The Caves of San Pietro by Susan Gayle

Author:Susan Gayle [Gayle, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2021-08-18T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

As night fell, the moon created a spectacular reflection over the water. Clouds floated past the moon like transparent cotton puffs. We’d found Sunshine Cabins on the shores of Lake Ontario and rented a beachfront cabin for the night. At $1.50 per night, it was expensive. “But worth it,” said Tony, “after riding through the Hamilton mountains today. Can you believe we’re actually in Canada?”

The sound of the waves lapping on the beach was soothing. “I don’t care how much it cost,” I chuckled, “after all that uphill grind today. This bed’s so comfortable, I think I could sleep for days.” We were doing our nightly journal entries.

“About seventy-five miles today,” Tony commented, “but I’m exhausted.”

“How’s our money holding up? I spent six cents for the milk, eighteen cents for eggs, and another dollar for bread, butter, and jelly. Then there was $1.25 to repair the bike today! Do you think we could afford to see a Yankees game when we get to New York? I just know this is going to be another World Series year for them; three in a row. Sure would love to see a game!”

“I don’t know; everything is so expensive. Let’s see what we get from Teresita when we get to Callander.”

By morning, we’d both recuperated and were ready to push onward. We turned north, going through Mt. Pleasant, Orillia, Bracebridge, and Huntsville before arriving in Callander on the afternoon of the third day. As we rode into town, we couldn’t believe our eyes. Every corner and storefront had a billboard or a poster with pictures of the quintuplets advertising a museum or a product. A billboard advertising Karo Syrup showed the sisters sitting around a pumpkin with the Karo Syrup can in the background. Madam Legros had her own billboard: Aunt and Midwife of the famous quintuplets. Everyone seemed to be profiting or exploiting these children, selling their photos, souvenirs, memorabilia, charging to see their baby basket or whatever could be put on display! Then we came to the biggest sign of all that said simply QUINTLAND.

“This must be the place that reporter in Detroit was talking about,” Tony said.

“Looks more like an amusement park. Look at all those cars in the parking lot! There’s . . . what? . . . a couple hundred at least.”

“Maybe more. After the government took custody of the babies, they were given into the care of a doctor who built a nursery and playground for them. But that reporter said they’re on display to the public as well.”

We rode closer to the grounds. A thick grove of trees behind the property prevented cars from getting to the back side of the buildings but looked like a safe place for us to leave the bikes.

“Let’s see if we can get a peek at what’s going on,” said Tony.

We trudged through a swampy creek and came to a fence surrounding a playground. It wasn’t long before a short man in a white lab coat came out of one of the buildings.

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