The Treasure of Maria Mamoun (27 page)

“I'm afraid I know where they may have gone,” Mr. Ironwall said.

Meanwhile, Uncle Harry drove like a madman to the Ironwall Estate. The bicycles were discovered behind the Old West Shed,
The Last Privateer
was found to be missing, the Coast Guard was called, and the rescue was enacted.

Now Maria put her feet on the cold floor and hauled herself from the bed.

“If you're looking for clothes, they're there on the table,” Celeste said.

Maria looked at the sad pile. She didn't like the blouse her mother had selected. “Can I wear something else?”

“Everything else is packed.”

“What do you mean?” Maria asked.

Celeste gestured toward the door. The four large duffel bags that they'd brought from their apartment lay beside it.

“We're leaving?” Maria asked. “But I thought Mr. Ironwall was better.”

“What do you think, Maria? How can Mr. Ironwall trust us anymore? As soon as Joanne gets a replacement for me, we're gone.”

The oily feeling washed through her. She'd ruined everything. He was better; they could have stayed.

Frank pulled up in the golf cart. He glanced at Celeste as she climbed, wordless, into the front seat.

“I need something from my backpack.” Maria ran back into the house and pulled out the leather-wrapped map. Even if Mr. Ironwall couldn't trust her anymore, at least she could explain why they'd done it. Then, maybe, at least he wouldn't hate her so much.

*   *   *

Paolo was already standing with Hattie outside the double doors of Mr. Ironwall's room. He gave Maria a grim smile and Hattie shot him a fierce look. None of the adults said anything to the children or each other, yet somehow Joanne must have sensed their presence in the hall, for the door opened and her big hand ushered them in.

“Just the children,” Mr. Ironwall said. “You wait out in the hall, too, Joanne. I'm sure Maria can yell loudly enough if I need any assistance.”

Brutus leaped out of the bed and hurried to Maria, licking and wagging and snuffling at her. He was probably confused—she had been in the hospital all morning and hadn't taken him on his beach walk, and she felt bad about that, too. She wanted to bury her face in his fur instead of facing Mr. Ironwall. She forced herself to look at the thin figure in the great white bed.

He looked better than he had when he'd left. The oxygen mask was gone, but a big silver tank, with gauges and nozzles and plastic tubing, stood by the bed should he need it again.

“I'm so sorry; we're so sorry—” She glanced at Paolo, who was pale-faced and nodding mutely.

Mr. Ironwall raised his hand. “You stole my boat.”

“We were just borrowing it,” Paolo said.

“As you have apparently been borrowing it for a very long time,” Mr. Ironwall said. “I hear you had a little clubhouse in the cabin, and spent a great deal of money at the marine supply store.”

“We fixed it up first, really nicely,” Paolo said.

Mr. Ironwall closed his eyes. Then he opened them and fixed his gaze on Paolo. “The fact that you went to such expense and trouble to repair my boat before you stole it scarcely mitigates your crime.”

Paolo looked at Maria, confused.

“It is hardly an ameliorating factor,” Mr. Ironwall said. Paolo still looked confused. “In other words, it barely makes things better.”

“We're still in a lot of trouble,” Maria whispered.

Paolo looked at the floor. Maria reached over and touched his hand with her pinky.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Ironwall,” Paolo said. “We're sorry.”

“Of course you are.” Mr. Ironwall pinned both of them with a steely gaze. “But stealing my boat—that is not the real crime.”

“We betrayed your trust!” Maria cried. “I know! My mom told me! But it's not her fault. It's mine. So you don't have to fire her … and you don't have to kick us out. I promise to be better, I'll never mess with your stuff again—”

“Enough, Maria,” Mr. Ironwall said. “Control yourself!”

Maria stopped.

Mr. Ironwall's eyes softened and he patted the bed. “Come sit.”

Maria sat. Paolo moved closer, but remained standing.

Mr. Ironwall took Maria's right hand. He held it for a long time—long enough for Maria to inspect all the painful knobs and blue veins in his hand.

“Maria, look at me,” he finally said.

Maria couldn't bear to meet his eyes. There was a purple bruise on his wrist where an IV needle had been. She kept her focus there.

