Authors: Marianne Malone
“She must’ve been the one who wrote on the note,” Jack said.
“Let’s try to ask her today,” Ruthie suggested. “She trusts us, I think.”
“Look at the time, you two. You don’t want to be late.” Mrs. McVittie started to clear the breakfast dishes. “And don’t forget, Ruthie, your parents will be back by suppertime.”
Her parents! Ruthie had almost forgotten they were coming home today. She was looking forward to seeing them, but there was a lot to get done in a little time!
Jack and Ruthie rushed out into the beautiful Chicago Sunday, the kind of day they ordinarily would have spent outside. Sunlight reflected in the windows of the skyscrapers, and the city sparkled. They ran nearly all the way from Mrs. McVittie’s apartment, arriving at the museum ten minutes before eleven. The two of them sat on the steps by one of the bronze lions to wait for Dora.
After a bit Ruthie checked her watch: 11:01. “What time does your watch say?” she asked Jack.
“A minute after eleven,” he answered.
“She’s never late. Something’s wrong,” Ruthie said.
“Could be our watches are a little fast.”
“True,” Ruthie admitted, although she could feel the hollow of her stomach deepening.
People walked by in a steady stream. No Dora.
At seven minutes past eleven Ruthie worried aloud, “You know, Jack, she doesn’t have to show up or bring back any of the objects. They’re really valuable antiques that she could sell for a lot of money. And she knows we’re not going to tell anyone about the shrinking and the magic.”
“That’s possible,” Jack conceded. “But I still think her curiosity will make her show up.”
“I hope you’re right.” Just then Ruthie felt a hand on her shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Ruthie, Jack,” the cool voice said from behind. “Here you are; I’ve been waiting inside for you.”
Calming herself, and hoping Dora hadn’t overheard them, Ruthie responded, “Hi, Dora.”
Jack stood up too. “I guess we never told you where to meet us. Did you bring everything?” Jack glanced at the large leather tote bag that she always carried. It looked pretty full. She also held a shopping bag from which he could see the tip of a ship’s mast poking out from some bubble wrap. “That’s the
Mayflower
model from A1, isn’t it?”
“Very good, Jack. You do know the rooms well, don’t you?”
“Not really, not like Ruthie. It’s just that the model is one of my favorite things.”
“It is a really special piece. It has a name written on the bottom,” Dora said.
“We know: Thomas Wilcox. We met him,” Jack said.
“You met him?” Dora was astounded. “Was he in the room?”
“No. We went out into his time, into the seventeenth century,” Jack explained casually.
“That’s amazing!” Her eyes narrowed a bit.
Ruthie was certain that Dora was thinking about all the treasures she was hoping to lay claim to from beyond the rooms. “C’mon, let’s go.” Ruthie led them up the steps.
With Dora’s museum ID tag around her neck, they had no problem bringing the shopping bag into the museum, and the three of them made a beeline for the stairs. Since it was such a nice day outside, Gallery 11 was relatively empty. Dora smiled brightly at the guard on duty. “Hello, Louis. I’ve got some work to do in the corridor, and these are my interns.” She spoke with complete confidence.
“Aren’t you the two who found Edmund Bell’s photographs?”
“Yep, that’s us,” Jack answered.
“I thought I’d been seeing you around here lately,” the guard commented. “Any friend of Edmund’s is a friend of
mine. You three go right ahead. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” Dora said. She led the way past the information booth to the American rooms’ access door, the one Ruthie and Jack had not been able to squeeze under. Dora used her key to let them in. It was all so easy.
“So how do we do this?” Dora asked.
“First,” Ruthie said, “why don’t you show us all the objects that we need to put back?”
“Right,” Jack agreed. “Let’s get that done, and then we can show you how the magic gets you into the past worlds.”
“And the curse? I’m very interested in learning more about that,” Dora asked.
“For sure. We’ll tell you all about that!” Ruthie enthused. “How many American pieces do you have?”
“Let’s see.” She hesitated. “There’s the
Mayflower
in here.” Dora raised the shopping bag. Then she reached into her big leather bag, pulling out an unusual-looking object. “This is from one of the rooms from the South.”
