Rafter grabbed a pry bar lying nearby. His subconscious must’ve known the job would increase in size. Otherwise he would’ve forgotten the tool. Rafter placed the pry bar tip underneath one of the bricks and pried gently.

All seven bricks suddenly collapsed onto the floor. Surprised by the mini-avalanche, Rafter jerked backwards, sitting down hard on his butt. Dust billowed up.

Rafter coughed and shook his head. Well, I just gained some time there, he thought with a grin.

After the dust cleared a bit, he stacked all the bricks to the side and prepared to clean up the debris field of mortar crumbs and dirt. That’s when he noticed something odd, something unexpected.

A small compartment or cubbyhole existed inside the chimney and stretched out onto the floor. A secondary wall partitioned the cubbyhole from the chimney wall. Rafter grabbed a penlight from his tool belt and shined the LED light into the compartment.

His heart sped up. Chills slinked up his back when he spied a box sitting inside the hole. Rafter reached into the cubbyhole and pulled at the box. But the box was heavy and hardly moved, and because the box looked like it had been there for multiple generations, he suspected that the box stuck to the floor.

Rafter transferred the flashlight to his mouth and reached in both his hands and tugged. A grunt escaped his lips. A sweat droplet fell from his brow onto the dusty floor. The box broke free and slid toward him. It made a scraping sound as he dragged it through pieces of old mortar.

Feeling a bit like an archaeologist discovering an ancient secret, Rafter slid the box all the way out from its hidden compartment. He pulled the flashlight from his mouth and shined its beam onto the box.

Man, this thing is old, he thought. Rafter guessed the box was about twelve inches wide by twenty-four inches long and maybe eighteen inches high. The stain coating on the box had darkened over two centuries’ time. A rusty padlock hung from the lid.

Rafter traced his index finger along some lettering burned onto the lid. He could only recite a few words and numbers in Spanish, but he could tell the lettering on the box was definitely Spanish in origin.

The letters barely showed up against the darkened wood. Rafter shone his flashlight on the letters. La propiedad de Nuestra Senora de Cerredos. He let out a low whistle. Excitement welled up in him, and an overwhelming sense of curiosity made him shine his flashlight back into the cubbyhole.

He saw a small object and reached for it. His fingers grasped the metal object. He pulled it out and looked at a large rusty key. Rafter laid the key by the box and pulled his phone from his pocket. He sent a text to Annie downstairs. Can u come up to the attic?

He waited impatiently for her response. Several seconds later she texted him back. I’m coming right up. A few moments later he heard her come up the stairs, heard the top step squeak. Rafter positioned himself in front of the box.

Annie entered the attic. “Where are you?”

“I’m by the backside of the chimney.”

Annie made her way over to him.

“Is Grace sleeping?”

Annie smiled. “Like a baby.”

Rafter grinned. “I have something to show you.” He scooted over, allowing the box to come into view.

“It’s an old wooden box. Where did you find it?”

“I found it hidden in the chimney. I discovered some more loose bricks. When I removed them I found a secret compartment. The box was inside.”

“Is this what I think it is?”

Rafter nodded. “I think this box contains what Arcadias was searching for.”

“Did you find a key as well?”

Rafter held the key up.

“Wow, it’s so corroded. If you look at it wrong the key might snap in half.”

Rafter held the key out to Annie. “Do you want the honor, Babe?”

Annie smiled and dropped to her knees beside him. She took the key from his hand. “I would love to.” Annie slid the key into the slot on the padlock’s body. She looked at him for a tense second, and then slowly turned the key. The shackle opened. She removed the lock and set it on the floor. “Let’s open it together. We’ll each grab an end.”

Rafter nodded. He grabbed the lid’s left corner. “Are you ready?”

“I am. I want to see what eluded Bobby and Rose and Arcadias.”

“Okay then. Let’s do it,” Rafter said and lifted his end. Annie did the same with her end. The lid creaked open on corroded hinges.

They both exclaimed at what greeted them from inside the box. Even in the dim light the gold doubloons seemed to sparkle like wavelets on a sun-splashed lake. Slack-jawed, Rafter gaped at the doubloons, disbelief slowly giving way to belief. “I’m surprised there is still this much in here. Maybe the Whitcombs didn’t spend as much of it on the parties as Ned thought.”

“I would imagine it was pretty hard to spend it without raising eyebrows,” Annie said.

Rafter reached into the treasure box and lifted out a handful of doubloons and pieces of eight. The gold had a mesmerizing effect about it. He couldn’t stop looking at the coins. “Or maybe the Whitcombs simply invested some of it and used only the earnings.”

Annie put a hand over his hand and brought it down toward the box. “So what are we going to do with all this Spanish gold?”

Rafter opened his fingers and allowed the coins to tumble back into the box with the others. He shut the lid. “I have an idea. But my idea would require a babysitter for Grace. Do you think you could get Claire down here tomorrow?”

Annie shrugged. “Tomorrow is pretty short notice. But if Claire is home she’d break the speed limit getting down here. She can’t wait to babysit.” Annie raised an eyebrow. “So what do you have in mind?”

Rafter looked at his wife. His hazel eyes narrowed. “Oh nothing much, just a little boat ride.”

Chapter 57

March 12, 2009

I have decided this will be my last journal entry. My brain is rarely sharp enough to write down anything worthwhile, and arthritis in my hand makes it difficult for me to write. There is just no getting around the fact I am an old, old woman.

My beauty faded long ago. My hair is wispy and white, my teeth are gone and I wear two hearing aids. I sound like I am complaining, but I’m not. Health decline happens when you live a long time like me.

Although my life has been marked by loneliness and heartbreak, I’ve rather enjoyed my life. I’ve lived in this grand old house for parts of nine decades. And I’ve loved more passionately and stronger than most. I’ve been blessed to know and love three remarkable men in my lifetime: my father, Bobby, and now Jon Rafter.

As I sit in my wheelchair and jot down these words, I watch Jon with keen interest as he paints a mural in the foyer. His skill as an artist is mindboggling. And watching the mural come together stroke by meticulous stroke is a treat. I can almost hear David playing his harp so beautifully for King Saul.

God has truly blessed Jon with an amazing talent. I know someday he will gain fame for his work. And I know he will handle the fame well. Jon is a high-character man. Although he has never told me what brought him here to Louisiana, I know he has experienced pain. I can sense it. And somehow through this most unlikely of relationships, we are both helping each other sort through our heartbreak.

I thank God for bringing Jon here almost every day. He is kind and compassionate and has become like a son to me. He does so much for me, drives me around town and takes me to all my doctor appointments. Sometimes I have to convince myself that he is only a mortal man and not an angelic being.