Chapter 9:
An Onyx Ring
Trixie was in no mood for laughter. After Jim's outburst at the dinner table, she'd escaped to the barn to think. So much had happened, in such a short period, she couldn't process it all. Worst of all, Jim was upset with her.
She wasn't sure why? But one thing for certain, he'd hurt her feelings, and deeply at that. Pain, anger, and worry battled against every sense of reason she could muster. She'd never felt this way before, and that scared her too.
Just as frightening, Trixie had always been proud of the fact that people saw her as someone who was not prone to crying; only now, she couldn't help it. As the tears rolled down her cheeks, somehow, they helped to calm her angsts. After a few minutes, she wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve and decided it was doing her no good to sit and stew. Her time would be better spent searching the barn on the off chance Jonesy's father had stashed the stolen stamp somewhere in her midst.
As Trixie looked about, the loft seemed the most logical place to begin. So, taking a deep breath, she climbed the rickety old ladder that led to the eaves, and then slowly worked her way back down to the main level, as she eliminated each possible hiding place.
The thorough young lady had just finished going through the mechanic's toolbox, which sat behind the tractor, when Brian came out to check on her.
"Here you are," he said with brotherly concern. "We'd begun to worry about you."
Trixie hoped Brian wouldn't notice she'd been crying. "Sorry I ran out like that," she replied, avoiding his eyes. "I needed some time alone."
Brain smiled knowingly. Trixie needn't try to explain. He knew his little sister was growing up, and it wasn't always easy to watch. But it was time for her to go in. Giving her a gentle nudge toward the door, the two scurried out of the dryness into the never-ending onslaught of rain.
As they made their way to the porch, their progress was slowed by slippery puddles of mud. Twice, Trixie would have fallen, if Brian hadn't reached out to grab her. Watching her step more closely, something shimmering caught the hurried girl's eye on the ground in front of her. Stooping down, Trixie scooped up the object and then dropped in into the pocket of her poncho when Brian ordered her to stop dilly-dallying.
After one more near slip, the Belden's finally spilled into the mudroom, so glad to be in and out of the weather. The first to shed his dripping rain gear, Brian went to join their friends in the living room, as Trixie lagged behind. To be honest, she was a bit hesitant to face everyone again, but she knew she'd have to sooner or later, so it was best to get it over with.
To her relief, Dan and Honey, who were laughing as they danced to the upbeat pop tunes playing the radio, waved to her as she entered, and Trixie waved back. Jim, on the other hand, didn't seem to take much notice of her arrival. Seated in a chair on the far side of the room, he was thumbing through the pages of an old paperback, seemingly self-absorbed. Brain, however, was partaking in the merriment. Having given Dan a tap on the shoulder, he cut in to dance with his favorite partner.
"Looks like it's you and me now, Doll," Dan said, giving Trixie a wink. Taking her by the arm, he swung her onto the dance floor before she had a chance to protest.
The bright music was uplifting, and it lightened Trixie's mood considerably. She'd almost forgotten her earlier distress until she noticed Jim had been studying her. Apparently, Dan had taken note of it too.
"I can't dance another step," he declared, collapsing on the couch. He looked in the direction of the aloof young man. "I'm afraid that leaves Trixie without a partner, Jim?"
Jim turned his attention back to his book. "It does look that way," he mumbled in reply.
Honey and Brain stopped dancing.
Angrily, Dan got to his feet, remarking that he felt a second wind coming on. "Come on, Trix. How about another spin?"
Trixie smiled gratefully at her friend's attempt at gallantry. It was hard to believe she'd ever thought of him as a goon. It just went to show how first impressions could not always be trusted. "If you don't mind, I think I'll just go on to the bed," she said, knowing the party had come to a close. "I'm getting pretty tired, and I imagine we'll be up early in the morning."
As she said her goodnights and headed for the stairs, Honey turned off the radio. "I'll follow you up in a minute," she called.
Upstairs, Trixie climbed into her pajamas, and then into the sleeping bag she'd spread out on the bed. The warm cocoon felt comforting. Flicking off her flashlight, she lay there deep in thought until Honey came in.
"Trixie, are you awake?" Honey gently whispered as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
Trixie wiggled up on her elbows. "Afraid so," she sighed quietly. "I guess I'm not so sleepy after all. Has everyone turned in?"
"I think so," Honey replied. "Anyway, I hope so." She hesitated for a moment but decided to continue. "After you left Trixie, Dan lost his temper. He pushed Jim up against the wall demanding an explanation. He wanted to know why he'd been so rude to you."
"Gleeps, Honey, he didn't?" Trixie gasped.
"He did!" Honey continued. "And when Jim wouldn't say, I thought Dan was going to lay him flat."
Trixie winced as her friend went on.
