Hearts and Bells and Other Things

By Xlibris US

Everyone believed that Bea and Cassie Bell's father had died when they were four and six. Their mother told them stories about him. According to her, he could have been a combination of Indiana Jones and Superman. When the girls got older, they just assumed the stories were made up from their mother's imagination.
Then, after their mother's death, they found a chest and in it logs and letters written by their father. Fairy tale descriptions of lands and animals. Talk of sorcerers and potions. Was their father mad? They needed to find out.
Journey with them through other places and strange occurrences. Find out how they get involved with The Agency. Join them as their family grows with unlikely additions. Join them in love, marriage, children and the realization that they may be the guardians of a much greater realm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499003024

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Katherine Gal.

ISBN:                  Softcover                        978-1-4990-0303-1

                            eBook                             978-1-4990-0302-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 04/11/2014

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

614425

CONTENTS

BACK TO REALITY, BUT WHOSE?

NESSIE

HOME

THE STORM BREWING

FAMILY

THE PUZZLE

FAMILY HISTORY

THE CHILDREN

THE RESCUE

PAPA SMURF

ALEXANDER BELL

ADVENTURE

ALEXANDER AND THE PRINCES

DANGER

VACATION

THE OTHERS

BETHLEHEM

HATTIE

UPHEVEL

ENGAGEMENT

QUESTIONS

The sisters, Cassandra and Beatrice, were relaxing in the living room of their Georgia home. It was the week after their mother’s funeral. All the family had left and they were each deep in thoughts of their mother.

Cassandra, at eighteen, lounged with her head on a chair cushion she’d thrown on the floor. Her hands were behind her blond head and her bent knee held the other slender leg that stirred the air, betraying the energy not shown by her somber face.

Beatrice, at twenty, lay on her back on the sofa. With her darker hair perfectly coifed, manicured nails and makeup that she always hoped detracted from her sizable frame. She was beautiful, but her ‘don’t come too close’ attitude kept her fun loving side from emerging.

Cassie said, Bea, do you think mama finally found papa after all these years?

Bea replied, "I hope she found him in heaven, even if she thought he was alive yet before she died. She certainly deserves to be happy reunited again.

Their papa had died or disappeared when they were four and six. You’d think he’d been a combination of Indiana Jones and Superman from the fantastic stories their mother told while looking through the family album. Those pictures were about all the girls remembered about their father. The stories, as they grew older, were mostly made up from their mother’s imagination, they thought. I mean, after all, their father had only been a lawyer. The old family home and everything that now belonged to them came from their mother’s family as inheritance.

Bea said, The lawyer said we should start going through the house to see what’s here while we are deciding if we should sell it or maintain it together.

Cassie sat up, We decided to maintain it together for a while, until we have decided where our lives are going, right? That should be for a few years yet.

Bea sat up too, Yes, I don’t want to make any changes for a while, if ever, but I suppose we should do it anyway.

Cassie yawned, You’re right, lets start tomorrow, it will keep us occupied now that everyone is gone and the house is quiet.

.     .      .      .     .

The girls decided the best way to handle the task of seeing what was in the house was to start in the basement. That would be the easiest to log and sort junk from keepers. They could have someone haul the junk away and just keep the other things in one place, until after they did the attic next. Then have an appraiser give them an estimate on both areas. Then they would do the main house and decide what to rearrange, keep, sell or leave as is. During that time they could decide what to do with the house. That should fill up a couple of year’s at least, along with the process of daily living, work and chores.

They’d worked in the basement off and on for a month. They found more partial cans of paint than they would find stocked in a paint store. Most of it was so thick it looked like play dough. The hauler had taken two loads already. Cassie and Bea, looking like a couple of chimney cleaners, slipped down the wall to set exhausted. On the opposite wall was a four shelf unit mainly filled with paint cans. The girls groaned.

Look under the bottom shelf, Bea. Does that look like a small chest? Cassie said before a sneeze escaped her lips.

Bea, between coughs croaked, Yeah. What do you think is in it? More paint?

The girls laughed and got up to slide the chest out from its hiding place. It was stuck. They tugged and tugged until all at once the whole shelf started to tip. Reaction made them close their eyes and cover their heads with their arms. The cans flew by them. As the rain of cans ended, they opened their eyes. A fit of laughter engulfed the basement as each looked at the others oozing, multi-colored hair. When the giggles finally eased, they removed as much of the paint from themselves as they could and hauled the chest up the steps. The first order of business was a shower, then some supper and rest.

.     .      .      .     .

After four days, with streaks of paint still in their hair, they sat at the kitchen table to see what was in the unlocked chest. No paint, mainly papers and maps.

Cassie, eyebrows raised said, A treasure chest you think?

Get real! Then Bea sighed, I do wish it was though.

The maps were of different countries. Someone had written on the maps. Some of the writing was so small they’d have to get a magnifying glass to read it. Several old letters addressed to their mother from their father lay under the maps. Under the letters were two small log books with dated entries. On the bottom was a large key.

Sitting side by side, they looked for the envelope with the earliest postmark. Maybe now they would learn what their father was really like. They knew he couldn’t be the man of their mother’s tall tales.

The letters started off fairly normal. Their father had gone looking for treasure he had read about. The letters got weirder as they went on. Their contents were filled with the stories their mother had told them. The last one was postmarked three years before his disappearance and presumed death.

