Mystery of the Keys, version two

The Mystery of the Keys

Version 2 draft one


Chapter 1


I feel elated to have finally realized my dreams of owning this fine, beautiful house. This one hundred eighty years old structure was far beyond all I could hope for. I could not contain the energy flowing through me. Logan, my husband, was far more reserved in his shared joy. Logan knew the brunt of the work, on the house, would fall on his shoulders. It is so nice to have a man around the house. It is so nice that the man around this house is Logan.

During the perfunctory cleaning, I found a pair of very ancient, and very curious keys, in the junk drawer, in the kitchen. I placed them into my pocket and found that I was fondling them constantly. They became very familiar. I knew every groove, ding, and tooth in the pair of them. My curious nature had to know where and what these mysterious keys belonged to. What would they open? What would I find? My fingers danced over them as if they were magic. Maybe they would open a door to a magical world. I simply had to find the secret these keys held.

Perusing the history of my mystery keys, I could easily become involved in another adventure. The precious keys remained in my sweater pocket for some time. By the time the girls are well settled into the new school year, “I can take it no more”. It is as though this pair of keys had become an extension of my pocketed fingers. Worried about being disciplined enough not to let my detective passion overwhelm my time. I decided to give it a few more days. I think I am also worried about no longer needing the comforting keys tucked close to me fondled like a talisman.

In just a few weeks the added task of preparing for the holidays would be at hand. I could not let my mystery utilize all my time, but I felt compelled.

My very old house, being new to my family, had been the topic of much gossip. This, of course, only led to more imagination, more ideas to expand. Now, there are gossips in every community, but I am usually quite good at reading undercurrents. This time I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Our house was the largest in the area. Perhaps this was the cause for all the scuttle butt. Trust me, were the market in good condition, Logan and I would never have been able to afford it.

We would take drives on the weekends and always we would end up going by to see if the sale sign was still up. Each time I saw that wonderful sign, I would sigh with relief. Then the day came when Logan announced, “ We have an appointment with a realtor. Just looking, and praying it was still for sale isn’t getting us anywhere. Let’s see if we can possibly afford it.” The house was available at a loss to the owners just to finally unload it. And this is how Logan and I got our dream house.

Past owners had added to the structure. Sixty years ago, the second floor had been enhanced with a wrap around balcony. The job was beautifully done and made to stay in line with the original design to the primary structure. Forty years later, a magnificent porch was built to wrap around the first floor. French doors led from the kitchen to the dining area that was formed into a semi-circle that continued along until you reached the steps. The wide staircase enhanced the double doors and made a stunning statement as it drew our eyes to a beautifully manicured lawn and landscaping complete with a lovely gazebo.

Entering the front door way, one could only gasp! The foyer and grand staircase were most interesting. The area Logan always says is larger than any of the children’s bedrooms. As with most of the wood in this beautiful manor of a house, the stair risers are stained a deep mahogany. The matching handrail curves up to the third step and continues up to the top. Twisting nearly backwards it proceeded down the mahogany floor till it ended at the master bedroom. Walking straight, passing along the side of the stairs, we find ourselves in the kitchen.

Standing in the kitchen door frame my eyes perused the large brightly lit heart of our home. I began to bring my vision more clearly into focus.
The large window on the East wall, with a long row of varied hanging plants, above the curtain rod, yet dipping below the window dressing. The house plants were thriving on the sunlight available to them. The greenery enhancing the mint scarves, dipping and swirling along the frame, was truly a picture in itself.

