She had been loved. Not by her parents, no, but her grandparents had loved her even if they hadn’t understood her loneliness. They would call her out to their porch on warm evenings, wanting her with them as they relived the day in soft conversation. No TV. No radio. Just them and the crickets.
Yes, she had been loved. Her grandparents, so different from the aloof and hard-hearted son they raised, must have wanted to travel and be free of toys on the floor and bake sales and parent-teacher conferences, but they had sacrificed for her, had taken her in—happily, without complaining—and given her love. She’d wanted her parents and her sister, wanted to have what other kids seemed to have. Still, she’d gotten something else instead, and now, after her talk with Angie yesterday, she wondered…had she gotten something better?
Maybe so. She knew what it was like to love a child well. She knew what love looked like, and she knew what sacrifice looked like. Her grandparents proved that you didn’t have to be the parent to be a good parent. Whatever happened with Christopher, someday she would be a good mother to him. If she lost, she would go back to Redwood. On Friday, she would tell Christopher goodbye, tell him she loved him, and make him the same promise she’d made him two years before—I will do everything I can for us to be together.
Then she would do whatever it took to keep her promise.
The sky was pink and orange and blue and wild as the sun went down. A screen door opened, swung shut with a clatter. A hand gently touched her shoulder and squeezed it.
She looked up. Hugo, of course. He smiled at her.
“You ready?” he asked.
Lucy nodded her head. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
The sky was red as fire as Lucy went into the house. Sailor’s delight, Lucy remembered. She hoped it was a good sign.
The other contestants were in the library when they arrived, waiting. What fears had they faced down yesterday in order to be here? The three of them had kept their distance from one another the past twenty-four hours as they awaited the final game.
Andre stood with his back to one of the bookcases. His jaw was set, and his eyes were like two penetrating lasers. He lifted his chin, eyes narrowed, eyeing her like one gladiator greeting another. His expression said, I like you and respect you, but I will try to beat you, and I expect you to do the same.
Melanie sat on the sofa, hands clutched around her knees, rocking slightly as if to self-soothe. She gave Lucy a shaky smile that Lucy returned. All of them could have their lives changed by winning the game. As she walked past Melanie to the armchair where she always sat, Lucy put her hand on her shoulder. Melanie looked up at her.
“I wish we could all win,” Lucy said. Melanie took her hand and squeezed it.
“Same.”
Ms. Hyde was there, of course, watching but not speaking to anyone. She wore a smug look on her face as if she already knew she’d be walking out of this house with the book in her pocket for Lion House.
After a few minutes, Jack entered the library. He took his usual station in front of the fireplace and faced them all. The room was so quiet Lucy could hear the rush and roar of the ocean, even the cry of a gull or two in the twilight.
“Tick-tock,” Jack said, “time’s running out on the Clock.” He smiled. “Before we begin, let me say how wonderful it’s been for me to have you all here. You kids, I mean. Not the lawyer.”
“I get that a lot,” Ms. Hyde said.
Jack went on. “When you get to be my age, and there is more sand run out of your glass than in it, you have to choose whether you’ll finish what you started or if you’ll leave the world with…” He paused, met Lucy’s eyes, “with a train track that leads to nowhere.” He smiled again and looked at them all. “Years ago, I promised that when you were older, you could come back here someday. I’m glad I was able to keep that promise. Andre, Melanie, Lucy…I couldn’t be prouder of you all than if you were my own kids. And I will confess there were times I wished you were my own kids.”
“I wanted that too,” Melanie said.
“All of us, Jack,” Andre said. “No disrespect to my parents, but I wouldn’t say no to an island of my own.”
Lucy didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Jack knew how much she loved him, wished she could have grown up with him as her father instead of her useless parents. But as a kid, she wanted him to be her father. Now that she was an adult, she wanted to be his daughter.
“Alas, as they say, all good things must come to an end. And as you all know, in my Clock Island books, the story isn’t over until the Mastermind asks one last little question. And now it’s time for me to ask that last little question. And if you get it right, you’ll be awarded five points. And since five points will take all of you up to or past ten to win, the game is up for grabs.”
He looked at them all again. “Do we all have our phones with us?”
Lucy, Melanie, and Andre looked at one another. They all had them but only out of habit. They weren’t allowed to use their phones during the games. What was going on?
“I’m a firm believer,” Jack said, “in the power of love and friendship. So if you need to call a friend to help you answer our last question, then you may. None of us should have to make our wishes come true on our own.”
The room was quiet. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.
“Ms. Hyde?” Jack said. “Would you care to do the honors?”
The whip-slim lawyer stood up. She faced them with an icy smile. “One last little question…for five points and to win the game,” Ms. Hyde said, “and as Jack said, you may phone a friend…What two words appear on page 129 of The Secret of Clock Island paperback edition, copyright 2005? You have five minutes to answer. Oh, and you cannot leave the room.”
Lucy gasped. Melanie looked shell-shocked. Andre put his hand over his mouth. Was he smiling behind his hand, or had his jaw dropped?
At once, he and Melanie began scrolling through their phones. Lucy held her phone like a dead thing in her hand, hardly able to believe Jack would do this to her. The one person she could call wouldn’t talk to her over the phone; Christopher wouldn’t talk to anyone over the phone. She’d given him her entire Clock Island collection, though. He was still her best shot at winning this thing. She sucked in a deep breath and called Mrs. Bailey’s cell, already dreading the extra time it would take using her as a go-between but having no choice. Only Christopher would know at a glance of the spines which book she was after.
Andre had already gotten someone to answer. “Baby, put Marcus on the phone right now.” A pause. “Don’t ask questions, Marcus. You run to your room right now and get a book off your shelves. It’s a Clock Island book.” Another pause. “What? Who’d you trade them to? You traded my Clock Island books? We’re going to talk about that when I get home. Right now, you get your mother’s phone and call her.”