“It would be almost like camping at the beach. Remember doing that?”
“My back is aching just thinking about it. But that’s a good idea.” Ivy stared out the window. She was determined that whatever it took to keep the house, that’s what they would do.
Shelly slid a hand over hers. “It wouldn’t be forever.”
“As it turns out, nothing is.” Ivy blinked back the tears that always seemed ready to spring out. How long would it be until her nerves weren’t on edge? She thought about another friend whose husband had died, and someone who had commented on her sadness. It’s been a year already. As if grief adhered to a time schedule. She swallowed and pushed through her feelings.
“Now is not the time to give up. Now is the time to take action.” Shelly tapped on the calendar. “Look at this sweet-faced puppy. Doesn’t that make you smile? We need to hang this calendar so we can both see it every morning.” She stood up and began looking for a suitable place.
Ivy saw a slightly inset wall. “That’s a good spot.” She picked up the hammer Flint had left behind for them. Even though she kept appointments on her phone calendar, she also liked to have something tangible to write on. This way, they could both see it. She found a nail and Shelly positioned the calendar on the wall.
“Here we go.” Ivy gave the nail a tap, but it hit something hard and bent to an angle. “Ouch.”
“You okay?”
“I hit something. Hope I didn’t put a hole in a pipe behind the wall.” She tapped her knuckles on the painted wall. Solid. The sound was muted, which told her there was something behind it. She continued tapping on the wall, expecting to hit a hollow spot, but whatever was behind the wall was entirely solid. She stepped back and looked at the wall, perplexed.
“What’s up?” Shelly asked.
“This wall. Something is behind it.”
“No telling what. Old houses often have generations of renovations.”
“We just want to hang a calendar.” Ivy stared at the wall and the space surrounding it. “Looks like it could have been a doorway, doesn’t it?”
Shelly ran her fingers around the corners and tapped it. “Could be.”
“Maybe it’s a secret passageway. Some old houses have those.”
“But it’s solid. And it’s in the middle of the house. What’s behind here?”
The two of them walked out of the kitchen to explore the other side of the wall, which seemed awfully wide to Ivy.
Shelly circled the area. “Looks like there’s dead space here. Could it be an old closet?”
“Who would go to all that trouble to board up a closet and leave the other walls exposed?” She circled the area. Something was amiss.
They returned to the kitchen and stood in front of the blank wall, gazing at it.
“It’s definitely not original,” Shelly said. “I can’t imagine a famous architect would waste space like that.”
“This house has a secret,” Ivy said slowly. “I felt it the moment I stepped inside. I can’t articulate why, but I feel like it’s been waiting for me, wanting me to discover its secrets.”
“The house?” Shelly stared at her. “Now you’re worrying me. You were always the sane one.”
“I know what I’m saying sounds strange, but I feel like there’s something we’re meant to discover.” Ivy hefted the hammer in her hand, weighing the chance of what they might find versus the damage they would do. She might regret it, but she had to know why someone had gone to the trouble of putting up a fortified wall where once there had been none. With a sudden swing, she brought the hammer down across the wall with a dull thud. Chips of old paint and crackled wallpaper flew everywhere.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Shelly stepped out of the way of flying particles.
“Someone put this up to hide something.” Ivy brought the hammer down again. “Look! Bricks.” Ivy gripped a large piece of old painted wallpaper and tore it off. “It’s all bricks.”
“A fireplace?”
Ivy gazed up and then strode out the back door.
“What are you doing?” Shelly called out.
Ivy peered up at the roofline. She raced back inside.
“There’s no chimney above it. No reason to have bricks here. Come on, give me a hand. If there’s a brick wall, I bet there’s something behind it.” Feeling excited, she gripped a corner of the old fabric-backed wallpaper and tugged.
“There goes the clean kitchen floor.” Shelly chuckled. “We could just look at the architectural plans Bennett brought over.”
Her mouth agape, Ivy whirled around. “You’re a genius. Where are they?”
Shelly opened a cupboard. “I put them here for safekeeping.” She removed the long tube that held the rolled up paper.
Ivy smoothed out the architectural plans on the counter, which bore yellowed traces of time and the architect’s name. Julia Morgan. She ran a finger over the woman’s name in reverence. “She was a real trailblazer.” She lifted a large sheet of paper.
Shelly peered over her shoulder. “First level.”
Ivy turned another page. “Second level.”
When she flipped another page, an ample space stared up at her. She looked up in awe. “Lower level. Looks like a basement of some sort, though it couldn’t be. We’re too close to the water.”
“Maybe it was in the plans, but not built,” Shelly said. “That’s why there’s a brick wall.”
“Still, that wall looks like it was added. It’s not original.” Ivy studied the drawing. “Maybe it was bricked up for safety.”
“In which case, you just destroyed the wall covering for nothing.”
Ivy gazed back at the damaged wall. “Bennett said Amelia closed up the house during the war.”
“And then reopened it for military housing. What if they buried people down there?”
“It was housing, Shelly. Not a morgue.”
“I don’t know…” Shelly shuddered. “Someone never wanted that opened again. Maybe the creature from the black lagoon was captured down there. Or zombies.”
Ivy chuckled at the thought. “You’ve been watching too much horror.”
“Dad and Bennett both said the place was haunted,” Shelly said,