To our left, a beautifully ornate door, opened to the back stairs. I simply love the double stairs feature. Moving my eyes to the right till the stove came into view brought a smile to my face. I have always wanted large functional stainless steel appliances. Logan surprised me the day we moved in, with the wonderful gifts. Gas, of course, the stove had four sizeable burners with a roomy griddle in the middle. The oven was a great size for a large turkey. And, be still my heart! To the side of the oven ; a roomy storage for my cookware. No more hiding it in the oven. Continuing along, I see the sink. It is an incredible very old reproduction. An oversized, double sink with a large storage area, it matches the appliances perfectly. Sight unseen, you would wonder how it could. The large window framing the sink, looks out to the south. The coiffed lawn rolls into a beautiful area. The matching mint window scarf makes it look like a framed portrait. Between the sink and the pantry, though I cannot see it from this vantage point, is a door leading to the mud room. I love the pantry. It is a timepiece considering new construction no longer includes this handy room. Cabinets overhead, painted in a summer cloud white and finished with beautiful pewter hardware definitely bring the houses’ age to mind. The ironing area, with the changeable padded surface, has become so convenient. Matching the overhead cabinets, the same below. One side framed the ironing area the other side extends to the length of the wall. I couldn’t return to living without my valued pantry.

Before turning into the dining room, I scour the north wall. The enclosed staircase with it’s beautiful mahogany door, delights me. On the wall, annual school pictures of the girls enhance the wall and the room perfectly. As the ceiling tilts in line with the steps, you move to another cabinet stretching to the east wall with a gorgeous pewter color; “ carera” marble counter top. Whenever I come into the kitchen, my mind pats Logan on the back. It has been remodeled so true to my vision, I love to work in here.

I decided to get some coffee and toast and start to check this floor for any telltale signs that would lead the strange keyhole for my mystery keys. When I cleaned up, I started to the right of the kitchen stairs. Running my fingers over the walls and slowly stepping along the hardwood floor, but so far all my efforts were abortive. Opening every cabinet and looking and feeling for keyholes or any sign hinting that there was a mystery to be found, I took a steady path until I reached the pantry and continued my task. Again, there was nothing, that is, until I reached the ironing surface. Kneeling down and palping the wall below it, I noticed something different. It sounded hollow. The surface felt cooler to the touch. I made notes on the tablet in my pocket and moved to the dining room. Now, with a smile on my face, and feeling a bit accomplished I began the same routine in the dining room.

My Mother’s gorgeous mahogany dining set was crafted to, some day, be in this room. Table, ornate and a masterpiece of carpentry, seats twelve with a butterfly leaf for allowing four extra welcomed guests. Heavy chairs padded deep blood red, richly add to the essence. Matching chins closet begging to be filled with the gilded china and crystal; now sits empty eagerly awaiting Santa’s season with hopes of a start to this vision. Equally cared for buffet and dry sink, complete the area of this room. The ample picture window reached to the ceiling and just begged for Christmas decorations. I am the one for this job. I began the same routine, here. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Moving from wall to wall, running my fingers over the smooth surface it is obvious I would find nothing here, either.

I am drawn back to the spectacular front staircase and something I had yet to mention. Beneath the farthest part of the wall, enclosing the risers; a sealed door. I am determined to get it open.

Working my way op the steps, I felt no differences either on the wall on steps as I stomped along my way. I felt guilty stomping along the beautifully lacquered hardwood floors. Logan put so much work into them, I knew I would be return to buff them, myself, even though I did not mar their luster. The hall on the second floor produced no alarms and I decided to forgo the children’s rooms until I checked the Master room. I made a visual scan of the room trying to decide where best to start. Without a second thought, I began to empty my things, from the wardrobe, onto the bed. Once it was barren inside, I began with flashlight and fingertips to explore the interior.

Suddenly, down below, where my shoes had been, my fingers brushed a button. I gasped as the back panel slid open into the wall in which the wardrobe had been built. Why hadn’t I noticed such a button when I washed out the wardrobe? Flashing the light on it, and getting low to “really” look at it, I realized that it looked and felt like a screw; that is unless you pressed into the center. No wonder no one located the secret before now. I pushed the button, again, to close the panel. I wanted to examine it. Carefully, I ran my fingers over the surface. I didn’t want to pick up a splinter. There was no need to worry. The area of the panel was planed beautifully and stained to match the rich dark tones of the wardrobe. Again, I opened the panel to inspect behind it. It wasn’t exceptional or stained but the keyhole that I saw in an instant, was waiting for the larger, flat, square topped key. My excitement was barely containable. I could feel the warmth of my own smile as I slid in the key and with but a few wiggles the door opened easily into a vast darkness. Shining the light, I could see but a few feet before me. Dramatically, cobwebs hung from the walls and ceiling as though curtains had been hung for decoration. Looking down, I saw the steps.