"Fortunately, though, Dan pulled himself together before he did anything stupid. Instead, he insisted my brother apologize to you in the morning. Then he stocked off. As you can imagine, by that time, Jim was pretty overheated. He even took a swing at Brian when your brother gave him his own two-cents-worth. At that point, Brian told Jim that if he didn't get his act together pretty quickly, he'd pack up the station wagon, and the two of you would go home."
"Oh, Honey, I've made such a mess of things!" Trixie moaned, flopping back down on her pillow. "Now, everyone's upset, and it's all my fault."
Honey tried her best not to laugh. "Why on earth do you think this is your fault?" she asked Trixie, in an attempt to console her. "Something is, bothering Jim, but I don't think you're at the center of it."
Trixie struggled to sit back up. "Do you have any idea what is bugging him?" she asked hopefully.
Honey didn't reply immediately. She'd gotten up to change, and was now brushing her hair, carefully counting each stroke. Reaching 100, she tossed the brush into her bag and crawled into bed.
"After Brain and Dan left, I tried to wheedle it out of him," she confessed. "But all Jim would say, is that I wouldn't believe him, even if he told me?"
Trixie fought down the lump she felt rising in her throat. "That's an odd thing to say," she admitted, "but it doesn't help explain why he suddenly hates me. Maybe it would be best if Brian and I went home when Miss Task gets back tomorrow."
"Oh, poo," Honey said irritably. "I'd expect something like that coming from Di, but not from you, Trixie Belden. The Trixie I know wouldn't stand for that kind treatment from Jim or anyone. She'd set him straight. Jim doesn't hate you. He's just being a numbskull. Mark my words, Trixie. Before tomorrow is out, everything will be sunshine and rainbows again."
Trixie giggled. "Do you think Mr. Handleman's stamp might be at the end of that rainbow?" she asked her friend. "I really would hate to leave before we found it. By the way, I don't think it's in the barn. I checked there after dinner."
Honey chuckled as she zipped up her sleeping bag. "I told Brian that's what you were up too," she said. "But he was concerned about you, and had to make certain you were all right."
"He's so sweet," she added dreamily. As Honey's head touched the pillow, she slipped off into a deep measured sleep.
Trixie, however, was not so fortunate. The day's events played out over and over in her head. But her thoughts always led back to Jim, and his comments at the dinner table. Something didn't click. Jim had practically accused her of seeing Jonesy's ghost. Where would he have come up with the idea? Unless…
No. Trixie wouldn't even let herself consider the possibility. Maybe, when she thought she saw Jonesy by the barn, she'd been talking to herself. And Jim overheard. Would it have been enough to make him so angry? It wasn't as if she really believed she'd seen Jonesy. Let alone his ghost. And she certainly hadn't entertained the notion that he was out to seek his revenge. Well, maybe the thought had occurred to her. But…
Trixie pulled her pillow over her head. Then it dawned on her that there was another little mystery waiting in the pocket of Mart's rain poncho, by the backdoor.
"Heavens, that's not going to help me get to sleep," she thought. "But a glass of milk might. And since the back door is right by the kitchen, I might as well see what I picked up."
Doing her best to unzip her sleeping bag without a sound, Trixie slipped out of bed and tiptoed past Honey to the stairs. She waited to turn on her flashlight until she hit the landing.
The house was frigid, and the wind outside caused it to creak and moan. Trixie shivered and pulled her robe tighter about her. Peering over the banister, she looked to the shadowy living room. The fire had dwindled into glowing coals, but it still emanated enough light for Trixie to recognize Jim's outline against the couch. Unnoticed by him, she continued toward the kitchen, stopping by the rear door only long enough to dig the shiny object out of the pocket of the plastic cape.
"A ring?" she realized, slipping it on over her middle finger. It looked much like one her father often wore. The band was gold, but the rectangular stone, with the diamond in its middle, was what he called "onyx". It was big enough to fit over Trixie's thumb and still fall off. So rather than risk losing it, she took it off and tucked it into the pocket of her robe.
In the kitchen, she poured two glasses of milk, and then carried them through the darkness to where Jim was sitting.
"I couldn't sleep," she announced, handing the startled young man one of the glasses. Without another word, Trixie took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa. "He'll talk to me when he's ready," she thought, taking a sip of the cool milk.
Sitting in silence, the two stared out the large picture window. Outside, the century-old oak trees rocked in the gusty winds casting eerie shadows across the lawn. The rain had stopped, but heavy thunder clouds still loomed overhead.
"By the looks of those cumulonimbus clouds, I'd say we are in for another storm," Jim said softly, breaking through the wall of ice.
Trixie set her empty glass on the coffee table. "Take this slowly," she warned herself anxiously. One part of her wondered how to reply, while the other part dreaded where the conversation might lead.
"Cumulo-whatis?" she asked awkwardly, in a voice just above a whisper. "That sounds like something Mart would say."