“Is that one of the picture-viewing things—a stereopti-something?” Jack asked, intrigued by the wood and metal instrument.
“A stereopticon,” Dora answered. “Good antiques like this are hard to find.”
“I know where that belongs,” Ruthie said. “In the Georgia room, right next to the Charleston room.”
“What else?” Jack continued.
“Just this.” Dora pulled a small silver goblet from her big bag.
“Hmmm.” Ruthie tilted her head. “What room is that from?”
“It came from a Maryland dining room.” Dora’s eyes caught a glint from the shiny sterling piece as she held it close to her face. “It’s exquisite.”
“Is that everything?” Ruthie prodded.
“Of course,” Dora responded. Ruthie wasn’t sure if she believed her—why should she? Ruthie thought it very likely that Dora was scheming to put everything back now and steal it again later. But Dora did seem motivated to follow their directions—for the moment, at least—so they would reward her with information.
“Let’s have the
Mayflower
. That should go back first.” Jack reached for the shopping bag.
Dora nervously clutched it. “Are you sure? Couldn’t we do some exploring first?”
“I think it would be smart to get everything put away before we do that. What if someone comes back here for some reason and starts asking questions? You could get in big trouble, Dora,” Ruthie replied.
“Oh—oh, I see. Yes, of course.” She grudgingly surrendered the bag.
“Let’s have the goblet and the stereopticon too.” Ruthie put her hand out for them.
“But I would love to put something back myself,” Dora complained.
“First things first.” Jack sounded terribly bossy. Dora obeyed and handed over the two antiques. They put everything in the shopping bag for the shrinking process, being especially careful with Thomas’ ship. “Ready?” Jack asked.
“Yep,” Ruthie answered.
Jack reached into a pocket for the key and dropped it into her open palm. Ruthie had gotten used to the magic of the metal square and noticed the difference right away, as if the key’s magic was more powerful, the process smoother and faster. Like the difference between riding in a really new car and an old one. In an instant, Ruthie and the three objects were mouse-sized.
For a horrible moment, Ruthie recognized the disadvantage she was at—Dora was now an evil giant before her. She was glad Jack remained big.
Jack gently picked up tiny Ruthie and the shopping bag, setting them down gingerly on the ledge near A1, the room from the time of the Salem witch trials—Thomas’ room. “Don’t forget to look before you go in.”
Ruthie took the
Mayflower
and stepped through the framework and into the small room that led to the main one. She tiptoed to the doorway and peeked in. The beautiful wooden surfaces glowed and the huge fireplace felt so inviting. The mug in which she had found Caroline Bell’s pink barrette hung on the hook right where Ruthie had put it. The lack of museum visitors made it easy—she could go right in.
Everything was unchanged since their last visit, except
it was too quiet—it was as if the sound had been turned off on a TV and there was just the picture. But something happened as she walked across the wide wood floorboards and lifted the
Mayflower
to its home on the mantel. First she heard the tinkling, bell-like sound that she’d heard when she touched Christina’s book. It was both everywhere and far away and lasted only a few seconds before subsiding. Then she heard life—not sounds from the museum, but the normal sounds of outdoors that one notices only if they aren’t there. She heard the wind in the trees, birds singing, children playing. She hurried behind the tall bench and through the door to the room’s entryway and looked outside—yes, it was alive, all right! She was tempted to rush out and find Thomas again, but she knew Jack would need her in the corridor.
“Mission number one accomplished!” Ruthie said as she arrived back out at the ledge. “What’s next?”
“The Maryland dining room,” Jack replied.
It didn’t take Ruthie too long to scramble along the narrow walkway. Jack and Dora followed.
“Dora, do you remember where the goblet goes?” Ruthie asked.
“Yes; put it on the small side table, the one with the mirror over it.” Dora looked pained.
“Got it.” Ruthie stepped into the framework and into a side room. From there she could see the entire space: a late eighteenth-century room with walls painted the color of a robin’s egg and a crystal chandelier that captured and
refracted the light coming from the windows. She saw a portrait of a woman in an oval frame, dressed like Betsy Ross or Abigail Adams, she thought. Maybe this was the woman’s room. Ruthie liked her face and wished she had more time to look at all the other objects.