The steps, seven of them, were formed with concrete that had a stoniness about them. I think it was meant to keep a grip in what already felt damp. I climbed over the wardrobe ledge and took the steps, counting as I did so. What I could see, which was nearly nothing, as the flashlight was shined into the darkness before me, was a network of cobwebs, like a gossamer curtain and beautiful to behold. I still wasn’t happy to walk through them. The vaporous webs shivered and led a trail much like a greeting, directing me through the passage till I stood before the chests. Similar ethereal webbing coated the walls in this dank place. As I moved along I displaced the atmosphere creating an ethereal feel to the gently moving diaphanous substance. The trunks, also covered in webs appeared to have fine lacy table linen draped over them.

The air was heavy and held a moldy smell that invaded my sinuses. The permeating chill made me grateful to have worn a sweater. I was shaky as I nervously started up the hall seeing barely two feet ahead of me. It was a long hall and when I reached the end, a hall continued to both left and right. The lacy covered trunks, seven in all, were against the cold stone of the wall before me. All seven trunks had keyholes. I simply knew the keyholes were a perfect match for the second key in my pocket. My heart was pounding as I savored the moment with deep breathes, almost forgetting how awful the taste of the mold was. It was difficult to breathe despite the coolness of the air. I could imagine what it must be like to be buried alive and each breathe being difficult and tasting nasty, as the labored breathing became impossible. I moved slowly as I stooped before the first trunk. Taking the second key from my pocket, I slid it into the trunk and opened it easily. heard the bolt move and raised the lid, full of apprehension, having no way of knowing what I would find. Forcing a deep breath I flashed the light over the contents. I was surprised to find very old cookware in it.

Cast iron pans and a dutch oven, old place settings and silver flatware brought a big question and I lade a mental note to put it into my notes. I stepped to the right and opened the second trunk. Moving aside, a layer of paper, I found ladies dresses. They were made of rough cotton. Colors were drab The style was very old, though how old I had no way of knowing, at this time. I was amazed that the fabric in perfect condition had no mold soaked through it. The boxes and paper preserved it all perfectly. Repacking the trunks, I headed back up the same hall I came down and carefully crawled back into the wardrobe. I simply had to tell Logan of my sleuthing and what it had produced, today. For now, I needed a shower and to begin preparations for dinner. My gang would soon be home toting schoolbags and homework and papers to be signed.




Chapter 2


Following my exploration, I felt as though I was
showering away the grime from a days worth of toiling.
I had to wash my hair twice to get the feel of cobwebs
out of it. There was a ring around the bottom of the
tub, such as I have never made, by the time I was
finished and sufficiently clean. When the girls
returned from school I was lotioned and dressed, and
delighted to give hugs and kisses. Excited babble came
from all three of them as they filled me in on their
day’s activities.

Denise, now a sometimes remnant of her pre-
fifteenth birthday, set right to getting snacks and
starting homework. She is pleasant right after school
and I don’t let this opportunity slip through my
fingers.

Emily, our middle child, is by far the most loving.
Her only desire as a nine year old is to become a ten
year old. She is not quite as chatty and much more
needy of hugs and cuddling.

Elizabeth, named after my beloved Mother, is six
years old. She is the newest big girl in “real school”.
She has taken to the life of a little student with
pleasure and ease. Her only problem and her greatest
talent is her total inability to be quiet. Lizzy will
chatter on, and on, and on.