Disheartened, Jim let out a chuckle. "I guess it does, he admitted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
As he turned to face her, Trixie noticed something in the young man's eyes that she was unaccustomed to seeing there. She hoped she was wrong, but to her, it looked like fear.
"I owe you an apology," he said. "An explanation too. I know my actions have been inexcusable, and this isn't easy for me to admit, but …"
Trixie laid a hand on his freckled arm, signaling that he didn't need to go on if he didn't want too, but Jim managed a weak smile and continued.
"I think I'm going mad," he confessed.
Trixie suppressed a laugh. Jim was the sanest person she knew – even despite his recent moodiness. But his tone was serious, and this was no laughing matter. "Why would you think something like that?" she asked.
Jim closed his eyes. "I'm seeing and hearing things," he said. "This afternoon, when I went to load some boxes into one of the station wagons, I could have sworn I heard Jonesy promising he'd get even with us for sending him to jail. I looked around but didn't see anyone, so I brushed it off." He paused for a moment to rub the tension out of his temples before he continued. "Then later, when I went for wood, I thought saw him standing by the barn. Trying to convince myself he wasn't there, I looked the other way. That's when I saw you by the backdoor." Jim's voice grew apologetic. "I'd hoped you'd seen Jonesy too. But you didn't. So you see…"
"Oh, but I did see Jonesy," Trixie broke in.
"You did?!" Jim cried out, shaking her by the shoulders. His voice dropped back down. "Then why didn't you say so at supper?"
Trixie answered his question with another question. "Why didn't you just ask me nicely?" she wondered, her anger building. "If you had, maybe I would have told you."
Jim's demeanor began to change. "Oh, really? Would you've? I didn't hear you asking me if I'd seen Jonesy, Trixie."
Trixie became defensive. "You also did hear me humiliate you in front of your friends as I tried to provoke the information out of you," she spat back. "That was low, Jim Frane. That was something Mart might do."
"Maybe so," Jim admitted, "But you like to keep secrets, Trixie Belden. And I've watched Mart coax things out of you in just such a way enough times to know it works."
Trixie pulled away from him. The last thing she wanted to do was start crying again. "Honey was right; you are a numbskull," she said, choking back the tears. "Don't you get it? You aren't my brother."
Jim fell silent. If he didn't "get it" before, he was beginning to now. "You're right," he admitted at long last. "I'm sorry. Forgive me?"
What Jim didn't know was that Trixie had already forgiven him. But she wasn't quite ready to let him off the hook. " I'll forgive you on one condition," she said.
Jim wondered what she had in mind, and Trixie went on to explain.
"If I promise not to keep secrets from you, will you promise to come to me if something is bothering you?"
It was a compromise, more than it was a condition, and that pleased Jim. It told him that Trixie understood what he was trying to tell her too. "I'll try if you will?" he agreed, squeezing her hand.
As Trixie crossed her heart, a flash of lightning zigzagged across the sky. Only she didn't see it. Her eyes we filled with rainbows and sunshine. Tomorrow would indeed be a better day. But that didn't mean all of their problems had gone away.
"What do we do now that we agree we saw Jonesy?" she asked Jim quietly.
Jim ran his fingers through his hair. "I suppose there really isn't much we can do," he had to admit. "Not unless one of us reencounters him, anyway. Jonesy's supposed to be dead. If he's not, we could be in danger. If he is, I don't know what to think. I can't say I believe in ghosts."
"You don't think it was the reporter from the Chronicle snooping around again, do you?" Trixie wondered. "Maybe we just thought he looked like Jonesy? It was raining and starting to get dark when we saw him."
"I hadn't thought of that. I suppose it could've been," Jim replied doubtfully. "But that doesn't explain the voice I heard, Trixie. It would have given you chills if you'd heard it."
As if on cue, a second bolt of lightning split the night, releasing a sheet of driving rain. In the house, the coals ebbed out, leaving the room cold, damp, and dark. In an attempt to stay warm, Trixie shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her bathrobe and brushed upon the forgotten ring. Pulling it out, she asked Jim if he'd ever seen it before. Trixie could sense him stiffen as she placed the ring in his left hand. It was clear he recognized it.
"Mother gave Jonesy this ring," he told her, with an odd quiver in his voice. Closing his fist tightly around it, Jim swallowed hard before continuing. "He was wearing it the day the police carted him off to prison, Trixie. I'm sure of it."
Trixie shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. "Jim," she said softly, "I'd be keeping a secret if I didn't tell you I'm a little bit scared."
Jim moved to her side and put a protective arm about her shoulders. "It's OK, Trix. I'd be more worried if you weren't. I'm a little bit scared, too," he admitted.
Upstairs, the golden mantel clock chimed, echoing through the near-empty rooms. It was haunting, and Trixie listened carefully, counting each stroke. There were twelve in all, announcing it was midnight.
