park?”

Ambrose nodded. “It's okay, though. Now I get to hang out with you.”

I blushed for the millionth time. “Lila auditioned for that.” I thought for a minute. “Wait, why don't you know her? This is a small town, after all. I looked it up, and there's only one middle school in Manteo.”

He shook his head. “I do school at home. My mother teaches me.”

That could explain a lot about Ambrose's weird vocabulary, if his British mom was his teacher. “I have some friends who are homeschooled, and they like it. But I think I might get lonely.”

“Sometimes I do.” After a minute, he added, “Less so now that you're here.”

My heart just about stopped beating.
Come on, Nell, it's not like Ambrose said he
liked
you or something. You're friends. Be cool.
I plucked a leaf from a bush and twirled the stem between my thumb and forefinger to distract my nerves.

“My mom says we might leave pretty soon,” I blurted out.

“What? I thought you were here to stay.” Ambrose stopped walking.

I turned to face him, shading my eyes from the now-afternoon sun. “No, we're only here for this month. Didn't I tell you that?”

Ambrose shook his head. “It must've been wishful thinking on my part. How much time do you have left?” There was an urgency in his voice that I found unsettling, but also kind of . . . exciting? Flattering, maybe? Even my best friend, when I'd told her I was going away for a huge chunk of the summer, responded by lining up a reserve friend via text. Ambrose sounded like my leaving was going to be a terrible thing for him.

“Mom is finishing her research this week, and then it's a matter of whether we want to spend the rest of the month here as a vacation.”

“This means we must hurry if we want to find answers to Roanoke's mysteries,” Ambrose said. He met up with me in two silent strides. “If I had known . . .” He trailed off.
Oh.
So it was all about the mystery, not me.

“I was thinking it would be a good idea to search along the coastline to look for clues. Based on some stuff that Lila's dad told me at the museum.”

“I know a way to get onto the water,” Ambrose said. “Remember where we found the flask?”

I winced. Maybe part of why I wasn't holding a grudge with Ambrose was because I knew that I held a big, fat secret: that I'd lost our super important artifact. “Um, yes?”

“There was a boat, tied up to a dock. Only a skiff, but it was big enough for the two of us. We could paddle around the island, make a day of it.”

Going out in a boat with Ambrose sounded really fun, but also hard. “Do you know a lot about looking for clues underwater? I doubt we can get fancy tools, like sonar.” What we really needed was a metal detector.

“I can dive under the sea and look.”

“You have all the gear?” I asked, skeptical. If Ambrose didn't have a cell phone and always wore his work uniform for regular clothes, how would he have the money for an expensive hobby like scuba diving? Or even snorkeling?

He shook his head. “I'll dive by myself—I don't need tools.”

“Like free diving.” I'd seen a documentary on that once—these people can take a deep breath and dive practically to the bottom of the ocean.

“Sure. The ocean in these parts is very shallow, especially near the shoreline. There are lots of shoals—sandbars.”

“Okay.” I had another idea then. A mischievous one, maybe, but it was too perfect to pass up.

“We could use your telephone's compass,” Ambrose suggested.

That was true, but not quite what I was thinking. “Sure. But I could get some shipwreck-hunting gear to help us. Perhaps from Lila.”

Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “Your sworn frenemy?”

“I have a plan.” By now the trees were thinning out, and I saw the road ahead. My mother would be over at the Grandmother Vine, a few hundred feet away through the trees. “Looks like we're almost back. Do you want to finally meet my mom?” If I squinted, I could see her sitting in the distance, scribbling something in her field notebook.

“No!” Ambrose stopped me before I started waving and calling for her attention. “Beg pardon, it's that— Do you have the time?”

I refreshed my phone. Still no bars, but the clock worked. “A little past three.” I couldn't believe it had gotten so late.

“Zounds!” Ambrose said. “I have to get home immediately. My mother will be worried sick.”

“Let us drive you,” I said. “Anywhere on the island takes minutes in the Jeep. It's not a problem.”

“I couldn't ask that of you. Plus, I know a shortcut that will be faster. Another time I'll meet your mother.” Ambrose gave me a sheepish grin. “Friday, shall we say? That gives you a chance to snag whatever tools we need.”