I wanted none of our angels to know of my secret since none of them was too old to conjure up boogeymen
and ghosts. It has only been recently that we got Emmie
out of our bed and back into her own, in her new big
girl bedroom. I was going to have to be very careful to
maintain composure that was realistic. Barely able to
contain myself, till Logan came home, I immersed
myself in time with the girls and getting dinner ready.
I was grateful that the girls could not see my tamped
down but still very charged energy. When Logan came
through the door, I could not hide a bit of it from him.
He could see that I was not ready to open up. Our direct
eye contact said, “not until the girls go to bed”. Seeing
Logan’s growing curiosity, helped me contain my own
need to tell him what had happened while he was at work. Does misery really enjoy company? Just the
thought of it made me giggle.

Homework was done and signed without any snags
and showers weren’t dragged out. I was happy for this
one night of ease. As I started to get the young ones for
bed and have my nighttime chat with Denise, Logan
was already into his routine of preparing a caraf of tea,
however, I called over my shoulder, “ You will probably
want coffee tonight”.

Tonight’s story time for Emily and Elizabeth was
‘Charlotte’s Web’. This was probably the fiftieth time
night time story time included Charlotte and Wilbur.
The girls love this story and it always elicits many
giggles and pleas for one more chapter. By the end of
chapter three, Lizzy was sound asleep and Emily was
satisfied I had read enough for her to sleep. Padding
down the hall to Denise’s room, music blaring within
the closed door, I could hear it turned off as I knocked
for entry. This half hour, or so, had always been
very special to us. Just the girls discussing the day or
whatever Denise would actually talk about without the
normal teenage suspicions. Often it included what
clothes or supplies, for what event or weekend she
simply ‘had to have’. Such is the give me, lend me
what ya got syndrome of the American teen. Having
run the course we hugged and kissed and I tucked her
in ( never, ever mention this in front of anyone ). I
turned on her radio and made my exit feeling warm
and fuzzy, as I always did, after the, girls only,
nighttime routine.

With a smile on his face and a chuckle to his
voice, already offering me a mug of coffee, Logan
declared, “I can hardly wait for this”. I began by
taking the keys from my pocket and handing them to
my attentive spouse. I explained that I was hopeful to
find the proper fittings to these keys that seemed to
mystify me. I showed him my notes and explained why
I had emptied the wardrobe onto our bed. Logan paid
close attention and showed an interest to my every word. I finished by telling him the secret was indeed
in my wardrobe but fell short of telling him exactly
what the secret was. We finished the coffee as I told my
tale. “Well, let’s put this caffeine to work, Logan said as
he took me by the hand. Referring to my notes, Logan
led me first to the pantry. He was intrigued by the
obvious differences I had found. Working our way back
down the front hall we stopped before the sealed door,
already on Logan’s to do list. He took the old flat screw
driver he grabbed on our way to the door, and tried to
tap the hinge screws loose with no success.

When we went to the Master bedroom, I handed
him one of the flashlights that I had left on his dresser.
Crawling into the wardrobe and pressing the button as I flashed a beam of light on the back panel. Exposing
the door, I looked over my shoulder, to Logan , “Can I
have the flat key?”, I asked. I slid the key into the
awaiting opening, turned it, and pushed the door wide
open. Logan uttered a simple, “WOW”! “Are you ready
for this?”, I asked.

I climbed down the seven steps counting, again,
as I descended, Logan following behind me. Holding
hands, two beams of light shining before us, Logan
whispered, “In a spooky way, it is beautiful”. My
response was a soft, “Uh huh”, and began walking till
we stood before the trunks.

Beginning once again, with the first two trunks,
Logan and I went through the items. The cast iron cookery needed only a good salting and they would all
be perfectly usable. The place settings were chipped
and faded and the flatware was most questionable. I
had strong doubts about their safety. Though badly
faded and worn, the cotton dresses and skirts were
amazing in detail. Hand stitching in perfect lines,
amazed me, who cannot sew a stitch. As we moved
along, unlocking the remaining five, it was clear to
both of us that history had happened here. Clothing
was sorted by boxes for men women and children shoes
and bed linen. When we removed the paper from the last trunk, the first thing we saw was a beautiful quilt.
It was quite large, unfinished, and obviously many
people contributed to it’s design. Taking it with
reverence and closing the last of the boxes, Logan and I
started back with quilt gently nestled in my arms.

