This fan fic was written solely for fun and not for profit. I do not own these characters. I have used some direct quotes from the book, Trixie Belden and the Mystery of the Emeralds by Katherine Kenny. My thanks to Chelsea for proof-reading this for me. J
Hidden Moments
by Janey
Through the window, Jim watched Trixie slouch comfortably into an old chair stuffed into the crowded corner of the clubhouse. A smile surfaced as he saw her stare thoughtfully into an unknown distance. Her small hand reached up to touch something at her neck; it was the small golden locket that hung there on a chain.
Last month she’d gotten that locket from Mr. Carver as a gift for helping him solve the Mystery of the Emeralds. Mr. Carver had teased Trixie about whose picture she’d put into the heart-shaped locket; Jim recalled perfectly the way their eyes had met across the table and how hers had glanced away first. He let himself into the clubhouse and looked into those blue eyes once again.
"Oh! Hi, Jim," Trixie felt like blushing but wasn’t quite sure why. It was frustrating.
"Hi, Trix. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I, uhh, see you’re looking at your locket. That was quite an adventure we had there, huh?" Jim stopped speaking abruptly, painfully aware that he was babbling. He cleared his throat and started again before she could answer him. "Do you remember the day we found it?" he asked softly, pointing at the open locket dangling from her fingers.
He did.
* * *
They walked away from Green Trees together, down the narrow path framed by looming boxwoods, and headed towards the mausoleum where they hoped to find a clue that would lead them to the missing emeralds. Emerging from this dark path, they found themselves in a formal garden, now obviously forgotten. There were quiet fountains with bottoms black with slime and marble statutes whose carved features collected mould and decaying bits of leaves.
It’s like walking into a still life, Jim thought. Or, rather, a still death.
"There are the cryptomerias over there, Jim," Trixie whispered. "And I see the mausoleum. Let’s get going - it’s too quiet here."
"I agree. Although, I don’t supposed it’ll be much livelier in a graveyard," he joked. Jim shut his eyes . That was pretty lame, he berated himself, but Trixie grinned at him and he relaxed.
Feeling more like himself again, he followed her confident steps towards the cemetery. The cryptomerias, true to their name, guarded an old family plot, and beyond the mossy headstones stood the marble mausoleum. Trixie headed straight for the door, key in hand.
"Keep your fingers crossed,"1 Trixie said as she tried to turn the key in the lock, but the old lock was jammed tight. He took out the oilcan Brian had given him and smeared oil over the rusty lock. Ever restless, Trixie suggested they walk around the graveyard while they waited for the oil to do its work.
"I bet most girls wouldn’t find exploring a cemetery very interesting," Jim told Trixie. He glanced over at her and admired her glowing complexion and blond curls. He wanted to tell her that she was not "most girls," especially not to him, but then he remembered Mart’s remark about being her "not-so-secret admirer" and he couldn’t say anything.
Trixie, on the other hand, was sure that her hair was a mess, especially since the air was getting so damp. No wonder Jim thinks I’m not normal. What kind of a girl goes tramping around in a dirty old graveyard for fun?
Then she glanced down and realized that she’d almost stepped on a small gravestone sunken into the greedy earth.
"Look, Jim, here’s one with the dates 1746 - 1749 on it. A child’s grave. Oooh! Cemeteries give me the shivers!" 2
It was getting gloomy standing there under a darkening sky and drooping tree branches. Her imagination was already starting to fill in the missing details of the child’s death. Maybe he’d fallen down an old well and been trapped there for days until he was found… only moments too late. She shuddered.
Then suddenly she was warm, encircled by Jim’s strong arm. She held her breath, not daring to move just in case he should think she didn’t like it.
Jim was torn between wanting to throw up and pumping his fist in the air and yelling, "Woohoo!" Instead, he concentrated on staying as still as he possibly could. She reminded him of a wild bird, and he knew that such free-spirited creatures needed to be treated gently or they’d fly away. I’m going to tell her, he decided.
"Trixie."
She swallowed and forced herself to unclench her fingers.
"Yes?"
"Trixie, I want to tell you something. I mean, I’ve been wanting to say that…." His voice trailed off. Her face was so close he could make out each individual freckle on her nose, and he could see her pupils dilate slightly as they blinked at him. They seemed to be drawing him forward, and as he tilted his head slightly to the left…
BANG!
* * *
It was a loud clap of thunder that broke them apart that afternoon last month. Privately, Trixie had thought it was sent by her father, considering the terrible timing.
Jim’s earnest green eyes were watching her intently. Oh, yes, she remembered all right. She remembered everything about her adventures in Virginia: the diaries, Neil, meeting Mr. Carver, the locket, and especially the tunnel.
* * *
She could hardly keep herself from squealing with delight. She knew, just knew that there was a hidden door somewhere in the room, and now she’d found it! Once Jim had given her the flashlight she plunged ahead into the darkness, carefully counting each step as she went.
It was narrow and musty smelling on the stairs, and the further down she went, the stuffier it seemed to get. She began to regret not accepting Jim’s offer to accompany her, but she didn’t want to give Mart the satisfaction. If only he’d keep his mouth shut! she thought. If Jim did come down here Mart would probably start humming the Wedding March or something.
Instead, she heard Mart call out, "Are you at the bottom yet?" 3
Trixie stumbled slightly and had to sit down, feeling a little light-headed. She managed to answer him, but when she told him it was getting hard to breathe she heard Brian tell her to stop. I’ve already done that, she thought. But how am I going to get out of here? I wish Jim would get here before Mart starts humming a funeral dirge.
"Trixie?"
"I’m here, Jim," she answered. Drawing strength from his voice, she began crawling up the steps, ignoring the grit that bit into her palms and the cobwebs that tickled her face and neck. Trixie shone the light up and caught sight of Jim hurrying down the steps with his hands on both walls to guide him. He squinted as the beam hit him and turned his face aside. She stared at him for a moment, memorizing that strong profile trapped in the rays of her flashlight. She knew he’d come, just as she’d known where to find the hidden door.
She moved the light away and Jim dropped down onto the step above her. She kept the light on the floor so both of their faces were hidden in shadows, then reached out to touch him.
"I knew you’d come," she said simply.
"Trix, I…" He shook his head. "Listen, we’ve got to get out of here quickly. Brian says the air is bad down here. There isn’t any room in here for me to carry you…"
Thank goodness for that! Trixie thought. As if he could lift me!
"…so grab my ankle, and I’ll pull you up."
* * *
Jim found a spot to sit directly across from Trixie and leaned forward a little with his arms resting on his knees. Their eyes were level. He cleared his throat but kept his serious gaze on her.
This is it. I’m going to say it! he encouraged himself silently, but once again he found himself pathetically nervous.
"Whose picture did you put in the locket?" he blurted. Jim surprised himself with the question. It wasn’t what he planned to say.
Trixie blushed. She preferred to leave things like that unsaid - most of the time.
"My favourite redhead," she answered shyly, and as Jim blushed she added, "Regan."
His mouth dropped open, and then he began to laugh. Reaching out he grabbed the locket and replied, "I’ll have to see that for myself, Shamus," and slowly pulled her closer.
There simply wasn’t room for words in that tight little corner of the clubhouse anymore. Their lips met, and though there was no lightening to break them apart this time, Trixie felt sure that there’d been an earthquake when they kissed.
The End
1 Katherine Kenny, Mystery of the Emeralds, Western Publishing Inc, 1972. Pg. 122
2 ibid
3 Katherine Kenny, Mystery of the Emeralds, Western Publishing Inc, 1972. Pg. 173