Summer of Lost and Found (25 page)

Ambrose smiled. “It hath brought the peace for which my mother and I have been waiting for centuries. We are forever grateful. Now I want to help you discover the truth you have been seeking.”

I gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“Aye, look up.” He pointed to one of the oldest, tallest trees. It was as broad and tall as that ancient live oak at the Elizabethan Gardens. As I gazed up its trunk, I saw it. Carved faintly into the bark, very high above my head, were three letters.
C-R-O.

I gasped. “This! This was where you all lived?”

Ambrose nodded. “Our village was in these woods, and over yonder is where my mother and I have remained for these years, tethered to this land. The grapes of that vine did help sustain us, so all this time I've looked after it—through storms and droughts and pestilence.”

My mother would really freak out if she knew what had helped her special scuppernong live so long. Well, if she believed it.

“Verily, I saw you here for the first time, Nell. You were walking in these woods. Mother and I had stayed hidden from people until then—except that one man at Fort Raleigh. I watched him from time to time—I liked seeing what he did to preserve my history. A few times, I let him catch sight of me.”

“But then why did I meet you at the Festival Park?”

“I do spend many a day there—the
Elizabeth II
is like the ship that ferried us from England, where I spent some of the last days with my father. But also, you'd have been afeard if I came out of these woods when I first saw you here. What's more,” Ambrose added, “I could explain with ease my mother's and my clothing at the park.”

“That's pretty smart.” He was right—if an oddly dressed boy had jumped out from behind a tree that first day, that would have seriously weirded me out.

I remembered Lila, waiting for us up by the vine. “I'm not the only person you've come across. So why did you start talking to me?”

“You seemed familiar to me that day in the woods. 'Tis because you are a Dare. My mother said if I could trust anyone, certes would be you.”

“Wow” was all I could say.

Ambrose gestured to the flask. “The longer I hold it, the more I fade.” I gave him a questioning look. “Interacting with the living world—touching things, like this flask, or opening doors and rowing oars—it makes me less solid. Rest and scuppernongs help me regain myself.”

“Is that why you made me do all the work?” I looked closer, and now Ambrose's arms up past his elbows were pale as snow and fuzzy-looking.

He nodded, kind of bashfully. “I beg your pardon for that, too.”

“Apology accepted.” Most of my questions were answered, so it was time to ask for a favor. “Do you think you could meet someone else? Because Lila—my friend—would love to meet you too.”

“Friend?” It was Ambrose's turn to raise an eyebrow. “Nay, not a frenemy?”

“She pretty much saved my life yesterday. She's officially a friend now.”

He nodded. “In truth, I had seen that lass before—she has come closer to discovering me, and this place, than anyone else on the island in four hundred years. But that beast was always with her.” He shuddered.

Beast? 
“Her dog?” Ambrose nodded. “Wait, are you afraid of dogs?” I thought about how the only times I'd ever seen sleepy, friendly Sir Walter growl and bare his teeth were when Ambrose had been with me or nearby.

He nodded. “Most lily-livered. They can sense us better than any person can.”

The irony of Lila's constant companion being the reason why she could never find a ghost was too funny. “Wait until I tell her that. But Sir Walter Raleigh's not around today. I promise.” When he gave me an odd look, I added, “That's what she named her dog.” Ambrose rolled his eyes. I guess some facial expressions are timeless.

We hurried through the forest, back to the vine. Once Lila was in view, I called her name. She shaded her eyes, looking in our direction. Her mouth dropped open, and then she jumped up, waving the EMF detector.

She was speechless when Ambrose and I reached her. “Lila, I'd like you to meet Ambrose. Ambrose, this is Lila.”

“How now, good Lila,” he said, giving her a shy smile.

Lila's mouth hung open, still.

“You can say hello back,” I suggested.

“Hello!” she squeaked.

“Wait until you see what we have to show you.” I grabbed her hand and turned to Ambrose. “Let's take her to see your home.” The three of us headed back into the woods, the sunlight casting two long shadows behind as we raced toward the lost colony, found.

A
fter we showed Lila the carved tree, she hurried back to the road (and away from all that ghostly energy) to call her dad at Fort Raleigh and tell him to come over
right away
. But I think she also knew that I needed a minute alone with Ambrose. To say good-bye.

“So what happens next? Where will you go?” Ambrose and I were sitting in the shade of the vine. He looked less fully human than ever before. Helping save me in the water had taken a lot out of him. Apparently, he'd also been the one to bring my bike back to the cottage. I loved thinking of a ghost riding my bike along Mother Vineyard Road, in the dead of night.

“Mother and I shall venture out to the wreck, once we have enough strength.” Ambrose plucked one of the scuppernong grapes and popped it into his mouth. He looked maybe one smidge more solid as he chewed. Those grapes were the only thing he'd eaten in hundreds of years. How would people feel if they knew that the scuppernong jelly they ate was essentially made out of ghost food? He ate another, slowly, savoring it. “My father's spirit is there—I felt it in the air—just as my mother and I are here, in this ghostly form. Once we three are reunited, we won't need to be tethered to Roanoke anymore. In a way, my family will be going home. At long last.” Ambrose smiled.

I swallowed hard. I wanted Ambrose to be happy, and to be “home,” but I also didn't want to lose him. “Will I see you again?”

“Nay, I reckon not,” he said, turning to face me. I stared into his bright eyes, and I felt tears well up in my own.

“Nell, sweet Nell, don't cry,” he said. “Verily, you've helped me more than you can possibly know. 'Tis because of you that what was lost is found. For the first time in centuries, I am content.”