Feeling both accomplished and somewhat solemn,
Logan and I, his arm around my shoulders, returned to
the wardrobe and climbed through. I locked the
opening and gently laid the quilt on the floor of the
wardrobe. While Logan showered, I removed my things
from the bad and stacked them in the corner. Taking
my second shower of the day, I dried quickly and
climbed into Logan’s arms. We slept like two spoons
without any words of our experience.

When morning came, Logan was already off to
work. Getting the girls up presented no great difficulty
and I was able to delve into breakfasts and lunches
with ease. The rest of the morning went equally smooth
and before I knew it all the girls were seated on the
school bus and on their way.
I had big plans for my day. I was headed to the Town
Hall for a copy of the original plot plans of my unique
house. The self control it took to wait for the
appropriate time scheduled to open had me lost in my
own thoughts wondering what I might find. What else
might the plans reveal? I drank nearly a pot of coffee
as I went over my notes, expanding on my own version
of short hand and had a pretty good accounting of
yesterday’s discoveries. I cleaned up both kitchen and
myself. I was thrilled that the clock had finally moved
along so I could head out to my intended destination.

Taking her time to acknowledge me, the dour
looking woman, with a slight haunch to her back, was
not at all willingly helpful. I found this quite
disconcerting. She was surrounded by metal file
cabinets, ceiling high windows caked in dust and a
desk piled high with official looking folders. She was
as cold as a witches’ tit and it took much haggling
before I would get some satisfaction. The required fee
was paid for and the documents would be prepared. I
would receive a call when the items I requested were
ready to be picked up. I took the phone number to be
on the safe side. My excitement was growing as I
completed another decisive action. Making my way back
to the car, I made more notations in my growing
notebook. Waiting would now be the hardest job. My
next stop was to the Historic Society to do some research
on both the area and my home.

Just walking through the door was a step back into
time. To my left was a wall of the Roaring Twenties.
Looking to my right were miners from the Gold Rush.
Before me was a desk with an impeccably dressed
woman offering her assistance. I told her I would like
to see information on the Underground Railroad,
specifically in our area. With a sincere smile, she led
me up a flight of steps to a room filled with pictures,
documents and file drawers filled with information.
Mrs.Westford, with notably contrasting personality to
the woman in Town Hall, assured me she would be
available to help should I need assistance.

I started cruising the walls of pictures. In some, I
recognized the area, as places surrounding our town.
Suddenly staring up, in amazement, I stood before my
own home. It appeared to be lost in time. The caption
below it said ‘Adaire Manor-1832’.

Going to the catalog drawers, I searched for Adaire
manor, grateful that it started with an “A”. It didn’t
take long before I found an entire section of index cards
loaded with information and the locations of more
expanded resources. For half and hour I sat and took
notes. I felt like a school girl embarking on her first
date. Finished, I returned to Mrs. Westford, with my
notes. This lovely woman was very sweet and led me
downstairs to an archive just full of facts, relative to my
house, the surrounding property and it’s original
owners.

By the time I completed my research and received
the copies that Mrs. Westford so kindly ran off, it was
time to get home for the girls return from school. I
placed all of the documents I had received into the
extra tote I had remembered to bring. Thanking Mrs.
Westford, left for my car and drove home just in time
for the bus to pull up. I was so happy to see my girls
that I nearly knocked Lizzy over with the tote. “What
you got in the bag Mommy”? “Oh, I was doing some
research for someone”, was my answer. “Why? You
don’t work anymore”’ Denise chimed in. “Doing
something special for someone , Denise, is not returning
to work”. “Anyway, let’s get snacks and see what
homework looks like tonight”, I said, as I ushered them
through the door.

Since the fourth and tenth grades were busy with
MCAS testing, there would be no homework for Denise
and Emily for a few days. Emily offered to help
Elizabeth with her numbers. Denise volunteered to go
to her room. I could see her mood soured the moment
she heard the word research. Before I decided to be a
stay at home Mother, I did free lance investigating and
research work. It was satisfying to my inquisitive
nature and it provided a pretty good extra income, as
well. I started a pot of coffee and started to peel
potatoes. I was running the day’s activities through my
mind and all I had accomplished.

