What Horace saw in the stone confused him deeply. And while Herman had warned him about telling his friends about the location of the Benben Stone, Horace decided that Herman hadn’t said anything about talking to his grandmother.
The next day Horace decided to ride his bike over to the nursing home, hoping to get some answers. When he arrived at Sunset Living, a few cars were already parked along the curb. Horace locked his bike against the fence and walked inside. Not much had changed since his last visit a month before, when his grandmother had first revealed his connection to the Time Keepers and the true meaning of his middle initial.
“I was hoping to visit my grandmother,” Horace explained at the front desk. There were a few decorations left over from Halloween scattered around the entrance, including a scarecrow slumped against the counter.
“Unfortunately, on Saturday morning visiting hours don’t begin for another two hours. You’ll have to come back later in the day, young man,” the receptionist said, turning her attention to her computer.
Horace’s face reddened. “Please, I just want to speak to her for a few minutes.”
The woman looked over her shoulder at him, and from her expression, Horace could see she was weighing whether or not to let him in. “My boss won’t be happy about this.” She pursed her lips together, then after a long pause answered, “Okay, but only for a few minutes. All the residents have to get to physical therapy soon.”
“Thank you,” said Horace, exhaling with a huge sigh of relief.
“Who is your grandmother?” the receptionist asked.
“Amelia—Amelia Peabody.”
“She just finished breakfast. I’ll take you down to see her, but remember you have to leave in ten minutes.”
“Sounds good,” answered Horace. “Thank you.”
“Okay, just let me get your signature.”
He scribbled his name on the sign-in sheet.
“Now, right this way,” she said, and she led him down the long hall to the residents’ rooms.
The whole place had a familiar medicinal smell that burned the tiny hairs of his nostrils. Several of the rooms still had framed Halloween cards on their doors. When they reached the end of the hall, the woman turned into the last room, and Horace followed. On the door was a card Lilly had made.
Inside the room Horace’s grandmother sat in a wheelchair, staring at her television set.
“Amelia, your grandson is here!” the woman shouted loudly over the blaring noise of the show on the screen.
Horace’s grandmother made an indistinguishable grunt, barely acknowledging his presence. She turned her head toward the window.
“Some days are better than others,” the receptionist explained. “You are welcome to stay if you want, but I can also take you back to the lobby.”
“It’s okay. I’ll stay with her a little bit.” He knew that his grandmother’s health was declining from what his mom had told the family. Dementia was a cruel disease that each day was robbing his grandmother of more and more of her memories.
The receptionist said, “Suit yourself. I’ll come back in a few minutes to see how you’re doing.”
The woman walked out of the room, and Horace turned toward his grandmother. He sat down on the bed alongside her wheelchair. “Grandma, it’s me, Horace.”
Her response was totally unexpected. It was as if a light switch had been flipped.
She snapped to attention. “My goodness, what’s taken you so long? I didn’t think you were ever coming back. Come here and give me a hug.”
Horace was caught off guard by the elderly woman’s firm grip as she pulled him in close.
“Sorry I scared you,” she said. “I just didn’t want that nosy receptionist hanging around. It’s the only way to get them to leave me alone.”
Horace smiled.
“Now, come closer. Let me get a good look at you.” His grandmother was barking out orders, just like old times. “Wow, you are starting to grow. I bet you are going to be a beanpole like your dad soon.”
“Thanks. I hope so.” Horace had always been small for his grade, and his grandmother usually knew how to cheer him up.
“It is so good to see you, Horace. So many kids have lost all their manners these days. I watch them come into this place and stare at their phones as they sit with their grandparents. A real shame.” She tapped her finger on the edge of her wheelchair in a knowing manner. “So much they can learn from their grandparents, but no one has the time to listen.” She adjusted the afghan around her legs and then turned back to Horace. “Now, what really brought you here? Does it have to do with the beetle?” she whispered.
“Exactly, Grandma.” He jumped right in, knowing that he had limited time before the receptionist returned. “My friends and I found another portal here in Niles. This one was at the town museum.
It led us back to Detroit.”
“Ahhh, so you found the headquarters.”
Horace’s eyes widened. “Yes, we did!” he said in surprise. “You know about the Scarab Club and the Stout Scarab car?”
“Oh yes, your grandfather often used that portal to travel to their meetings. And Herman—he was always such a good friend to your grandfather and me. What is he up to these days? Is he still the head of the Order? Does he have his head in a book?”
“Actually, a map,” Horace answered. “He is trying to figure out who is attacking the Order.” Horace paused, then continued. “Someone took a knife and gashed out the keyhole to the portal at the farm.”
“What!” She looked visibly upset. “This is serious.” His grandmother stared intensely at Horace. “What about our possessions at the farm? Did you find Grandpa’s old collection of books before they cleared out the house?”
“Yes!” said Horace excitedly. “I found one journal, but there was nothing inside.”
She paused before speaking. “I’m not certain which one it is, but one of those books contains secrets connected to the Order. Your grandfather spent years trying to piece together the history of the Time Keepers and their connection to Michigan.”
“Well, Uncle George donated the other books to the Niles Library,” Horace said. “At least those he couldn’t sell.”
“You need to see if you can find the ones that were donated to the library. There is important information in them about the Order. You can’t let them fall into the wrong hands.” His grandmother motioned to him to sit closer. “Now, let me tell you what I know of the Order and its connection to Detroit. Like most major cities, a lot of history has been lost over the years.” She paused and scratched her chin. “Or a better way to say it is that it is not lost, but buried. Over time, cities often built on top of their past. The role of the Time Keepers is to uncover that history and preserve it. And that’s what happened in Detroit. You see, the location of the city was important to the natives who were indigenous to this land. They understood that there was power in the land.”
“Like Niles,” added Horace. “But why have the headquarters in Detroit?”
“Great question,” she said with a smile. “When Antoine Cadillac first arrived, he brought with him the most valuable possessions of the Keepers. He and his knights built a secret treasury to hold them. But in 1805 there was a great fire. The fire wiped out a lot of the original city.”
Horace’s eyes opened wide.
“There are people who would give their lives, as well as yours, to find out the secrets of the Order and find that treasury. Keep an eye out for . . .”
Just then a nurse appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, please don’t sit on the bed—we just made it this morning. And what are you doing here? It’s not visiting hours yet.”
Horace noticed his grandmother pursed her lips at the comment.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, young man.”
Horace leaned over and hugged his grandmother.
“Bye, Grandma,” Horace said.
And then his grandmother whispered in his ear, “Be careful!”