I could see that he was right. His eyes weren't so sad, and there was a peacefulness in his face that I'd never seen before. “I'm happy about that. I'll just miss you as a friend.” I wiped at the trail of a tear on my cheek and sniffed. I hated good-byes so much. I wondered,
Is it worse knowing that you will never see someone again? Or not knowing if you can?

Ambrose took one last grape. “And I will miss thee terribly too.” He sighed. “Mayhap 'tis time for us to head our separate ways.” Slowly, he stood. He wiped his hazy right hand on his pants, and then he held it out to help me up.

I reached for him, trembling a little. He grasped my hand. Ambrose was stronger than I'd expected—especially for a ghost—but his palm was cold as ice, colder than any person should ever feel. I guess that's another reason why he always avoided contact with me. It was a dead giveaway. Ha.

Once I was standing up, he took a deep breath and then pulled me into a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around his freezing body and squeezed, shivering. “Thank you,” I whispered in his ear. “Thank you for being my friend.”

“'Twas my pleasure,” he whispered back. He kissed my cheek, and my face flushed under his icy lips. Then he let me go.

“Anon, Nell. Tell the world what happened here.” Hugging me had taken even more of him away. I could almost see the live oaks through his white shirt, the patterns of afternoon sunlight on grass through his feet. I realized this was my last chance for a picture—but I didn't need to take it. I'd remember that messy hair, those bright eyes, and that sad smile forever.

“I promise I will, Ambrose. Certes.” Then he was off, gliding away through the forest. I shook with sobs, overcome by the sadness of his story and the grief of losing a friend. But I felt relief, too, knowing that he'd finally gotten the answers he'd longed for. And so had I.

Lila walked over and put her arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a half hug. “Hey, it's okay. You've still got me, and Sir Walter.”

I took a deep breath. The thing about being alive is that you have to keep moving forward, right? Even when you're unsure about what's ahead. “About that—Ambrose told me something pretty interesting. You might want to rethink taking Sir Walter along on your ghost hunts.” While we waited for our parents to arrive, I filled her in.

•  •  •

After four hundred years of quiet mystery, a lot happened very fast on Roanoke once we found the lost colony. The construction company happily went to plan B for their golf course. Even they didn't want to disrupt history—and Elizabethan Links' new spot on the mainland had a sweet view from across the water of where some actual Elizabethans had once lived. A new excavation project, led by Lila's dad, started the day after we showed him the site. Amazingly, within the first few hours, the crew had uncovered artifacts buried deep below the piney forest floor—including a chest that never made it to Croatoan or on board the ill-fated pinnace. As soon as I heard that they'd found it, I knew
exactly
whose it must be—Ambrose's family's, since they were the last to stay on the island. Sure enough, it held a well-preserved Bible that had “Ambrose Viccars the Elder” inscribed on the inside cover, in the same script with Gothic letters that I hadn't been able to read when we'd found the flask. But the most amazing thing was tucked under the Bible: twelve loose pages, on which my Ambrose had recorded his story—just in case it was ever found. The scientists said it was a miracle they were so well preserved. But I knew better. When Ambrose had said to
tell the world his story
, I didn't know he would be helping me.

That was when Lila and I decided to tell her dad the truth about Ambrose. He had a hard time believing us until I got to the part about Ambrose being at Fort Raleigh that day. Luke's face turned white as, well, a ghost. “That villager boy! I—I
knew
there was something different about him, but I thought he was just doing some kind of method acting.” He stared out the window of his office. “I once caught him spying on me while I worked. When I tried to talk to him, he scurried away . . . wow.” He shook his head. “Lila, if only I'd given your theories a little more consideration.” For a second, she looked shocked, almost like she might burst into happy tears—and then she started to pester her dad about incorporating ghost-hunting methods into his archaeological work.

“Nell—knowing what these pages mean to you now, would you like to read them?” Luke opened a box on his desk, and took out a small stack of fragile-looking paper. I walked over to him, and he placed the pages in my hands. “Take your time,” he added. “Lila, come here and tell me more about where you've gotten interesting readings with your EMF detector.”

It was hard to read about the hopeful start of Ambrose's colony, knowing all that happened after—and because my eyes blurred as I slowly turned the pages. I squeezed them shut for a minute.
Hold it together, Nell.
I was afraid my tears would mar the writing. But as I kept reading, I realized that the fact that I was holding Ambrose's words in my hands was a joyful thing, too—his story needed to be known. As soon as the experts finished transcribing, people could read every word of it.

Finding the village site and the colonist shipwreck had turned Roanoke into major news.
LOST COLONY FOUND!
blared the headlines.
GIRL
DARE
-D TO FIND THE TRUTH!
People seemed especially excited about two things: that my dad wrote historical mysteries, and that I shared a lineage with the first English child born in America. It didn't seem fair that the articles focused on me, a New Yorker who hardly deserved full credit. So in every interview I did in the frenzy afterward, I pointed out that I couldn't have found any truths if a very determined local girl—my friend Lila—hadn't saved my life.

Apparently, super-old tree carvings—like the letters
C-R-O
that the colonists had left behind—are a thing people like Lila's dad and my mom study; they're called arborglyphs.
Smithsonian
magazine heard the news and asked my mom to write a special article about the bioarchaeology work she was doing at the site. Then my mom's museum decided that it wanted to put together an exhibit on both the lost colony artifacts and arborglyphs. She managed to convince them to do a joint exhibition with the Fort Raleigh visitor center, which meant that she'd be visiting the island and Lila's dad would be visiting New York City to put it all together. That meant lots of opportunities for me to see Lila again—about which I actually was thrilled. Who would have thought I would feel that way after our rocky start? Plus, there were still mysteries to solve—like what had happened to the colonists who'd traveled to Croatoan.