That night, sitting in the den with Logan, we sorted
through all the information I gathered. “I am amazed
at all you found”, said Logan. He smiled and kissed me
on the nose. I told him about the plot plans; Logan left
the room , returning with three battery operated
camping lamps.

We locked the den door leaving our work for
tomorrow. Being Saturday would mean more creativity
in applying time to our mystery. It no longer held so
much of a mystery as it did a need to follow the
evidence to some sort of conclusion.

Saturday morning was bright and crisp. The
Autumn air was blowing brightly colored leaves
around. It was so beautiful it was a shame Logan had
to rake them up but they wouldn’t be beautiful for long.
The girls and I had Saturday chores to do. Denise and
Emily had beds their beds to make and breakfast dishes
to wash, dry and put away. Elizabeth’s job was to wash
the table and dust the living room and her own
bedroom, as well as make her bed. I could do all these
things myself and in a more timely fashion, and Lizzy’s
bed would look made. The girls would learn nothing
this way. I got to the laundry, as always and got two
more loads going while I put away the basket already
full already washed and folded. When we were all
done, showered, and dressed, there were drop offs.
Denise was going skating and sleeping over a friend’s.
Emily, too, had a sleep over but it was also a birthday
celebration. This left Elizabeth to be entertained. We
left the den locked for the day and took Elizabeth on
an outing made for undivided attention, for our baby
girl. By seven, she was sound asleep, and never awoke,
even while I changed her into pajamas and tucked her
in.

Now, Logan and I were a pair of kids and our party
was waiting in the den. Using just a little more control
we changed, made sandwiches and a pitcher of iced tea,
than two pairs of slippers padded their way to the den.
We settled in for a long night of getting to know Adaire
Manor and it’s original owners.

Chapter 3

The information before us was amazing! Logan
and I learned that the first owners of our home were
Jeremiah and Abigail Adaire. They loved each other
dearly and loved their community of Hampton Falls.
Jeremiah was on the town council and both he and
Abigail were active in the community. They had no
children of their own but were loved by all the
children in the area.

Jeremiah began reading the publication “The
Liberator” and the first article published in it on anti-
slavery. The article was printed by the publications
founder, William Garrison Lloyd, known as Lloyd
Garrison. Jeremiah was impressed by the paper, and specifically the anti-slavery article and continued to
read the publication throughout his life. So troubled
was he by the article, he became a member of The New
England Anti-Slavery Society, at it’s inception, founded
by the same Lloyd Garrison. This affiliation created
unsavory attention to Adaire. A number of times, the
police came to his home in search of harbored runaway
slaves. They never located any evidence of such
activity.

The following Friday, I was called to come in and
pick up the plot plans I had ordered. When we got
them home we studied the plans taking notes. From
what I could see, our property line had never changed.
We would explore tomorrow.

Saturday was cool , bright and sunny. As usual,
Denise was out with friends. Logan and I took Emily
and Elizabeth to explore our sizeable property. After
an hour, we found ourselves on the south side of the
property, a distance out, and very overgrown with green
foliage.

Finally, we located the oversized and unlikely used
mailbox. On top was a telltale black Sambo. For what
seemed like forever, we scoured the oblique-like
structure when something happened.

Logan pulled out a stone and the back creaked
opened. The moss covered stone slippery and damp fell
from Logan’s hand as he displaced it, leaving behind a
bald space from it’s long time rest. Listening as the girls
played hide and seek in and around the bushes and
trees, I could tell they had not noticed our discovery.
Not wanting them to catch on, I decided it was break
time for me and the girls.

