The ribbons themselves were ordinary, though varied in length and width and color, but Max found it strange that a man would collect them. These Atlanteans were a mysterious group. He thought of Sabine and how intriguing he found her. Was it simply her Atlantean heritage that had captured his interest? Or her stunning beauty? She appealed to him on a more primal level than any woman he’d ever known, matching him intellectually and passionately, and not only sharing his interest in Atlantis, but living it within her very blood.
He had one more corner of the room to look through, then he would join Sabine downstairs. She’d been digging around in the kitchen area, but so far she’d been fairly quiet, so Max had assumed she hadn’t found anything of note.
Max tucked the bag of ribbons back into the drawer, then had second thoughts. He wondered what would possess a man to gather a simple item like ribbons into a large collection, but he supposed everyone had their own fascinations. Or perhaps they held more sentimental meaning. Sabine’s aunts knew the man, perhaps they could shed some light on the collection. Max put the ribbons in his bag, then closed the drawer.
His shoes noisily tapped the wood-planked floor as he made his way to the remaining portion of the room. A small chest sat in the corner. On the top was a basin and water jug and below was a set of two drawers. Max touched the chest and it wobbled. He rocked it back and forth a few times, finally noticing the front right leg was shorter than the other three. He took a step back to kneel at the chest, and his foot hit a hollow sound. He stopped. He walked again and heard the same noise. He pounded his foot over the area. Definitely different from the rest of the floor.
Quickly, he knelt and tapped the boards with his knuckle. There was a noticeable difference in the sound over one board when compared to the surrounding boards. He ran his fingers along the edge of the board until he found a gap wide enough to wedge in his fingernail; there he pulled up and the board lifted.
It wasn’t a large space, but the hollowed-out cubby was large enough to hide a cigar box. Max pulled it out, and there inside, he found a bundle of envelopes, all addressed to Phinneas. He quickly flipped through them, noting that they all shared the same penmanship and were all written in Greek, but none listed a sender’s name. He tucked the letters in the same bag in which he’d placed the ribbons.
The cigar box lay empty on the floor, so he tried tucking it back into the cubby. But he could not make it fit. He reached his hand in and felt beneath the wooden planks. His fingers ran across something smooth. With considerable effort, he was able to pull out the item. It was a thick leather-bound book, written in a language he did not recognize.
He stowed the book, then replaced the loose floorboard. A cursory glance through the remaining two dresser drawers came up with nothing new.
He made his way downstairs to join Sabine. His feet had barely touched the bottom step before she asked, “Did you find anything?”
“Some old letters.”
“None of them are recent?” she asked.
“I didn’t look through all of them, but I don’t think they are. They all appear to be from the same person. Phinneas had hidden them in a hollow floorboard.”
It was well past dark outside. Sabine yawned, but tried to gracefully cover it with the back of her hand. Her hair had come loose from its confinement at her neck, and soft tendrils framed her face.
“I found clean linens upstairs in the bureau,” he said. She yawned again, then smiled. “Sleep sounds nice, but I don’t know that I’d truly be able to rest.”
“I also found a book,” he said. “In a language I don’t recognize.”
“A book? That could be precisely what I need.” She came toward him, and he pulled it out of the bag and handed it to her. Reverently, she ran a hand over the worn leather cover. “This is it. The Seer’s book.”
“The Seer?”
“The three guardians, the Sage, the Seer, and the Healer, each with a unique purpose. The Seer was the prophesier, and this book,” she said, holding it out, “is where all his dreams and visions and predictions were written. Not just Phinneas, but those who came before him.”
“We might be able to find out more about the map’s prophecy in there,” Max said.
“Only if Phinneas had recent visions about it. This is the book I was telling you about, the one that used to hold the prophecy.”
“Then let’s hope Phinneas had some good dreams lately,” Max said. He leaned over her shoulder. “We might need to find a translator, though I don’t know where, because I don’t even know what that is. It looks a little like Greek, but every symbol is different.”
Sabine smiled. “It’s Atlantean.”
“And you can read it?” he asked.
“Of course.”
He looked around the kitchen. “Did you find anything down here?” he asked.
She shook her heard. “Nothing.”
“You’ve had a long day, and you’re clearly exhausted. Why don’t you lie down?” When she started to shake her head in protest, he added, “You don’t have to sleep, and you can use the time to look through the Seer’s book.”
She allowed him to lead her back up the stairs to the small bedchamber. He handed her the stack of clean linens, and then went about making a pallet on the floor for himself. The blanket that had been draped over the chair became a flat and rather sad-looking bed, but it would work for the night. And his coat, folded over several times, made a serviceable pillow.
After her bed for the evening was prepared, she sat on the edge looking around the room. “I wish I had known him,” she said softly. “I feel as if he was a member of my family.”
He said nothing. He had no words of comfort to offer, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. The impulse he’d had to comfort her earlier had unsettled him. He could easily shock or amuse. He could seduce a woman with only a few words. But comfort? No, comfort was not for him. The urge to console her was too tender an emotion. Too delicate. And entirely too close to something deeper. He couldn’t risk letting her get too close. Couldn’t allow her to touch that part of him he’d buried long ago. He knew all too well the pain of losing someone he loved.