CHAPTER 5

CURIOSITY’S KEY

           The next day Grandpa Jack and Fitch were up and out of the house early. This made it easier for us and our plan. After we helped clean up the breakfast dishes, Grandma Mimi made her way behind the house to tend to her garden. She had commented over breakfast that it needed weeding badly. In hindsight, I wonder now if she was hinting to us that day that she needed help. Obvious to her subtleness, as children often are, I now question if she had a motive then.  

         With Grandma out in the back, the coast was clear. Between us, we decided that Darby would stand guard at the front door for signs of the truck coming up the road and I would search for the keys. I remember a certain hook hanging near an old-fashioned roll-top desk in our grandparents’ bedroom. The hook was like one our dad had near the door that went to the garage. It held several different keys to the house.

Darby stood in the doorframe of the front door with the screen closed. The netting of the screen would easily conceal her appearance from anyone coming up the road and was convenient enough for her to appear as she had just come in from Grandma coming in the back door.

           From our grandparents’ back bedroom, I could easily make a dash for the bathroom in an obvious attempt to get to the toilet as quickly as possible.

          With Darby at the front door, I checked for Grandma out the back. She was in the far-off corner of her garden which would help with noise control. Duchess was with her basking in the sun.

          I crept from the backdoor, through the kitchen to the back bedroom. Sure enough, the five-hook board with keys hanging was there. Their bedroom was an addition to the original one-room house built in the 1950s. The addition of the room was two steps lower on a concrete foundation while the rest of the house sat on a raised foundation.

         I stepped down into the room and realized that I was too short to reach any of the keys. I then went back to the top step and tried to lean over and reach them from the step. My reach was too short to get to the keys. I grabbed onto the door frame, hanging on, and leaned over as far as I could to reach the keys from that top step to no avail.

       No matter how I reached over from the top step or second step even I could not reach the keys; tiptoes and all.

       I looked around the room quickly to see if there was something I could stand on to reach them. There was no chair in the room. The old desk itself had an old piano stool for a chair. It was the only thing available for me to grab quickly.

            The piano stool was made of dark wood, likely oak, and its three legs had metal eagle claw feet clutching clear glass balls at their base.  The seat of the stool could spin to increase or decrease the height of the stool for whoever used it.

            The spinning would be difficult to manage while standing on it, but I figured it was no different than balancing on a skateboard. The truth was, is, I wasn't the best at skateboarding. I had mastered a bike, but skateboards often challenged me because I spent so little time on them. I had a skateboard, one I barely used, over at Aunt Jane's house. An attempt from Gramma Lousie to get me outside. The problem was that on weekends we weren't at Aunt Jane's house, we'd be in Vegas with our other grandparents in their condo without the skateboard.

            I grabbed the stool. It was heavier than I expected and needed to drag it. I put the stool as close to the one step as I can. The keys just hang above it. From the step, I could easily step up onto the stool. As I put my foot on the stool, the round seat swiveled. I placed a hand on the seat to steady it and get both feet on it.

            With both feet, I slowly stood up, careful not to shift my weight too much. Even with being careful, the seat turned 90 degrees and I nearly lost my balance. I placed one hand on the wall to steady myself. I turn my body back round to face the wall and keys. There they are – the keys – right in front of me.

            There were five sets of keys hanging from the five hooks. Each ring had multiple keys on them. Taking all the keys was out of the question. Someone would surely notice no keys left on the hooks. One ring missing was easier missed. Besides my pockets weren't big enough to conceal them all.

            I studied the keys trying to determine which one made the most sense for opening a cabin door. It was an old building. Although I had no idea what the lock looked like. My imagination ran wild about what the key could look like. I knew what I thought it would look like.

            One set had a Chevrolet key chain and a large rectangular key with Chevy on it. That ring with car keys likely had other keys to the house. I decided that wasn't the right one. Then I noticed one of the key rings had a funny, old-fashioned key on it. Like a key that would have opened a trunk on a pirate ship. A skeleton key I imagined would have been used in Treasure Island. I reached out for that key ring and noticed it had a few others of a similar shape. This was clearly the right ring.

            I grabbed the key ring off the hook but as I did, the large key ring hung onto the tip of the hook. As I pulled it down, it jerked back. I reached up with my hand on the wall to hold the board with the hooks and the stool immediately began to shift. I tried to maintain my balance on the stool by shifting my weight slightly. It continued to twist left and right ever so slightly. I moved my arm to regain my balance on the wall, but I turned slightly one way, and the keyring pulled on the hook and the entire key holder came off the wall. As it fell, I turned to grab the key rack, and the stool twisted in the opposite direction.

            I lost my balance, and the stool went right as I went left. I landed on my back on the first step and the key rack came crashing down on me. The stool landed on its side on the bedroom floor opposite of me. I froze. I listened for a moment to see if anyone reacted to the sound. I heard nothing. Not even Darby.

            I stood up and tucked what I could of the large key ring in my pants pocket. I then got up and grabbed the stool and quickly slid it back under the desk. As I turned toward the door, I saw it. The nail that was holding the board of the key rack had come out of the wall. I panicked.

            In that second, I decided to leave the key rack on the floor and close the bedroom door. I figured someone might just think the key rack fell from the slamming of the door some other time. I then ran to the front door where Darby awaited.

            I didn't wait. I ran right past her and out the door. I ran out and leaped off the top step of the front porch and hit the dirt below, clearing all the steps in between.  I hit the ground, going to my knees. I wasted no time; I got off and continued running out to the barn.

            CRACK! With the slamming of the screen door, Darby reacted quickly. She took off after me. Neither of us looked back as we ran. As I reached the barn door, I cut right and headed down a path to the farm fence line beyond the well house. The fence line disappeared under the thick brush along that fence line. I stopped and waited for my sister. I sat on a nearby tree stump. My heart still racing from the commotion and the fifty-yard dash.

            Darby finally reached me. I was still breathing hard out of my mouth. My chest was going in and out and my face was all red with heat.

            Darby came to a stop at the stump, put her hands on her knees, and bent over. She, too, was out of breath.

          “What was that all about?” she asked.

           I answered her between breaths, “You heard that?”

         “Are you talking about that crash I heard come from inside the house?”

         “You heard that crashing, huh?”

         “Yeah,” she said, “What was that? What did you do?”

         “The key rack…” I took another deep breath, “It fell off the wall. But don’t worry. I got the keys.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the giant key ring with the skeleton keys on it. I extended the ring out for Darby to see. She looked at it. There were about a dozen keys in all on the key ring. About six of them were old-fashioned, funny-looking skeleton keys. Darby’s eyes lit up and she grabbed the ring from my hand.

          “Don’t hold them up. We need to keep them out of sight.”

            I looked around and didn’t see another living thing around.

           “Out of sight from what?” I asked. “We’re not being followed by spies, Darby.”

            “I know. You just can’t be too cautious.” I had to roll my eyes as I often did with my sister.

           “Anyway,” she said, “let’s get going. We’ll walk to the back side of the cabin through the bushes and trees. Out of sight of anyone.”