The Key in the Wall Mystery by Holly Yoder DeHerrera

Author:Holly Yoder DeHerrera
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackside Publishing
Published: 2021-02-11T22:29:57+00:00

room with the rainbow-painted walls where all us kids spent countless hours playing. I notice the poem from the book written inside the colored bars of the rainbow, something I never noticed before. I run a hand over the red bar missing her and the way she always made everything an adventure.

“Great Grossmammi must have painted this.”

“Yah.” Sadie runs her fingertips along the violet bar topping the biggest rainbow.

“But no keyholes anywhere.” I huff a sigh of disappointment into the small room that’s about as deep and wide as my twin bed. A tiny toy box in the corner, still holds some of our favorite things. Lifting the lid, I see all sorts of toys from way back when—a clunky glass tea set, wooden blocks, and faceless dolls with little black bonnets. I scoop up a snow globe with a sparkly, winter scene inside

and twist the knob on the bottom. The room fills with the sound of Silent Night playing into the quiet.

“I love it in here, don’t you, Sadie?”

“Yah.” Sadie pours herself some invisible tea and sips daintily. She giggles and puts the small cup back. “But like you said, no keyholes.”

We spend the afternoon being little girls again, then I remember why I’m at Aendi Hannah’s. I switch off the flashlight, and Sadie and I crawl out of the room.

“Even when she was all grown up, Great Grossmammi seemed to have a little girl heart.” I stand and smooth my cape dress, then Sadie and I head into the kitchen to prepare the evening meal.

Before going to bed, Sadie and I continue to read all the poems in Great Grossmammi’s book, but don’t find anything else that might be a clue. And I wonder again: Is whatever the key fits into lost forever? .

CHAPTER 14

The Daaddy-long-legs Creeps

The week dribbles by as slow as maple sap at the beginning of the sugar season. Drip. Drop. Drip.

I itch to get back into the attic to take another look at those letters. However, recalling the terrible scratching sound gives me the creeps, like a daddy long-leg crawling up my back. I brush away the feeling, as I finish the breakfast dishes.

The guests drive away in their black car—finally. Black-bumper Amish they must be. Kind of like me in how they dress, only they drive black cars, instead of criss-crossing the roads in a horse and buggy.

Sometimes I giggle, imagining Maam driving one of those big, black honking things with the chrome bumpers painted black. Only slightly taller than I am, she’d have to pile a few phone books in the seat for sure to see over the steering wheel. No, I’m happy to keep doing things the way we have. There’s something safe and sound about that.

Sadie bangs in through the front door. “They’re gone, Poppy.”

“Shhh . . . I know. I watched them leave.”

“Well?” Sadie stares at me.

“Well?” I cock my head and lift my shoulders.

“The letters.” Sadie says louder.

“Shhh.”

“Quit shushing me, Poppy. Do you want everyone to find out?” I prop my hands on my hips, the same way Maam does when she scolds me.

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