Free The Old Cape Teapot by Barbara Eppich Struna

Day
    CAPE COD
    WHILE THE BUS sped along the highway from Logan Airport to Cape Cod, something kept bothering me. I unfolded the copy of the old map for the umpteenth time to study the crude lines of the drawing again. One landmark on the drawing looked odd to me. Even though it was within the mass of the Cape’s land and I recognized the names around it: Harwich, Eastham, and Truro, I couldn’t recall the identity of the lumpy round mark near the coast of Eastham. I knew the towns of Brewster and Orleans had not been incorporated until after the 1700s so almost the whole lower Cape was known as Eastham. This mark on the map had to be somewhere in present day Orleans.
    It was almost dark when the bus pulled into the Hyannis depot. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Paul waiting by our white van. Even after 24 years of marriage, we were still passionate about each other. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was tall, lean, and muscular, sported a full salt and pepper beard and was born with beautiful blue eyes. I laughed to myself, he must have bought some new sneakers; they were stark white against his khaki pants and looked huge next to the black pavement. Everything about him was balanced, strong, and sturdy. Even his physical numbers were good, from his height of six feet to his shoe size of 12, all equal. Not like me, at five foot seven I wore a nine-and-a-half shoe…just a little bit odd. I was the one who encouraged the spur-of-the-moment decisions in our relationship and sometimes needed to be brought back into reality. But we’re a good team.
    I prayed a quiet thank you to Casey for watching the little ones at home. As I stepped off the bus, Paul quickly walked toward me with open arms.
    I leaned in and smiled. “Hi, honey,”
    “Welcome home.” He kissed me on the cheek. “Everybody missed you.”
    His soft white whiskers mingled with my hair, instantly comforting me after my long journey. We held hands while the driver opened the bottom hatch of the bus so Paul could retrieve my bags. After loading everything into the back of our van, Paul pointed to the bumpy plastic grocery bag. “What do you have here?”
    “Surprises for the kids.”
    He grinned.
    I quickly got into the car, eager to get home. “I have so much to tell you,” I said as I stroked his knee. “I missed you.”
    He leaned over to kiss me. “It’s good to have you home.”
    The drive home flew by as fast as the lights from the oncoming cars as they passed us. We talked of Brian, the orphanage project and of course, the mystery map.
    Paul looked over to me. “When you called from Miami and told me about finding a relative of John Julian I was hoping it wouldn’t be anything that might prove dangerous.” He shook his head back and forth. “Remember the night those guys broke in to our house? I can’t believe this is happening to you again, I mean to us, to the family. Please be careful. We can’t be getting involved in any more treasure hunting.”
    I pulled my hand from his leg and turned away to look out the window at the dark woods off the highway. “You know me…I’m always so curious.” It was all I could come up with to counter his words. I decided to keep my thoughts of hunting for more treasure to myself. Maybe Paul doesn’t need to know that someone broke into Brian’s house. No harm was done.
    ***
    1722
    ANTIGUA
    The lone figure crouched in the dark, pressing his shoulder against the massive twenty-four-foot facade of the rock. At its base, he patted the last of the loose soil flat then scattered stones across its surface. When he was satisfied his secret was concealed, he stood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tasting the crunch of dirt. He looked around .
    Grabbing the shovel, he smashed the rustic stretcher that had carried the now buried chest and threw the spade into the thickets surrounding the large stone. Securing the small bulging pouch under his belt, he tied its leather bindings secure. As he