Ruthie pulled back as two people walked into view. She waited until their voices subsided, then stepped in. She placed the goblet where it belonged and listened as the sparkling sound of the magic resonated around her for just a few seconds. She looked out the window at the view of a beautiful formal garden in summer. There were no people in the garden, but she saw two squirrels chasing each other, their fluffy tails bobbing about as they jumped from branch to branch in the gently swaying trees.
She left the room and returned to Jack and Dora in the corridor. “Okay—last stop, A30, the Georgia room.”
“But I thought we’d get to look in the rooms,” Dora complained again.
“Don’t worry; we will. It’s just that the really great stuff is on the European side,” Jack answered. The look of frustration on her face did not subside.
At this point, Ruthie needed to be on the other side of the corridor, so Jack lifted her off the ledge and carried her over. She sat cross-legged in the deep creases of his giant palm and rather enjoyed the ride.
He set her down, now with only the stereopticon to return. She remembered that it belonged on the table
toward the back of the room—no need to ask Dora. She made her way to the entrance. A30 was a double parlor, meaning it was really two rooms, one in front of the other. She found herself in the rear of the two, which were decorated in the same style, with the same lush red velvets and opulent gold satins. Ruthie had looked at this room many times in the catalogue, but it seemed far more elaborate when she was actually inside of it. How many servants—slaves—were needed to support this lifestyle? she wondered.
Ruthie looked through the front room toward the viewing window as she crept farther in. All clear. Interestingly, the room felt alive already, and she listened carefully for more telltale sounds. Yes, she heard life beyond the heavily curtained bay windows, muffled and distant but nevertheless real. She placed the stereopticon on the table where it belonged, next to a small stack of books. As she predicted, the wind-chime-like sound did not start up. Clearly, this stereopticon, though old, was not the animating object of room A30. Ruthie took one more long look around the grand space, speculating about what the magic item might be.
“Okay, we’ve got all the American stuff put back,” Ruthie said as she reappeared, already having decided that she was going one room back, to A29, Phoebe’s room. She started in that direction.
“Where are you going?” Dora asked impatiently.
“I have to check something in the next room. Jack, do you have the you-know-what?”
He patted a pocket that held the square.
“Is it doing anything?” Ruthie asked.
Jack opened his pocket just enough to get a glimpse. “Yep, glowing. But just a little.”
“What? What are you two talking about?” This was all more than Dora could tolerate. “You said you’d teach me all about the magic.”
“When we get to the European corridor we’ll explain,” Jack replied.
As Jack spoke, Ruthie slipped into the framework of A29. The museum was still empty enough for her to walk right into the room through the door she had left ajar last time. The tall cabinet stood near the front; Ruthie went straight over to it, as though an invisible magnet pulled her. Standing directly in front of it, she saw the curtains hanging behind glass panels but realized she couldn’t easily open the doors; there were no knobs to pull, only two keyholes. But there was a drawer below with two knobs. She pulled the knobs, and the drawer slid open, revealing a single key on a gold cord. Ruthie slid it into the keyhole; it fit. She gave it a half turn and heard the sound of the latch moving.
The hinges creaked and resisted when she pulled the door, but it opened. Inside, she spied a single object: a leather-bound book, held closed not by a locking clasp but by two leather ties. It had no gold decorations, no
markings of any kind; it was well used and obviously very old. She picked it up, closed the cabinet and walked through the French doors to the covered porch. Here, she would be invisible to anyone from the nineteenth century who might happen by, and out of sight to museum visitors as well. Birds flew about in the nearby oaks, and the scent of garden flowers was sweet and strong. She sat down on the painted white floorboards, warm from the sun. How lovely it would be to sit and enjoy the moment and have all the time she wanted to explore this book, this world. But Jack couldn’t hold off Dora indefinitely.
She opened the book to somewhere in the middle. At first she couldn’t read it—it was all handwritten, and some things seemed misspelled. Ink smudges dappled the margins. It appeared to be a ledger of some kind. Ruthie thumbed through a few pages. She saw lists in columns with quantities, sometimes broken up with short paragraphs. Once she became accustomed to the writing she could read most of it and realized that these were recipes of a sort, or formulas.