While I took the girls in for a snack, Logan checked
out the secret opening. After some time he came down
the stairs from our bedroom, creating a flashing smile to
break out all over my face. “So Mia, is there enough of
that pudding for me?”, Logan asked? He was acting as
if he just came in from a shower and there was nothing
deliciously strange about his sudden appearance. After
snacks we asked a neighbor friend to keep an eye on the
girls. Pleased to take the girls for a couple hours, we
dropped Emily and Elizabeth off so we would be able
to continue our exploring. There was only so much
more self control we could endure. Logan, again,
removed the stone. We each took a camping lamp, now
waiting there for us, and I followed my man down the
very steep and narrow steps. The air was damp and the
steps slippery as were the walls we balanced ourselves
against. I noticed a gas lamp at the bottom of the
decent. It was webbed over as if it were wearing a
chapel veil. We were standing in a corridor much like
the one I had found only weeks ago. We continued
down the passage and after a while we found ourselves
standing before the same old trunks. Proceeding past
the trunks we continued into the next passage. After a
while we found old beds. There were nearly a dozen
beds and three cradles. There were two kitchen tables
with chairs around them. A Wooden placard on the
first table was burned with a statement that read “We
believe in a higher moral conscious”. In a chest against
the wall, where we stood, were blankets and more
quilts, different quilts, and a journal with a list of all
the souls that found sanctuary. Across the room, steps
led to the pantry with a keyhole that was exactly like
the one that had opened the door behind my wardrobe.

The journal listed far more than the names of those
who found sanctuary in our special place of hiding. It
appears that someone was teaching reading and simple
mathematics. The journal contained the alphabet and
numbers all printed so neatly. There were drawings.

They weren’t typical drawings but more like diagrams

and I believed I saw the same shapes on the quilt in the

wardrobe. Also in the journal were the words to a song.
Using the first line of the song, I Googled it. Imagine my
shock when I read about the history of this song.
Apparently Harriet Tubman wrote these words to assist
the slaves that were on the run. Harriet Tubman was
perhaps the most famous conductor on the Underground
Railroad. An escaped slave, herself, she had the
courage to return to the south nineteen times, to guide
runaways to freedom. Her song, itself, was a guide to
instruct how to best succeed in making it to the North, I
thought as I read these words:

Wade into the water
Wade into the water children
Wade into the water
God’s gonna trouble the water
Whose all those children
Dressed in red
God’s gonna trouble the water
Must be the ones that Moses led
God’s gonna trouble the water

Who are all the children
Dressed in blue
God’s gonna trouble the water
Must be the ones that made it through
God’s gonna trouble the water…

I shivered as I read history that was real, not just a
retelling. The encyclopedia online says the song tells
the slaves to get off the path and into the water to throw
off the scent dogs and their owners who track the
running slaves.

We unlocked the mystery

Of the Keys





Epilogue

Logan took the day off on Monday. In three
trips we carefully delivered the seven trunks, still filled
with their original articles and donated them to the
Historic Society. Mrs. Westford was stunned, amazed
and delighted. We arranged to have the furniture
picked up And then we sat down with Mrs. Westford
and presented the journal to her. We went through it
together and she was so overjoyed, she trembled as I had
the day I first read it. We signed over the property and
signed a work order to have the furniture removed for
the tunnels during the school hours. After school we
told our girls all about our mystery and promised they
would see all the items at the museum. Logan and I
decided to keep the hidden passages a secret for the
safety of the children. We still had to search for a few
more questions to be answered. We would do that when
the furniture was removed.

The furniture, trunks, placard, and quilt are safely
in the possession of the Historic Society. The beautiful
but creepy cobwebs have been cleaned away. Logan and
I were more determined than ever to find the hidden

side of the sealed door. Once more we climbed through
the wardrobe and went down to the passages. Logan led
the way this time, walking deeper into the passage until
he decided we were in the area of the front hall. It was
astounding how intensive this underground secret world actually was.

Pay dirt! Logan found four steep steps. Shining
the light ahead of him there was a cement wall slightly
larger than the door beneath the front stairs. It would
remain sealed.

One week before Christmas we were invited to
celebrate the historic find of Adair House Many
dignitaries and local folks, joined us. Our sense of
pride was overwhelming as we read the bronze plaque
that read:

The Logan and Mia Woodleigh Collection
Contributed
November 2010