Page 54 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

He pointed to the center of the cove in front of the cottage, not only grateful he’d taught Molly how to drive the boat, but that she’d done a bit of diving in the Navy, too. “Park it right there, Beauty, if you will,” he said while he put on his gear, almost tempted to say a prayer he’d find the sewing box for his aunt. Although he was pretty sure Molly had the prayer avenue covered. His lips kinked while he donned his mask and fins. She usually did.

“Okay, almost ready,” he said with a clap of hands after tying his tender line around his waist while Molly dropped the anchor. He handed the rope over to her with a wink. “Pull once to ask if I’m okay and I’ll respond once to confirm, four pulls to call me back to the surface, and then if either of us has an emergency?” he said with a wink, “yank like crazy, lass, got it?”

She gave a crisp salute. “Aye-aye, captain.”

Grinning, he saluted back, put the regulator in his mouth, switched his mask mounted flashlight on, and jumped in, slowly descending through the green-gold bubbles of the surface into the deep. Landing on the bottom moments later, he surveyed the landscape, silt and sand billowing up with every step he took. It wasn’t his usual scuba dive into the Caribbean, true, but it felt good to be immersed in this still and slow-motion world of blue-green water teeming with fish and aquatic plants. Algae such as chara and starry stonewort were rooted into the silty bottom like liquid bushes, slowly waving in the water as if beckoning him toward the treasure he longed to find.

Every now and then he happened on beer or soda cans that he immediately stashed in the net bag clipped to his belt, annoyed at how much they ruined the beauty of the deep. Frequently checking his air gauge and watch, he plodded on, occasionally picking up items to study them closer. Bottles, a child’s plastic necklace, and the occasional pair of sunglasses. He even found a set of keys and shook his head, quite sure they had a story to tell. But so far no luck finding the treasure chest sewing box he so desperately sought. He glanced at his watch once more, aware he needed to ascend before his air ran too low, and heaving a weary sigh, he turned back toward the direction of the dory.

Right before he tripped on something.

Flailing to keep his balance, he glanced down and frowned. What the …? He bent to one knee to examine a convex-shaped root, but it was what was buried beneath that caught his attention. Tugging on something dark and slimy, he fell back when it finally came loose with a puff of silt, and when he held it up to his light, his pulse accelerated.

A leather belt.

He frowned. But still buckled in a circle?

How odd. His breathing sped up as he searched the rest of the algae bush to no avail, jolting when he felt one tug of his rope.

Are you okay?

Not particularly, because suddenly his stomach was sick over what this might mean, but he answered with a tug anyway and rose to his feet.

Four more tugs followed, and he returned them, ready to make his ascension.

And that’s when he saw it. His flashlight bounced off something embedded in the sandy bottom. Reaching down to pick it up, he caught his breath, ribcage squeezing as he studied it in the light.

A rawhide necklace with a titanium cross.

Still clasped.