“You were badly hurt,” Mr. Ironwall said gently. “You were quite in over your head. Something much worse could have happened. You do realize that, don't you? How could any of us have survived that? I couldn't have borne that. Nor could your mother have, or Hattie…”

Maria shook her head. She didn't trust her voice.

“It grieves me terribly that I put you up to this.” Mr. Ironwall pressed her hand. “All my stories about pirate treasure and adventuring nonsense.”

“You didn't put me up to it. I found a map!” Maria fished the leather tube from her bag. She handed it, with the map rolled inside, to Mr. Ironwall.

“I know it's fake, now,” Maria said. “But it looked so real.”

Mr. Ironwall inspected the leather tube for a long time. Then he untied the straps and unrolled the scroll. He touched the parchment gently, turned it over, and gazed at the back. Then he placed it on the bedspread.

“We realized it was a fake when we found the treasure chest filled with rocks,” Paolo said. “We found the invitations and the party stuff all around.”

“But the treasure, fake or not, could have waited!” Mr. Ironwall said. “Why did you go out on
that
night, in such weather?” He turned toward Paolo. “Of the two of you, you should have known better.”

Now Paolo looked down.

Maria found her voice. “It was my idea. I thought that you might not come back from the hospital. And that my mom and I would have to leave the Island. And the cottage. And I just couldn't stand it! I didn't want to go back to the Bronx—and we needed money to stay—we needed that treasure. I thought it was our only chance before…”

“Before?” Mr. Ironwall said.

“Before you left them high and dry,” Paolo said.

“Left them high and dry?” Mr. Ironwall pushed himself up on the pillows. “Wherever did you get the idea that I would do that?”

“Something my mom always says,” Paolo said. “When you die we'll all be left high and dry.”

Mr. Ironwall chuckled. Maria looked up to see him shaking his head. “I would never leave Maria and her mother high and dry. Or your mother, or Frank. In fact, I took the opportunity, while I was on the mainland, to see my lawyer. He came to the hospital to help me get my affairs in order.”

“Oh!” Maria gasped. “That's why I thought…”

Mr. Ironwall smiled at her. “Just because I see my lawyer doesn't mean I'm planning on dying tomorrow. It is just prudent at my age not to leave such things to the last minute.”

“I'm sorry,” Maria said.

“You will be happy to know that you will never have to quit the cottage, regardless of my status.” His eyes twinkled as if he'd made a joke. “I'm leaving it, and the surrounding acre, to you.”

“What?” Maria said. “I mean, excuse me?”

“You heard me perfectly well,” Mr. Ironwall said. “You are the inheritor of my cottage. And its surrounding acre.”

“Really?” Maria asked. “You can do that?”

“Of course I can!” Mr. Ironwall looked indignant. “It's mine and I may give it to whomever I wish.”

“But what about your family?” Maria said. “There must be someone else expecting…”

Mr. Ironwall wagged a scolding finger. “You know very well I have no one expecting anything. You're the closest thing to a granddaughter that I'll ever have. So there. It's done. The cottage is yours. Now stop making me repeat myself. It's tiresome.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Maria lunged forward and gave him a one-arm hug. He reached awkwardly around her and patted her back.

“I'm not used to such enthusiasm,” he said. “Remember I'm rather fragile.”

She pulled back and looked directly in his eyes. “But you have to promise me,” she said in her most serious voice. “You are not allowed to die ever. Even if you do leave me the cottage.”

“Well, I can promise to
try
not to,” Mr. Ironwall said. “But I don't think I'll succeed. Now call the adults in.”

There was a brief shuffle in the hall, and then Frank, Celeste, and Hattie entered as sheepishly as if they, themselves, were in trouble. Joanne clicked over Mr. Ironwall, fussing with his blankets and standing resolutely by his side, demonstrating with her superior expression that it was she, and only she, who hadn't caused him any heartache.

“Mr. Ironwall,” Celeste began, but her voice was drowned out. Hattie said Paolo was headed off to reform school on the mainland, while Frank said kids will be kids and he and Hattie weren't much better at that age, and Joanne stated none of this was good for Mr. Ironwall's heart. When no one calmed down, she put her fingers to her mouth and whistled.