Cassie and Bea looked at each other. Was their father crazy or had treasure seeking blinded him to the real world? They stopped for lunch. Quiet with their own thoughts, they chewed the sandwiches, digesting them and what had been in those letters. The girls each had things to do that afternoon. They would read the logs that night and see what was on the maps.

The logs were mainly the same as the letters, but more in depth. More minute details, stricter instructions on what to do and what not to do in some situations. There were strange fairy tale descriptions of lands, animals and people. Talk of sorcerers and potions.

The girls just looked at one another. Neither wanted to admit their father had been stark raving mad! They went to their rooms to dream of the things they had just read. To digest what their father had thought was reality.

The next morning they talked and realized the same desire. Both wanted to find out how much was truth and how much was the ravings of a mad man. They made plans to treasure hunt.

.     .      .      .     .

They spent a lot of time going over the maps and logs. They wanted to know exactly the route they would take on their trip through what looked like desolate, uninhabited lands in England. They had never thought the English countryside had places like that. This was an old map. They might get there and find skyscrapers and amusement parks now. They decided to check out the area, and then hire a guide if they thought it was necessary.

Two weeks after the discovery of the chest, they were on a plane headed for London. What awaited them there, disappointment or treasure?

They picked up their rental car, headed for the hotel and the next part of the trip. Finding exactly where this area was located on firm, solid ground, not just in fantasy.

No one seemed to know where this area was. Even the country’s tourist bureau looked at them like they must be in the wrong country. They stopped at a library and were finally able to locate maps with longitude and latitude markings on them. They paid for two copies of each one they found. One they could mark on to compare to theirs and one to spare.

That was the next order of business after a late lunch and some rest. Even though this was their third day there, the time change had done a number on their internal clock and they were dragging.

The next day they drove as far as they could and stayed the night in an out-of the-way inn. Not many people. Business must be bad. The fog rolled in about eight o’clock. The sisters went out on the porch. They couldn’t see five feet away.

All at once Cassie grabbed Bea’s arm and pointed into the fog. Do you see it?

Bea nodded her head, What is it?

The girls put their arms around each other and each mouthed one word, ‘dragon.’

A loud snap drew their attention a little to the left. Oh my Lord, cried Bea, Big Foot!

The inn keeper came out and herded them up to their room with the pretense of locking up for the night. In their room they looked out the window. They could see nothing but the fog. Next morning they left to hire a guide.

Bea and Cassie spent three days trying to hire a guide with no luck. They decided they had all the information they needed on where to go in the logs.

They spent the next day getting information from camping stores on what they would need for a month long hiking trip. What kind of supplies to take for the least weight to carry. What kind of clothes and food supplies to take. Their grandfather had taught them to hunt and fish, they felt capable of taking care of themselves.

With all their belongings stored, their hair pulled up under their hats, one change of clothes, their rifles, retractable fish poles, knives and other gear, they packed the car. They set out for the little inn at the edge of the bog.

When they arrived, they rented an old shed from the innkeeper to store their car. They went to have supper before they retired for their last night of sleeping in a bed until they didn’t know when.

During supper a dark haired, tall, slightly heavy set man, with a handle bar mustache and goatee approached them. He introduced himself as Lewis Clarke and said the innkeeper had told him they were looking for a guide. The girls glanced at each other, how had the innkeeper known they needed a guide? Well, why look a gift horse, or guide, in the mouth? They hired him. Mr. Clarke said he would be ready to leave at eight o’clock in the morning and to please call him Lewis.

Lewis was a strange man and guide, or so thought Bea and Cassie. Each night before dark he found a place some distance from the girls’ pup tent. He said he could keep a better eye on them from a distance. He slept on the bare ground, covering himself with a large blue tarp. The girls couldn’t figure out how he ever rolled it back up into the small bundle that he carried. He built no fire by him. He was always up before them and had wood for their morning cooking fire, but he never lit it. He busied himself elsewhere while they cooked the fish or small game he seemed able to provide for them.

Lewis started out on the trail as they were breaking up camp. He rarely came back to guide them. He left arrows in the dirt or a stone pile or even spray paint on a tree to point them in the direction they were to take. He met them in the late afternoon to show them the night’s campsite.

Another strange habit Lewis had was twirling the ends of his mustache and stroking his goatee. It made the girls giggle.

Bea and Cassie talked about what they might find at the end of their journey, if anything. The treasure was supposed to be in a cave by a bog. There were lots of bogs around here. That’s why the arrows were so important. One false move and they’d be hip deep in mire or worse, quick sand. So far the terrain had not been rocky enough to house a cave. Each day, though, seemed to get them into areas with more cliffs and rock formation.

Maybe soon they would get to the right co-ordinates. Each day their hearts beat faster with anticipation. What would they find? The logs simply said ‘precious metals’, ‘liquid gold’, and ‘sacred scrolls’. Underneath each entry their father had written, amulets, potions, and spells. Were they becoming as mad as their father?

The logs also referenced strange creatures and weird lands. The notation under them said sorcerers, dragons, yeti, venomous red spiders, tentacle beings, and what appears is not as is. Whatever that meant!

The sisters fell asleep each night after supper. The journey was exciting and exhausting. This night