“Let’s go,” he suggested, turning his back. She picked up the blanket and clutched it to her chest and then started toward the path as if nothing had ever happened.
Frustrated, Josh kicked out at a rock, sending it tumbling. But when he did, his eyes lit on something odd.
“Lizzie, wait!” he called out.
She paused at the top of the path, but he turned away and knelt down to examine what he’d uncovered. The rock rolled down the slope, bouncing on a ridge and tumbling over the edge to the gully below.
“What is it?” she asked.
He reached down and rubbed at the dirt. There was a string there, old and dirty, and he dug around it, uncovering a lump of brown hide. He carefully pulled it out of the ground, weighted it in his palm.
“A drawstring pouch,” he said, their argument forgotten. “A leather one, though the material’s in pretty bad shape.”
She dropped the blanket and came over. “Really? What’s in it?”
Gingerly he undid the string and poured the contents of the bag into his palm.
CHAPTER 17
Temporarily forgetting the tension between her and Josh, Lizzie stared at the items as they tumbled into his hand. Coins, more than a dozen of them, and an ornate locket. All hidden under a silly rock. Or lost there.
“Those look old,” she said, leaning over to peer into his hand.
“They are old,” he confirmed. “Holy shit. Do you know what these are?” He touched the coins with his finger. “I think these are real gold, Lizzie. And silver. They’re probably worth a fortune. I think this is part of the treasure.”
She squatted down beside him. “Do you really think a treasure exists, Josh? Really? I mean, these could be worthless.” His eyes were huge and she felt an unwanted tenderness wash over her. She could well imagine him as a blond, curly-haired boy searching for this very thing, with this exact rapt expression on his face.
“They’re old. Even if they’re not gold or anything, the age alone means they’d be worth something to a collector.” He picked up the locket, the chain dangling over the edge of his hand. “Look at this. What do you suppose it’s made of?”
The front of the locket was made from material different from anything she’d ever seen. Behind a glass crystal was a wispy pattern of delicate leaves like a fern or flower and tiny seed pearls adorning the bottom. “I have no idea. But it’s beautiful.”
He turned it over. “There are pictures inside.” He moved it closer to his face as he opened it. “Interesting. Look at that and tell me what you see.”
She took the pendant and examined the photo. “A big man, with black hair, and the moustache gives him quite a roguish look.” She gave a laugh. “You know, he kind of reminds me of Tom a little bit.”
“I think so, too. I think this might be Charles Arseneault.”
“And the woman?”
Josh met Lizzie’s gaze. “It has to be Constance Arnold. The woman he gave everything up for, the woman he married.”
“Is Summer related to her? Do you think the pouch was hers? Why would she have such a thing here, in the middle of nowhere?”
“The stories have always said that she was instrumental in transporting slaves to Canada. If they used this island as a rendezvous, she could have been here, easily.”
“I don’t know about the coins, but this is definitely gold,” Lizzie said, reaching out and touching the locket as it lay in his palm.
“We searched this island for years and found nothing,” Josh said, standing. “To find it today…”
He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Charles and Constance had loved each other. A love big enough that they’d made sacrifices and taken risks, if the stories were indeed true. It certainly made what was between Josh and Lizzie look like a farce.
“What are you going to do with it?” Lizzie asked, dropping her hand. She took a step back. While their argument seemed forgotten, she couldn’t gracefully exit. There was still the walk back to the dock and the boat ride back to Jewell Cove to endure.
“I’m going to take it back, have someone who’s actually qualified look at it and appraise it.” He poured the contents back into the pouch and pulled the string tight. “Then I’ll see. I’m not even sure what ownership rules apply here.”
“Right,” she said weakly.
“We should probably head back anyway.”