“Mr. I's had enough already and I need to get home,” Joanne scolded. “So could you all shut up now and let the old man speak?”

They nodded and quieted.

“I want all of you to listen to me now,” Mr. Ironwall said. “I'm very tired from all the excitement and I don't want to have to repeat myself.”

He turned his gaze back to Maria and Paolo. “Show them the treasure map.”

Paolo glanced at Maria. She took the map from the bedspread and handed it to her mother.

Celeste unwrapped the map and read it. “‘Twice twice two, then twice that more. Take one from the first, the Queen treads upon the door.'”

“I used pirate maps such as these as an invitation to a party I threw years ago,” Mr. Ironwall said. “For my film
The Last Privateer.
People sailed to the little island where the children were found and we had a picnic in the caves. It was, as Maria would say, a
fabulous
party.”

Celeste shook the map at Maria. “Why didn't you just show me this in the first place? I could have told you it was utter nonsense.”

“It's
not
utter nonsense.” Mr. Ironwall scoffed as if he'd been offended. “The quote is historically accurate. In fact, my whole film was well researched. It was based on my ancestor Captain Murdefer. I used his old ship's log as source material.”

Celeste passed the map to Frank. “But we could have told them it wasn't
real
. If only they had come to an adult instead of sneaking around…”

“Maybe that's why they didn't come to an adult,” Mr. Ironwall said. “Because an adult would have told them it wasn't real. And they needed to believe it was.”

“We compared the map to charts of the Island,” Maria said. “And there were stories about real pirates that really hid real treasure around here.”

“The
Whydah
was real,” Paolo said. “Dad took me to the museum in Provincetown.”

“And Captain Murdefer was a real privateer—he was Mr. Ironwall's ancestor.” Maria gave up. It sounded so lame now.

Paolo turned to his mother. “It looked so old. And real.”

“Please,” Hattie said.

“But the children were correct!” Mr. Ironwall said. “Captain Murdefer did in fact bury treasure on
that very island
. In that very cave!”

“But there was no treasure,” Frank said. “You just said the pirate map was a party invitation.”

“The invitations were based on an actual map. One that the captain had copied into his log after the original map had been lost. The children followed their map to the
exact right spot
.” Mr. Ironwall pounded the bedspread for emphasis. “And if there had still been a treasure to find, they would have been extremely rich.”

“So there really once was a buried pirate treasure?” Maria couldn't help asking.

“Of course,” Mr. Ironwall said. “Right where you found the fake one. Murdefer went back for it himself once he was cleared of racketeering charges. How do you think we Ironwalls came to own all this?” He spread his hands through the dusty air.

“Figures,” Paolo said. “Everything is always already found, or used up, or whatever.”

“But we were right!” Maria glanced at her mother. “Though I guess it was pretty stupid to think it would still be there for
us
to find.”

“Well, I suppose that makes me pretty stupid also,” Mr. Ironwall said. “Knowing my ancestor Murdefer had already dug up his treasure didn't stop
me
when I was your age. You see, I found his old log and followed it to that very island myself. I told Maria how my cousins and I hunted treasure also, in case Murdefer didn't get it all.”

Mr. Ironwall took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked uncharacteristically uncertain. “I'm afraid I owe everyone here an apology. I led Maria to believe hunting pirate treasure should be something all children do. But, then again, we never
stole
our boat, and our parents always knew where we were.” He gave Maria and Paolo a long, serious look. “And we never went out in the middle of the night.”

Hattie took the map. “Anyone can see these stains are tea.” She glared at Paolo. “How could you ever believe this map was real?”

“But the children
were
right,” Mr. Ironwall insisted. “Their map
is
real.”

The adults turned to Mr. Ironwall.

“But it's just an invitation to a party, you said so yourself,” Maria said.

“The ones you found at the cave were just invitations. But this—” A smile glimmered on his thin lips. “
This
one is the original map of Captain Murdefer. It is of great value. Historians thought it was lost.
I
thought it was lost.” He looked at Maria. “Wherever did you find it, my dear?”