I nodded. “Sounds good. I'll meet you at the Elizabethan Gardens, at the part by the sound. The Watergate, I think it's called.” Ambrose was already dashing off through the woods. I called after him, “I'll be there at eight thirty!” Maybe for once, I'd be on time.

Ambrose turned to give me a thumbs-up but kept running away. I watched flashes of him fade through the trees.

I looked to the vine and saw my mom stand up and wave. I started to jog to her, but I was too exhausted to run. I'd been out in the hot woods for hours, and I hadn't been drinking water. Another survival fail, I guess.

“Nell! Were you calling for me?” Mom asked as I practically collapsed at her feet.

I shook my head. “Nope.” I didn't know how she'd react if I told her I'd been talking to Ambrose. What if she got mad that I was hanging out in the woods with a boy, and then forbade me to spend time alone with him? If I didn't give her that chance, going out in the boat with Ambrose wouldn't be disobeying her. It would simply be a little omission. Plus, I felt bad that Ambrose hadn't wanted to meet her today.

Mom frowned. “Hmm. I could've sworn I heard you yelling. That's why I looked up and saw you flailing through the trees. And thank goodness, because I was getting ready to call a search party.” She held out her water bottle for me, and I chugged from it. “Have you not eaten or had anything to drink this whole time?”

“I was taking a nice walk. I got turned around, though. The compass on my phone went on the fritz.”

She
tsk
ed. “You need to be more careful, sprout. Let's get you into some air-conditioning.”

I inhaled a granola bar before helping her pack up her things. I must've been near heat-exhausted because while driving home, I fought sleep, despite the bumps of the road. Each time my eyes almost closed, I pictured Ambrose leaning against the trees, smiling at me.

A blessed arrival and a bittersweet departure from our struggling colony. First the arrival: a child, born on the eighteenth of August. Ananias and Eleanor Dare did name their daughter Virginia, after the place of her birth, and she holds the distinction of being the very first English child born in the New World. (I dare say the green-eyed monster did bite Margery Harvie—her child was born thereafter.) Virginia was a healthy and bright babe. Her birth gave new hope to the whole company. 'Twas a difficult summer in the Roanoke colony—the drought worsened day by day, and our food stores became perilously low. We did not enter parley, and relations with the Roanoke people did sour like the rotten grapes that hath fallen from the vine. Even our few allies offered bare assistance as we struggled to stay fed. With autumn and winter looming, we were all most afeard. With so few crops planted, what would we harvest?

That leads to the afore-written departure of John White. The governor stayed for the wee babe's baptism the Sunday following her birth. But on the twenty-seventh of August, he set sail for England. The planters and assistants determined that although we may survive the winter with what little we possess, we would need supplies by spring's end. With one voice, they requested his departure. At first, White refused. He fretted it would be abandonment of his colony, and he would be slandered. He would be leaving all his things, he said, such as his decorations for the future governor's manse, and his pieces of armor. He could not expect for them to be kept for his return if we ventured into the main.

The next day, all the planters and assistants made the request of him again. This time, the women begged him too—including his own daughter, Eleanor. Verily, she told her father 'twas his duty to go. What hope for survival could sweet little Virginia have, if he did not procure the help our company so desperately needed? Standing near to them, I overheard him say again that his duty was hither, with the colony of which he is governor. But Eleanor persisted. “Prithee, do not let England forget us.” We, the company, delivered him a testimony to prove our wishes. Eventually, White was convinced.

We all stood on the shore as he departed. Eleanor, cradling baby Virginia in her arms, did shed salty tears as he boarded the boat. “Fear thou not,” he called to her. “I shall return, bearing goods for the company and gifts for my Virginia.” Yea, we did hope for his safe return. Yet as I watched the boat fade into the horizon, I did wonder when e'er we would lay eyes on him again. Or if. Our voyage hither was rife with dangers. 'Twas a miracle we found this island, and 'twould be a miracle if our colony was joined by its governor once again. Until then, we faded back into the darkness of the forest, and we did wait.